How I Got Started with Wine

Before I knew better, a French label and a price over $10 were my only clues to finding an enjoyable wine. Color, age and origination meant little in the selection process, if you would call my simple method even that. Something told me white “went with” white food like fish and chicken; reds were for red meat. Wine with bubbles or “off-color” were for picnics and celebrations. God, was I missing out.

Over a few years of exploration and experimentation and education, together with a lot of question asking, wine clubs and tastings, I discovered how simple little grapes can develop, be nurtured, coaxed, and even forced against their will, to provide rewards of taste, smell, even feel (and something called “terroir”), beyond imagination.

“How can a grape do this?” I often asked myself. I’ve yet to find anything else that varies from spare to lush, bare-bones naked to voluptuousness, flowered to steely, sweetly fruited or spicy, almost hot, and variously year to year and place to place as man and nature effect and affect the raw material provided by simple vines.

The vines themselves, young, mature, or ancient, even cloned, initiate the adventure and harbor the potential, unleashed with time, care and devotion to reward patience, provide instant gratification, or turn a profit. A combination of science, art and inspiration that knows no equal in civilization, maybe even the hallmark of civilization, lies in the bottle of wine.

My initiation was at the hands of Bill Gamble and Joe Saglimbeni. Joe delivered out of the trunk of his car. Bill had a connection to Joe and led me to my first purchase of more than a single bottle of wine. Joe had cases of 1985 Simi Cabernet from California’s Napa Valley (then, I didn’t even know California had a “Napa Valley”) that he offered for $9 a bottle. On a summer afternoon, after hours in Bill’s office, my eyes were opened as if in revelation.

We drank from coffee mugs, and the scent, color and taste remain embedded in my memory. Following Bill and Joe’s instructions, I sniffed first, then sipped, rolling the drink over my tongue “This is wine? I asked myself. Wow! I bought a case, and was hooked. Little did I know, and I would’ve told you you were crazy if you’d predicted it, that in a year I would be paying more than that for a single bottle, 6 or 12 at a time. Gladly. And laughing at my good fortune at the bargain. Maybe it was me who was crazy.

Bill and I followed our ’85 Simi with a headlong foray into 1986 and ’87 California cabernets and zinfandels. “Vintage” took on a new meaning. Within 2 years Joe had started what was to become the largest wine shop in town, and my collection held over 25 cases, with “verticals” of my favorites and bottles worth over $200 apiece. California cabs, “chards” and zins, French Bordeaux and Rhones, Australian Shiraz and various South American and East European selections were among my friends.

Tastings, subscriptions and “wine guides” helped us to focus on what and where to look for the wines that were best for us. Mike Kelly, “Master of Wine” became our friend and guru. “For us” being the operative words, as we shared our discoveries and explorations. Wine scavenging became a habit as we traveled. “The rule of three” guided our forays shops and stores: Any overlooked bottles were purchased in threes for us to share, the finder getting any singles or odd lots. Wine was an adventure and a mission.

Wine in all its glory and variety became a large part of my life. Soon I was buying “futures” with confidence and smug satisfaction that I was ahead of the pack and “in on” secrets others coveted. My collection expanded to include ports and other “fortified” wines, and effervescent as well as still wines.

Today, I am still intrigued and beguiled by the fruit of simple grapes, but less frequently astounded. Start simply, with an open mind, indulge your curiosity, and follow your taste and instincts as you explore wine. You may be satisfied, surprised, or gratified, sometimes disappointed; but you will never be bored.



© 2000 John R. Wondra