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There is a pure pleasure that comes from wine.
Something elemental.
Essential.
A delight that transcends the nomenclature of ratings that the wine-powers-that-be may have ascribed to a particular bottle.
Ninety-something this or eighty-something that — what does it really mean?
It means, according to Tom Wark at the Fermentation blog, that we are an “impatient age.”
A “very” impatient age, as British wine diva Jancis Robinson is aptly quoted as saying: “Wine doesn’t submit very happily to scores, but I realize people making buying decisions are in a hurry … We live in a very impatient age.”
Wark gives us some serious pause, and not only in the sphere of wine, as he explores the implications of someone with the eminence of Robinson succumbing (though “reluctantly”) to the numerical prerequisites of scores, at least on her website. Wark asks:
Why are we all so impatient that we would devour numbers describing wine, rather than words; that we would devour crispy nuggets rather than appreciate the aroma that wafts out of an oven that slowly roasts a squab? Is time that short? Is there so much to do with work and kids and friends and the house and soccer practice and meetings and blogs that just getting a chance to run down the numbers in the latest magazine or deciding whether its spicy mustard or ranch sauce is enough to satisfy us?
Wark’s article is a really nice read. With a glass of wine. If you have the time.
