Augieland

Start your-self a wine club.

Ok, so you have your regular place with your regular wine guy, you have read some books, and now your lazier compatriots defer to you whenever you are out. They look to you to know where the value will be, they look to you for little gems like the Albariño cheap little garlicky shrimp at a tapas place, or that a Cabernet Franc from the Loire will pair well with the chicken livers coming in the middle of the meal and keep you out of a white rut. Now it is time to put them to work for you. Start a wine club!
At some point I realized I had about six friends all of whom were drinking at a level above mine financially, and I was frustrated by them not sharing their experiences with me. Even if I hadn’t had the wines I could get a grasp for what to expect and could make a better-informed choice if I had the means or chance. Their excuse was always something like “I don’t know what to say,” or, “I can’t taste as well as you,” so I decided the solution was to help them find their voice and if, in the process, I could put them to work teaching me stuff I didn’t know? Bonus.
I started the 5th Ave. Wine Society (admit that sounds way more fun then Augie’s Wine Club). I invited Wife plus six other people, figuring having much more than the eight of us would get distracting to conversation. I set up a basic structure for the meetings and brought together the first grouping at my house.
    1.    We would meet once a month, rotating between each of the member’s apartments.
    2.    The schedule would be such that odd months would be about a grape and even would be about a region.
        a.    In the tastings that were grape-specific, a price range would be set and all the wines of the world would be allowed, as long as the featured grape was 70% of the blend, comparing apples to apples.
            i. These wines would be tasted blind, and wrapped by the host either in brown paper lunch bags or foil upon arrival.
        b.    In the regional tastings the wines could be from anywhere in the region, of any variety, and         any price.
    3.    The person hosting would get to decide which grape or region that they would host and, in the     case of grape-specific tastings, would set the price range.
    4.    The host could invite a guest.
    5.    Each of the eight or nine people would be responsible for bringing a bottle of wine that fit         within the parameters of the tasting.
    6.    Each person would research the wine they had chosen, maybe with the help of a shop clerk maybe on the web, before attending. For every wine, after it was tasted and discussed, the person that brought it would be responsible for giving some back-story on it.
    7.    We purchased a set of pocket notepads in which each person would write their thoughts on color, nose, flavors, and mouth-feel. This kept people from talking while discovering their own response. Everyone I know is very susceptible to the power of suggestion while his or her nose is in the glass.
    8.    When all the wines had been tasted, and discussed we would judge them based on two               separate criteria: which wines we preferred, and which were worth the price for which they had         been purchased.

The group that formed was awesome because it was just my friends who loved wine, even though very few of them knew each other previously. They were from very different financial situations; some barely starting in their careers and others earning well into what would be called upper-class salaries. When these people agreed that, for example, a certain wine from the Malbec tasting was worth $35 dollars while another was not worth $30 it was significant. In their wine shelves at home one of those votes had Yellow Tail and another had some DRCs.

All in all, the wine club met for about ten months. Sooner or later, as always happens with singles, one or two people found a significant other and couldn’t be dragged away from those they were smitten with. By that point, the rest of us found ourselves drinking together about four nights a week anyway and it just seemed easier to let it devolve into a bunch of people hanging out. But while we were still running strong, we learned a couple of really cool things. That wines made of Grenache in the $40-$50 range seem to want stew, and that the Sardinians call the grape Cannonau. That on the whole we feel that the wines of the North Island of New Zealand are over-priced by about 25%, no matter how promising their publicity machine finds them, and that Love my Goat is horrible swill that, “tastes like, what I imagine bums drink.”
Every now and then I have people over for wine nights and we pretty much follow these same guidelines, give or take, and I have to tell you it is much easier to learn about wine discussing it while drinking it. The notes help you remember what consuming the equivalent of one bottle per person inherently loses. Get to it!

Buy your-self a wine book.

OK, so you have been drinking wine for a while and you have developed what you consider a good appreciation for it. You have a local or two with a good wine list and a staff you enjoy discussing it with. In your vast group of friends are a couple of people that enjoy wine, and when you are out with them you compare your perceptions, furthering your comprehension. Now you want to go out on your own, bring a new thing to the experience. Plus you are not sure any more that your guy isn't making stuff up, to stay ahead of you at this point. What to do? Buy a book.

I don't know if Vino Italiano by David Lynch and Joe Bastianich is as great as I think it is, because it was my first and probably helped me learn more, faster, then any other book, but in my mind it is how all wine books should be written. Vino Italiano never separates wine from food; at each point in the book you are close to a page that will tell you what is eaten with the wine you are learning about. Loving both food and wine equally, and seeing them as almost inseparable, this jibed well with my approach.

The first section is about the basic rules of Italian wine. Although the Italians as a whole seem very willing to change absolute rules very regularly in the interest of marketing, knowing what DOC, DOCG, and IGT are will at least help you start to navigate the aisles. There is a section here that explains the markups involved in importing wine to America and how it gets so out of hand. It doesn't, however, explain how Bastianich's store IWM comes to their markups. Don't fret very much over this section. Regionally, the importance of these laws is very different; Helmet's favorite Italian wines were outside the codification forever and have just recently been folded in.

The next nineteen chapters comprise Section Two, and this is where the book starts to cook. The nineteen chapters are divided into the sections of Italy that make wine (with a couple of regions combined in the interest of efficient writing). Each chapter breaks down into parts: the region, the wines, a quick reference, and the food.

The first part of each chapter, the region, is where Joe and David's great familiarity with the streets of Italy pays off. Really it is just an anecdote about the area, but it does a great job of setting the mood. At one point you are on a wild boar hunt in Tuscany, the next you are eating raw fish in the Marche; in all of them you are meeting the people of the region.

The wines make up the second section of the chapter, and are divided into white, red, sparkling, and sweet. There is a discussion of the significant wines from each area and how they are made. The DOC and DOCG wines are covered, as well as significant IGT wines. When a region has a particularly group of interest, like the Super Whites of Friulli and the Super Tuscans, they get an inset of their own which offers an overview.

The data section that follows serves as a quick guide to the region -- where it is, what DOC's and DOCG's are there, and a breakdown by grape -- and then the first truly unique thing about this book comes into play. The authors make suggestions for flights of three red wines and three whites, from the region that should be obtainable in the States. Sometimes they choose the same type of wine from three different producers, sometimes different types. Either way, the exercise provides a good practical base on which to build your comprehension. The last bit in this section is suggested stops along the way for wine-traveling in Italy.

Finally comes the food, and here lies the true genius of the book. Each chapter concludes with either a recipe from Mario Batali or Lydia Bastianich. The recipes are very easy to make, and are very specific to the area. An appropriate wine is suggested as an accompaniment. The first chapter is Friuli-Venizia Giulia and once you have read the book you have a basic understanding that this is a northern region that makes great white wine and good red, you know the cuisine and wine are heavily influenced by the region's position between three or four major nationality influences, and you know that this is the crossroads that people used to get everywhere in the region. Once you make Lydia's frico and wash it down with a Tocai or a Super White, you feel it all, even if you are in your kitchen in Greenwich Village.

In the final section, the book goes into some of the most in depth indexing I have ever seen. To be honest, it scares and frustrates me.

I took this book one chapter/region at a time. The chapters average about thirty pages apiece, and were easy to read when I wasn’t beating myself up trying to memorize all the IGT's and grapes. When I finished a chapter I would either make the food and buy the wine, or go to a restaurant and do the region. After reading the section on Veneto, I went straight to 'Ino and got a bottle of Prosecco and four little panini that had the meats of the region in them and had a fantastic lunch. Then, inspired by the book, I bought a bottle of Valpolicella at Crossroads, wrapped it in a brown bag, and enjoyed a hot spring day walkabout with Pappa and Apostrofus, sipping all the while.

There are all kinds of wine books. Much like wines, I suspect different ones appeal to different tastes (look at Lambrusco). My feeling is you will know in thirty-five pages if this is the book for you. If it isn't, bring it back and exchange it till one strikes a chord. Heck the American wine world is desperate for the guy that loved the Austrian wine book. We could all use a guy that loves talking about the wine without pretending he is Colonel Klink while pronouncing their names.

Find your-self a wine geek.

People love to ask me, "How did you learn so much about wine?" usually followed by, "I wish I knew more about wine," or "I obviously just don't taste as well as you do."

The answer is easy. I wanted to learn about wine, so I found people that knew more than I did and listened to them talk about it. That really is the easiest way, and it takes no special tasting skills. Seek out or start a wine club, or go to your local restaurant with a good wine list and engage the sommelier.

Every restaurant has a highest-ranking cork dork, even if it is just the waiter that drinks the most. Have him recommend a wine and then discuss why he likes it. Of course not at 7:30pm on a Thursday. But early/late in service on slower nights is always good. My only warning on this is: the minute you find a guy that brings up hours of daylight, slope, elevation, biodynamic, or great extraction from pump-over rather than punch-down cap maintenance, end the conversation, pick a color (white or red), pay in the $30 range and cut your losses. It's ok to discuss that stuff but you should lead that conversation, when you find it interesting. All he is really saying by going to those places unprovoked is: “I have read books, I geek out on process, and I have generally missed the nuanced beauty that is wine. But still I can dazzle!”

When you do find a guy that works well at your level and helps you find wines you enjoy, talk about them with him. The more wines you find you like and the more you discuss them, the more you will be able to explain to strangers the kind of wine you love. Once you start doing this, it is easy to find more wine and talk about what makes you love or hate it. Knowing you like a big red is far better then knowing you like red, and knowing you like fruit-forward big red wine with enough tannic structure may be a little cliché, but will make you able to get what you want.

The best part about this process is it makes you a regular at his place. When I found Paul Grieco at Gramercy Tavern, I would show up on Wednesdays and Thursdays around 2:30 in the afternoon, when I wasn't working, and order a roasted chicken and a glass of Pinot Noir. Sooner or later Paul would show up and meet the guys trying to sell him wine and they would discuss them. I would listen, usually Paul would notice me listening, recognize my face, and send me a taste of what they were having. After listening to two pros discuss it, I would taste the wine and look for things I understood. When I would dine at Gramercy, I would ask for Paul and have him help or just choose our wine and discuss it a little. Drinking juice with Paul is still one of my favorite pastimes. Now we do it at his restaurant, Hearth, his legacy sticks I now know a lot more about wine and am very familiar with the staffs of two of NY's best restaurants because I paid attention to a pro and asked him do his job.

Six years later, I can discuss pump-over with any agro-geek in the world, I can find the value on most of NY's better wine lists, and when I call GT or Hearth they think of me as a good customer that loves wine, which is so true.