I say this as I have been delving into the food and flavors of Ethiopia of late. It appears there is a lively Ethiopian community very close to my neighborhood, and I have been learning to make a few dishes. Because of that, new flavors and combinations of flavors (and aromas) have been coming out of the kitchen lately. I only say this because it sparked in me an exploration of my longtime relationship with wine and its many varied experiences.
Sure, there are hundreds, if not thousands of grapes made into wine, allowing for an innumerable number of experiences. I think what I am reaching for in this essay though, is a deeper dive into the level of flavor and aroma and above all, sensation, that wine surprises one. I mean, if you can be inured from drinking Lafite or La Tache or Solaia so often, does your palate become deadened to new possibilities? Of course, I’m being a bit capricious in my comparisons here, but which one of us really approaches a wine as if one never had had it before – as if it were the first time – and come away thinking “Gee, I’ve never had anything like that ever before!” Just mull (or meditate) on that for a few moments.
I’m at the stage in my wine journey, where the high tide is receding. I’ve narrowed down my “collection,” having given away many old bottles to other folks. It’s not that I’m not as interested (am I?), but I am looking at the window of opportunity narrowing in terms of having the time to actually experience the wines I’ve collected in a time frame in which the wines can be enjoyed, hopefully, in or near their prime.
I’ve been contemplating not just wine, but photography and the human life experience, from the perspective of looking at something as if for the very first and the very last time.
Beginners Mind — #NoFilters
It isn’t easy. I’ve tried it with regard to seeing things from the perspective of the younger generations, other cultures, other genders, animals, birds, trees, even rocks. It’s a response due to the overbearing presence of so many voices shouting out from the wilderness from their point of view. Imagine someone you’ve known for a long time declaring: “You don’t know anything about me!”
In effect, blind tasting can offer somewhat of a clean slate look and taste of a wine that maybe one has had numerous times. The field of exploration could be limitless, time constraints permitting. But in essence, the exercise is put up there more for an inner probe, a psychological isolation tank of sorts. What are you really seeing? Smelling? Tasting? Sensing? That’s really the destination of this drill.
I got a whiff of this the other day when I was in my “laboratory” asking a client if I could help them find anything. We were standing in front of the Chianti section. “Yes,” he said. “I’m tired of Chianti, I want something different.” There were a handful of Chiantis that I could have easily plied into his hands. But I reached over and handed him a Sangiovese from Chiara Condello, a winegrower and winemaker from the province of Forlì-Cesena, in the Italian region of Emilia-Romagna. Just a little tweak. Baby steps.
We all need to work on better communication skills between the generations, the genders and the various cultures within this pot of stew that we call life in America. And while those challenges are foremost in my mind these days, I can’t help but wonder if I work on my neural links in regard to the way I appreciate wine anew, that there might be a little spill over from the way I approach perception going forward. Refining perception in one domain—like taste—can enrich empathy and openness in others.
