Author: Taylor Eason

When I thought of sherry, my mind drifted to sweet little white-haired ladies sipping from thimbles. Then I tried a glass and gained some serious new respect for these hearty women. My first dry, high-alcohol sherry reminded me of nail-polish remover. Being an alcohol wimp, I mostly restrict my imbibing to wine and beer, since scotch and the like pretty much make me wretch. (Note: This harks back to childhood when my adventurous friend Ashley and I mixed orange juice and six different spirits into one large, vile concoction and drank it all; needless to say, we didn’t eat for two days and orange juice has never tasted the same.) But until I explored the different types of sherry — there are 12 altogether — I thought they fell into that same stomach-turning category. I was wrong.

Sherry is a fortified wine, like port, made from white grapes in southern Spain. There are basically two types of sherry that might concern us sherry neophytes: dry and sweet styles. Dry varieties are fino, amontillado, manzanilla, and oloroso. Smelling faintly of nuts and pungent alcohol, these are for the strong-of-stomach. By adding a sweetener to these dry versions, the winemaker creates sweet sherry, called pale cream or just cream sherry. These are more like port wines — with rich raisin, roasted nut, and caramel flavors. I swim in these waters.

Sherries are made like normal table wines until their fermentation process is complete. After fermentation, they’re fortified with grape-based spirits such as brandy and left in barrels. While they’re maturing, a yeast called “flor” develops on the wines’ surface, which helps prevent oxidation. The thickness of the flor determines the style of sherry each barrel will produce: The thicker the flor, the drier the sherry.

Next the sherry is added to a “solera” for blending. In the unique, traditional solera system, several rows of small oak barrels are stacked on top of each other, with the oldest wines on the bottom. When it’s time to bottle, a certain amount of each barrel on the bottom row is removed and replaced with sherry from the row immediately above it. This process continues until a complete transfer is made from top to bottom. In this way, consistent character and quality can be achieved from year to year, and they aren’t bothered by vintage years.

Here are some ground rules for enjoying sherry. If you’re seeking the dry varieties, find stores that have a high turnover of sherry, since the freshest are the best. Likewise, when ordering by the glass in restaurants, inquire as to how long the bottle has been opened. Drink sherry as soon as possible after opening — within a week for dry sherries and within a month for sweet ones.

Recork the bottle immediately after serving to preserve the wine’s freshness, and store it upright in the refrigerator. Finos should be served very cold. Amontillados, olorosos, and cream sherries are best at just below room temperature.

Sherry is okay by itself, but it’s even better with food. Finos complement tapas, seafood, and soups, while amontillado and oloroso go well with spicy foods, nuts, and strong Spanish cheeses like Manchego. Serve sweet sherries as dessert or with equally sweet desserts.

Recommended Wines

Harvey’s Bristol Cream — This Kendall Jackson of sherries fared quite well in a blind taste test. Deliciously sweet and creamy, nutty and caramel-y, like a Spanish flan. Cheap too, making this exploration not so intimidating. $9

Alvear’s Cream Montilla — A fantastic sherry. The label looks like my grandfather bottled it in his garage, but the contents are not amateur. Unctuous like liquid pecan pie, with burnt caramel, sweet honey, and an everlasting, lingering flavor of roasted nuts. Amazing deal. $10

corkscrew@creativeloafing.com

I see Sunday brunch as one those slothful, decadent meals reserved for hangovers or when someone else is paying. Especially cool are the restaurants that keep the sparkling wine flowing, which cures the hangover and magnifies the excess. Most of the time, you’re pushing back from the table 10 pounds heavier, with eggs, pancakes, and those fantastic butt-burgeoning breakfast meats all gurgling in your tummy.

But what most folks don’t know is that wine at lunchtime can not only soothe an aching head but improve the flavor of the food. You might call it the Breakfast of Champions or maybe the Hair of the Dog — breakfast and wine can and do go well together. But maybe not the wines you think.

Our test meal was elaborate, covering the major food groups — protein, fat, carbs, and sugar: scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and cream cheese; Jimmy Dean original sausage and eggs; homemade pancakes slathered with syrup by Aunt Jemima; buttery croissants; mayo-laden, relish-free deviled eggs; gooey ham and cheddar-cheese omelets; and fantastic sweet-sour blueberry muffins. The wine lineup: dry California sparkling wine, New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, dry Pinot Gris, sweet Italian Moscato d’Asti, French Vouvray, German Spatlese Riesling, an earthy California Pinot Noir, fruity California Merlot, and a dry California Zinfandel.

The common match with brunch grub is sparkling wine, but at this tasting, it fell flat on its face like a freshman at his first kegger. The wine alone tasted great, but the salmon tried to make friends and pretty much rejected it. Only the blueberry muffin, which turned out to be the cool kid that fits in with every other wine, tolerated its sparkling companion.

All the red wines were completely disgusting with breakfast as well. The savory, marbled sausage improved the rather bland, cheap Merlot, but that’s about all the reds accomplished. The muffin couldn’t even rise to the occasion. The dry whites, Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Gris, found decent homes with the sausage and croissant, cutting through the acidity with the butter and fat. But I wouldn’t call them great breakfast wines.

The sweet spot was the sweet wines. Normally, sugars in food and the sugars in wine neutralize one another. As such, a dessert can transform a rich, sweet wine into a nearly dry and fruity experience. The pancakes and blueberry muffin found a home with the Moscato. Similarly, opposites can attract. Vouvray, a sweeter Chenin Blanc from France, transformed into a crisp creature with the smoky fat and salt in the pork products.

The overall winner came in the form of German Riesling, the king of all food wines. No matter what the dish — well, the deviled eggs just never found a mate anywhere — the Riesling pulled it out. With its low acidity, relatively low alcohol content, and high fruit factor, the king created a fan club much like the King himself.

Other options at brunchtime: Asti Spumante, extra dry (slightly sweeter than brut) sparkling wine, and any other German Riesling style. Don’t be afraid of the slightly sweet stuff … it loves brunch.

Recommended Wines

Schloss Vollrads 2003 Spatlese Riesling Rheingau (Germany) — Absolutely deliciously ripe with peaches, nectarines, red apples, and a minerally, slate flavor on the finish. Lightly sweet alone but pair it with food and that sugar melts into a rich, crisp wine. $19

Domaine Carneros by Taittinger 2001 Brut Cuvée (California) — Crisp lemon, fragrant honeydew melon, toasted pine nuts, and creamy vanilla come together in a sparkling wine worth your taste buds. Try it without eggs. $25

taylor.eason@weeklyplanet.com

There’s a reason why today’s kids, while abandoning the time-honored traditions of kick-the-can and tag, still migrate toward treasure hunts. Really fun video games abound with uncovering secret treasure hiding beneath five layers of passwords, slaying evil gargoyles along the way. Finding treasure has an addictive feeling of accomplishment.

Wine importers get this high every day in the grown-up world. Importers, individuals with unrelenting passions for wine, scour the earth to find the next great wine treasure, meeting in dusty cellars to uncover hidden greatness. Each wine they import bears their name on the label, so that with only one glance, you can be assured of a deliciously addictive drink.

Most importers specialize in one country and cover the regions with eager expertise. Kermit Lynch, a California importer and retailer who spends half the year in the south of France, reportedly tastes every wine he puts his name on. Then he negotiates with the small producers to allow him to represent their pride and joy in the United States. I discovered one of my favorite Bordeaux whites, Chateau Graville Lacoste, by eyeing Lynch’s name on the label.

Enter Robert Kacher. Prolific and worshipped by wine snobs across the country, Kacher, obsessed with uncovering only the highest-quality French juice, finds these obscure little vineyards and creates a following with just 12 letters on the label. I have never tried a wine imported by Kacher that didn’t completely rock. Even when you haven’t heard of the region or the maker, and perhaps even the grape names, you can pop the cork of a Kacher-selected wine and be assured of a good time, usually at a good price.

Dan Philips, an enthusiast in his late 30s, traverses the expanses of Australia to import the best wines Down Under has to offer. In 1997, he formed a company called Grateful Palate, which now represents so many award-winning wines I can’t keep up — from Paringa to Trevor Jones to his own label, Marquis Philips. If you’re looking for the juiciest, meatiest shiraz from Australia, write Grateful Palate on your hand, in your PDA, or in your planner, since you’ve found a reliable path to nirvana.

If Austria or German wine calls your name, seek out Terry Thiese. Wine Advocate succinctly said of him: “In a country where selling high-quality German is akin to swimming against the current, [Thiese] has done a remarkable job, making true believers out of many skeptics.” He finds wines that have soul and only represents those that are craft-made, with the winemaker following production from grapes to bottle. He also imports champagne. Mmmm …

Jorge Ordoñez has been importing Spanish wines since 1987, before they were cool. He works tirelessly to educate winemakers about updating old techniques that will improve their quality and thus make Spanish wines more competitive. Consequently, Ordoñez finds almost absurd bargains from the corners of this vast wine-producing country.

Recommended Wines

Due to small production, these wines will be difficult to find, but look for importer names on any label.

Domaine La Hitare 2003 Les Tours Gasgogne (France)

Unique flavors and unique grapes, like ugni blanc and gros manseng, from a relatively unknown region in France. Tastes like overripe grapes and has a zingy, fizzy thing that finishes with a rush of lemon. Amazing price. Kacher selection. $7.50.

Chateau Grande Cassagne 2003 Costieres de Nimes (France)

Bursts at you with strawberry, plums, and spicy white pepper. Elegant, sophisticated juice, and it’s pink. Gasp! Kacher selection. $10.

Vega Sindoa 2002 Cabernet Tempranillo Navarra (Spain)

Chocolate, leather, dark cherry, and black pepper make you want to don an apron and use it for cooking. But don’t — savor it. Ordoñez selection. $14.

corkscrew@creativeloafing.com

We’ve all done it: given a fond farewell to a half-empty bottle of stale, vinegared wine by pouring it into a sauce, soup, or, when half-drunk desperation surfaces, a glass. We’ve all done it, but it’s wrong. If wine’s been opened for more than two weeks, it doesn’t belong anywhere near your mouth. Instead, reach for a fresh bottle (or siphon from a decent boxed wine – that’s what I often do), one that you’d actually want to drink but didn’t pay out the wazoo for. You’ll be much happier with the end result.

Think “garbage in, garbage out.” Would you use rotten, stinky tomatoes for a marinara sauce or smelly fish for sushi? When you reach for a rancid bottle of wine, you’re essentially introducing an equally undesirable component. Quality does make a difference in the end product. But you don’t have to spend $50 to find something appropriate to use for a recipe. An $8 jug wine is fine for marinating meat, but don’t choose anything too sweet or it might overpower the overall flavor.

However, if you’re making a sauce that will define a dish (say, coq au vin), use only what you’re comfortable drinking. I’ve often used Yellow Tail Shiraz and Columbia Crest Chardonnay for my recipes.

Why cook with wine? The acids transform the composition of food, especially tough meats. They act as a tenderizer, penetrating the fibers and softening proteins to make chewy meat soft to the teeth.

Because of color, chicken and seafood are best marinated in white wine, while red or white can be used for red meats. But if all you have is red wine and a couple slabs of chicken, feel free to indulge in purple yet tasty meat. To achieve the best results, marinate meats for at least two hours or more in the fridge and soak seafood no more than one hour because the delicate flesh will begin to cook.

Sometimes it’s the wine flavor you’d like to emphasize. For instance, most mushrooms are fantastic when sautéed with garlic, butter, and a sweet, brawny port wine. But don’t overdo it. Too much port and all you’ll taste is alcohol, even if you try to boil it all out. A light touch is best, and a few minutes of simmering will mellow any sharp tastes.

Normally, you want to use dry wines for savory sauces and marinades, using varieties like Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Gris/Grigio, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot. But a sweeter wine like Madeira or late-harvest Riesling can add depth to a sauce for gamey meats like duck and give a dessert sauce some added zing.

So stop yourself before reaching for that dust-encrusted bottle of Merlot and pour fresh flavor instead. And be sure to drink a glass while you work.

Wine Recommendations

Mark West 2003 Pinot Noir Central Coast (California) – Smooth, velvet tannins and the characteristic earthy-feet smell of Pinot Noir. Light cherry and blackberries gush. $11.

Laurel Glen 2002 Reds (California) – These guys produce some excellent-quality, value-priced stuff. This one is a gutsy blend of Zinfandel, petite Sirah, and Carignan grapes. Huge flavors like roasted cherries, strong coffee, and bittersweet chocolate. $10.

The Bishop Riesling 2003 Mosel-Saar-Ruwer (Germany) – Smells like a fresh-cut lime that cleanses your tongue. Light, delicate sweetness makes this a refreshing afternoon delight. $10.

As a woman, I get especially proud when I meet a dynamic, talented female winemaker. It means she’s not afraid of the good ol’ boy wine industry. Women have made considerable advancement in the wine ranks, thanks to the commitment of many stalwart individuals. Still, there’s room for improvement. I recently Googled “female winemakers,” and three of the first four sites extolled the sex appeal of these ladies rather than their abilities. In a land that reveres fake boobs and facelifts, it’s kind of expected, but come on. It would be nice if kudos for female winemakers came for verve not va-voom.

Like many other industries, the turnaround began during the women’s movement in the early 1970s. In 1973, MaryAnn Graf, the first female graduate of University of California at Davis’ viticulture and enology program, became head winemaker at Napa Valley’s Simi Winery, a business with a tradition of employing female managers. Then Zelma Long, considered the most important woman in California wine history, started her career in the labs of Robert Mondavi Winery, moving to Simi as winemaker and eventually becoming the executive vice president of Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton’s California wineries, which includes Simi.

Inspiring many others were additional trailblazers such as Merry Edwards and Helen Turley, two women who also made it on their own. Edwards got her start in the early ’70s when, even armed with a Master’s degree in enology, she kept getting rejected after interviewers learned “Merry” equaled female. Undeterred, she eventually landed a position at Mount Eden Vineyards and is now one of California’s foremost vintners – male or female – producing unbelievable Pinot Noirs in Sonoma’s Russian River Valley.

Turley, the genius behind super-venerated, super-concentrated cabernets from Pahlmeyer, Colgin, and Marcassin, has been called the best winemaker in California by many writers and winemakers alike. She started at Sonoma’s BR Cohn, one of my favorite Cabernet producers, in the mid ’80s. After wowing everyone, she began an illustrious consulting career.

In Europe, gender equality in the wine world still hovers in the Middle Ages, but strong-willed females have made progress. In 1975, Maria Martinez, a warmhearted yet tough survivor, began her wine career in Spain’s Rioja region. After only four years of working in the cellars, she earned her spot among the esteemed winemaker ranks and has since been crowned “the Queen of Rioja” as the head winemaker at highly respected, 130-year-old Bodegas Montecillo.

When asked about her role as a high-profile female in this business, Martinez quietly replied, “I am in love with this profession … and I’m a fighter.” She sadly admits, though, that there are no other “respected” female winemakers in Rioja. (At a recent luncheon I attended in Tampa, Florida, honoring Martinez, only two of the 14 wine industry attendees were women.)

The rise of women shouldn’t surprise anyone. Research has shown that women possess a better sense of smell than men, and more “supertasters” – those with more tastebuds and thus more sensitive palates – are female. And chicks drink. A 2003 study from the Wine Market Council found that 60 percent of Americans who consumed wine once or more a week were women. In that same year, Simmons Market Research Bureau reported that women consumed more than half of all wine.

And females continue to grow into the profession. Today, women make up almost 50 percent of the undergraduates at the winemaking program at UC Davis. Get ready world. Chicks have arrived.

Recommended Wines

Montecillo 2003 Bianco – Smells like summer, with fragrant lime and fresh, clean sheets. Tart lemon-lime and creamy vanilla in the mouth, with an acidic finish. Excellent value. $6.

Merry Edwards 2002 Pinot Noir Russian River – Oh my, how I love her wine. Earthy cherry, raspberry and blueberry home in on that one special spot in your mouth that ignites such pleasure. Elegant, classy, and sophisticated. $34. n

The world would be a better place if people would get over themselves. We’re so concerned about how “uncool” we’re going to look while drinking pink wine that the act of enjoying a refreshing dry rosé becomes secondary. People, it’s good.

Many in “the industry” love dry rosés. They’re perfect for cutting the summer heat and can accompany any sort of food, from grilled hamburgers to pasta in cream sauce. Most winemakers even produce a case or two of rosés for their own consumption.

Of course, one reason some folks turn up their noses at rosés is the ubiquitousness of White Zinfandel, for years the top-selling wine in the United States. And there are still plenty of rosés out there that reek of canned cherries in syrup. But that’s what critics are for: to help you dodge the dogs.

All grapes, no matter the color of their skins, have clear juice. The tint depends on the amount of time the red grape skins are allowed to stew with the juice: days or weeks for red wines; a few hours for rosés, or blush, as some wineries call them. You’ll notice that some rosés are darker than others. That indicates the winemaker kept the juice sitting longer with the skins, coaxing more tannins into the wine to give it a more flavorful punch.

Rosés come from most countries and from any red grape: Syrah, Grenache, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Zinfandel. (Wineries that wish to avoid the déclassé “White Zin” moniker call their pink wines “Zinfandel Rosé.”) Some of the best come from the Provence and Languedoc regions of France, where citizens guzzle them by the gallons.

The characteristic smack of White Zinfandel comes from adding sugar to the juice or stopping fermentation before the sugar has been transformed into alcohol. In dry rosés, most of the sugar gets converted during fermentation, yielding a high-octane beverage. One reliable, yet not infallible, method of determining whether a rosé tastes sweet is by looking at the alcohol percentage located on the label. Those with higher alcohol content, normally between 12.5 percent and 14.5 percent, are dry, and sweeter wines show 10 percent to 12 percent.

So it’s time to get out there and look uncool, but dammit, you’ll be drinking good stuff. Besides, it’s certainly cool to be drinking the cutting edge.

Recommended Wines

Turkey Flat 2004 Dry Rosé Barossa Valley — A spectacular symphony of red fruit flavors that indulge the palate with strawberry, cherry, and raspberry. Elegant, with fantastic acidic balance. Well-priced for the quality. One word: yummy. $15.

Bonny Doon 2004 Big House Pink California — Dry, yet kinda tastes like a cherry Jolly Rancher. An odd bit of guava in there, but it works. $10.

Vina Vilano 2004 Rosado Ribera Del Duero — Like biting into a chilled strawberry, with some gutsy cranberry and cassis coming into play. From Spain and made with the Tempranillo grape. Not your momma’s White Zin, my friends. $10.

Fiddlehead Cellars 2004 Pink Fiddle Santa Rita Hills — A rosé from southern California Pinot Noir, and it’s really fun. Zesty and enthusiastic, this pink gem sports tart cherry and some lemon-lime action. $16.

Solo Rosa 2004 Rosé California — These guys only make rosé, and damn, do they make it well. It’s flirty and fun with unusual full-bodiedness. Gorgeously ripe strawberry and raspberry complete this fabulous wine. $13.

Mas de la Dame 2004 Les Baux de Provence — Pretty flower aromas. Refreshing and flirtatious with strawberry dipped in honey flavors. Energetic acids round out the sip. Limited availability. $19.

Peachy Canyon 2004 Rosé Paso Robles — A slight sweetness gives this rosé some serious body and fullness. Bright cherry with a delicious lingering aftertaste that keeps giving. $12. 

It’s sad to admit, but our culture is polluted by marketing. We are programmed by advertisements on TV, radio, and, yes, even in the pages of the newspaper you’re reading right now. Wineries are fast becoming marketing whores like the rest of the product world, using ads, coupons, discounts, and sampling to get your attention. But with so many brands screaming for your attention, you can’t really blame them.

That’s both good and bad news for consumers. We reap the price benefits of the competitive market but frequently fall prey to the gimmicks. Like insipid, tasteless beer, some popular wines out there only sell because the brand name is emblazoned on your consciousness. Consider the last time you bought a bottle of wine. Why did you choose it?

What if all wine bottles were generically labeled “Wine 1,” “Wine 2,” and “Wine 3”? Wouldn’t we then have to purchase by evaluation?

That’s what “blind tasting” is all about. The method disguises the label, forcing people to assess a wine without external influences. Most wine writers, including myself, are not immune to marketing, and to counterbalance the manipulation, we often “blind-taste” by using aluminum foil, paper bags, or anything that hides the label. Although I don’t blind-taste every wine, some of the best deals I’ve found emerged from blind tastings. It’s as if the blindfold sucks all the marketing out of the bottle, leaving its contents clean and unfettered.

Then there’s the challenge of guessing the wines in the bottle, a fun wine-geek game. I’m no good at it, but I know some amazingly talented, well-drunk people who can successfully match the wine with the correct grape, region, winery, and even vintage. They are called master sommeliers, and the blind-tasting section of the certification exam is unbelievably difficult.

Equally as entertaining is duping your friends with blind tastings, especially if you invite some of your haughtier associates. Before anyone arrives, make sure the labels are completely hidden from view, not missing the neck label and taking care the cork doesn’t blow the cover either. Buy a few bottles (or go in with someone to buy them) in a varying price range, from $7 to $40. You can either buy a mix of varietals, like Sauvignon Blanc, Zinfandel, or Cabernet and have people guess the grape; or you can buy the same grape with different labels from different regions. In this scenario, your guests experience the versatility of one grape varietal and how a region’s weather and soil might influence the end product. Have everyone pour their own wine, sit back, and let the marketing-free games begin. Invariably, no one will be able to guess the most expensive bottle. It’s really quite delightful to watch the wine snobs squirm when their favorite costs only $8.

Here are some wine suggestions for the games. Take your own blind-taste test and let me know which wines you liked best.

Chardonnay

Columbia Crest Grand Estates 2002, Columbia Valley, Wash. $11

Glen Carlou 2002, Paarl, South Africa. $14

Cloudy Bay 2003, Marlborough, New Zealand. $28

Sauvignon Blanc

Carmen 2004, Curico Valley, Chile. $8

Kim Crawford 2002, Marlborough. $16

Groth 2004, Napa, Calif. $18

Zinfandel (All California)

Cellar #8 2001, North Coast. $11

Bishop’s Peak 2001, Paso Robles. $16

Rombauer 2001 El Dorado, Napa. $20

Cabernet

Robertson 2002, Robertson Valley, South Africa. $11

Alexander Valley Vineyards 2002, Alexander Valley, Calif. $22

Moon Mountain 2000 Reserve, Sonoma Valley, Calif. $35

Syrah/Shiraz

Columbia Valley Winery 2001, Columbia Valley, Wash. $10

Porcupine Ridge 2003, Coastal Region, South Africa. $11

Cape Mentelle 2002, Margaret River, Australia. $23

When wine blowhards begin flaunting fancy words, I duck out of the conversation. Now, with the huge popularity of the movie Sideways, these cocky connoisseurs are crawling out of every cellar, anxious for an opportune moment to release their jargon-laden rhetoric. My favorite beverage is so steeped in descriptors can’t we just drink it?

But let’s face it: The wine geeks won’t stop blathering anytime soon. So, even though all I really want is for you to run out and drink some wine, here’s my attempt to share the language so you too can become fluent.

Acidity: A substance in grape juice that makes you pucker when you sip, like eating a lemon. Acidity comes from the skins.

Aging: Aging mellows tannins (see definition below). Although 90 to 95 percent of all wine should be consumed within one year after it’s bottled, the remaining big boys — Bordeaux and Burgundy, Spanish and Italian reds, and some California Cabernet Sauvignons — need to be left alone in the bottle to chill out.

Balance: When everything in a wine comes together perfectly. The acids aren’t too strong, and the astringent tannins don’t kick you in the teeth.

Big: Mostly a word for red wines, meaning lots of beefy flavor and alcohol. Big wines normally need to age before most people would want to come near them.

Body: Wine is normally described as light-, medium-, and heavy-bodied, indicating how heavy the wine feels in your mouth. Kevin Zraly, famed wine educator, invented a way to teach people about “body.” Think of it as different grades of milk. Light-bodied wines imitate skim milk in the mouth; medium-bodied wines are like whole milk; and full-bodied equals heavy cream.

Complex: Complex wine has a lot of personality, and its flavor holds on through the entire sip — from the first taste of fruit to a long-lasting finish (see definition below).

Crisp: Sharp acidity in a wine. Normally a compliment for whites.

Dry: Not sweet. Dry wines have most of the sugar fermented out of them so there’s no sense of sweetness on the tongue.

Finish: Refers to the flavor lingering in your mouth after you take a sip. “A long finish” means the flavor lasts a few seconds or more.

Nose: The aroma of a wine. To really “get” the nose, stick your own nose all the way into the glass and breathe deeply.

Oaky: The wood taste imparted by the oak barrels or oak chips used during fermentation or aging.

Structure: The architecture of a wine: the smell, the feel in your mouth, the tannins, acidity, and fruit. “Good structure” is a fabulous compliment for a wine.

Tannins: The drying substances found in the seeds and skins of the grape, mostly in red wines. You can feel tannins as they suck the moisture from your mouth, just like strong-brewed tea. Tannins also enable wine to age.

Tight: Refers to a red wine’s reluctance to be friendly or fruity when you first pour it in the glass. A young wine high in tannins might be “tight” before it gets mixed with oxygen — achieved by swirling.

Recommended Wine

Morgan 2003 Twelve Clones Pinot Noir Santa Lucia Highlands — Bright, fun cherry with firm acids and an earthy finish. Drink it with a mushroom-laden stew. Mmmm. $22.

When wine blowhards begin flaunting fancy words, I duck out of the conversation. Now, with the huge popularity of the movie Sideways, these cocky connoisseurs are crawling out of every cellar, anxious for an opportune moment to release their jargon-laden rhetoric. My favorite beverage is so steeped in descriptors can’t we just drink it?

But let’s face it: The wine geeks won’t stop blathering anytime soon. So, even though all I really want is for you to run out and drink some wine, here’s my attempt to share the language so you too can become fluent.

Acidity: A substance in grape juice that makes you pucker when you sip, like eating a lemon. Acidity comes from the skins.

Aging: Aging mellows tannins (see definition below). Although 90 to 95 percent of all wine should be consumed within one year after it’s bottled, the remaining big boys — Bordeaux and Burgundy, Spanish and Italian reds, and some California Cabernet Sauvignons — need to be left alone in the bottle to chill out.

Balance: When everything in a wine comes together perfectly. The acids aren’t too strong, and the astringent tannins don’t kick you in the teeth.

Big: Mostly a word for red wines, meaning lots of beefy flavor and alcohol. Big wines normally need to age before most people would want to come near them.

Body: Wine is normally described as light-, medium-, and heavy-bodied, indicating how heavy the wine feels in your mouth. Kevin Zraly, famed wine educator, invented a way to teach people about “body.” Think of it as different grades of milk. Light-bodied wines imitate skim milk in the mouth; medium-bodied wines are like whole milk; and full-bodied equals heavy cream.

Complex: Complex wine has a lot of personality, and its flavor holds on through the entire sip — from the first taste of fruit to a long-lasting finish (see definition below).

Crisp: Sharp acidity in a wine. Normally a compliment for whites.

Dry: Not sweet. Dry wines have most of the sugar fermented out of them so there’s no sense of sweetness on the tongue.

Finish: Refers to the flavor lingering in your mouth after you take a sip. “A long finish” means the flavor lasts a few seconds or more.

Nose: The aroma of a wine. To really “get” the nose, stick your own nose all the way into the glass and breathe deeply.

Oaky: The wood taste imparted by the oak barrels or oak chips used during fermentation or aging.

Structure: The architecture of a wine: the smell, the feel in your mouth, the tannins, acidity, and fruit. “Good structure” is a fabulous compliment for a wine.

Tannins: The drying substances found in the seeds and skins of the grape, mostly in red wines. You can feel tannins as they suck the moisture from your mouth, just like strong-brewed tea. Tannins also enable wine to age.

Tight: Refers to a red wine’s reluctance to be friendly or fruity when you first pour it in the glass. A young wine high in tannins might be “tight” before it gets mixed with oxygen — achieved by swirling.

Recommended Wine

Morgan 2003 Twelve Clones Pinot Noir Santa Lucia Highlands — Bright, fun cherry with firm acids and an earthy finish. Drink it with

a mushroom-laden stew. Mmmm. $22.

When wine blowhards begin flaunting fancy words, I duck out of the conversation. Now, with the huge popularity of the movie, Sideways, these cocky connoisseurs are crawling out of every cellar, anxious for an opportune moment to release their jargon-laden rhetoric. My favorite beverage is so steeped in descriptors can’t we just drink it?

But let’s face it: The wine geeks won’t stop blathering any time soon. So, even though all I really want is for you to run out and drink some wine, here’s my attempt to share the language so you too can become fluent.

Acidity: A substance in grape juice that makes you pucker when you sip, like eating a lemon. Acidity comes from the skins.

Aging: Aging mellows tannins (see definition below). Although 90 percent to 95 percent of all wine should be consumed within one year after it’s bottled, the remaining big boys — Bordeaux and Burgundy, Spanish and Italian reds, and some California Cabernet Sauvignons — need to be left alone in the bottle to chill out.

Balance: When everything in a wine comes together perfectly. The acids aren’t too strong and the astringent tannins don’t kick you in the teeth.

Big: Mostly a word for red wines, meaning lots of beefy flavor and alcohol. Big wines normally need to age before most people would want to come near them.

Body: Wine is normally described as light, medium and heavy-bodied, indicating how heavy the wine feels in your mouth. Kevin Zraly, famed wine educator, invented a way to teach people about “body.” Think of it as different grades of milk. Light-bodied wines imitate skim milk in the mouth; medium-bodied wines are like whole milk; and full-bodied equals heavy cream.

Complex: Complex wine has a lot of personality, and its flavor holds on through the entire sip — from the first taste of fruit to a long-lasting finish (see definition below).

Crisp: Sharp acidity in a wine. Normally a compliment for whites.

Dry: Not sweet. Dry wines have most of the sugar fermented out of them so there’s no sense of sweetness on the tongue.

Finish: Refers to the flavor lingering in your mouth after you take a sip. “A long finish” means the flavor lasts a few seconds or more.

Nose: The aroma of a wine. To really “get” the nose, stick your own nose all the way into the glass and breathe deeply.

Oaky: The wood taste imparted by the oak barrels or oak chips used during fermentation or aging.

Palate: The flat part of the tongue. Sometimes broken into “front,” “mid,” and “back.”

Structure: The architecture of a wine: the smell, the feel in your mouth, the tannins, acidity, and fruit. “Good structure” is a fabulous compliment for a wine.

Tannins: The drying substances found in the seeds and skins of the grape, mostly in red wines. You can feel tannins as they suck the moisture from your mouth, just like strong-brewed tea. Tannins also enable wine to age.

Tight: Refers to a red wine’s reluctance to be friendly or fruity when you first pour it in the glass. A young wine high in tannins might be “tight” before it gets mixed with oxygen — achieved by swirling. Oxygen helps release its flavors and relax its aroma and flavor. •

Recommended Wine

Morgan 2003 Twelve Clones Pinot Noir Santa Lucia Highlands. — Bright, fun cherry with firm acids and an earthy finish. Drink it with a mushroom-laden stew. Mmmm. $22.