My friend recently posted on Facebook a wine he tasted in New York City. It was one of those wines made in microscopic amounts with a seriously esoteric taste profile, a wine for the hippest of the hipster set. It is the type of wine that begets descriptions like: I’m getting pomegranates cooked with green tea leaves over open coals in a Costa Rican rain forest.
When asked would he buy the wine again, his response: “No.” When asked if he felt like a hipster, his response: “Yes, but mercifully it was brief.”
I try to appreciate and understand all wines that I taste. I judge wines and give them something approximating a score with my thumbs up/thumbs down rating. I do my best to be unbiased and check my personal preferences at the tasting room door. I judge wines; I do not judge people (at least not in public forums).
Clearly, it is easy to make fun of folks who enjoy wines outside of the mainstream. Zinfandels and shirazes eclipsing 16 percent alcohol, chardonnays with 200 percent new French oak (not an exaggeration), so-called orange wines that are intentionally oxidized, and the list goes on.
One group, who is mercilessly vilified perhaps more than any other, are lovers of white zinfandel.
I admit that I don’t care for the slightly sweet, pinkish stuff. But, then again, I don’t care for wines that are intentionally oxidized, allowed to be attacked by spoilage yeasts, like brettanomyces, or other nasty bacterial agents of yuck. However, these wines are taken on ponderous descriptive journeys by wine aficionados with a palpable air of superiority.
The hipster set—seemingly always on the prowl for the next thing and never really satisfied with a thing—are no better than lovers of white zinfandel. But—and let’s be clear here—they are no worse, either.
Why does one pull a cork on a bottle of wine? To make oneself happy. If, to the caustic observer, it looks like someone is drinking wine only to put on airs or because he or she is not sophisticated to drink anything else, so what? If making ironic comparisons to South American jungles makes one wine drinker happy, great. If a wine you fell in love with as a college freshman still makes you happy, so be it.
This column really is about Lynn, my neighbor, someone I’ve been meaning to introduce readers to for years. Lynn likes white zin and cares little for other styles of wine. She’s tried the occasional sweet moscato and off-dry riesling (provided by me). She likes them OK. She is, however, true to her heart and always drifts back to white zinfandel.
Lynn puts up with a lot of crap, though. Not too long ago, Lynn was at a Decatur eatery, known for its selection of big, red zinfandel wines. She asked if they had a white zinfandel. The server said, according to Lynn: “No. I wouldn’t clean my patio with white zinfandel!”
Lynn said his words stung a little, but she laughed along with the joking waiter. Lynn is a good egg.
I asked Lynn why she likes white zinfandel. “I like the way it tastes. It makes me happy,” she said. Why in the world does wine have to be more complicated than that?
Gil Kulers is a sommelier and maitre d’ for an Atlanta country club. You can reach him at gil.kulers@winekulers.com.
- 2013 Kenwood Vineyards, Yulupa, White Zinfandel, California
- $11
- Two Thumbs Up
- Aromas of dried strawberries and white flowers. Slightly sweet with pleasant flavors of watermelon, red cherry and bubble gum.
Note: Wines are rated on a scale ranging up from Thumbs Down, One Thumb Mostly Up, One Thumb Up, Two Thumbs Up, Two Thumbs Way Up and Golden Thumb Award. Prices are suggested retail prices as provided by the winery, one of its agents, a local distributor or retailer.
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