Oh, how I hanker after those good old days. The certainty with which I knew that Sedgwick’s Old Brown Sherry would accompany me to the school disco or that I would wake up next to a bottle of Autumn Harvest Crackling in a tent in Plett. Bliss!
Now, I often don’t have a clue what I like to drink, and I still make basic errors in choosing from time to time. The biggest issue is feeling like you have to drink something 'good' (now that you've descended into being a wine snob), because good usually means something highly rated, and ratings are given by jaded wine junkies who are always looking for a different high. That can go two ways. First, more intense – the ripe, peachy, dark yellow glass that warns "very ripe, very old, very oaky or very off" or the red that makes you feel like someone made you suck on a builder's teabag filled with blackcurrant pastilles. Or, more 'intellectual' – "note how the absence of fruit allows the aromas of damp fynbos and snail to shine". This is all well and good if it's your own crusade, but not great if you’ve had your friends around for a drink. They just want something lekker.
So, don’t be cheap, but don’t be a snob. Find wines that you see people drinking and enjoying, not just talking about, and serve that. If you want to push the boat out and serve something more challenging, do it with dinner for 6 or 8. Anyone can tolerate 100ml of anything, especially if it is paired/diluted with food. If you are also a kak cook, I can’t help you.
But I digress. My real point is that wine has become so diverse that you now need to decide by the specific wine (okay, no, you’re fine on Sauvignon Blanc, but otherwise). If you find something you like, note down the specific wine and buy it till you get bored of it. But don’t go “That was a Shiraz and I loved it…I like Shiraz” because, more likely than not, the next one will bite you in the bum.
This is a much bigger deal in international wine, where the Old World is modernising (lighter Bordeaux, softer Barolos, etc.) and the New World is trying to be less obvious (surprisingly, some Aussie Shirazes now operate more like drones than nuclear warheads). Even in South Africa, Cinsault used to mean Tassies; now it’s Sadie Pofadder and a mortgage.
As I have said in a previous column, it is getting hard to know what to expect when you choose off a wine list if you don’t know the exact wine. My advice is don’t be definitive based on grape or area, because you may be surprised. Most people who say they don’t like Chardonnay mean they don’t like heavy, oaky vanillin wines – so you get them a crisp Chablis. Now they like Chablis! And then they order the Droin…and then they hate Chardonnay again.
On the other hand, you definitely do know what you like by taste, so go with that – you can’t go wrong. If you’re speaking to a wine-snob host or a good sommelier, they will be grateful that finally someone cares and wants their expertise, so they will run scurrying to pull bottles from wherever. And if it’s a crap “sommelier”, they will be terrified, which is even more fun. And please do not be embarrassed! It’s perfectly fine to say “I would like something crisp/lemony/oaky/light/bold/spicy/etc”. Even “fruity”, if you must…but you would make my little wine snob heart happy if you could get beyond that to at least one specific fruit, especially on the white. The green apple of a Cap Classique is not the honeyed peach of a Chenin Blanc or the passion fruit of a Sauvignon Blanc. But also, whatever.
Someone reading this is thinking: “I’m not an idiot, I like Pinot Noir”. Fair play, but remember a fresh Jules Taylor from New Zealand is further apart from a reductive Burgundian Domaine Fourrier than even the geography suggests.
But the bigger point is this: tell a good somm that you like a red that is lighter-bodied, mostly red-fruited like red plum, with elegant leafy aromas, soft but present tannins, and bright acidity, and you may not get a Pinot. You may discover the world of Xinomavro from Greece, Listan Negro from the Canary Islands, Trousseau from the Jura, Frappato from Sicily. Or if you’re lucky, even the new Tassies.
And if you love wine, why would you deprive yourself of such riches for the sake of "knowing what you like"?