The World of Jenna Talia

"I kid you not, I love Jenna Talia."

Eatme.com’s Jenna Talia Baioppsi brings her hyperfresh questions to some of the country’s leading sommeliers. Be prepared for her incisive, cutting-edge, computer-generated ideas, and the fascinating answers they elicit. We’re lucky when we’re exposed to hyperfresh Jenna Talia. She’s the voice of Millennials, the ventriloquist to those dummies.

Rog Subparr

I have a really interesting question for you, Rog. What do you think will be the next trend in wine? I thought of that question myself. I can’t stop thinking about you.

I haven’t quite decided what I’m going to make the next trend in wine, Jenna Talia. Orange wines are already so yesterday. You can tell, even Steve Heimoff knows what they are now. However, orange wines were a fabulous trend. Average wine consumers hated them! This is the very definition of a successful wine trend. I hated them too, but, as a famous sommelier, I felt the obligation of my calling—educating people what to like while ignoring what they have to say. It’s so rewarding to recommend a wine using the influence of the sommelier position and then watch the person struggle to understand why the hell you’d drink a wine that smelled like the underside of man boobs.

But to answer your brilliant and probing question, Jenna Talia, the next trend is going to be adding your own alcohol to wine. My colleague over at San Francisco’s hottest new wine bar Dick is already doing it. It’s simple, really. You convince a few winemakers to have a few cases of their wines de-alked. You offer those de-alked wines by-the-glass—Dick has wines from wineries like Kosta Browne, Littorai and Siduri, as well as three de-alked Jura wines—and then, on the side, you give the customer his own glass of alcohol to add. It’s cool. One person in the party likes really low-alcohol wines, so he just adds a splash. Another wants 16.5 ABV and adds a huge dose. It’s very democratic. Sure, wineries always preach to drink what you like, but then they dictate the alcohol level. And you’d be surprised what you learn. Like when you taste the Jura wines without alcohol they taste surprisingly like Super Balls.

Again, this will be the hot new trend, and your average wine lover will hate it and generally ignore it. I’m the master of that.

I like how you give really long answers to my questions that I made up without anyone else’s help. I could listen to you talk all night. You have the cutest lips. What wine region has you really excited right now?

Well, Jenna Talia, I love off-wines from interesting regions. Wines that even the locals don’t really want to drink. I’m compiling a long list of German red wines for my new restaurant client Mein Kampfo Fina—it’s an Italian-influenced German restaurant. I love their steamed mussels with pasta dish, the Musselini. I pair it with another one of the wines I’m excited about lately, white wine from Uruguay. It’s a white made from a relative of their black grape. It’s called Tannat King Cole.  I’m telling you, Uruguay will be the next big thing in wines from places you’d never visit, replacing Lodi.

Oh, there is just so much obscure wine in the world, it seems foolish to spend any time at all on the boring old great wines. Who wants to spend a lifetime tasting Bordeaux and Barolo and Rioja? It’s like only having sex with three beautiful women when there are all these needy homely women out there. And, you see, it’s what we do when we become wine experts. We put down the classics and celebrate the plonk. Who needs Alsace when you can get wine from the Canary Islands for a song. Get it? Canary Island? Song? Never mind. And the upside for us wine experts, whether we own a wine shop or run a wine list, is that no one knows the difference between crappy wine from Irouleguy and great wine from Irouleguy! Is there a difference? There is if I tell you there is.

Of course, I’m also making my own wines under the Subparr Cellars label. You know when you taste a wine made by a famous sommelier, it’s going to be Subparr. I have a Subparr Assyrtiko/Vignoles blend called “Assgnoles.” It’s on the list at Dick, the Dick List. I’m often featured on the Dick List. And I’m about to release a Subparr Red from Cabernet Pfeffer—the “p” is silent, like in swimming pool.

I really like how you talk down to me. I feel it’s only appropriate. Do you like my questions? I wrote them for you. Here’s another one. What’s the biggest change in the wine scene you’ve noticed since you became the most famous sommelier in the world?

That’s a very good question, Jenna Talia. I love that you’re smart, and not just a face. What’s changed is how many more people want to be sommeliers. There used to be hardly any, now they’re like cockroaches.  “Hello, I’m Gregor Samsa and I’ll be your sommelier this evening. Oh, crap, who turned the lights on? Gotta go.” Sommelier isn’t a job, really, it’s a title. Like Prince, or Ambassador, or President. You’re not an average person any more, you’re a title. And carrying that title obligates you to certain things. Mention it at every opportunity. Never admit you like Zinfandel. Never, never win a Wine Spectator Award for your wine list unless you work in some hillbilly state. And always come off as pompous in interviews.

Promise me that you’ll always remember our time together.

I promise, Lettie.

The Cure for Dull Wine Reviews Once More

Tasting notes are like those online disclaimers we mindlessly sign—nuisances that nobody reads. You go to a winery website, a box pops up that says, “Clicking here acknowledges that you are 21 years old,” and you check it and move on. How is this actually legal? It could say, “Clicking here acknowledges that you like to smell your finger after sex,” and we’d click it whether it was true or not just to get into the site. And no one seems to wonder about the consequences of signing those online forms that every credit card and every bank makes you sign. We scroll to the bottom, check the box, and hope we haven’t signed away our organs to the Russian Mafia. Though I have a big Wurlitzer they can have. I also wonder, if I have a woman check a box that says, “Checking this box acknowledges that you are over 18 and using birth control,” will that pass muster in court? Does it have to be beforehand, or does during count? Hell, I checked her box that said, “Checking this box acknowledges that I have had a vasectomy and have never given my cat a tongue bath.” Well, in my defense, it was half true. Does that make it legal? And, hey, it was only fair. The cat gave me a tongue bath first.

There’s no incentive to read tasting notes. Do I really care if a Cabernet smells like cassis, or tobacco, or Chaz Bono’s chubby? No. It has a score, that’s all I care about. But all the wine rags spend a lot of energy trying to convince you that it’s in your best interest to read the descriptions. Why? They’re boring. Fortune cookies have fewer words, more literary value, and far more truth, but I don’t want to read a hundred of them. No, I like to imagine how famous writers and thinkers might write about wine. Now that sounds like a damned premise, and about damned time.


Rod Serling on Napa Valley Cult Cabernet 

Imagine this is the last Cabernet Sauvignon on Earth and you hold it in your hands. Tomorrow every last bottle of wine made from that valuable grape will vanish except this one, and what you hold will be the ultimate cult wine, the last great vintage of a once proud grape. First Growth Bordeaux vanishes from the Earth, except for the forgeries up for auction at Acker Merrill. Napa Valley is empty, devoid of real life and meaning-- much as it is now. And you get to give the last remaining Cabernet its only rating. Do you give it a number, or (raising lit cigarette to his lips) puffs? You unlock this wine with the wine key of imagination. You’re tasting a wine made of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas, and lots of new French oak. It’s a first release from a new producer, it’s in a very heavy bottle wrapped in tissue, nestled in a flashy wooden box, an ambitious wine with an ambitious price, $195 a bottle. There’s the signpost up ahead, just you and the winery owner, you’ve both crossed over into…The Twilight Zone. 85 Points.


David Mamet

Listen, I have to give a great review to this fucking wine…I mean it…I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stayed in their fucking guest house…Well, I could, but that doesn’t matter…I don’t owe them shit for that…OK, listen, this is great fucking wine and you need to buy it…What?...Just fuckin’ buy it…You owe me, you owe me…I don’t care…you owe me. I don’t give a shit that you can’t afford it…You can’t afford it because you’re an idiot, a fucking idiot…This is going to be a valuable wine some day… I’m trying to do you a goddam favor and all you want to do is skip to the Best Buys…This wine has more fucking fruit than Fashion Week…It’s more intense than Harold Pinter…fucking Harold Pinter, I’m telling you…Don’t you want goddam Pinter in your mouth?...He tastes like fucking chicken… 98 Points, I swear.


Henny Youngman

I went into a wine shop and I said to the guy, “Give me something for steak.” He gave me his dentures.

I told him I wanted a white wine to drink while I was fishing off the dock. “How about a Jura of your piers?” I bought a case closed.

I had dinner at a fancy restaurant. The sommelier was so stiff there was a chalk outline of him on the floor.

After I finished the first bottle of wine, he asked me if I’d like a second. My wife said, “That’s all he usually needs.”

A guy goes into a bar and says, “Man, I’m old. I can’t even remember how many bottles of wine I drank last week.” The bartender tells him to take his pants off and bend over. “You had five bottles of wine.” “How could you tell that?” “You told me yesterday.”


D. H. Lawrence on Dehlinger Pinot Noir

I felt the urgency of the Pinot Noir as it entered me, its turgid fruit clinging to my palate, its feverish intensity urging me to Pommard clone orgasm. 667, I cried, 114, I didn’t care. I didn’t care. Pomegranate! Raspberry! Cola! But my cherry, where was my cherry? Gone, gone forever. I didn’t want it to finish. No, I cried, stay in me, let me feel your length, smell your woody, earthy fragrance, hold you in my mouth until my warmth releases all that you have to offer. When I’m done you linger, you’re gone, you’re gone, but you linger, you linger…

Voter's Guide to the 2012 Wine Propositions

Though it’s rarely mentioned, and there doesn’t seem to be much coverage in the media, we have an election coming up the first Tuesday in November. As a well-informed voter, I know there is a black guy and a white guy running for an important office against each other. But that’s not the part of the election that matters. Hell, it’s like boxing, always bet the black guy over the white guy, it’s mostly fixed anyway. I think I also heard that one of them is a Mormon. Pretty sure it’s the white guy. Must be, black Mormons are like most sommeliers—they have the title, but they’re mostly just there to clean up and lock the doors. So just ignore that race, and focus on what really matters in the upcoming election. Propositions.

At least here in California, there are a lot of important propositions that will decide the future of wine. I know that thousands of people depend on the HoseMaster of Wine™ for guidance in all things pertaining to the industry, so I’m providing my recommendations for how every wine lover should vote in this upcoming election. If you’re still confused after reading my list, just mail me your ballot. I’ll shred it faster than a Florida Republican.

VOTE YES on Proposition 97

Prop 97 would create a “luxury tax” on overpriced wines that would be re-distributed among wineries charging reasonable prices for their wines. For example, a Napa Valley Cabernet selling for $195 would be required to pay a 20% luxury tax of $39 on each bottle sold. $195 is a stupid price for a bottle of wine considering the same money could feed a family of six for a week, or be better spent gambling on cock fights. A Russian River Pinot Noir selling for $150 would also be required to pay a $30 luxury tax. And so on. The accumulated taxes would be divided among struggling wineries charging fair prices for their wines as an incentive to keep wine prices down. The proposition also creates a fund to treat the mental health of those who purchased the overpriced wines. An independent panel of experts will be assembled to decide where the “overpriced” ceiling is for each category of wine. So, as an example of fairness, at $15, any bottle of California Sangiovese would qualify as overpriced. And every damned Dessert Wine at any price.

VOTE NO on Proposition 99

Proposition 99 would allow wineries to name their proprietary wines after diseases. This is a terrible idea, of course, but one that the big corporate wineries are eager to capitalize on. K-J has already trademarked “Bulimia—The Wine That Tastes Just As Good the Second Time.” We don’t need that. There was a test brand from the Sierra Foothills called “Petite Psoriasis” that had a peel-off label. Seems rather tacky. And do we really need “Syphillis” in a screw top? You can see the marketing appeal for the wineries though. “Give your significant other a case of Sterling ‘Gonorrhea.’” That would move the sales needle, if not the hypodermic. But the next thing you know other countries will follow suit and we’ll suffer the nightmare that would be Soave "Ebola." For the love of God, vote No on 99.

VOTE YES on Proposition A

Proposition A would ban the use of French in all marketing materials. French is the source for all the wine vocabulary that is stupid, illogical, and inexplicable. Use of the word “terroir” would be punishable by a hefty fine, as well as mandatory attendance at a Jim Clendenen winemaker dinner (though the Supreme Court may rule that is cruel and unusual punishment). “Cru” would also be banned, except for rapper winemakers. A Pinot Noir producer who used the word “Burgundian” would be beaten senseless and forced to wear Jean-Charles Boisset’s hand-me-downs to leather bars. It’s about time these stupid, misleading French words were made illegal. “Methode Champenoise” always sounds like a fancy brand of douche to me anyway, so let’s just get rid of it. I’d like to see the law go even further and ban terms that are related to French wines, even ones in English. Crap like “First Growth.” Sounds like the results of your colonoscopy anyway. But, really, if we can just ban “terroir” we’ve made the wine world a much better place. I’ve never known a quality human to use it, only marketing people. You must vote Yes on Prop A.

VOTE YES on Proposition 18

Prop 18 would force wine competitions to award Gold Medals that are actually made of 24K gold. Opponents say that this will raise entry fees for wineries that want to enter competitions, while advocates argue that it will stop the obscene proliferation of Gold Medals. Both are desirable results. Silver medals will remain worthless, and Bronze medals will be eliminated in favor of valuable parting gifts. "Our 2009 Zinfandel was awarded American Tourister luggage!" Fewer entries, a result of necessarily higher entry fees,  will mean the mostly senior citizen wine judges will actually be able to stay awake. Meanwhile, competition organizers will put pressure on the old farts to give fewer valuable medals, resulting in Gold Medal wines that are actually worth buying. Imagine that.

VOTE YES on Proposition L

Proposition L seeks to make it illegal for sommeliers (a word that would be banned if Prop A passes—let’s just call them what they really are, Cork Presenters) to make and sell their own wine. The marketplace is flooded with wine made by real celebrities, it doesn’t need wine made by fake ones. Sommeliers should be limited to doing what it is they do best—making winemakers squirm with their idiotic opinions. This is valuable work, and shouldn’t be undervalued. But sommeliers making their own wine is like gardeners making their own manure—fine in the privacy of their own home, but I don’t want to have to smell it. Be brave and stand up for your convictions. Don’t be a No L Coward.

Blind Book Review--"How to Love Wine"

Somehow my copy of Eric Asimov’s new book “How to Love Wine” was lost in the mail, or was mistakenly shipped to one of the usual sycophantic wine bloggers, you know who they are, guaranteed to give it a rave review. Really, you’re recommending the new book by the wine critic of the newspaper of record (sorry, Newspaper of Record) when your claim to fame is your insightful post about how tasting rooms should have stools? Wow, that’s quite a stretch. I just loved your previous post where you showed a pretty picture of a pear and reminded us how you could taste pears in some wines. So insightful, and easy for us morons to understand. I’m sending you a photo of a gerbil, hoping he’ll find a home somewhere in your anatomy. I simply must rush out and buy Asimov’s new book, based on the surprisingly positive wine blogger reviews. I haven’t heard so much gushing since the last BP oil spill.

I haven’t read “How to Love Wine.” I probably will. Eric Asimov is a nice guy, thoughtful and funny and articulate. Wait, that’s me. But I’m going to write about his new book without having read it.  I think reading it is a crutch, and predisposes you to like it. Think of this as a blind book review. I’m reviewing the book and haven’t even seen the cover! Takes all the bias out of it. This is how professionals do it. Would those kiss-ass wine bloggers (it’s discouraging how few have any sort of voice or backbone—if I’m an inveterate misanthrope, at least inveterate is better than invertebrate) have given such glowing reviews if they had no idea who the author is? Makes you think, doesn’t it?

First of all, why do I need a book about “How to Love Wine?” Who the hell needs to know how to love wine? If you’re buying the damn book, you already love wine. I don’t need a book called “How to Love Blowjobs.” Oh, wait, is that giving or receiving? Bad example. I might buy a book entitled, “How to Love Brain Tumors.” Those are hard to love. “How to Love Rat Poison” has a certain ring to it. I’m pretty sure there’s a series in here, like those piece of crap “Idiot’s Guides.” “How to Love Flatulence” is a book every man would buy his wife for Christmas. “How to Love Pedophiles” might be a niche book, but at least you’d be learning to love something, someone, utterly disgusting who you wouldn’t know how to love otherwise.. “How to Love Wine” is the worst title for a wine book I’ve ever heard. OK, “Naked Wine” is right up there. Though I’ve pre-ordered the sequel, “Naked and Shaved Wine.”

Asimov’s premise, I guess (hey, this is a blind book review, I’m guessing, not dealing with facts—you know, like wine reviews on blogs), is that there are a large number of people intimidated by wine, who believe that they have to know a lot of trivial knowledge about a wine, have to know the scores it received, have to have spent a bunch of money on it, in order to enjoy it fully. Who are these cretins? Really. I’ve never met people this blatantly stupid. And if I had, I certainly wouldn’t write a book for them. These people probably get confused by the menu at Red Lobster. I feel sorry for these doorknobs. With more than 200 choices, how do they decide which channel to watch on TV? It’s so intimidating! How do I love TV? Especially when people make fun of me for watching The Crochet Network, even though that’s what I really like. (“I’m voting for Knit Romney.”) Life must be miserable for those idiots. At least now, thanks to Eric Asimov, they’ll know how to love wine.

For as long as I can remember, there’s been talk about all the people who might come to love wine, but are turned off by wine snobs, and so give up, and never pursue the obvious joys of wine. To their everlasting sorrow. On their death beds, their only regret is, “Gosh, I know I’ve been a failure as a father, and I wish I hadn’t slept with the babysitter without wearing a condom, but, honestly, I just wish I’d tasted more natural wines.” In 35 years, I’ve never met one of these pansies. They are the Undecided Voters of wine journalism. Everyone tries to win them over, but, hell, first you have to find them. And they’re not hiding, they just don’t give a crap. How many damn wine books begin with the premise that the author won’t talk down to you, but, rather, try to turn you on to the pleasures of wine? Oh, I don’t know, a thousand? The authors all talk about the myriad of wine snobs in the universe, most of them regular commenters on Robert Parker’s chat room (Bob’s buttboys) or holding forth on Wine Berserkers, but who reads that garbage? Not people who don’t know about wine. Those wine boards are the equivalent of locker room grabass. All in good fun, but mostly about aggression, dominance, and repressed homosexuality.

Is it particularly insightful to urge people to ignore scores, forget about the insanely stupid descriptions, and just enjoy the sensual experience of wine? How many times have the words “Just drink what you like” been written or expressed? Throw all the philosophy you like at it, it’s about as simpleminded a statement as there is in the wine business. Tasting a newly released wine and saying, “It needs some age,” is just about as simpleminded, but not quite. Oh, and, “It really needs food.”

I also don’t care if someone buys wine based on a numerical score. Who cares? Numerical scores run our lives, from IQ’s, to SAT scores, to cholesterol tests, to body weight, we love to assign numbers. And then we eventually wise up and move on from them to lead our lives. If you spend your entire wine life buying bottles because of scores, you’re a sucker. Wine shops and wineries love suckers. You’ll always be welcome if you buy wine by scores—the whole industry will adore you. But the love of wine is in the history of it, the romance of it, the sharing of it. There isn’t a solitary ounce of love in the scores. Almost everyone figures that out after a few years, on their own, without reading a book.

What is condescending to beginning wine drinkers is the endless chatter about wine that makes it seem more mystical than it really is. When, truly, it’s the alcohol that makes us love it, crave it, build wooden shrines to it in our cellars. What offends people isn’t the fixation on scores; it really isn’t even the wine snobs. It’s all the blatant hooey. The waxing poetic about how wine changed your life, the mystical musing about the spiritual benefits of drinking natural wine, the endless tasting notes that teach us from the beginning that describing a wine is actually a test done as a requirement instead of as an enthusiasm—it’s that kind of emptyheaded philosophizing and name-dropping that turns normal people off to wine.

So I thoroughly enjoyed not receiving or reading Eric Asimov’s “How to Love Wine.” It gave me a lot to think about. I also look forward to blind reviewing many other wine books that will not be sent to me for review. And, really, isn’t that the best way to learn to love wine? Not read the best wine books?
 

Calendar of Events

German Wines: The “Does Anyone Care?” Tour

Join more than 50 producers of German wine as they tour the US one last time to try and generate interest in their wines. Really, this is it. Last chance. Wines are grouped by region, but you won’t want to miss the final group, “Nahe, Nahe—Nahe, Nahe—Hey, Hey, Goodbye.” You may also want to attend the pre-tasting lecture by a leading German wine authority you haven’t heard of, because, well, he’s a leading German wine authority. It is widely acknowledged that German Rieslings are among the greatest wines in the world, unless you count red as wine. French white wines used to be better, but they surrendered. The German Wine Federation invites you to come discover why QbA is not a gay basketball league.


Sherry: A Sweeping Taste of Flor

Sherry is the most misunderstood wine in the world, which may be a good thing. Even most sommeliers, when asked about Sherry, think only of Dry Sack, which a little talcum powder would help in most cases. At “A Sweeping Taste of Flor,” you’ll be able to taste and learn about the various styles of Sherry. What’s the difference between Oloroso and Amontillado? What about Manzanilla? How do I know if it’s really Armadillo, and what scales do I use to judge it? And how about Ponderoso? You want one of those in your cart, right? Never forget that the history of Sherry is, truly, the history of England. Which explains its decline. Come taste why Sherry is often referred to by borderline wine experts as “vastly underappreciated.” Like laxatives, and chimpanzees that smoke cigarettes. Hosted by Bill “My Name, Pedro Ximenez” Dana.


MELKAPALOOZA!!

Often referred to as the “female Helen Turley,” Phillipe Melka is responsible for every wine in Napa Valley. Phillipe himself will be present at Melkapalooza to talk about his wines, sign autographs, prepare a gourmet lunch, sing a selection of show tunes, and blend seven new premium Napa Cabernets. All 450 wineries where Phillipe is consulting winemaker will be present to pour their current releases, all of which received 93 points from somebody. In a wine world recklessly producing thousands of wines that are confusing and taste different, it’s Phillipe Melka who carries the torch for uniformity.



Virginia! If the Smokes Won’t Kill Ya, the Alcohol Will!

Virginia, the Addiction State, presents a tasting of its finest wines. And here’s the rare wine tasting where it’s OK to smoke! Go ahead, light up. You don’t really need your palate. Cigarette smoke is the perfect accompaniment to Virginia wines, and actually enhances the aroma of our Viognier. Yes, we’ve made Viognier our signature grape here in Virginia. Why? Because Vignoles was taken. Virginia has a long and distinguished history in wine, and is widely credited with spreading phylloxera to those uppity French sissies in the Eighteenth Century. So you owe us!



Praised by Bloggers: The Best We Could Do Tasting

Tired of those crowded, prestigious tastings of wines that earned Tre Biccheri, or made some crappy wine rag’s Top 100? Then join us as more than 350 producers celebrate the praise, ratings and scores they received on wine blogs at “The 2012 Best We Could Do Tasting.” Having submitted their wines for scores to many publications and having failed to do better than “84—Really, you should be ashamed,” wineries turn to bloggers for favorable reviews and scores. And it doesn’t take much! Looking for an exclusive Cabernet with a prestigious “California” appellation? Trust your blogger! Wondering what a great wine from Alsace tastes like? Welcome to the blogger club! We don’t know either! Want to understand wine better? Yeah, we get that! Join us on our journey at “The Best We Could Do Tasting.” It’s like the Special Olympics, but for wine. Amid all the talk of inflated wine scores, it’s our trustworthy bloggers who have truly managed to lower the bar.