
You don’t have the right words? Don’t worry. There are none. NONE. There are your words, and the words of the people around you. Experience and time, appreciation of life and the moment you’re in. That’s what wine is, what wine necessitates. She’s in no way a stage for contest. Wine educates me in that she’s telling me what not to do. And what we shouldn’t do is let the preoccupation with what to say detract from the moment with whatever wine you’re sipping, tasting, drinking at a table. When you’re with people you love, or just friends and are out tasting wine, the furthest thing from your thinking should be sounding multisyllabic and pompous, prolix. “I like it” and “It’s okay”, or something else, again simple and not a loft listing of tags and exhaustively repeated descriptions, is more than fine.
Why is this a perception of wine? I understand it and don’t. When I first started writing about wine, or what brought me to writing about wine, was all the literary qualities I experienced and saw in its presence. That’s my experience and past, brought to the counter when I taste. I vocalize very little of it, and that’s my election. But, even still, when I’m tasting, I’m tasting. I’m jamais (never) stressing over word deployment. You don’t know the right words? Great. That means you’re in the most beneficial position as a consumer. There are no right words. There are only your words. And whether you choose to share them is your trigger to pull.
(2/7/18)