Excerpt Forty Five

Syrah has always reminded me of the kind of guy that wears cowboy boots with a tuxedo. Manly yet … Elegant.

Karen McNiel (The Wine Bible)

Professor Ramage looked down and I saw a tiny, minuscule little smirk line his cheeks which he of course was trying to camouflage. 

This boosted my confidence instantly. I said a few other sentences about the wine, noting it was from Loire Valley, guessing the age, price point and offering a complementing food pairing of exotic apricot chicken or a tartine that was topped with lightly fried chèvre rounds with a light spread underneath of quince jam. 

One of the judges looked up and asked, “Do you believe this wine went through malolactic fermentation? If so please explain why or why not you come to that conclusion.” 

Malolactic Fermentation was a second fermentation done based on the winemaker’s decision to reduce acidity and bring on a creaminess in a given wine. It was simply converting the malo acid to lactic acid, which was common in most Chardonnays, many red wines and some other whites as well to add a layer of depth and fattiness on the mouthfeel. In the wine industry and somm world it is called malo.

“I tasted the wine, and yes I do believe this has gone through malo. There is a richness after the initial acidity. It coats my tongue just enough and in my opinion this winemaker made a good call there.” 

The judges seemed satisfied. The instructor appeared again from around the corner. 

“Okay, Ms. Bender. We are onto the next wine. This will be a red wine. Here are some crackers and water to cleanse your palate.”

Mr. Porter came towards me with the bottle of red wine wrapped in the black linen napkin. My nerves had subsided somewhat, but a rush of butterflies invaded my stomach, and I felt goosebumps like a slow wave go up my arms. I better call this one correctly. I thought back to what Pia had whispered moments before as she was passing me in the hallway… Krista loves these wines. If that was any indication, I figured it was going to be a Syrah. I was certain I had called the Chenin Blanc correctly. Everything from Professor Ramage’s facial expressions, to my glimpse of that smirk, to the astounding aromas that all lead to heavy persuasion of Chenin Blanc. I hoped this one would feel as slam dunk as the white wine had. 

It was ruby red, red plum in color. It was slowly being released into my glass and I had tunnel vision on sound. Nothing else in the room existed. Just the splashing of the wine. Mr. Porter gave me a nod. 

I tilted the glass slightly, to see if the color would lighten at the edges. There was a subtle difference where the color was approaching magenta, but not much give on the intensity of the concentration. That told me the wine was fairly young, a recent vintage. 

I smelled it. 

Meat. Blood. Earth. I decided to say my thoughts out loud this time, fairly immediately. 

“This wine is a recent vintage. Before I make a determination on the exact year, I want to taste it. Also this is Syrah.”