Note: This piece was originally published in the Christmas edition of Quench Magazine, but thought the feature holds relevance to anyone who agonizes over buying wine for someone whatever the season.
Seriously?? It’s a smokin’ hot mid-August day poolside in St. Catharines; the ciders are sliding down mighty fine right now. The glow of a fairly decent tan (OK, patchy sunburn) is only interrupted by a cool dip in the water as the Bose wireless speaker, set to Songza’s “It’s Saturday, play music for a lazy summer’s day by the pool, scruffy dive bar rock” plays gently in the background. Life could not be any sweeter.
Then … the speaker chirps — damn — incoming email:
From: Aldo Parise, editor@quench.com
To: Me
Hi Rick. We’re booking for December now (deadline Sept 7th). I’m open to any ideas. I would like to do something on gifting wine and booze but not the ordinary boring piece where we tell them tips and tricks. Let me know if you have any ideas?
This is a big problem. The last thing on my mind is Christmas. Geez, even Costco doesn’t have its holiday stuff out yet, Aldo. I’m here, by the pool, lost in tranquility, with a bit of buzz. All I can think of are ice-cold bottles of Riesling, Oast House Konichiwa Peaches craft beer in growlers, that case of Basque country natural cider chilling in the fridge and when to fire up the barbecue. I’m not at White Christmas yet.
But, hell, it’s Aldo, my boss here at Quench, and he’s nothing if not tenacious.
To: Aldo
From: Me
Sure, I’ll get right on that.
•••
If I have learned anything lo these many years of servitude to the wine typist society, it is this: You will likely fail with whatever wine you choose to bestow upon whomever is receiving it. And when you fail at wine giving, that tired old adage of “it’s the thought that counts,” just doesn’t count.
That’s a fact.
It is never the thought that counts when giving wine as a gift. It is the wine that counts, pure and simple.
You can lessen your chance at failure, you can up your game with fancy Yuletide packaging, but you will never fully succeed 100% of the time. Understand that and we can move on.
Why is it so difficult to find just the perfect bottle of wine for someone at Christmas (or any other time of the year, for that matter)? Well, let’s start with this juicy little factoid: Over 36 billion bottles of wine — from 10,000 varieties of grapes — are made and sold around the world each and every year. You are trying to find just one in that vast sea of fermented grape juice that will somehow be the ONE. I can tell you, it’s easier to find the perfect partner to share the rest of your life with than the perfect bottle of wine that will be gone in an hour (much like my first wife).
That’s fact #2.
But DO NOT panic. At the risk of sounding like that “ShamWow Guy,” I know the secret to wine gift giving and I am going to share it with you.
It is this: Know the person getting the wine, not the wine. Throw out everything you know or think you know about the wines you love and get inside the recipient’s head. Once you open that vault, you will likely never fail again.
A quick story …
For a school reunion this past August in the Yukon, I conducted a wine tasting in which 18 people brought a bottle of their favourite vino from wherever they were coming from. We tasted each wine with the group, and whoever brought the wine, discussed why they liked it.
Many of the wines did not surprise me: J. Lohr Seven Oaks Cabernet Sauvignon, Seven Deadly Zins, The Stump Jump Grenache Shiraz Mouvedre, Meiomi Pinot Noir and even Black Cellar Blend 19 Shiraz Cabernet (an international/Canadian blend made by Andrew Peller). These are popular wines, loved by millions, and consumed by the boatload. They cater to a wide swath of consumers’ palates and each person who stood up to talk about their wine did so with passion and conviction. I cannot argue against that, but I offered my opinion anyway.
If I was giving a gift to the person who brought the J. Lohr Cab, for example, I would stick with California Cabernets, not look to Bordeaux or Australia because Cali red is what they like over everything else. Same with the Meiomi, a friendly, easy-going Pinot loved by millions. Why buy them a fine Burgundy? It makes no sense and it would likely not impress them one bit, all that funk and earth and minerality (and the price!).
The second batch of wine was a bit more discerning, more personal: Quinta Ferreira Chardonnay (Okanagan), Northern Lights Cassis Noir Blue (black currant/blueberry wine from Prince George), See Ya Later Ranch Meritage (Okanagan) and Nk’Mip Cellars Talon (Okanagan). Those who took the time to source these wines have a strong connection to local wines, they searched hard for the style they wanted to share and expressed that with interesting stories of going from winery to winery to discover the wine that floats their boat. They were thoughtful choices, a reflection of what they love and partially driven by their experience of finding it. That they were now drinking them with friends in the wilds of the Yukon surrounded by majestic mountains and shimming emerald lakes will only solidify those wines in their memory banks for years to come.
One wine that struck me was the Gold Hill Rose 2013 from the Okanagan Valley, brought to the Yukon by Rob Purgavie, a schoolteacher from Duncan, B.C. Not because I loved it but because it was so roundly applauded by the tasters.
This was the darkest, boldest and most un-rose-like rose I’ve ever tasted. It was chewy (!), robust, high in alcohol, and exploding with so many flavours that if I had tasted it blind I would have guessed maybe it was a full-on Syrah from Australia, but certainly not rose.
Rob spoke for a long time about how this wine grabbed his full attention and he could barely contain his excitement when introducing it. The oohs and ahs from the tasters, and wild applause, taught me a lesson that can be applied to any gift-giving advice: Get in the recipient’s head. If he/she likes this style of rose, which without a doubt was a crowd-pleaser, whatever you do, don’t look to the south of France for one of those subtle, pale, lightly flavoured, low-alcohol roses … that’s just foolish and it won’t impress anyone at this tasting.
Then it was my turn. I was ready to rock the house with a little treasure I wanted to share with the group. I had kept it under wraps until nearly the very end and I was about to BLOW SOME MINDS (well, that was the plan).
First pouring the wine into 18 glasses, I then introduced this secret weapon: a “First Growth” Bordeaux, Chateau Lafite Rothschild 1987. It is the most famous chateau in the world, Benjamin Franklin’s go-to wine, the most collected wine on the planet and the wine most copied for fraudulent gain. People have gone to jail because of this wine! Just read the Billionaire’s Vinegar: The Mystery of the World’s Most Expensive Bottle of Wine by Benjamin Wallace, and you will understand the essence of Lafite and why people who can afford it would do anything to get their hands on a bottle. Despite all the mystique and romance of Lafite, it is truly a thrilling wine and I brought a bottle of it to the Yukon, likely the first bottle of Lafite ever consumed in the territory’s vast wilderness.
It was old, a bit tired in fact, but had those mushroom-y, graphite, earthy-fruity notes on the nose that led to a complex palate, now totally integrated, with pretty red fruits, bramble and depth through a silky finish. It was down, but it was not out. At least my mind was blown. But I didn’t hear applause like there was for the rose.
There was just stunned silence, like “what the hell is this?,” until someone finally asked what a bottle of that would cost.
Well, if you could find one at auction, it’s goes under the hammer anywhere from $600 to nearly $1,000 a bottle, according to wine-searcher.com, I said.
More silence. And puzzled, icy stares.
Lee Mennell, a former teacher of mine, an artist and full-time Yukoner living the life in Carcross with his wife and family, finally spoke.
“I don’t really like it. It tastes old.”
It was like a dagger through the heart.
Old? Of course, it’s old. It’s from 1987. It’s Bordeaux, it’s supposed to be old. But, but … don’t you see the beauty and gracefulness in the evolution of the wine? A living, breathing thing that can transform into this grand old dame who can still impress with one sniff, one sip … don’t you see it?
Nope.
It was head-scratching time for me; a reality check, a very important life lesson.
Know the recipient, not the wine, and all will be right with the world.
I had one more trick up my sleeve, a bottle of Rennie Winery “G” 2011, a super-appassimento style red wine from Niagara that is a bruiser of wine, chock full of fruit, alcohol and tannins with a finish that never quits.
And with this crowd, a microcosm for wine lovers everywhere, it was an unmitigated success, a glorious and jovial wine that appealed to the masses.
It was redemption time. I cranked up the music. Let the party begin!
When it was all said and done, I took my under-appreciated bottle of Lafite and headed off into the night and drank its chunky remains in the confines of my wilderness accommodations alone but happy. I didn’t even let the plastic cup bother me one bit. It was somewhat of an ignoble end to a glorious bottle of wine.
Fact #3: There will be no Bordeaux for any of you this Christmas. Of that you can be certain.
Now, back to tanning.
I think I’ve read this before, Rick. If that is so, it was fun and interesting to read a second time.
Have you ever heard of anyone who has tried to grow grapes in this Yukon climate? The outdoor growing season is too short, I imagine, and the soil not necessarily right.
Greg, Yes, that post is about a year old. Not sure how you came across it now, but thanks for reading. There is no future in grape wine in the Yukon, at least not for awhile (and I hope never, because that will mean a drastic change in climate, something none of us want). But, I would be surprised if no one has attempted fruit wines made of, say, blueberries or other hardy fruits that grow in the Yukon. You can ferment practically anything and make it into something delicious.