Practical Guide To Real Wine Tasting- Part One

Welcome to the Kosher Teruah. I'm Simon Jacob, your host for this episode from Jerusalem. Before we get started, no matter where you are, please take a moment to pray for the safe return home of all our soldiers, If you're driving in your car, please focus on the road ahead. If you're relaxing at home, please open a delicious bottle of kosher wine and pour a glass, sit back and relax. Before we dive into the mechanics of glass and cork, I want to set the stage for where this journey is going. Be warned, This series is likely to be controversial. As we move forward, we're going to talk about things that are not fixed, not definite, not universal truths. We are moving into the realm of opinion. These are subjective perspectives, ideas that will resonate deeply with some of you while perhaps rubbing others the wrong way. But in the world of terroir, it is often in that friction, that disagreement, where the truth of a wine actually lives. At the same time, I'm attempting a bit of a paradox. Over the coming episodes, I'm going to try to convey multi-sensory experience. The visual brilliance, the aromatic perfume, the complex flavors, and even the physical texture of a wine using only a single sense available to us here: sound. It is a daunting task to translate the soul of a bottle through a microphone. Thankfully, many great writers and speakers have blazed a trail for such a novel undertaking. Proving that words can sometimes taste as sweet as the fruit itself. Well, I look forward to the day when we can all share these bottles in person, truly experiencing every sensation together. But for now, I invite you to listen closely. Let's see if we can bring the vineyard to life one word at a time. We live in a world that is obsessed with speed. We eat fast, we drive fast, we scroll while we talk. But wine— wine is the rebellion. It is the only thing on your dinner table that physically demands that you slow down. You cannot rush a vintage. You cannot speed up the aging process. And if you rush the drinking of it, you miss the entire point. Welcome back to The Kosher Terroir. I'm your host, Simon Jacob, and today we are hitting the pause button. For the next episode, we are going to do something different. We are not just reviewing a bottle, we're going to try to build a toolkit. I want to take you on a deep dive into the mechanics of tasting wine. We are going to break down the science of why your mouth waters, the physics of why the glass shape matters, and the ritual of opening a bottle with the precision of a surgeon. This is episode 1, the mechanics and the method. By the end of this, you won't be just a wine drinker anymore. Please God, you'll be a wine taster. Let's start before the wine even touches the table. Let's talk about the hardware. First of all, the glass. I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking, come on, glass is glass, it's a container. As long as it doesn't leak, does it really matter? The answer is yes, and it isn't snobbery, it's physics. Let's talk about the rim first. Pick up a cheap dinner wine glass. Feel the rim. It's rolled. It's thick, like the bumper on a car. When you drink from that, your brain registers it as an obstacle. Subconsciously, you have to tilt your head back further to get the liquid over that bump. What happens? Gravity takes over, and the wine rushes to the back of your throat. You swallow before you even taste it. Now imagine a laser-cut crystal rim. It's razor thin. It actually disappears against your lip. You don't have to tilt your head back. The wine flows smoothly into the front of your tongue, the sweet spot. You're in control of the flow. That $5 difference in manufacturing changes the entire mechanics of your swallow. Now let's talk about shape. Why do we have different glasses for Bordeaux or Burgundy? A Bordeaux glass for your Cabernets or Merlots is tall. It has a broad bowl, but also a high chimney. Why? Because Cabernet is often high in alcohol. Alcohol is volatile. It wants to evaporate. If you use a short, squat glass, those alcohol fumes—ethanol—concentrate right at your nose. You go to smell the black currant, and instead you get a nose full of heat. The tall glass allows the ethanol to burn off before it hits your olfactory sensors. Leaving the heavy fruit aromas for you to enjoy. Now let's talk about the burgundy glass, the fishbowl. It's wide and short. Why? Because Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are lower in alcohol but higher in delicate aromatics—flowers, earth, subtle fruits. We need a massive surface area to trap those scents. But we don't need the height to burn off the alcohol. And here is my most controversial take for today. Get ready. Champagne. If you have a flute in your cabinet, you want to leave it there or give it to kids for sparkling juice. The flute is a coffin for wine. It was designed to show off the bubbles rising in a straight line. It looks pretty, but it is terrible for tasting. It is so narrow that you cannot swirl it, and if you cannot swirl, you cannot smell. And if you get the fizz but you miss the brioche, the toast, the citrus, what have you really gotten? If you open a bottle of great champagne or high-end cava, pour it into a white wine glass. Give it room. You'll be shocked at the difference. One final rule about glassware is the plimsoll line. This is the don't be greedy rule. If you look at the bowl of your glass, it curves out, gets wider, and then curves back. Always pour to the widest point. That is the equator. Never pour above it. Why? Because the top half of the glass isn't empty. It's the headspace. It's the chimney where the aromas gather. Wine tasting is 80% about smell. To smell, you need to swirl. To swirl, you need an empty glass. If you fill the glass to the brim, you have paralyzed the wine. If you can't agitate it, you can't release the esters. You have effectively muted the volume. So pour small, swirl big. But before we open the bottle, we have to touch on the temperature. All our lives we've been lied to. We've been told whites in the fridge, reds at room temperature. Both of these are usually wrong. Your refrigerator is set to 38°F. That's fine for milk, but it's a murder for white wine. At 38 degrees, a wine is numb. The chemical compounds that create aromas literally cannot volatilize. If you drink a great Chardonnay straight from the fridge, it will taste like cold lemon water. You are stripping it of its soul. The fix: take your white wine out of the fridge 20 minutes before you want to drink it. Let it warm up to about 50 degrees. Suddenly the aromas will wake up. And reds, room temperature is a rule that was made up in drawing rooms in Europe before central heating existed. Room temperature means 62 degrees Fahrenheit. Today your dining room is between 72 and 75 degrees. That is soup temperature. When red wine gets that warm, the alcohol expands. The taste of the wine gets flabby. It loses its structure. It tastes boozy and sweet in a bad way. To fix it, put your red wine in the fridge for 15 minutes before you open it. Cool it down to 60 to 65 degrees. The tannins will tighten up, the fruit will become crisp, and it will feel refreshing, not heavy. Okay, so the glass is ready, the temperature is right. Let's pick up the bottle. This is a ritual. It should be satisfying, not a struggle. Step 1: The capsule. Most bottles have foil covering the neck. There are two lips on a bottleneck, one at the very top and one about a quarter inch down the drip ring. Where do you cut? This is a hygienic rule. Think about where the bottle has been— in a warehouse, in a truck, sitting on a shelf. Dust, mold, maybe even chemical residue settles on that foil. If you cut the foil at the very top, when you pour the wine, the liquid flows over the cut edge of the foil before it hits your glass. It picks up whatever was on that foil. If you cut below the second lip, The wine flows over clean, naked glass. It's a surgical technique. It looks better, and trust me, it's cleaner. Now, the extraction. For 90% of the bottles, your standard waiter's friend, the hinged corkscrew, is the only tool you need. Here is the mistake people make: they twist the worm in blindly. Take a second, look at the center of the cork, place the tip of the worm exactly in the center, twist down, stop when you have one curl of the worm left visible. Do not go all the way through. If you punch through the bottom of the cork, you are going to push the cork dust into your wine. Nobody wants to chew their Cabernet. Hook the lever and pull. And here is the mark of a pro: the silent opening. We don't want a loud pop. That pop is violent. That pop means you just shook the wine and lost aromas. Ease the cork out gently. When you have about 2 millimeters left, stop pulling and wiggle it out by hand. The sound should be a sigh, a whisper, a gentle, quiet sigh of air. But what if the cork is old? If you have 20-year-old bottles, a 2005 vintage you've been saving, you insert the screw and pull and crunch. The center of the cork turns to powder. The cork is stuck and panic sets in. Stop! Put down the corkscrew. You need a special tool, the asso. This is a two-pronged extractor. It looks like a torture device, two flat metal prongs, but it is a savior. Here are the details to the technique. The prongs are two different lengths. Insert the longer prong between the cork and the glass neck. Not into the cork, between the cork and the glass. Now insert the shorter prong on the opposite side of the cork between the glass and the cork. Do not push straight down, you'll push the cork into the bottle. Instead, rock it left and right, left and right. Shimmy it down. Ideally You want the handle of the asso at the end touching the top of the bottle. Now the magic move: twist and pull simultaneously. The prongs hug the cork from the outside, holding it together. It slides out cleanly. And for those of you who just want one glass, we have to talk about the caravan. The needle. This device changed the industry. It pierces the cork with a medical-grade needle. It pumps in argon gas, which is inert— it doesn't react with anything— and the pressure pushes the wine out into your glass. When you pull the needle out, the cork is elastic. It heals itself. It reseals. You can drink a glass today and the rest of the bottle in 3 years. It really is pretty much magic for those of us who want to taste without committing. So let's explore the nose and the palate. We have the bottle opened, the wine is in the glass. Now the instinct is to drink. Resist that instinct. This is where the magic happens. Your tongue can only taste 5 things: sweet, sour, bitter, salinity, and umami. That's it. Your nose— your nose, on the other hand, can distinguish thousands of unique compounds. If you hold your nose while drinking wine, it tastes like sour grape juice. The flavors— the cherry, the vanilla, the tobacco— That is all actually smell processed by your brain as taste. Okay, so let's start. Stick your nose deep into the glass. This is the first nosing. Don't swirl yet, just smell. The wine might yet be shy, it might be tight. Okay, so remember this. Now take your glass and swirl it. Why do we swirl? We aren't just trying to look cool. We are introducing oxygen. We are agitating the liquid to release the esters. These are the chemical compounds that carry aroma. As they hit the air, they volatilize. They turn into gas and rise up the chimney of the glass. Now let's smell it again, the second nose. It's louder, isn't it? It's like turning up the volume on the stereo. But sometimes you turn up the volume and the music is awful. We have to talk about faults. Say you're in a restaurant and the sommelier pours you a taste. You smell it, you hesitate, you think, "Maybe it's just fine. Maybe this is what fancy French wine smells like." No, if it's bad, it's bad. There are 3 enemies you need to know about. First, if you smell a damp basement, wet cardboard, or a wet dog that just came in from the rain, it's probably TCA. That happens when a natural fungus on the cork reacts with chlorine used to bleach the corks originally. It isn't dangerous, it won't hurt you, but it murders the wine. It strips away all the fruit and leaves only that musty, moldy smell. If you smell this, send it back immediately. If you smell sherry nuts or bruised brown apples in a young wine, that's oxidation. It means that the seal failed, air got in The wine is tired. It is effectively dead. You should return that too. But if you smell struck matches, burnt rubber, or rotten eggs, that is reduction. It is the opposite of oxidation. The wine didn't get enough oxygen during winemaking, and it is suffocating. But this smell, reduction, is actually fixable. If you have a copper penny from before 1982 or a silver spoon, stir the wine with it. The copper reacts with the sulfur and the compounds neutralize the smell. Or just decant it and swirl it like crazy because it often blows off. But let's assume the wine is clean. What are we really looking for? Actually, we're looking for 3 layers. In the first layer are the primary aromas: the grape, the fruit, flowers, and herbs. In the second layer, we're looking for secondary aromas: aromas caused by the winemaking, yeast, bread dough, malolactic fermentation, which gives hints of butter, cream, and also oak, which gives hints of vanilla, coconut, smoke, and dill. And finally, the third layer, tertiary aromas. This comes from the age. This is the holy grail. This is what happens when wine sits in a bottle for 10 years. The fresh fruits turn into dried fruits. The vanilla turns into cigar box. You get leather, mushroom, truffles, and even forest floor. If you smell petrol or kerosene in an aged Riesling, don't panic. That is the badge of honor. That is complexity. Okay, so we're ready. Finally, put the wine in your mouth. We want you to chew it, swish it around, let it coat your gums, coat the roof of your mouth. Now do that thing that sounds rude, the slurp. Purse your lips like you're about to whistle and suck air through the liquid. Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. This is called retronasal aspiration. It blasts those aromas up the back of your throat and into your nasal cavities. It turns a two-dimensional taste into a spectacular three-dimensional experience. Okay, if we're going to isolate the structural elements of wine, we're gonna need to draw a map of your mouth. First, let's talk about sweetness, because it hits the very tip of your tongue immediately. Be careful not to confuse fruitiness with sugar. A wine can smell like ripe strawberry jam fruit but contain zero sugar—dry. True sweetness feels thick. It feels viscous. It creates a sensation on the tip of your tongue like you've just licked a lollipop. Next is acidity. This is the most critical element for food pairing. How do you measure it? Swallow the wine, tilt your head forward, open your lips just a tiny crack. Now pay attention to the hinge of your jaw, right under your ears. Is your mouth dry? That's low acid. Is saliva starting to gently pool? That's judged as medium acid. Is it a fire hose? Is your mouth flooding with saliva? Do you feel that sharp zing in your jaw? That is high acid. Think about biting a lemon. That gush is your body trying to neutralize the acid. We need acid. Acid cuts through fat. Acid makes you hungry. A wine without acid is flabby, like a flat soda. Okay, that brings us to tannin. This is a sensation, not a taste. Run your tongue over your gums and your front teeth. Does it feel rough, like you licked a wool sweater? Or are there pins and needles surrounding your gums? Does your upper lip get stuck to your teeth? That is tannin. Tannin comes from the skins and seeds of red grapes and also from oak barrels. It binds to the proteins in your saliva and strips them away, leaving your mouth dry. We describe tannin by texture. Is it green and stalky, unripe? Is it chunky, rustic, or is it velvety fine-grained? Tannin is the skeleton of the wine. It's what allows it to age. And now let's talk about body and alcohol. How heavy does the wine feel on your tongue? Let's use the milk analogy. Does it feel watery like skim milk, light body, like Pinot Noir? Does it feel like whole milk, medium body, kind of mellowish? Does it feel like heavy cream, full-bodied, like a Syrah or Cabernet? Then check the alcohol. Swallow. Do you feel a warmth in your throat, a glow? If it feels like a warm hug, the alcohol is balanced. If it burns like vodka, the wine is hot or unbalanced. And then let's finally talk about the finish. Swallow and start a stopwatch in your head. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. How long does the flavor persist? Inexpensive wines disappear in 3 to 5 seconds. That's a short finish. A great wine, it haunts you. You can still taste the fruit, the spice, the earth 30, 45, 60 seconds later. That is length, and that's also a mark of quality. Okay. So let's talk a little bit about preservation. The night's over, you have half a bottle left. What do you do? Most people stick a cork halfway in and leave it on the counter. If you do that, most wines will be dead by morning. Wine is like a sliced apple. The moment oxygen hits it, it starts to brown. It starts to die. So if you're serious about this, you buy a can of inert gas—Private Preserve or something similar. It's usually a mix of nitrogen and argon. You spray it into the bottle for about 1 second. These gases are heavier than air. They settle on the top of the wine, creating a protective blanket that stops oxygen from touching the liquid. Now you put the cork back in. Let's spend a moment discussing vacuum pumps. They are popular but controversial. When you suck the air out, you're also sucking out the volatile aromatic compounds. You might save the wine from oxidizing, but you'll also strip a good portion of the aroma away. Gas is honestly a better choice. Okay, so this might be the most important tip I can give you today. Put your red wine in the fridge. Yes, even Cabernet, even Merlot. Heat accelerates chemical reactions. Cold slows them down. If you leave a red on the counter, it oxidizes in about 2 days. In a fridge, it lasts 4 to 5 days. Just remember, take it out an hour before you drink it again. Let it warm up. If you drink it cold, the tannins will taste bitter and sometimes even metallic. So there you have it, the toolkit. Now you know the glass, the architecture that directs the symphony. You know the cut, the precision of opening the bottle. You've mastered the asso, that delicate rescue mission for the crumbling vintage. And you know the drool test, that moment of truth where your palate begs for another sip. And you know preservation, the art of respecting the wine enough to save some for tomorrow. You have the mechanics, but the mechanics without soul is just chemistry. Think back to the last time you rushed a glass. Maybe it was at a loud wedding or a hurried Tuesday dinner. Did you actually taste it, or did you just consume it? The toolkit isn't about being pretentious, it's about being present. When you use the cut, don't just hack off the foil. Feel the resistance of the blade. When you pull the cork, Listen for that whisper, the sound of a wine waking up after years of slumber in a dark cellar. That sound is the bridge between the winemaker's labor and your reward. I remember opening a bottle of aged Cabernet from the Galilee a few years back. The cork was soaked through, fragile as wet paper. Without the asso, That bottle would have been a disaster of floating debris, but with the right tool and a steady hand, we saved it. We tasted the cellar, the dried plum, and the history of the growing season that happened a decade ago. The tool didn't make the wine better, but it gave the wine the opportunity to be great. In our next episode, we're going to take these tools out of the drawer and put them to work. We're going to travel. We aren't just talking about liquid in a bottle, we're talking about geography. We're going to apply these mechanics to the specific grapes that define our world, from the sharp chalky elegance of Champagne to the ancient, sun-drenched stones of the Judean hills. We'll explore why the Syrah from the northern hills demands a different headspace than a crisp rosé from the coast. We've learned how to drink. Next time, we learn where we are going. But for now, your homework is simple. Don't just open a bottle. Interview it. Slow down. Listen to the cork sigh. Watch how the light hits the rim of the glass. And finally, taste the story. Every bottle has one. Of soil, of sweat, and of a specific moment in time. I'm your host, and this is The Kosher Terroir. This is Simon Jacob again, your host of today's episode of The Kosher Teruah. Please subscribe via your podcast provider to be informed of our new episodes as they are released. If you are new to The Kosher Teruah, please check out our many past episodes.