It is a truth, perhaps not yet universally acknowledged, that a person in possession of a sound palate must be in want of a glass of wine. Yet how often is that glass accepted with all the blind confidence of a heroine accepting a proposal from a gentleman whose character she has scarcely examined? The world is full of wines and of opinions about them, but discernment, alas, is less common. It is therefore my present intention to offer, not a catalogue of bottles, but a brief course of instruction in tasting, that the reader may learn to distinguish between a merely agreeable acquaintance and a true and lasting attachment in the glass.

For wine, like society, is composed of character, breeding, and behaviour. Some wines are all show and no substance; others, shy at first acquaintance, reveal their virtues only upon patient conversation. To learn to taste is to learn to converse with wine—politely, attentively, and with a mind equally open to pleasure and to judgment.

On the Proper Disposition of the Taster

Before one speaks of wines, one must say something of the taster; for a glass cannot be properly understood by a palate that is out of humour. The most exquisite Burgundy will be wasted upon a tongue numbed by peppermint, and the finest Champagne will appear insipid to one who has just devoured a quantity of sweetmeats.

A person who undertakes to taste with any seriousness ought therefore to observe a few modest proprieties:

1. Moderation of appetite
   One should not taste on an entirely empty stomach, lest the wine make too rapid an impression on the head; nor after a heavy meal, when the senses are fatigued. A little bread, perhaps a morsel of cheese of no very strong character, is perfectly sufficient.

2. Neutrality of the palate
   Coffee, tobacco, strong spices, and the sharper mints are the great enemies of discernment. They are like loud, talkative relations who will insist upon dominating every conversation. If one must encounter them, let it be well before the hour of tasting.

The Glass: A Most Respectable Acquaintance

Just as no lady of sense would expect to shine at a ball in a gown entirely unsuited to her figure, so no wine can appear to advantage in an ill-chosen glass. The fashion for very small, ornamental vessels or those of coloured crystal may be charming at a distance, but for the purposes of study they are quite as impractical as dancing in boots.

The glass most to be recommended is clear, thin, and tulip-shaped, with a bowl sufficient to allow a modest swirl without catastrophe. Its advantages are three:

1. Clarity – that the colour may be observed without distortion.
2. Shape – that the scents may be gathered and directed towards the nose.
3. Stem – that the wine be not warmed by the hand, nor the bowl clouded by fingerprints.

To hold the glass by its stem is not a mere affectation, but a mark of good sense and, one might add, of good breeding.

First Impressions: The Eye in Council

Before one sips, one must look. Wine, like a character of consequence in a drawing room, announces itself long before it speaks.

Hold the glass against a light background—white linen answers very well—and observe:

1. Colour

   • A youthful white may be pale as straw, with tints of green; with age it deepens towards gold and, eventually, amber.
   • Young reds are often vivid ruby or purple; with time they soften into garnet, and finally a tawny brick at the rim.

The Nose: Intimacy Begins

To taste without smelling is as absurd as judging a novel by its binding. The nose is the first true confidante of the wine’s character.

The Palate: Conversation in Earnest

Having studied the wine with eye and nose, one is at last entitled to taste. But even here, haste is unbecoming. A sip taken and swallowed without reflection is like a letter read only to discover the signature.

Balance, Harmony, and Character

To judge a wine solely by its power is as foolish as to admire a person only for their fortune. The true question is: are its parts in harmony?

• A wine high in alcohol must have sufficient fruit and acidity to appear generous rather than coarse.
• A wine rich in tannin must possess fruit and flavour enough to support its structure, or it will seem austere.
• A sweet wine must be enlivened by acidity, or it will cloy and fatigue.

When all is well proportioned, one may speak of balance—that most desirable of qualities, in wine as in life. Beyond balance lies character: those particular traits which make one wine memorable and another forgettable. A hint of wild herbs in a Mediterranean red, the stony coolness in a mountain white, the mysterious forest floor of an aged Burgundy—these are the touches that raise a wine from the merely correct to the truly engaging.

A Brief Survey of Styles: Society in the Cellar

Though an exhaustive treatise would weary the most patient reader, it is useful to consider a few principal types of wine as if they were a varied company assembled in a drawing room.

On Practice, Humility, and Pleasure

No one becomes a discerning taster in a fortnight, any more than one becomes a master of the pianoforte after a single lesson. The art requires repetition, comparison, and, above all, humility. The palate is trained not by grand declarations, but by quiet attention.

A few principles may guide the student:

• Taste comparatively: two or three wines side by side will teach more than ten taken separately.
• Take notes: however inelegant one’s first attempts, the act of writing fixes impressions in the mind.
• Return to wines: a bottle revisited after an hour, or a day, may display new facets of its character.
• Accept one’s own taste: while knowledge refines judgment, it should not compel one to admire what one does not enjoy. The highest compliment a wine can receive is not that it is famous, but that it gives genuine pleasure.

A Concluding Reflection: The Society of the Glass

To undertake a course of tasting is not merely to learn a new vocabulary, nor to acquire a collection of opinions suitable for display at dinner. It is, rather, to cultivate a more attentive way of being in the world. Wine is nothing but the fermented juice of grapes, and yet in that simple transformation are gathered the labours of the vine-grower, the decisions of the winemaker, the character of the soil, the temper of the season, and the patience of years.

When we taste with care, we pay these things the compliment of our notice. We begin to perceive that a glass of wine, like a well-drawn character, is a creature of context: of climate, of culture, of chance. We learn to distinguish the modest but honest country wine that gives unaffected pleasure from the grand bottle whose reputation may exceed its merit. We discover that some wines, like some people, are best enjoyed in youth, while others reward the patience of long acquaintance.

If this little course has any true purpose, it is to encourage the reader to exchange hurried indulgence for thoughtful enjoyment; to replace intimidation with curiosity; and to approach each glass not as a test to be passed, but as a conversation to be entered into with civility and delight. For in the society of wines, as in that of persons, the greatest happiness is found where there is both pleasure and understanding.