Miles Raymond, the protagonist in the 2004 film Sideways, declared “No, if anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving. I am NOT drinking any fucking Merlot!” This is the famous line from the movie, which is about two friends going on a wine-tasting excursion through Napa. Raymond, played by Paul Giamatti, is a teacher and a failed writer (sounds familiar) who considers himself something of a wine aficionado. His friend, Jack Cole, played by Thomas Haden Church, is an actor in the twilight of his career, as well as a wine neophyte. Where Raymond likes to wax pretentiously about tannins and other wine-related bullshit, Cole is happy just to drink the delicious inebriant and get soused.
I love Sideways and I love the character of Raymond. He is hilarious, particularly when he rails against the evils of Merlot. But, I never understood why he hated Merlot so much.1 In fact, I find it incomprehensible that one can have such animosity for a grape. Sure, I can be a bit choleric when friends want me to drink tequila (I am usually inclined to say no) or when people earnestly try telling me about the merits of Marvel movies (I am always inclined to say hell no). But, a grape?
This is probably because I cannot tell you, the reader, a single thing about Merlot. Aside from the fact that Merlot is a red wine, I know next to nothing about it. Does it have a fruity flavor profile? Is it oaky? Is Merlot a dry red wine? What the hell does that even mean? How can an alcoholic beverage, aside from my beloved martini, be dry?
Well, I am on a quest to find out the answers to these questions. I have decided recently that I, Max McClelland Baker, will expand the reach of my seemingly infinite snobbery to encompass wine. The first reason is that, well, I am a snob. Not only am I a snob, but I am a snob who likes to make poor financial decisions. Despite my public sector employee salary, this seems like a good excuse to throw all pecuniary concerns out the window and get blitzed.
The real reason is less about the smugness and more about the complexity of wine. Well, I am told that wine is complex. Eric Asimov, Lettie Teague, and a coterie of my dilettant friends all tell me that there are countless levels of complexity to wine. They could be blowing smoke up my ass because they also enjoy being pretentious and dropping serious amounts of money on boozy grape juice. But, hey, I will give them the benefit of the doubt.
I am not giving these people the benefit of the doubt because they write for The New York Times or happened to be my roommate in college. I believe there is some veracity to this claim based on a few factors. The first of which is history. Dating back to the first century AD, Pliny the Elder wrote extensively on wine. In his seminal work Naturalis Historia, Pliny wrote extensively about wine, and dedicated at least two chapters of his encyclopedia of natural history on both wine and winemaking. So wine, as they say, has legs.
The second reason is a bit more academic. When I googled Robert Parker, the famed wine critic, his website featured a glossary of wine terminology. This page has around 120 entries, most of which are words to describe the flavor of the wine. Purely from an orthographic perspective, this is fabulous. The oeneophilic lexicon is incredibly complex and vast. This interests me because I love the idea of finding a new way to use language that is interesting. Take for example this exchange between novelist Christopher Buckley and humorist PJ O’Rourke when discussing a wine during a blind taste test:
Sober tasting
>>C.B.: (whose wife once took a wine-tasting course): Sloshes wine around, holds it up to light and explains that if the wine sticks to the side of the glass it has "legs."
>>P.J.: Looks skeptical.
>>C.B.: "Good legs, jejune nose, almost flippant. Acidic in a bad way."
>>P.J.: "What the man said."
>>C.B.: "Nicotine bitterness deep, almost asphalty finish."
>>P.J.: "Bark mulch undertones."
Drunk tasting
>>P.J.: "Bland, sweet-smelling, not evil..."
>>C.B.: "But pretty evil."
>>P.J.: "Blandly evil."
>>C.B.: "Box wine or Livingston Cellars."
>>P.J.: "Box."
I would never think to describe a liquid as “jejune,” “flippant,” asphalty,” and with a “nicotine bitterness.” The first reason is because I have no clue what this means. But, I would like to know and I want to be let into this club that seems to understand this nonsense.
The last reason is that wine is great. There is something wonderfully hedonistic about drinking wine and discussing wine. It is pure indulgence and I am an indulgent, vain person. Why not try wine? The worst that can happen is that I drink with friends and my editor, get drunk, and don’t understand a goddamn thing about wine. And that seems like a pretty great outcome to me.
This will be a largely autodidactic journey, but I am up for the task. As I embark on this great pretentious peregrination, I will attempt to broaden my mind and my vocabulary in the hope of getting to the bottom of why people can’t seem to shut the fuck up about wine. I will either succeed or become a poseur who pretends to succeed. Only time will tell.
The reason why is a serious plot point so I will not spoil the movie for you.