The Nose Knows

 Swirl. Sniff. Sip. Repeat. Just kidding on the repeat. These aren’t instructions on a shampoo bottle. However, following these most basic of steps will enhance any wine tasting experience, allowing the consumer to discover all of the aromas, tastes and hidden treasures a wine contains.

               Making wine is a gamble. Pure and simple. Winemakers battle with so many things that could go wrong. Frost, hail, heat, or smoke from fires can damage the grapes before they even make into the winery. The cork used to seal the bottle could have been subjected to the tree fungi 2,4,6-trichloroanisole (TCA) causing cork taint and ruining the bottle by making the wine smell musty or like wet cardboard. Brettanomyces, or Brett, a wild yeast that can invade a winery or barrel if it hasn’t been scrupulously cleaned can make a wine have aromas of extreme barnyard notes like sweating horses, sweaty gym socks, or cheese that has gone bad. Then there are the consumer errors of leaving a bottle in a hot car causing the once fruity wine to take on vinegar qualities, holding onto a bottle for too many years leaving the fruit flavors to become dull, and serving a wine that has been open for too many days, giving the wine a smell and taste of cardboard, vinegar and harsh alcohol.

               So, how does a consumer first find out that the wine they are opening is no longer drinkable? In the book Sideways, Miles is impressed when the waiter pours a bit of the wine in a glass for Maya, so that she can determine if she finds the selection satisfactory, and all she has to do is swirl and sniff before giving a nod of approval. Why? Because it is said that a true wine connoisseur can know everything about a wine, from the primary fruits to the alcohol level to if the wine has faults, by its aroma.

               Having known this fact through my classes and various readings and research I have done, I always wondered if I just didn’t have what it takes to be a true wine connoisseur, as I had personally never found a faulty wine by smell. This fear, concern, whatever you want to call it, all changed over the past couple of weeks.

               My first true experience of finding a wine fault by smell happened when my husband and I went out to dinner. Branching out from my typical Pinot Noir I get at this restaurant, I decided I was in a Zinfandel mood. As I swirled then sniffed, I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose. It smelled as if they had pulled the wine glass from some dark, dank, musty cabinet located near the pits of hell. There was definitely something wrong with this wine. After another couple of sniffs, and a couple of cautionary sips, I knew I couldn’t drink this wine. The bottle had been opened way too long, making it taste stale, and quite honestly, like dirty dish water. I promptly ordered my go-to Pinot, and as I sniffed in its earthy, violet and cherry aroma, I let out a sigh of relief. This wine was perfect. And, though my nose and tastebuds had been subjected to that awfulness, and I had to look like a pompous ass and get a different wine, I was actually excited by the whole experience. It made me think I just might have what it takes to determine the quality of a wine by my nose.

               My next wine sniffing adventure came from a bottle with a much-hated synthetic cork. A handful of years ago, I invested in the Coravin System, which allows you to pour a glass of wine without having to pop the cork. Using this method allows a person to work on a bottle of wine for six months to a year, which is awesome for any of us who do not glug a bottle a day, and those of us who enjoy pairing a perfect glass with whatever meal is being consumed. Sadly, the Coravin does not work on synthetic corks, hence my hatred of these fakes. Anyways, I opened this synthetically closed wine and did my best to consume it before it went bad. Though I had tasted a change every day I poured a glass of this wine, I had hopes on the fifth and final day that it would be fine. I poured, swirled, and sniffed to be greeted with a smell of stale, wet cardboard. A sip confirmed my suspicion. The oxygen had gotten to this wine, and it was done for. And, though it made me sad, as I had really enjoyed this wine, I was elated that I once again could determine the quality of a wine by a simple sniff.

               Another foray into bad wine came about a week ago. Doing my best to have a system in place that allows me to drink a bottle at its prime, I knew it was time to open a bottle of Petite Sirah from one of my New Mexico trips. Thinking it would go wonderfully with my cheeseburger, I poured a bit into my glass and took a big inhale. Vinegar greeted my nose, and I knew immediately the bottle was spent.

               As weird as it may sound, I am incredibly grateful for these three wine mishaps. What they have given me is confidence in my wine connoisseurship abilities. Knowing full well that I can detect a fault, I have discovered my ability to tease out more and more characteristics of a wine with a single sniff. With a single sniff, I know if I am going to like or dislike a wine. With a single sniff, I am able to tell if I made the right pairing decision. And, more and more, with a single sniff, I am able to determine the variety and age of a wine. No sip needed.