By Monte Belmonte
For the Valley Advocate
In the last edition of the Valley Advocate, I created for you a brief wine glossary designed for non-wine people. The last column went from A-L: “ABV” to “legs.” Then I ran out of column space. If you are reading this digitally, maybe the editors will be kind enough to link to the previous article. If not, try and expand this newsprint with your two fingers like I do, every time I want to zoom in on something in a paper. Nevertheless, here are my semi-essential, second-half-of-the-alphabet words to assist you when you are being subjected to the relentless wine snobbery and word-nerdery of oenophiles (use context clues on that word) like me.
PEXELS/Helena Lopes
Here are my semi-essential, second-half-of-the-alphabet words to assist you when you are being subjected to the relentless wine snobbery and word-nerdery of oenophiles (use context clues on that word) like me.
Malo: it’s short for malolactic fermentation. It’s the transformation of a type of acid found in grapes, malic acid, into lactic acid. Lactic. Lactose. Like milk. While a very common process in the making of red wines, it’s most noticeable on the palate of white wines. It makes your Chardonnay taste creamy, milky, buttery. I hate that flavor. I want sharp acids like in an apple. “Malic” is derived from the Latin word for apple. That’s the acid for me. At least when it comes to white wines. Apologies to Timothy Leary.
Noble Rot: Apart from being my future band’s name (don’t steal it!), it’s a fancy way of talking about a really fun fungus: botrytis cinerea. When it’s hot and humid and when the conditions are right, this fun guy takes over an over-ripe, thin-skinned grape that’s been on the vine too long and turns it into a sweet delicious dessert grape. It sounds gross. But it’s amazing. Although their sophomore album was weak.
Oaky: This one’s pretty self-explanatory, it’s when the wine takes on the flavor of the oak barrels that it is aged in. French oak has a tight grain and can be used “judiciously” (as wine snobs like to say) to impart some vanilla notes or maybe a baking spice flavor. American oak has a wider grain and can impart an onslaught of flavors including vanilla, but also caramel and sometimes coconut (USA! USA!). It can also make the wine taste a little woody. I prefer the judicious use of oak. I don’t want the wine to be too oaky.
Orange Wine: Like white wine, which is often yellow, and red wine, which is sometimes purple, orange wine has little to do with the actual color of the wine. Almost all juice comes out of almost all grapes clear in color. The red color in red wine comes from leaving the juice with the skins. If you are pressing a white grape, but leave the juice with the white skins as long as you would with red grapes, they call that orange wine. Even though the process is ancient, the term “orange wine” is super trendy right now.
Pét-Nat: It’s snob speak for Pétillant Naturel (as if all French isn’t snob speak). It means naturally bubbly or sparkling. Rather than going through the painstaking process of making a sparkling wine like Champagne, this method relies more on natural yeasts. It’s an ancient or ancestral method of bottling a wine before it’s completely fermented, trapping the bubbles in the bottle. Refreshingly effervescent!
Punt: It’s what the 2024 New England Patriots do every fourth down. Actually this is pronounced “poont” and is the concave part of the bottom of a wine bottle. Some say it helps keep the leftover sediment trapped in the bottom. Sommeliers stick their thumb in there to get a better grip on the bottle when pouring one handed. It’s just fun to say.
Quaffable: Usually, wine snobs use this to damn a wine with faint praise. It literally means easy to drink. But often wine people will use this when they can’t think of anything nicer to say about a wine.
Reserva: If you are drinking a Spanish wine, it actually means something. Aged three years, at least one in an oak barrel. Pretty much everywhere else in the world, if they put this on a label it only means they want you to pay more for it.
Sec: It is supposed to mean “dry” but it means sweet (See “Sweet”). If you’re looking for dry, look for “dry,” or even better, “brut.” God, wine is confusing.
Sulfites: Most people who react poorly to wine blame sulfites. They occur naturally on grapes in the wild. Some people use a little extra to preserve color, stop fermentation, or to keep their wines from rotting ignobly. Sulfites get a bad rep. You like tea? Sulfites. You like sweet potato? Sulfites. You like ketchup? Sulfites.
Sweet: It means the same thing in wine snob as it does in English. But don’t confuse it with fruity. A wine can be fruity but not sweet.
Tannin: It’s an acid found in most fruits and veggies. It has a drying effect on your palate. Depending on how tannic a wine is, it can make you feel like you have sweaters on your teeth.
Terroir: It’s the “place-iness” of a wine region. It’s how the soil, sun, slope, Southerly-ness and other place-related features can impact how a wine will taste. And, when you get to understand what different terroir does to a wine, it can help you identify where some wines come from — even without looking at the label. It’s like blind wine tasting magic trick.
Unctuous: I pronounce it with three syllables. UNC-chew-us (Is that how you say that?). It means the wine is oily and viscous in your mouth.
Varietal: it’s the singular of “variety.” If it’s a red Burgundy it’s probably a Pinot Noir, and nothing more. It’s a varietal wine. If it’s from Bordeaux, it’s probably got more than one variety of grape. Wine snobs also like to say if a wine is “varietally correct.” Like Pinot Noir should look light in color.
Wine: Wow. We without a doubt have a lot of work to do.
Yquem: If only you could use this word in Scrabble. But it’s technically a proper noun. It’s the name of a Chateau where they make one of the greatest wines in the world. And as much as I like to think I don’t like sweet wines, Chateau d’Yquem is a sweet Sauternes wine from the French region of the same name in Bordeaux. And guess how they make it sweet? Noble Rot. It’s like drinking liquid gold, both because it’s good and because it will cost you hundreds, if not thousands for a bottle. I tried it once, years ago. I can still taste it now. It’s that good.
Zinfandel: Zinfandel gets a bad rep because of the abomination of a rosé that captivated the wine word: White Zinfandel. Here I am complaining about a sweet wine again, after just praising Yquem. Zinfandel has had a circuitous and interesting history, that probably begins in Croatia, but ends up in Boston, and eventually gets taken over to California during the Gold Rush. I like to think it was Boston Italians who took it there, as Bostonians may have exported it out of the U.S. and sent it to Italy where it was and is called Primitivo. Also, my Boston Italian grandmother was fond of her “white zinfanDEL,” as she would pronounce it. At any rate, It’s a great immigrant story, one way or the other.
And there you have it. A brief wine glossary to get you going on your viticultural vernacular. Now go out and get the 1,000 page Oxford Companion to Wine and take a deep dive into the dictionary of drinking.
