Excerpt from Dino's new book:
I poke fun at wine snobs cause any kinda snob oughta be poked.
Remember, we're talkin about a concoction traditionally prepared by hairy-leg wives and daughters jumpin panty-less into grape-filled wooden vats.
Check out this description I lifted from Edward Dietch's wine column.
"What emerges is gorgeous aromas of ripe, dark berry and cedar. Then an array of tastes that include blueberry, plum, blackberry, cedar, and mocha as well as hints of nutmeg and cinnamon. The wine is well structured, refined yet slightly earthy. The tannins have softened to provide texture but they don't intrude."
So tell me...Is this bon vivant a 16-adjective genius or is this a cork-sniffin snob who don't know his butt from an oak barrel? What is the dude tryin to say? Is the wine good, great or salad dressing?
Or get a load of this Gael Greene wine description from her book, Insatiable.
"....the first sip was bombastic, 3 baritones in simultaneous assault. After a bite of pepperoni and cheese, and a few minutes in the glass, the deeply regal red warmed and softened, complex as a poem in a foreign language, like satin on my tongue. and I wept."
Well I wept and wet my Calvins when I read this rococco dribble. That paragraph would bring a tear to a glass eye. Gael is the queen of well-seasoned adjectives. I'd wash her size-10 manicured feet with warm Mountain Dew and dry them with spun silk if she were here.
Wine should be fun, easy, non-intimidating. I've savored good farmer-made elderberry wine fermented in a musty bacca barn. I've dis-savored a way over-priced '67 Lafitte Rothschild and couldn't swallow my first swig of Chateau Margaux. But I like most wines, even jug wines are drinkable. They don't need fancy stemware, combo adjectives or swirlin instructions. Screw top, stainless steel, oak, don't matter, you like em or you don't.