Learning about the palate is among the most important, and most interesting, aspect of wine writing. I just got lesson No. 212: Emotions have a strong effect on how we perceive wine.

I’m just back from my hometown of Nashville, where what was supposed to be a nine-day vacation lasted about 18 hours. The morning after a typically wonderful dinner prepared by my stepmother Maggie, I came downstairs to find her on the kitchen floor. She had suffered a brain hemorrhage, and died later that day.

Maggie had been a beacon in my life for nigh onto four decades, teaching me more about love and life than everyone else combined. She and my father were one of those couples that became a single entity. So we were in serious shock and unspeakable grief when we came home that evening.

Dad went for the Scotch, but I wanted wine. I had sent ahead a half-case of selected bottles, including a 2006 Nicolas Potel Beaune, a wine with a mission.When Dad and Maggie hooked up, I had been a wild teenager (a “phase” some say I haven’t completely shaken). Over the years, we had enjoyed many a laugh as Dad groused about my friends and I pilfering his treasured red Burgundy collection.

Maggie and I pretty much agreed that this was apocryphal – not because Dad never purchased any Burgundy from that point on, but because she and I knew that my gang’s favorite trick was removing light-colored Scotch or vodka from the decanters and replacing them with water, certain that we were getting away with it. Riiiight.

I had so looked forward to sharing that ’06 with the two of them. And now I had blown my only opportunity to do that the first night. But I decided that opening it and sharing it with the family and Maggie’s rector, who had been our pitch-perfect, ever-so-human savior that day, was appropriate.

The first sip was bitter – not exactly the surprise of the century – so I let the glass sit for a while, never a bad idea for a young Burg. When I came back to it, the Potel tasted pleasant, but hardly as wonderful and complex as in my previous encounter with it. Blessedly, though, the wine’s signature silky smoothness had kicked in, and was exactly what I needed. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it, but no one remarked on it – which for once was just fine, because its duty on this occasion was to be a salve and not the star. Mission accomplished.

I still can’t say whether milder, more subtle wines are more suitable for such an occasion than big, brassy California syrahs or cabs. As far as I’m concerned, that can remain a mystery.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 25th, 2009 at 1:50 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.