War of the Worlds

By BoB Wesley

You may not be aware of it, but there are two strongly opposed camps in the world of wine: One feels that the classic, elegant style of Europe is the gold standard, while the other faction finds pleasure in westernized, more fruit-forward efforts that exhibit sheer muscle and power.

If you’re unfamiliar with this battle zone, it can get about as ugly as a discussion of politics or religion, with immovable convictions held on both sides. It’s an old world versus new world showdown, and the combatants sound like this…

New World Bob: Wow, this California Syrah is a juggernaut, a magnificent purple nectar that promotes palatal nirvana.

Old World Bob: Wow, indeed: you’ve got a lot to learn about finesse, balance and structure, sonny: how can you possibly imbibe that overdone monstrosity?

NWB: With glee! Spare me the teary pleadings for “typicity” and “terroir” that define your snobby, antiquated mentality: they’re just a pathetic defense for purveyors of overpriced, malnourished mediocrities. These hucksters claim that their wines are in a cocoon that will open at some indeterminate point down the road and release a stunning butterfly. Unfortunately, that occurrence is so far in the future that no court of law would grant restitution to any hapless consumer/dolt defrauded by this self-serving prognostication.

OWB: Cretinous fool! Your whole life has all the understatement of a brakeless Peterbuilt heading southbound on the Cuesta Grade. You’ll never understand the magical, harmonious interplay of delicate components whose subtlety is far beyond your limited comprehension, and you have no patience for great wine which develops a multitude of nuances with age!

NWB: I have no patience for fruitless old wines that all smell like they emerged from the same moldy vat and taste like they were filtered through Grandpa’s well-worn loafers.

OWB: Do I get the last cheap shot in?

NWB: Well, there is no end to this argument, so we may as well just stop here.

Ultimately, the back and forth contentiousness will find no resolution, because it’s like trying to convince somebody who hates beets and carrots (like me) to develop an overwhelming fondness for beets and carrots.

When I’m not having this creepy inner monologue with myself (which makes my psychiatrist very happy), I tend to enjoy quite a wide array of vino, sans any prejudiced blinders that would merely narrow my enjoyment to a mere handful of selections.

A broad-minded palate will serve you well…be The Bob.