Drinking and Driving: I'm a Sommelier!

Je Suis Sommelier!

On February 20th, 2008 I became a sommelier—an Italian sommelier to be precise. After a rigorous written exam and an oral “interrogation”, I received a long-stemmed rose and a signed letter from the Italian Sommelier Association (AIS). One week later I would receive a big certificate and an old-school tastevin.

I crammed like crazy for those exams—harder than I ever studied in real school. I made flashcards and carried them around, took practice tests. I insisted on opening wine bottles wherever I was, just to practice my professional technique. I taped notes all over the house, and subjected everyone I ate with to a lesson in proper pairing.

But once it was all over, was I really any wine wiser than before? I remember when I got my driver’s license back in 1995. I passed that test by one point, and from day to the next, America recognized me as a “driver.” I was terrified. It would take months for me to merge onto the highway and stay there, in the right lane, without major case of nervous cramps in my butt.

It was only after I’d driven for quite sometime, legally, that I finally felt comfortable at the wheel, and started passing cars on the I-70 without holding my breath. After about a year I was driving with one hand, and smoking and changing cassettes with the other.

The sommelier course taught me to see and smell, taste, and feel what was in my glass. I picked up hundreds of new words, none of which felt like mine until I used them hundreds of times. I learned how to quantify a sensation (how dry, how intense, how sweet, how bubbly?), and match it with food that tended to be sweet, yet bitter, oily, but not fatty…and how to plot these evaluations on a graph.

My friends would ask me if I could guess what wine was in the glass. Could I tell the difference between Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon? I couldn’t yet, but offered to plot points on a pairing chart at their next dinner party.

Six months later, I can smell the south of Italy, and I can sometimes see the north. I can feel an extra sunny summer or a zesty fall. I can tell you where a wine comes from before I can tell you what it is. It’s as if my brain were liberated, once legitimized by the certificate. I can recognize a lot of wines now, or at least guess it by the third try.

The best part of all is that somewhere along the way, I developed a sense beyond the big five, and I’m honing it everyday. Every wine has a story. The best ones let you in on it slowly, revealing their character to those willing and wanting to dig deeper. And sure enough, like best friends and lovers, in one moment you simply click.