Blind Date

onthegrapevine

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Blind Date

From: Mark
Category: Wine
Date: 21/05/2007
Time: 20:19:02

I think that choosing a bottle of wine can be a bit like going on a blind date. Sometimes you hit it off. Sometimes you crash and burn. It can be for so many reasons and rarely do these make a whole lot of sense at the time. But then there is something both inscrutable and beguiling about an impenetrable, heavy green bottle and its alluring label that beckons. Because of this we are very much left with just the book’s cover to judge the wine by or else we stick to the same old, tried-and-trusted poison. The result is our wine choices run from one extreme to another – as a bit of a gamble or just plain boring. Much like a blind date. The former – an expensive exercise that can mean as many duff purchases as divine, the latter a bit like a favourite but rather dated sweater that you would rather not be seen in public with let alone on a hot date. Even if you wanted to buy your tried-and-trusted in the local restaurant you often cannot recognise the wines on the list – a tactic sometimes used by restaurants to hide £3.99 wines that sell for £15. With the crutch of familiarity kicked away you are left with a Hobson’s choice: and opt for a generic pinot groggy-o - devoid any personality whatsoever. But at least you can recognise that from the Chateau Fratelli Sur Lie Grand Cru Controllata Taurasi Grave Ripassa Brut cipher that masquerade themselves as wine lists.

This vinous paralysis, I can assure you, rarely gets better with the acquisition of knowledge. Give me a weighty wine list or the creakingly abundant shelves of a wine merchant then the act of making a choice becomes a near impossibility – made even more difficult by the hovering presence of expectant staff. Even when working under the illusion of knowledge, as I do, it often becomes no easier. The horizons just get wider, the choices more preponderant. And, if like me you have a natural and world-class inability to make decisions the outcome has as much potential to humiliate than if you were as worldly as a sow. The end result is horrifyingly similar; ‘No, yes, I do not need any help with making up my mind! Can you give me a moment longer and come back shortly? Lets say two days?’

Wine producers cottoned onto this indecision some time ago. It started with the obvious labelling: this is Chardonnay….this is Cabernet…then moved swiftly onto what was actually in the bottle: big, ripe, soft, rich, sweet, heady flavours and eye-watering alcohol to boot. But what went wrong? Drinking a bottle of these wines mugged your senses and suddenly all the wines ended up tasting the same. A Claret tasted like it came from the Barossa, a Barolo tasted like it came from the Napa Valley and a Loire Sauvignon tasted like it came from New Zealand. They gave us what we wanted and in turn it ceased to matter where they came from. They no longer gave us a sense of place, of identity, of character. They ended up like a pneumatic lover: technically fine but in the long run a bit repetitious and ultimately quite deflating.

So, once again we are caught in a love triangle: indifference and indecision at each corner. We either play it safe and stick with our long-term partner or play around a bit – have some good, some bad and some plain ugly. It is only in this way can we discover new wines and new flavours. Having crap wine is part of what experiment and excess is all about. But I can promise you, that in the phone directory of lonely wines, there are 1000 true loves and not just one. Getting to them might be difficult but climbing mountains in a blizzard has always seemed to have a certain allure – even if you can see diddly-squat. The view from above the cloud, however, can be breathtaking.