My 'ah-ha' moment with wine came in a store in the southern French city of Avignon a few years ago. I was with my friend Alfredo and his friend, a guy from Paris named Nicholas. We walked into a tiny wine shop with racks full of bottles that reached from floor to ceiling. Alfredo and Nicholas launched into a lively back-and-forth with the shopkeeper, who pulled bottles as they talked. The three of them spoke in French, which I didn't understand, and waved their hands in the air. Alfredo soon explained they were debating the merits of various vineyards in the Rhone valley, even individual hillsides and plots in those vineyards. They were talking terroir -- the idea that the soil, weather, grapes and winemaker of a particular location gives a vintage its unique personality.
Until that moment I thought I knew enough about wine to get by. I've been visiting close friends in the Napa Valley for more than a decade. I knew my Cabernet, Chardonnay, Merlot, Zinfandel and Pinot Noir. But in that Avignon shop I realized there was a wine kung fu far deeper than I imagined. Plus there were so many wines in France I knew nothing about, not to mention Italy, Germany, Spain, Austria, Argentina, New Zealand and on and on. I had to fix this.
When I got home I bought three terrific books: "Making Sense of Wine," by Matt Kramer, "The Wine Bible," by Karen MacNeil and "Hugh Johnson's Pocket Wine Book." I also subscribed to the Wine Spectator for a year. During quiet moments at my job at the time as a news producer at CBS, I studied and outlined these books. I also tasted as many new wines as possible -- after work.
The result is a 19-page outline I call "Wine Notes." I'm posting it here if you'd like to download it. I hope it helps you. But more important than reading is tasting, so if there's a varietal that catches your eye, buy a bottle and give it a try.
(Note: I didn't cover American wines, because I was already familiar with many of them)
