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comparativewinetasting

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MASTER OF WINE EXAM SUCCESS

Posted on September 5, 2019
master of wine exam success

I am delighted…

Those three words have been running through my head for months now. This is how the form letter that signals Master of Wine Exam success begins. A pass brings, “delighted”, and defeat is announced by, “unfortunately”.

There is a three month period between sitting the notoriously challenging Master of Wine (MW) exams and receiving results. Three months of wondering and worrying. The list of wines used for the blind tastings is published a week after the exams, leaving 12 weeks to fret over all missed wines, misjudged quality levels, erroneous vintages, etc.

For those that haven’t been following my progress, I started my MW studies back in 2015 pregnant with my now four year old pre-kindergartner.  I successfully navigated stage one and managed to pass the theory aspect of the stage two exams on my first attempt in 2016 (read article). With baby number two due right around exam time, I decided to take 2017 off. In 2018, I took a second stab at passing the stage two practical (tasting) exams.

“Unfortunately, you haven’t succeeded this time”.

This crushing sentence followed a neat little table detailing my failing marks. Oh, how my heart sank. Oh, how I wallowed in self pity. It took me a good month to dust myself off and get back in the game. The fear of failing again, of disappointing my family and friends, was overwhelming. The financial burden was also considerable.

I also had to get over my ego. Friends and acquaintances not in the wine industry would often say to me, “Oh, are you still studying for that wine course?”. Which led me to offer long, rambling over-justifications about the difficulty of achieving Master of Wine exam success. It took me more than a few glazed over looks to realize that no one was judging me, other than myself.

In preparation for my third attempt at the Master of Wine practical exams, I decided to throw everything I had at it. I would train not only my palate, but also my mind and body. I went to see a hypnotherapist to improve my confidence levels. I saw a physiotherapist weekly to remedy a nerve issue which was slowing down my writing speed. I meditated regularly. And I blind tasted. Every day.

When June rolled around I felt ready. Walking into the exam centre each morning I felt just the right mix of nervous energy to propel me through the 12-wine blind tastings without any of those terrible dear-in-the-headlights moments I had felt in previous years. I came home in a state of cautious optimism which I tried my damnedest to maintain throughout the long summer.

And I am DELIGHTED to announce that this was my year! I can’t claim to have nailed every single wine but I did write detailed and, I suppose, sufficiently convincing arguments to have achieved an overall pass.

Words cannot describe the immense joy and huge sense of relief I felt waking up to those precious 9 letters on Monday morning. The outpouring of kind words and messages from family and friends was overwhelming. The celebration was epic.

So what’s next? I now have the pleasure of writing a 10 000 word research paper on a wine-related topic of my choosing. Only then will I have the ultimate thrill of being able to append the coveted letters “MW” to my name.

 

Life

THE DEATH OF JOY: Comparative tastings and the standardization of style

Posted on August 3, 2015
Comparative wine tastings standardization

It is human nature to want to compare; to establish a bench mark and then try to measure up. In our Darwin-esque “survival of the fittest” mentality, we are trying to survive by determining who is best and how to emulate them. We love to give out trophies and scores and proclaim that x is better than y, and that all should prefer x. And the supposedly genteel, refined world of wine is no different.

I regularly read articles on comparative tastings that look to rock the establishment with proclamations that new world, less well reputed vineyards are superior to their renowned old world counterparts. In a famous 1976 tasting dubbed “The Judgement of Paris”, Californian Chardonnays and Cabernet Sauvignons beat white Burgundies and red Bordeaux in a series of blind tastings.   Just last week, an Australian publication proudly announced that the new wave of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir producers from the Yarra Valley and New Zealand are better than Burgundy, often for half the price.

While I understand that new regions, looking to gain in respect and notoriety from wine consumers, can help their cause by likening their wines to revered vineyards. And I relate to the need to set a goal and aspire to achieving the greatness we perceive in others… I can’t help but feel a little disappointed that the wine industry seems stuck in a comparison rut.

I love the freshness, the fruit purity and precision of a good Central Otago Pinot Noir. And I love the elegance, complexity, and structure of a Chambolle-Musigny. I especially appreciate the fact that both styles exist to compliment different meals and occasions. Why determine that one is better than the other? Who decides what the best criteria is to make such a choice? And why should we trust their judgement?

The writer that hailed Yarra Valley as better than Burgundy based his decision on “freshness, primary fruit and verve”. Burgundian winemaker, Benjamin Leroux, argued that the majority of his fellow producers were not looking to highlight those characteristics but rather focus on structure. Two different approaches and preferences, that ultimately both result in great wines. So why not simply celebrate the wealth of diversity in styles?

Yes, it is irksome to pay so much more for the supposedly great wines from fabled vineyards, than purportedly better wines from newer origins. But so far these constant comparisons have not resulted in significant price decreases for the former. They just drive up prices for the latter… Great for the grower, but not so much for the drinker!

Mark Twain once said that “comparison is the death of joy”.

Our obsession with determining a uniform best, rather than savouring well-made wines from around the world for their individual charms, is a glum affair.

In the 1990s/early 2000s, when winemakers in Bordeaux and Châteauneuf-du-pape saw that more extracted, oakier wines were receiving higher Robert Parker scores, there was a rush to replicate the style and a generation of copycat wines emerged. I for one would rather have a wealth of styles from the light, fresh and fruity to the big, bold and tannic and everything in between. For, as many different types of wine that exist, there are an equal number of different consumer preferences, palates, dishes to pair with and so on. In my humble opinion, that is the principle joy of wine.