"Black grapes"?

"Vineyard aspect"?

"Colour and Flavour"?!

No, my quiet neighborhood has not been overrun by limey bastards. But they do keep sneaking over the border. The sudden proliferation of Heinz canned "Spotted Dick" at my local grocery purveyor is a dead giveaway. Yet, you fools assume our borders are secure...

Actually, I've begun my study for the Wine & Spirit Education Trust (WSET) Level 3 Advanced. The above-mentioned are common phrases seen within the study material.

Why the lingo? Well, it's a British accreditation. And I'm digging in because I need to brush up on wine knowledge. Because I want to build on a modicum of credibility. And because I long to master the three main wine-centric associations in existence: Society of Wine Educators, Court of Master Sommeliers, and WSET. (Joe Roberts at 1WineDude slings a good breakdown of each HERE).

WSET is the logical choice: an opportunity to study it has arose. I already have the CSW (Certified Specialist of Wine, or "Certified Social Worker" on LinkedIn, or "Certified Suburban Wino", coined by someone much more clever than I) from the Society of Wine Educators. The more-advanced CWE (Certified Wine Educator) is currently way out-of-my-league. At this point, the CWE is Lisa Turtle. I'm Screech Powers.

There's also the Court of Master Sommeliers. I've always craved this one, so I could call myself a sommelier. Unfortunately, the Court just doesn't have a training and certification schedule I can work around at this point. So, no, I will STILL not be a certified sommelier. But that's okay. I'm not sliding into my slim-fit tuxedo I bought in college anytime soon.

But WSET is not a bad option. It's pretty comprehensive. The materials are well-written. Furthermore, the WSET Advanced incorporates an element of tasting evaluation in it's certification. And my palate is stupid. Like "Paris Hilton" stupid. So having an organized (organised?) methodology with which to train it is huge. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge.

And so, for these- among other- reasons, it's time to dig into the WSET materials, written in British. With plenty of swot, some codswallop, a few nights on the piss (getting rat-arsed on plonk), and definitely some spawny circumstances, I'm confident everything will be bloody brilliant.

It ain't rocket science. Unless we make it so.

Like a tortoise trying to teach snails how to sprint, I undertook my first crack at hosting a wine tasting for a group of locals about a week and a half ago. For this guy, it was an absolute joy. From picking out wines, conjuring up pairings, building tasting sheets, and maps, and powerpoint presentations...

...I'm a nerd. And I would enjoy doing none of this for the day job. Alas, heating and air conditioning lack the sex appeal of fine wine.

But it was all an undeniable labor of unconditional love, and I hope the crowd had half the fun I did slinging it all together.

Yet, while I encourage wine be used for fun more than anything else, there is a burning desire within my evangelical spirit to have taught something. I really hope that insight was gained, perceptions were shattered, and at least one participant was left with a need to learn more about the fermented grape. There exists a seemingly endless universe of new and different within the world's bottles... how could I not want someone else to join in the exploration?

My hopes- however- are far from a slam dunk. Like so many first dates, rambling jokes, and (needless to say) blog posts, I may have veered toward over-complication, muddying what would've been a good thing- if I had kept it simple. The battle has long-raged that blogs have come to "democratize" wine, bringing it to the masses. Blogs and bloggers are releasing what is, essentially, a food product from the snobby vice-grip of the old guard's obscure tasting notes and arbitrary scoring systems. Or at least that's one side of the debate.

Conversely, others argue that a total dumbing-down of the curriculum will, in no way, benefit those who thirst for vinous knowledge.

Honestly, I think there's a place for both opinions.

The bottom line is that wine education needs to match the knowledge and desire of the audience. And, thankfully, my group was gracious enough to give me some pointers, as I am neither a polished individual nor above constructive criticism:

1) For the most part, assumptions are bad. The geek-set can get caught up in what it sees as commonplace, but may be voodoo to others. I was asked to explain the methodology of tasting (why the swirling? the sniffing? the swishing around in the mouth?). All great points that I will be sure to address at the next one.

2) Didn't think folks would want to take notes. I wrote off the event as a social gathering. I was pleased to hear that some wished they had a way to jot down tidbits of knowledge. I was equally displeased that I was too ham-handed to provide at least some bits of graphite to let the crowd scribble. Point taken.

3) I think visual aides are good. While no one wants to see another damn powerpoint while not at the office, it can be tricky to explain where Rias Baixas lies on a map. So, when you think you're clever and create such slides, make sure the projector works. D'oh.

All that said, I think there were some breakthroughs. Vinho Verde slapped thoughts of what an $8 wine can be right in the chops. Tavel rosé shocked much of the crowd when it tasted nothing like White Zinfandel.

Ultimately, wine had resulted in good conversation, conviviality, and merrymaking. It had brought the crowd together. Even if that's all that happened at this event, then I consider it a rousing success.

But for future events, I'll know to cover the basics, the geeky, and make sure that I'm doing my due-diligence to advance knowledge, without perpetuating the cryptic nature of wine.

That's assuming there are future events. And assumptions, as already noted, are generally bad.

On my first trip to Napa (just about four years ago, to the date), I embraced the valley. It embraced me, planted a warm, sloppy kiss right on my wine-stained lips, and slipped me a little tongue-

Granted, I still had some hair on my head back then, and I was benefitting from a post-wedding build, necessary to wedge myself into the big day's tuxedo. Perhaps Napa couldn't resist-

But my (swiftly) fading looks are inconsequential. The point is that the Napa Valley- it's wines, it's sweeping vistas, and it's intoxicating charm- got my panties in a wad. I had no idea wine of such quality existed. Like being ensnared in an awkward teenage infatuation, I'd fallen in love with, become obsessed with, the fermented grape. And like any first kiss, particularly if it was shockingly good, my experience in Napa has imprinted my soul and changed my life forever.

So, any time I hear of friends or neighbors heading out for the first time, I get a little geeked up. I become a pro bono travel agent. I send emails documenting places to visit that make my longest ramblings here seem shorter than Charlie Sheen tweets (and the emails are twice as maniacal). I get into this frenzy because I can't wait for others to experience what I did. "They'll finally get it," I think. "They'll understand why I'm psychotic. They may come home psychotic, too. We can be psychotic together."

Yet, when folks return and tell me they have "no desire to go back to Napa", I'm admittedly a bit taken aback. A lot taken aback, and that's a ton, because I'm not even sure what that saying means. Naturally, I'm inclined to pry.

My neighbors just got back from a trip, and they felt that everything was very expensive. Yes, Napa can be expensive. They mentioned $25 tasting fees. Hmm... more than I remember paying. No big deal, those fees can easily be neutralized by the purchase of a bottle. Tasting fees are always credited towards purchase, right?

Nope. But the fiscal raping was not even the worst thing I heard. "They didn't tell us anything about the wines. We didn't learn anything. They just shoved a sheet of tasting notes in front of us and told us what was on special." Oh, you dirty bastards.

Now, let me go on the record and say that my "facts" are based on anecdotal evidence. I can't say first-hand that any of this occurred. But I don't think these are vindictive folks, and I honestly believe they were met with disappointment. I'm not going to name the wineries in question, but I was able- in order to validate some of the story- visit some completely random websites: non-specified Napa winery #1, non-specified Napa winery #2, and non-specified Napa winery #3, and I confirmed that tasting fees range from $15-25 a pop. Why not just buy a bottle at that price? Rather, my friends paid $30-$50 to taste five or so small pours, then spent another $30 on a bottle. All-in-all, they traveled across the country, rented a car, drove to the proprietor's place of business, got zero education and experience, and paid $60 for a $30 bottle of wine. So much for the value of cutting out the middle-man... and the warm fuzzies towards wine country.

Listen, I understand that these places have a lot of overhead. I know that many tasting rooms thrive on tasting fees. But we're talking some pretty heavy-hitters here. I'm sure Beringer and Mondavi don't keep the lights on with tasting fees. Not when they're producing millions of bottles per year. So why not evangelize? These two spots put Napa on the map. In fact, Robert Mondavi virtually invented the American fine wine industry. The large vintners should be creating wine consumers for life, not scaring them off in the name of a quick buck.

And if what I heard about no education is true, then shame on these wineries. They've perpetuated the mystifying nature of wine. I subscribe to the notion that people warm to what is understood and familiar. If they don't know what they're drinking, then they're probably not going to buy it, whether the taste costs $0.50 or $50.

I understand this scenario is not that case with all Napa wineries. I'm lucky to know some really terrific people in Napa, from winery personnel to PR folks to growers themselves. I can confirm that some are educating the eager masses, sharing their best, and using the tasting rooms to convert skeptics, sell bottles, and make customers for life. But how can their reputations not suffer when the biggest and brightest in the market- the standard-bearers for America's most celebrated wine region- are actively participating in screwing up a huge opportunity and alienating potential wine drinkers?

Hit the mark next time, Napa. It could pay dividends in the long run. Connect with your tasting room customers. Educate them. And please don't rip them off because they simply don't know better. Make out with their thirst for knowledge like you're making out with Mariah Carey on a red carpet at some undisclosed Nickelodeon event. Because that would be awesome. And a little weird. But certainly not disappointing.

Remember the 80's sitcom, My Two Dads? Of course not. This is just the kind of obscure minutia that I bring to the table. Jealous? No, I suppose I wouldn't be, either.

Anyway, in a premise only wacky sitcom writers- putting their Ivy League degrees to good use- could brainstorm, a teenage girl's deceased mother grants joint custody to her two past love interests. Naturally, comedy ensues, along with heartfelt, tear-jerking moments you could only expect from a cornucopia of short-lived, NBC comedy-like flops.

The "dads" were a prototypical odd-couple: Paul Reiser's (aka "Uncle Michael") straight-laced sensibility often clashed with the footloose and fun-loving machismo of Greg Evigan ("Uncle Joey"). Is that an accurate description, diehards? A well-groomed beard and the pompadour-mullet combo always signals "footloose and fun-loving machismo" to me.

So, what the hell's the point here? The point is that I, along with any other dedicated wine lovers, also have two dads. No, they won't land us in humorous predicaments to the unsettling sounds of canned laughter, nor will they cause us great embarrassment when struggling with the awkward moments that plague every teenage girl in the custody of two random dudes...

No, the two "dads" of a wine lover are book knowledge and sensory perception. Understanding an appreciating wine at a more dynamic level requires not just an grasp on label nomenclature, allowable grapes and techniques in AOCs and DOCs, the many steps of winemaking processes, etc., but also of the flavors and aromas of wine itself.

I've read many books. I even acquired a Certified Specialist of Wine accreditation. However, neither of these avenues required any swirling, smelling, sipping, or spitting. One could reasonably have all the book-knowledge in the world (aka, the sensible "Paul Reiser" of wine smarts), yet be completely devoid of their sensual and fun-loving Greg Evigan. Sadly- though I've tasted quite a bit of wine- the latter is a life's work. Experience and exposure and critical evaluation are the only teaching materials. Incidentally and furthermore, hundreds of bottles of wine are way more expensive than a book. And I need that money. My Two Dads, Season 3, comes out on DVD this holiday season.

The solution for one who cannot feasibly sip dozens of different wines a day? A tasting group. Regularly meeting with others who share a desire to learn can offset the cost of bottles (split between 4-6 folks), create conversation, and foster accountability for educational goals and conviviality (the latter- ultimately- being what wine is really all about).

I'm working on putting a group together, but I've hit a bit of a snag mulling over how to organize this thing. Does one start with a schedule of tasting the same wines from the same regions? Would taking a broad scope and narrowing down be more effective? Systematic seems more sensible to me, but with thousands and thousands of grapes, styles, and regions out there, it can be a little overwhelming.

I have some books that detail some recommended tastings. My plan of attack is to take the best practices from these pages and create something that makes sense. The second element to this planning phase is to appeal to you- the knowledgeable and attractive readership- to glean any tips or experiences you may have had with tasting groups. Or, if you've been thinking about putting a tasting group together yourself, maybe we can put our weed-whacker brains together and figure something out...

...if not for ourselves, then certainly for Uncle Joey.