musée du vin de Paris

While getting up at 7:30am to go drink wine doesn't necessarily sound ideal, a study in the French culinary arts would be incomplete without some instruction in oenology.   Besides, the afternoon session was already full, so I had little choice.


The Musée du Vin de Paris's site is pretty good, so I'll let you read about the history of the cellars, the limestone quarries and the monastery on your own.  Instead, I'll tell you about my introduction to tasting class.


There were a dozen people enrolled, young and old.  Several arrived already knowing a bit about wine, others were more novices like I am.  There were four non-French attendees: a woman from Scotland, one from Ukraine, a Chinese man who lives in Belgium, and myself.  I expected the French to know more than they did, so as soon as I realized that they weren't perfect, I relaxed significantly.  I should say that the class was entirely in French, and all the non-natives spoke fluently.  The museum also offers tastings in English, though much less often, so if you non-French speakers are interested in scheduling one while you're next in Paris, it's best to check the calendar well in advance. 

There's no way I could write down everything that I learned this morning, and reading over my notes, I realized I wrote half in English, half in French, so it's quite entertaining.  Fortunately, we were provided with a sheet with "100 words to describe wine."  According to our instructor Monique, the professionals use about 400 words.  I think 100 is plenty.

First, she talked about how we use all five senses in tasting wine, but the three main ones are smell, taste and sight.  Listen to how the wine sounds when you're pouring it in the glass.  And you not only use touch when you hold the bottle and feel the temperature, but also how the wine feels in your mouth.

You hear a lot about how wines smell "woody" or "fruity" or like grapefruit (one of my all-time favorite smells).  But you're not wrong if you can't smell what the label says you're supposed to.  You must first have things in your memory to be able to recognize them.  Growing up in Oklahoma, I spent more times with certain smells, while the French know things like black currant and truffle, so it's natural that I can't smell pick out those smells.  It's not part of my "genetic heritage," or my "sensory profile."  That's not to say that I can't learn to recognize those smells, I just need to "work my nose!" Monique said, "to be good, you must taste often!"  She also suggested you leave a little bit in the bottle at the end of the evening, and smell and taste it the next day to see the difference that time can make.  Even the empty glass will smell different in the morning.

Now, a word about place setting.  White wine glasses are always placed on the right, and water on the left.  Red wine glasses go in between.  Much like you start on the outside with silverware and work you way in, you move from right to left with glassware. 

We also needed to learn how to open the bottle.  (Can I tell you how relieved I was that real live French people weren't doing this right?!)   It's important not to rotate the bottle when you're cutting the foil off of the top; this stirs up the deposits.  Instead, using the point of the knife blade, do one-half turn on each side, and then use the blade to lift off the foil.  Turn the corkscrew, again taking care not to turn the bottle.  Official protocol says that you shouldn't hear the cork coming out of the bottle - and this includes champagne - so gently wiggle the cork out with your hand after pulling most out with the corkscrew.  Always, always smell the cork for all wines, and if it's a white, be sure to also taste it before serving to your guests.  Finally, turn the wrist at the end of your pour to avoid drips.  (Haha! This, I knew!).

Next step: how to properly hold your glass.  Never hold it by the bowl, but by the stem. And here's why:

• your hand heats the wine
• you leave marks on the glass, which - especially during a candlelight dinner - is ugly
• you "mask its dress."  I think this must translate to something like "hiding its color."
• you can also smell whatever is on your hands - soap, aftershave, etc. - which will interfere with smelling the nose of the wine.

I think you'll agree that all of the above is quite logical.  But Monique said that 95% of people hold their wine glass by the bowl.  And she said that every time she sees "American actors" on TV, or even President Sarkozy at dinner with the Queen, they're holding their wine incorrectly.

Monique also explained that professionals hold wine glasses by their feet (is that the proper word?  In French, she called it an "assiette," which means "plate"), so unless you want people to think you're a super-expert, you don't want to do that.  The stem is perfectly acceptable.

And now that you have all that down, we can finally move on to the tasting.  (Disclaimer: I wasn't able to get everything down on paper, and there's a slight chance I misunderstood every so often, so if there are mistakes, let's blame them on the wine).

Premier nez (First nose):  If you're among friends, take a good, big whiff.  This is where many people will start putting names on what they smell.  But I was surprised to learn that it's perfectly acceptable not to be able to find specific aromas on your first smell.  So what do you do if you find yourself in a situation where someone asks, "How do you find this wine?"and you don't want to look like an idiot?  You can say things like: "This wine hasn't yet told us all it has to say." 

Examen visuel (Visual exam): Then, under good light, tilt the glass and look at the color.  Next, hold it under your chin and look down at it, looking at the intensity.  Then, hold a blank sheet of white paper at arm's length, and tilt the glass so it's parallel to the paper and look at the edge of the wine.  There, you can see nuances, like a transparent edge.

After that, you swirl the glass on the table by holding the stem between your first two fingers.  Then, hold it up to the light and watch the "glisserole," or the "larmes et jambes."  The tears and legs.  The thicker the legs and the more slowly they slide down the glass, the more sun the grapes knew.  It's the sign of a good year.  (By the way, Monique said that 2009 was a great year for just about every wine, 2008 was good, 2007 was a short but good year, and 2005 was also good).

Nez du vin et retro olfaction: And then, we smelled again, and finally tasted.  And boy, were we noisy!  Because Monique taught us how to slurp our wine so the aroma would rise up through the back of our noses.

Examen Gustatif:  The actual tasting of the wine, which for me at least was combined with the retro olfaction.  And we counted Caudalies - an oenological French term that quantifies the duration of a wine's flavor in your mouth. One second of time equals one Caudalie. The finer the wine, the longer its flavor lingers on the palate.  The maximum number of Caudalies is twelve, so I'm not sure I was counting right, because once I got to fifteen.

As I'm processing all of this tonight, I realize that it's a lot to remember, and is definitely something that takes practice.  But a few things Monique said really stuck with me.

• It's ridiculous to get too complex.
• YOU are the taster.  Tasting is for YOUR pleasure.
• Don't think you have to find exactly what the "experts" say you should find. 
• Learn the rules of tasting and practice!