I recently attended a vertical tasting of Bouchard Finlayson Pinot Noirs, with a couple international examples thrown in. It got me thinking about Pinot Noir, and then about language, and then whether it is just better to get drunk. I decided it actually is better to think, so here are my thoughts.

The tasting itself was excellent, and it’s great to see a wine farm eschewing the typical freebie media lunch in favour of a more serious, and informative tasting. Bouchard Finlayson make really great Pinots, and I left the tasting being reminded yet again that our fine wines are world class. I was chatting with a few other tasters about this, and when this point was raised I wondered how many times we have to realize this before can just accept it and move on. Move on to where? Well I think to focus on making, tasting and talking about truly great wines that the Cape is capable of, rather than giving time and energy to lesser examples, and to stop being surprised when we taste a great one.

The other reminder was how we drink our wines far too young. The 1996 and 1998 Pinots from Bouchard Finlayson wines were my two favourites. The ‘96 was still wonderfully fresh with cherry, some toastiness, and a touch of earthy character. But what made it stand out for me was how the tannins had mellowed out, offering a structured wine that slipped down easily. Comparing this to the younger wines it was obvious that they were simply not ready to drink. It’s like when you go home for a quick lunch, and decide to make some toasted cheese and ham sandwiches. You butter the bread, add the cheese and ham, and pop it in the snackwich maker. But you’re just too hungry to wait it out. You know you will enjoy it more when the bread is nice and crispy, the cheese properly melted, the ham good and hot. But your stomach overrules this sensible thought. But you take out the sloppy half-cooked snackwhich and eat it. You are filled, but disappointed. Wine is the same, the older Pinot Noirs were simply more satisfying. More drinkable, more fulfilling.

I left the tasting and when I got home I sat down and started thinking about Pinot Noir in general, which lead me to think that the world of wine words can be terribly sexist.

Pinot Noir. It’s a grape that people love to love. I mean, I have met people who love Bordeaux, some love Syrah, others yearn for Sauvignon Blanc, or claim Chenin to be the greatest white grape, but no none causes people to lose their shit like Pinot Noir. They fall over themselves painting Pinot Noir as the perfume of the gods, mother earth’s elixir. I would guess that for many in the English speaking world it may be because they get to sound a little French every time they get to say the word. “Fancy a glass of Pee-no Noah cheri?” they say, imagining naked women, chocolate croissants, baguettes, and a young Gerard Depardieu.  Wine lovers get all titillated over Pinot Noir.

As my thoughts wandered along this path, and as I moved on to my fourth glass (not Pinot, but the lovely Aenigma from Neil Ellis) I started thinking of the words used to describe Pinot.

One word stood out in my my mind. Feminine. I can’t count the times I have heard Pinot Noir described as feminine. How can a grape be feminine? Well, only because the arbiters of wine words have a particular view of femininity. So the difficult to grow, fickle, tricky, ‘heart-break grape’, the luscious, ravishing, ethereal, seductive wine that can disappoint as well as change one’s life is feminine. I would suggest that this has happened because of a male-derived high-school notion of femininity.

Pinot Noir has become the canvas for male fantasies. Those words on their own are fine. A wine can be seductive, it can very well be ravishing, but to attach this to the feminine is to err on what femininity is. It is so male orientated that I wouldn’t be surprised if I started reading tasting notes describing Pinot Noirs as wines that should stay in the kitchen. I imagine a buncs of old men in suits, sitting around tasting Pinot Noir, and what they really are thinking of is the porn site they jacked off to the night before. Sexually frustrated men with a 1950’s view of women transferring it onto a glass of wine. Absurd.

When wines are talked about as either masculine or feminine (a dichotomy that I hope finds its way to the spitoon) what is generally meant is that masculine wines are big, bolshy, forceful; they generally have more oak, tannin – basically bigger wines. And feminine wines are supposed to be lighter, more elegant, gentle, lithe etc. You can see the problem, right?

I’m all for the personification of wines. I see no problem turning wines into people to describe them, but to rely on outdated, patently false notions of masculinity and femininity is just lazy. Look, I have, ashamedly done this, but I have seen the error of my ways. Language needs to be used responsibly, and dragging archaic views about women and men into wine descriptions is completely irresponsible.

So, lessons learnt from a Pinot tasting. Our fine wines are awesome, remember that and let’s focus on that. Drink fine wines when they are ready; let’s try and avoid the tacky habit of instant gratification. And finally, we must use language thoughtfully, and not let our inability to express in words what we taste make us trot out outdated understandings of femininity and masculinity. Finally, as always, drink more good wine.