Robert Parker

LB gets schooled on how to taste beer

My Fellow Inebriates,

Last week’s inconsistent tasting of BREWMASTER’S BLACK LAGER left me wondering whether beer tasting is an art or a science. The first time I tasted this Okanagan Spring product, I felt shorted on substance; it seemed inadequately hefty for a black lager and sour on the finish. The second time I tried it, I didn’t mind it; it was quenching and good enough to warrant an apology to OK Spring if not a retraction. But get this—the third time I tried it I was disappointed again. Go figure.

The Craft Variety Pack contains three BREWMASTER’S BLACK LAGER bottles, all of which are now empty. On the third tasting I again noticed the sourness at the end and the lack of weight. It wasn’t a satisfying dark beer. But I wondered…how could my palate ricochet from underwhelmed to pleased to newly disappointed?

Should I really be doing this…tasting?

As I told my dad, the true test would really be a fourth bottle, which he could purchase at our local booze shop if he were kindly inclined. That fourth taste could settle the argument—is BREWMASTER’S BLACK LAGER a decent beer or not? And what the hell is going on with my furry palate?

Fourth time's the charm, I just know it.

I suspect my problem is common to booze samplers of every ilk. But do they admit it?

Take Robert Parker, for example. The most influential wine critic in the world, Parker is responsible for the inexplicable 51-100 score sheet (awarding all wines an initial 50 points just for existing) and has a profound influence not only on the market prices of high-end wines but on the growing practices of winemakers throughout the world. The guy has mad power, which translates into the scores he issues wines after swishing them around his gob for half a minute or so. He’s damned wines by assigning them 85 points and elevated others to supercommodities by flagging them over 95. And while he claims to remember the character of every wine that’s ever had the brief pleasure of the inside of his mouth, you have to wonder how reasonable it is to bet the farm on those 30-second judgments.

The Robert Parker rating system

Personally, I think you need to drink a full bottle of wine (and in the case of beer, at least a six-pack) to really understand its true character. To really know your booze, you have to take it from sober, reflective first sips through drunken, half-retching compulsivity and possible regifting to the toilet, right through to the hangover, which itself reveals a lot about a wine, beer, or spirit.

Now, you may think this is overly conscientious. You may think it’s too committed to providing an accurate review. But I think it’s essential, my fellow inebriates. Tastings involving one or two glasses of beer or wine aren’t nearly as thorough as tastings that get out of hand.

Anyway, this was my argument to my dad about why he should buy a full case of BREWMASTER’S BLACK LAGER.

“But you didn’t even really like it,” he said.

“I know, but I want to study why.”

And my mum chimed in unhelpfully, “You may not respect Robert Parker very much but he would probably think you’re a complete retard.”

Leaving wine and my mother’s political incorrectness aside, how do you perform a reliable beer tasting? This checklist is paraphrased from Bryce Eddings with typical disrespectful liberties respect and dignity.

  1. Pour the beer. No chugging from the can or bottle —you need to observe the beer running down the side of the tilted glass as you pour. Pour at a speed that will produce a two-finger (half-paw) head.
  2. Look at the beer. What color is the head? Is it thin or dense? Is it rocky (with dips and peaks as the bubbles dissipate)? When you hold the glass up to the light, is it cloudy or clear?
  3. Sniff the beer. Take three good whiffs before sipping. Which is predominant—malt (dark) or hops (light)? Take notes before you start sipping and get wasted (or allow your palate to influence your nose).
  4. Sip the beer. Note how it feels. Is it sweet? Bitter? Fruity? Beer tastes different in the front of your mouth versus the back. Often the first sip is sweet but the finish is bitter.
  5. Consider the mouthfeel. Is it light or heavy? Fizzy or mildly carbonated?
  6. Experience the finish. What flavors linger after you swallow the beer? Hops produce a lingering bitterness, malt a sweet finish. Write it down. Consume more beer if you need to reconfirm your impressions.

This last point is important, especially if your parents have tightened the purse strings on booze expenditures. Sometimes you need to consume one, two or even eight more beers to truly feel confident of your review. You mustn’t let parents people talk you out of this—your very integrity as a reviewer is at stake.

It won’t be the end of the world if we don’t buy more BREWMASTER’S BLACK LAGER. The beer had three chances and, taking the average, it was okay—even a little interesting. But there are lots of better dark lagers out there. Those of you who can go and buy them at the liquor store…well, you have it made.

Enjoying wine without spitting

My Fellow Inebriates,

There’s a lot on my furry mind right now. For starters, I can’t refer to Dan Lacey’s Obama Unicorn Nude Baby Jesus Manger Christmas Card Art Painting as “mine” any more, it having gone to the highest bidder much earlier in the morning than a liquored-up animal is capable of rising. BUT (!!!) Dan Lacey contacted me and offered to send a facsimile, as he felt I’d given it some publicity. Imagine!!!

Also by Dan Lacey

So that was a nice consolation. Then I got very immersed in reading about an interesting Wine Advocate scandal, which got me thinking two things:

1. The wine rating system is totally bogus. More on this.

2. It’s 7:00 am. Why on earth do I not have a glass of wine beside me right now? (And I still don’t!)

So how is wine rated?

Prior to the 1970s, wine reviews were usually conducted by aficionados with links to the wine industry. They were the only game in town, so wine buyers accepted the conflict of interest.

Then Robert Parker blazed on to the scene with his 100-point rating system and no industry ties. His new uninvested perspective gave him credibility that reviewers had previously lacked, and he went on to influence everything from grape cultivation to wine price points—effectively putting many wines out of reach for day-to-day budgets.

Parker originated the 51-100–point scoring system, now ubiquitous among wine publications.

When I first hit the booze wagon, 80 points struck me as really great. Lots of kids are pretty happy to score 80% on a spelling or math test. Then I clued in to the missing 0-50–point wines—there aren’t any, because the scale goes from 51-100. Ahhhhh. Got it.

So an 80-point wine is really…30.

This is hard for a drunk to parse. Because 80 out of 100 is 80%. But 30 out of 50 is 60%.

Oh man, that explains why I’ve had so many crappy 80-point wines. Why, Robert Parker, why, dude? Why would you start the points at 51?

Good call, dude. That wine rocks.

Even Fahrenheit temperature makes more sense than this. If somebody like me, thoroughly inebriated and writing my little daily rant, devised a rating system that began at some arbitrary midpoint and neglected the first 50 numbers, it wouldn’t fly. You’d just say, Oh, that LB, he’s drunk again, plus he’s a bear, and bears aren’t known for numeracy.

But Robert Parker, that cat is famous. He’s so influential that when he invented this crazy system, everybody followed. So a wine noob goes into a store and sees 80 points on a shelf talker and goes home with a bottle of vinegar.

Actually, I’ve never seen an 80-point shelf talker.

That’s because no one vintner would ever advertise that its wine scored under 80 points via Robert Parker or anybody else’s tastebuds.

The buzz goes…if Parker scores a wine 80, it’s almost unsellable. Over 90, the winery sees $ signs and jacks the price until it becomes unaffordable 😦

That’s a lot of power for someone who famously sloshes one sip of any given wine around his gums for 4-5 seconds before rendering judgment. He often tastes 50-100 wines per session.

Which also means Robert Parker is spitting all over the place. Ugh… Blechh!

I’m having trouble with the logic:

    1. Wine drinking is a civilized and cultivated activity.
    2. Wine buffs routinely sip a wine and then spit it out into a communal spittoon so they can continue drinking.
    3. Therefore spitting is civilized and cultivated.

OMG!!!

First off, if you are lucky enough to have wine, you should consume it. Enjoying wine is a full-body experience. Surely you want to consider not just the initial taste of a wine (and flavors develop in complex ways over the course of even an hour), but the sensation of swallowing the wine, having it in your tummy, feeling it nuzzle your brain. Right??

Second, there is NO WAY you can possibly take a tongue-snapshot of a wine and assess it properly. No way. Every wine you taste is a contrast or a complement to the one you just sipped before it. That’s going to have an impact on your impressions, humans.

Third, think of all the wine loogies sitting around in silver spittoons. The backwashed germs, the phlegm, the profligate waste of alcohol—oh, the humanity.

Okay, so who am I to judge what Robert Parker and his fellow wine snobs do? I’m nobody, right? My tongue is furry and I’m an idiot. But you’d think his tongue would be furry too, after sampling a hundred wines.

Should we even pay any attention to those Wine Advocate and Wine Spectator shelf talkers and their ilk?

As far as taste goes, they’re not a bad guideline. The problem is: If a wine gets rated 90 points, its price jumps. So you pay more for those scores, which are ultimately subjective. Despite the conspiratorial insistence of wine reviewers that wine standards are objective, there are just too many variables for judgment to be iron-clad. Think of wine ratings the way we think of statistics: accurate to within 3-4% (which of course means 6-8 wine-scoring points).

Some variables that can change your impression of a wine:

  • You have a personal preference for certain wines; you have more experience with these wines and can taste their dimensions better. An unfamiliar varietal may piss off your tastebuds despite being a perfect exemplar of its type. Some tastes are acquired!
  • You’ve just eaten. Eating changes the chemistry of your mouth, your tongue, your stomach and your brain. Some wines taste better with food, some without.
  • You’re hungry. Or you’re over-full. Or you’re thirsty. Those things are going to have an impact.
  • You just sipped a really good wine. So the next one’s going to be like the comic who has to follow the laugh-a-minute success on stage.
  • You just sipped a really bad wine. The next one’s going to be awesome by comparison.
  • Emotion. Even Parker says: “I really think probably the only difference between a 96-, 97-, 98-, 99-, and 100-point wine is really the emotion of the moment.” That’s quite an admission, given that a “bottle rated 100 can multiply its price fourfold.”
  • You’re staggering drunk. Depending how close you are to the hour of porcelain-altar worship, wine is going to be appealing…or not.
  • You’re the 64-year-old editor of a wine mag who goes on $25,000 wine-tasting excursions, swishing-and-spitting upwards of 100 wines per episode. You have no idea what wine’s for anymore.

So what’s the best way to find a wine?

Or you could ask this guy.

I like 1 Wine Dude’s recommendation: “The most influential wine critic is the guy or gal working at the wine shop that you happen to trust the most!” But if you do go online for wine info, try the Reverse Wine Snob: “All reviews are based on drinking wine normally; no one-sip tasting notes allowed.”

And seriously, Robert Parker, spitting is gross. You have to cut that shit out.