After reading Mike Steinberger’s third article on the physiology of the oenophile. No I’m pretty sure I don’t.
Some gems from the article:-
1) By far the biggest consumers of wine criticism are male Caucasians, who according to Bartoshuk are also disproportionately represented among nontasters—35 percent of white males fall into this category. So it could be that, from a purely demographic standpoint, the ideal wine critic would be a low-sensitivity taster. (Hanni suspects that some of the more prominent wine critics are indeed low-sensitivity tasters, given their fondness for heavily extracted, high alcohol wines.)
No prizes for guessing who that is directed at!
2) If biology were determinative, I, as a PROP nontaster, would probably enjoy those sweet, soupy, high-alcohol Australian Shirazes and might not think so kindly of light, acidic red Burgundies. In fact, I generally can't stomach the former and adore the latter. Something happened in my life that dictated these preferences, and it clearly wasn't the genes I was born with.
Some might call that wine snobbery, or even bias. But then both wine styles are unlikely to appeal to supertasters.
3) Sure, there is near-universal accord about what attributes a top wine should have—appealing aromatics, ripe fruit, good structure, a sense of harmony in the mouth and a long finish. But given how enormously varied individual palates seem to be, one wouldn't think that there would be much consensus regarding individual wines. However, the critics tend to agree about wines a lot more than they disagree.
If critics are more likely to be non-tasters that would help reach consensus! More likely critics look for the same objective qualities in wine.
Showing posts with label perception. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perception. Show all posts
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
The Physiology of a Wine Taster
At Shiraz I have posted a number of times on the difficulties that are inherent in wine tasting and on the concept of palate calibration. The physiology of taste and smell are fascinating areas of study and every wine drinker should have at least a rudimentary understanding of some of the evolving concepts.
Mike Steinberger, a contributor to Slate, has begun a set of three article on the physiology of the oenophile. First, he examines the question: Do you taste what I taste? Then he will be tested to see whether he's a "supertaster." And finally, he'll look at whether being a supertaster helps in the evaluation of wine. Those interested in the basic concepts behind taste and smell should find these articles of interest.
The first article "Do You Taste What I Taste?" makes some important points that are often overlooked (unknown?) among wine drinkers. For example
Those of us who review wines do so in the belief that our evaluations, while obviously subjective, are of some value to consumers. But a growing body of scientific evidence suggests that taste perceptions may be even more individualistic and idiosyncratic than previously imagined—and if our noses and tongues all operate on such different wavelengths, then who's to say what's good or bad?
and,
Wysocki handed me a plastic tube holding a clear liquid and asked me to take a whiff; I couldn't smell a thing. The liquid contained andostenone, a mammalian pheromone found in boar saliva. In a random sampling of 100 people, around half will detect nothing, 15 or so will smell an inoffensive musky-floral-woody aroma, and the rest will be thoroughly repulsed by a liquid that, to them, reeks of stale urine or particularly nasty body odor.
and,
It was less encouraging to discover how easily the nose can be led astray by the eyes. For his next stupid human trick, Wysocki produced two jars, one labeled "Food," the other "Body." I was told to sniff each. I actually was one of the few people not fooled by the experiment: I said both jars smelled like vomit. In fact, both jars contained the same chemical compound, butyric acid, which can be perceived as vomit but also as perspiration or Parmesan cheese. Wysocki told me he often conducts this test at seminars and that, on average, 60 percent of the people in the room will claim they enjoy the aroma in the "Food" jar, with most saying it's redolent of Parmesan cheese; but when he asks if anyone found the "Body" jar pleasant, no hands go up—the participants invariably claim that it smells of puke or body odor.
Mike Steinberger, a contributor to Slate, has begun a set of three article on the physiology of the oenophile. First, he examines the question: Do you taste what I taste? Then he will be tested to see whether he's a "supertaster." And finally, he'll look at whether being a supertaster helps in the evaluation of wine. Those interested in the basic concepts behind taste and smell should find these articles of interest.
The first article "Do You Taste What I Taste?" makes some important points that are often overlooked (unknown?) among wine drinkers. For example
Those of us who review wines do so in the belief that our evaluations, while obviously subjective, are of some value to consumers. But a growing body of scientific evidence suggests that taste perceptions may be even more individualistic and idiosyncratic than previously imagined—and if our noses and tongues all operate on such different wavelengths, then who's to say what's good or bad?
and,
Wysocki handed me a plastic tube holding a clear liquid and asked me to take a whiff; I couldn't smell a thing. The liquid contained andostenone, a mammalian pheromone found in boar saliva. In a random sampling of 100 people, around half will detect nothing, 15 or so will smell an inoffensive musky-floral-woody aroma, and the rest will be thoroughly repulsed by a liquid that, to them, reeks of stale urine or particularly nasty body odor.
and,
It was less encouraging to discover how easily the nose can be led astray by the eyes. For his next stupid human trick, Wysocki produced two jars, one labeled "Food," the other "Body." I was told to sniff each. I actually was one of the few people not fooled by the experiment: I said both jars smelled like vomit. In fact, both jars contained the same chemical compound, butyric acid, which can be perceived as vomit but also as perspiration or Parmesan cheese. Wysocki told me he often conducts this test at seminars and that, on average, 60 percent of the people in the room will claim they enjoy the aroma in the "Food" jar, with most saying it's redolent of Parmesan cheese; but when he asks if anyone found the "Body" jar pleasant, no hands go up—the participants invariably claim that it smells of puke or body odor.
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