This first bit will probably sound familiar: A pet peeve that I share with most people who consider themselves wine geeks is the smell of cologne or perfume at wine tastings. I like perfume, it’s just that its main purpose is to smell like something, and not the wine I’m supposed to be smelling.

   I remember this issue from a Champagne tasting years ago. Somebody was wearing perfume. Nice perfume, sure, but strong. It eclipsed not only the intricate nuances of the wines, but pretty much everything else, too. I remember it because the offender wasn’t a fellow taster. She was one of the pourers, a girl in her early twenties who I’d guess was placed at the event through a modeling agency and who didn’t really know the expectations.

   The Gambero Rosso Tre Bicchieri tasting was earlier this week at the Great Hall at Chicago Union Station. What a great collection of some of the best wines from Italy. What can I say? Too many good wines. Rockstars from Barolo, Barbaresco, Amarone, Bolgheri … even some affordable stuff. Rivetti Spinetta Barbaresco Starderi is awesome (and the Langhe Nebbiolo isn’t bad, either). My usual Bolgheri favorites are great, especially the ’07s. Tua Rita’s 2008 Redigaffi is amazing. Fontodi’s Chianti Classico Riserva Sorbo is beautiful. And on and on.

   So I’m at this great tasting in this great location, and I have a great glass of wine in my hand. My friend is standing there as I sniff the glass, and I look at him and I say, “This wine really smells like popcorn.”

   And he says, “This whole room smells like popcorn. There’s a popcorn place over there.”

   Apparently the popcorn place makes a fresh batch as the afternoon commuters roll in, and it just floods the station with the delicious smell of freshly popped, lightly buttered popcorn. Which happens to be one of my favorite smells, ever. And it pairs excellently with wine! Try popcorn and chardonnay some time, or popcorn and Champagne. Though it’s a great smell, it’s distracting and  inescapable and kind of a problem at a big wine tasting. Kind of a bummer.

   A happy ending: later, on the way to the train, I found myself with a few friends at a local watering hole, nuzzling a Half Acre Gossamer Ale with a hand full of popcorn, fresh from the popper just a few feet away. Smelled great, and it was perfect with my beer.

{TAB}It’s a simple question, really, as the best questions always tend to be. I am intensely curious as to your reasons, my fellow wine friends. Was it a single moment? A special bottle? Were you in a foreign land soaking in the romance of your circumstance or were you weaned on the fruit of the vine from an early age? Did you grow up watching loved ones at the dinner table with your vision obscured by wine bottles or did you embark on this wondrous journey on your own, one bottle at a time?

{TAB}What first attracted me to wine, dear friends, was the romance. There is an intrinsic beauty to wine. If you don’t believe me, I encourage you to visit a vineyard. Any vineyard will do. Of course, there are some vineyards abroad that will quite literally take your breath away with their vistas and sheer improbable locales, but you don’t have to travel nearly as far as the Priorat region in Spain, where the vineyards are mainly harvested by hand simply because the terrain is so steep and so extreme there doesn’t yet exist machinery that is up to the challenge, to have your mind blown. You can take a day trip to Michigan or Southern Illinois and still be amazed by the beauty of these more modest vineyards. It stirs the soul to gaze at the rows of vines and imagine the end product in bottle. Romance, guaranteed.

{TAB}There is also an inherent tragedy in wine, and let’s be honest, there can be no romance without tragedy. I speak, of course, of wine’s organic nature. You see, wine is alive, and as all living things, it too shall pass. Wine lives, folks. It can (and in some cases, must) be nurtured and protected. It evolves, changes and matures. Eventually, it too dies and therein lies the tragedy. Every vintage, wine makers and farmers the world over harvest their grapes and proceed with the magic that is wine making. Every vintage offers its own unique experience both in the vineyard and in the bottle. Mother Nature, ever fickle, has her way and each bottle becomes a time capsule, an agricultural slow motion button, so to speak. Once all the wine from said vintage is consumed or aged beyond its ability to be enjoyed, that is the end. That finality, that finite nature of wine, its inherent mortality is what makes it so precious and thusly, so romantic. You see, as we love wine, we are doomed. That is, much like a Cubs fan, until next year. 

{TAB}I do so love the intellectual aspect to wine, as well. It provides one with a lifetime of research opportunities and travel destinations. I have recently read an article which states that in order to truly understand a wine, one must visit the place the wine is from. This is an argument I can and will defend. Now, don’t anyone get all upset with me. I said  to truly understand a wine. We are perfectly capable of appreciating wine from the comfort of our own homes and restaurants. I do it quite frequently. My girlfriend and I are both fanatical about Champagne without ever having been there. There are many aspects to Champagne that I am perfectly capable of appreciating from home, such as: its variety, its quality, its consistently surprising pairing ability (try it with a quality baked ham sandwich and you will see what I mean) and the satisfaction it provides when enjoyed on its own or as an aperitif. However, that appreciation can only turn to true understanding if I can actually tread upon the ground shared with the vines. There is a geological culture, terroir being a part of it, that must be experienced to fully comprehend what is in the bottle. However, until that day, I suppose Champagne Sundays will have to suffice. Alas, life can be difficult in that way, but I do my best to soldier on.  

{TAB}Then, of course, there is the final point: the finished product. There is no elixir quite so sublime as wine. Believe me on this one, I’ve spent much of my youth researching this thesis. The sheer variety allows for a wine for all occasions. I have yet to encounter a scenario or dish that I could not pair a wine to with some success. Go ahead, test me. . . Anyway, it is difficult to argue with the beauty of a Chateauneuf-du-Pape, the charm of a cru Beaujolais, the subtlety of Burgundy, the depth of Napa Cabernet, the nervy deliciousness of German Riesling and the list goes on. . . {TAB}

{TAB}So, there it is. My answer to the Why Wine? question. Although, it seems like the question shouldn’t be Why Wine? as much as it should be Why Not Wine?. This development doesn’t surprise me as I was a Philosophy major and learned that with most truly philosophical pursuits, one usually tends to not find answers, simply different questions. 

{TAB}So, I open the floor to you, fellow oenophiles. As this is my first blog entry, I am, as I have stated many paragraphs ago, intensely curious. What is it, precisely, about wine that you love most? I ask all of you, connoisseur and casual drinker alike. Wine professionals and weekend warriors alike. . .why wine?     

A Couple Big Values …

   “The Other Guys” is a subsidiary of the Don Sebastiani wine portfolio, a group great at creating and marketing brands. Sometimes they come up with great value wines in the process. The 2009 Pennywise Petite Sirah includes a big chunk of Lodi juice (a region known for heavy fruit extraction) and another big chunk from Paso Robles (known for balance). It all works out to a modern, fruit-driven wine that may not shake the Earth, but can still be a good time for under ten bucks. Also, the package is smart.

   Another recent arrival that sings in the value category is the newest vintage of Steltzner Claret. I tasted this perennial favorite at a big trade tasting a few weeks ago, and was once again surprised at how well it stands against similar wines at double or triple its price. Instead of rolling into a new vintage as we usually do, we’re taking in a big purchase of the 2008, so I’m guessing somebody up there likes it as much as I do. It’s a great example of the Bordeaux style from California, using merlot and cabernet franc to flesh out the wine, making a blend better than any of its parts.

… And A Couple Big Hitters

   2007 is rounding out as a notable vintage all over the world, and two more big swingers just hit our shelves. The 15% cabernet sauvignon is quite apparent in the 2007 Tignanello, lending the wine a lot more heft than its bulk of sangiovese would offer otherwise. It might have been extra noticable when I tasted the Tignanello following a classy Brunello di Montalcino and a focused Chianti Riserva. This potential collector’s piece shows round cherry and blackberry framed in great acidity, more or less qualifying for the descriptor “seamless.” I’m told Tignanello will show even better with time.

   Also just in and from 2007 is the Beringer Private Reserve. The critics have taken note of this one, comparing it to past favorites like the 2004, 1997, 1991 and others. I haven’t tried the 2007 yet, but I want to. Coincedentally, Binny’s just recently purchased a large back catalog of Beringer Private Reserve bottlings, so if you want to try those back vintages that always get referenced, now is your chance. We took in just one or two bottles of each vintage per store, so they’re spread kind of thin and in extremely limited quantities.