First, there's the fact that everybody present got to taste a bunch of very nice wines. (So how bad could it have been, really?)
Second, I can still rely on my old friends, the Rhones. Southern or northern--it doesn't seem to matter: for whatever reason, they're as easy for me to identify in a lineup as an olive in a box of chocolates. It's nice to have something one can count on, no?
Finally, as I look back at my notes, I see clues in my descriptions that, had I just not thought so much, might have led me to the right choice. That is--and I suspect that the same is true for most devoted amateur tasters--it seems not to have been my senses that failed me but, rather, my ability to use the information they provided to correctly identify the wine I was tasting. Indeed, that's a truly difficult thing to do, in part because most of us who taste wines at Stimmel's just don't have a deep well of experience to draw on (I've probably only tried two or three pinotages in my life, for example, and only a handful more malbecs). But it's also difficult because it's a big jump from being able to articulate a linearly-experienced series of sensory impressions to being able to synthesize those impressions into a coherent whole that allows one to say, with authority, "This wine comes from Priorat."
I'll leave the question of just how important the power of suggestion is in interpreting wines' qualities (and quality!) for another time, though the short answer has to be that it certainly comes into play for all but the most naturally gifted and independently-minded tasters (and maybe even still for them). For the rest of us, though, we'll have to accept the occasionally pronounced and concentrated aroma of humble pie in our wines.
Now, the notes, with my guess (with a line through it) followed by the correct answer (including winery, vintage, and price, which was only supplied with the answers; beforehand, all that was supplied was the kind of wine, either by varietal or region):
1.
Oaky, jammy nose, with aromas of black and red berries and some spice. Dark red, this medium-full bodied wine offers flavors of tart blackberry, spice, and licorice.
2. (I got this one right.) Domaine Saint Siffrein Chateauneuf-du-Pape 2003 ($29.99/bottle)
The tasting sheet listed "France Southern Rhone" as an option, but I knew this was a CdP. Medium-red tinged with brown, the wine boldly and without shame puts out aromas of manure/barnyard layered with loads of pencil shavings (graphite and woody aromas) and a slight brininess. Very smooth, with drying tannins that could still soften with another year or two in the bottle, the wine offers flavors of blackberry, cedar, graphite, and barnyard.
3.
Dark purple/garnet, with notes of plum, cassis, and vanilla on the nose. Sweet cherry fruit, lots of spice, and toasty oak on the palate.
4.
Inky purple, with aromas of big, bold, grapey fruit layered with mineral and some slightly green, woody notes. Flavors of superripe blackberry and black plum, oak, spice, and stewed meat. Of all the wines I got wrong, this is the one I just plain shouldn't have missed, stewed meat or not.
5.
Dark maroon, with a nose of ripe currant, cassis, and vanilla. Dark berry fruit flavor is layered with sanguine notes and violets.
6.
A blast of smoke on the nose--this wine smells like a bbq (with plum-based sauce). Lots of smoke, plums, and cherry on the palate, with a faint note of dried flowers.
7.
Very dark, opaque magenta, with aromas of candied spice, orange peel, and something like roasted chicken, and flavors of dark chocolate-covered orange peel, gran marnier, and clove. Very Christmassy wine (had it been a choice, and color notwithstanding, I would have said this was a Tuscan).
That's it. Here's to learning, and lemmee at 'em next time.
