The practice of spitting out wine has always been a curiosity. How can you truly taste something if you don’t swallow it? After all, the lower back of the tonque must contribute something to the flavor. And why would you want to spit it out if it tastes good?

It was at a Moore Brothers tasting event where for the first time I observed, first-hand, people using a spittoon. The ritual prior to spitting consisted of swirling the wine in the glass, sticking the nose into it, taking wine into the mouth, swishing it around, and sucking in air.

At one point, I was off to the side of one of the tasting tables, near a spittoon, attempting to catch the guests using it. A gentleman approached and started talking with me about the wine. We were just a few sentences into our conversation when out of nowhere I blurted out, “Do you spit?”

He looked at me strangely and after a few moments of silence said, “expectorate.” I felt like a big horse’s bottom.

My colleagues expectorate so nonchalantally, and quite elegantly, in a quick, clean, steady stream. For a long time I couldn’t bring myself to try it in front of them for fear of committing some expectorating faux pas.

But recently, after considering the many nights of mild tipsyness and indegestion, I felt it behooved me to learn. So I decided to let down my guard and just start doing it.

At one point, I was off to the side of one of the tasting tables, near a spittoon, attempting to catch the guests using it. A gentleman approached and started talking with me about the wine. We were just a few sentences into our conversation when out of nowhere I blurted out, “Do you spit?”

For guidance, a colleague referred me to the “degustibus” articles by Greg on the Moore Brothers web site.

A key factor is getting the wine to “every surface inside your mouth, including between your lips and teeth and as far back as possible.” Chewing (yes chewing the wine!), is also important; it helps “move the aroma toward the most sensitive part of the olfactory epithelium, where we smell, via what is called the retro-nasal passage, that connects our mouths with our noses.”

Going through the motions (the swirling, smelling, swishing, etc.) feels extremely awkward. The most challenging part for me is overcoming the urge to swallow. But sucking in air and chewing the wine really does aid in getting a tasting effect.

Expectorating itself is not as easy as it looks. More often than not, the wine dribbles from my mouth. And it can be somewhat dangerous; one of my first few attempts resulted in a back splash from the depths of the spitton straight into my eye. Got a little too close I guess.

Greg offers some comforting words in the article: “Don’t be self-conscious about how it looks or sounds, and don’t be shy about spitting. Good tasters develop good aim, and practice will make it all seem natural.”

Yep…before long it’ll be just another night at the store, tasting and expectorating wine.

-Susan Albarran

It’s been a little over seven months since I started working and learning about wine at Moore Brothers. I have to admit, there have been many moments of frustration and often feeling I’m not learning (or drinking) fast enough. There’s much to know: the appellations, the grapes, what the wines taste like, the vintages, background information on the producers, food pairings…

Many of these things are simply a matter of committing facts to memory. Others aren’t so cut and dry. For example, what a wine tastes like.

It never ceases to amaze me how dynamic some wines can be; how they transform over time, from hour to hour. Even with less complex and dynamic wines, they might taste a little different from day to day. I’m struggling with expectations. It’s pointless having any, considering how often they’ve been defied.

When winegrower, Peter Fischer visited the NY store last November, I was excited to finally try the Priorat Trio Infernal cuvées (mostly because they’re a bit out of my budget at $50 and $100.

Based on my research on Priorat wine I expected they’d be super “big”; high in alcohol and tannin. The minimum alcohol content by volume required for a Priorat is 13.5%. And these come in at 14%. Surprisingly, they turned out to be delicate and very drinkable; a characteristic, I was told, that stems from the Peter’s (and Laurent Combier’s, AND Jean-Michel Gerin’s) approach to winemaking.

On another evening I was extremely lucky to try the Domaine Henri Germain Meursault Perrieres (even MORE $), a white Burgundy (aka “Chardonnay”). There was such an intense, buttery richness on the nose I expected it would be just as rich on the palate. Upon tasting, the phrase that immediately came to mind was “in like a lion and out like a lamb”; starting off full and rich in the mouth, finishing with a gentle, refreshing acidity. It was an exceptionally “well-balanced” wine, as they say; when the components of fruit, acidity and alcohol are in harmony.

I used to think I’d know what a wine tasted like based on the predominant grape used in making the wine (the “varietal”). I learned pretty early on to not put too much emphasis on the grape.

Some customers adamantly claim disliking a particular “varietal” – Chardonnay is a common dislike – with California Chardonnay being their only experience. But California Chardonnay is as far from Burgundy Chardonnay as the U.S. is from France. Even within Burgundy you can find worlds of differences between wines made from Chardonnay.

Real wine is so much more than its grapes. Equally important are who, where and when: the producer’s vision; the appellation and terrior; the year the grapes are harvested and the age of the wine. The natural synergy of these elements embody artisan wine with nuance and character (unlike “industrial” wine which often have various elements broken down, manipulated and made to taste the same year after year.)

And yes, it’s this synergy and having to consider, with an open mind, the elements separately as well as interacting as a whole that makes learning and knowing about artisan wine so challenging. For me, it’s the challenge that makes the learning experience so rewarding. And, although I wasn’t specifically seeking to appreciate wine – appreciation found me.

-Susan Albarran