From Novice to Connoisseur?

I’m (relatively) new to wine. Until a couple of years ago, I knew virtually nothing about it, aside from the fact that I preferred white, in part because drinking red makes my teeth turn red and I take on a distinctly vampiric appearance. I was accustomed to letting others order my wine for me at restaurants and wine bars, and trying (and failing) to put on a brave of-course-I-Know-What-I’m-Doing face when having to choose wine at a retail store for a gift or party. In fact, I was reminded of my old self when, while working as a Wine Educator for Wine & Food Associates on behalf of the New York Wine & Grape Foundation, I asked a man who was strolling by whether he would like to taste some New York Wine. He replied, “No, that’s okay, I’m not a connoisseur.” Unfortunately, I think a lot of people find wine intimidating and seemingly inaccessible. In fact, one of my instructors wisely noted that (even for connoisseurs) wine is a vast study with a never-ending horizon, always a little beyond our reach.

When I first started my studies, I hadn’t yet evolved from the point of intimidation to inspiration. I got together one night with a few new friends a.k.a. wine geeks after class, and one in particular spoke earnestly about Robert Parker and his Points, offering these stats in conjunction with various wines of which I had never heard. “What are points? Who is Robert Parker?” I innocently asked. The earnest new comrade explained this simple scoring system, and informed me that less than 80 points would surely be swill. Which only made me wonder why it isn’t a 20-point system but I didn’t pose the question. I had revealed too much naiveté already.

Once I had a few good lessons under my belt, however, I was ready to start finding my own path and some inspiration in this new adventure. So, I crashed an industry tasting hosted by one of New York’s celebrity-like importer/distributors. The atmosphere was electric. Winemakers from all over the world were presenting their finest products, and plenty of cheese and espresso were available to keep the industry awake and sober during this full day event. I stole my courage and approached a man who didn’t have a crowd at his table. His name was George Hendry and he is from Napa. He told me that after years of selling his grapes to Mondavi, he decided to use them to make his own wine. As an artist, I was impressed by this potentially risky financial decision to move from essentially working for someone else to creating his own product, his own work. I told him I was really just a student but he was more than happy to share his knowledge and passion with me. I think George Hendry’s wine was much more modest than some of the rock-star wines represented at that event but he stands out for me because he is a man who works his own land, produces his own wine, and wanted to share that with me. I plan to visit his vineyard first the next time I go to Napa. I have a feeling it won’t be sexy or glamorous like we’ve come to expect of Napa, but it will be just what I am looking for.

I am at the beginning of what could be a lifelong process of learning. I am now inspired. I would like to visit small, family run vineyards, gaining experiential knowledge of the grape growers and wine makers, their land, and their craft. If possible, I would like to spend some time working on the land, learning about wine from the very bottom, up. Education thus far has motivated me to want to know more. It has provided me with a sound foundation but I am eager to get to the source of the matter. To me, wine, for all its seeming mystique, cache, and complexity, is at its core, most simply about the land, the people who make it, and the people who drink it.

Rebecca Mills