Pigeonholing in wine and poetry

There’s a primarily Anglo-Saxon obsession among so-called experts with attempting to turn wine into a dry, dead subject, to reduce it to exams (WSET/MW stuff) and points (Robert Parker, etc).

And then there’s the marketing ploy, often used by pubs and restaurants, of flogging wine by grape variety. This supposedly makes everything easier for the consumer to order once they’ve decided that they like, for instance, Sauvignon Blanc, in an impossible struggle to simplify things. Of course, such a strategy ignores the vagaries of soil, climate, grower and winemaker, all of which mean that there a huge gamut of Sauvignon Blancs. Many of them barely resemble each other in a comparative tasting.

Much the same could be said of poetry. It too is a slippery, incredibly complex subject that defies repeated critical and academic attempts at pigeonholing and classification. Poets are categorised but they defy those labels on a regular basis because the genre is alive and constantly shape-shifting.

In both poetry and wine, the more you know, the more you realise you know nothing. 

Ten Poems about Wine from Candlestick Press

I have a poem, titled La Vendimia, in the new pamphlet/mini anthology from Candlestick Press, Ten Poems about Wine.

I'm grateful to the editor, Jonathan Davidson, for having selected my work, and it's especially pleasing to appear alongside such a star-studded cast. You can get hold of your copy via this link, while here's a photo of the pamphlet in all its glory...

A comparison between poetry and wine

A first thing the poetry business and the wine trade have in common: the best way to end up with a small fortune in both poetry publishing and winemaking is to start off with a large one. In part, this is because winemaking is often a highly personal project, just like poetry publishing, and people thus often do stuff that makes little business sense.

And then there’s the question of personal taste: I don't like big, oaky wines from Ribera del Duero. I do admire them in technical terms when they're well crafted, but I can never bring myself to enjoy them. Same goes for certain types of poetry.

Mind you, taste changes over the years, of course. I now can't stand certain wines I used to love, and have become a big fan of others I never appreciated in the past. Same goes again for certain types of poetry.

And what about wines that in objective terms might not be exceptional but fit a context perfectly? Or I associate them with a special moment, person or place? Same goes for certain poems.

And one last, extremely positive point: how do so many different styles of wine survive on the market, so many different interpretations of every grape variety and every terroir? Because there are so many different tastes. And all for them are valid. Same goes for the huge range of poetry that's written and read.

Tastes in wine, tastes in poetry

Wine snobs and geeks are forever turning their noses up at easy-drinking wines that shift millions of units at supermarkets, but I've always argued against this stance. My view is that almost everyone (except the offspring of millionaires and landed gentry!) starts off drinking such wines, often at parties. My own memories of Bulgarian Rizling (sic) are vivid but also extremely hazy!.

Most of us don't progress beyond these wines of course. We're happy to keep consuming them for the rest of our lives, and that choice is completely valid. Other people, however, use entry-level, generic brands as a stepping stone. Maybe they'll move on to wines that are made by famous names or maybe they'll end up browsing the shelves at their local independent wine merchants, ready to take a voyage of discovery.

I'm convinced there's an analogy here that can be applied to verse. Supermarket wine could be compared to easily-digested, go-to poems that are immensely popular at christenings, weddings and funerals, thus playing a pivotal role in many people's lives without creating a need for further exploration of the genre.

However, many readers then progress to renowned names, both in terms of poets and publishers. What's more, for more curious readers, an independent bookshop has loads in common with privately-run wine merchants, especially in terms of the profile of stock that they often keep, attracting customers who want to seek out exciting products from beyond the mainstream.

In other words, my experience in these two fields tells me that it's important to recognise the value of stuff we ourselves might no longer want to consume. Popular wine and poetry provide people with pleasure and enjoyment, while also encouraging them to explore further if they so wish. I'm not going to turn my nose up at that!

My other life

As well as being a poet, I also have another life as the export manager and blender for a Spanish winery called Viñaoliva. Here's a photo of me on our stand at the Prowein fair in Düsseldorf last weekend...

Blind tasting and blind reading

As a wine professional, I have to admit to a degree of ambivalence when it comes to blind tasting, the supposed art of spotting a wine (region, grape, maybe even producer and vintage) purely on the back of sniffing and slurping the contents of a glass. It too often feels like a contest for bragging rights. However, it does have certain benefits, especially when a blind comparison of a little-known wine and a famous product results in a challenge to expectations via surprising conclusions. Moreover, it often underlines my view that while there might be a lot of very well made wines out there, very few of them are different enough. In other words, I can't spot most wines blind, only the ones I love or hate!

Much the same is true of poetry: amid the huge homogeneous mass of well-produced verse out there, it's incredibly difficult to guess the identity behind a new poem in a blind reading unless there's a real idiosyncrasy at work. Nevertheless, a PPCE is sometimes a useful tool so long as it's undertaken with a huge pinch of salt.. That's not an Oxford degree, just a Poetry Palate Calibration Exercise. And then I go around claiming I loathe acronyms...

A glossary of wine terms

Wine and poetry have much in common. For instance, the difficulty of promotional language is a shared thorn. Back covers and back labels both display a dodgy code that the potential purchaser has to decipher.

As a consequence and as a nod towards the Prowein fair in Düsseldorf, where I'll be exhibiting this weekend for the seventeenth year in succession, here's my incomplete and tongue-in-cheek glossary of wine terms on the back of having written dozens of back labels, tasting notes and brochures in my day job. I do hope it helps next time you're browsing the shelves at your local merchant!

Chewy........Rough

Intense........Overwhelming

Fun.............Rubbish

Thin............Mean

Ripe............Jammy

Tasty...........Tannic

Broad..........Flabby

Sappy..........Green

Vibrant............Too alcoholic

Warming.........Far too alcoholic

Smooth...........Good dollop of residual sugar

Soft.................Even better dollop of residual sugar

Citrus..............Barely any fruit

Fresh..............Verging on acidic

Moreish..........Acidic

Brisk...............More acidic

Tangy..............Even more acidic

Lip-smacking...Far too acidic

Juicy................Fruit bomb with no acidity

Easy-drinking...Lightweight and dull

Ethereal...........Terrific after four glasses

Powerful..........One-dimensional

Rich.................Gloopy and soupy

Lingering..........For far too long

My poetry and wine on Spanish television

A couple of months ago I was approached by Canal Extremadura, the regional T.V. channel in this part of Spain, with a view to being featured in a new show called "Un lugar para quedarse". After some initial misgivings, I agreed, and it was broadcast last night.

The format entails telling three people's stries of how they ending up living in Extremadura, interweaving each narrative thread. I appear in three separate sections. Firstly, I'm shown in the vineyards around Almendralejo, talking in Spanish about my early life in the U.K. and my move to Spain, and reading a poem about it in English  (01252 722698, from Inventing Truth). The second section, meanwhile, focuses on my working life at Viñaoliva, with interviews with me and footage of the winery. The final section concentrates on my current life in Almendralejo and my recent poetry, also including another poem in English (Extranjero, from Inventing Truth).

Here's the programme on the Extremaduran version of the i Player, where you can watch the whole thing or simply fast-forward to the three sections that feature my poetry and wine. It would be good to know what you think!

Snobs

So I pour somebody a glass, wait as they taste and then ask them what they think. At this point, the trouble starts. People feel awkward and embarrassed. They wish they'd never got roped in to coming along to the flash wine tasting and inwardly swear never to return. Replies are immediately qualified, as in "Well, of course, I don't know anything about wine, but... "

As a consequence of the above, I'm forever explaining that the important thing (the fun thing, in fact) is the exploration as you work out what you like and what you don't, the journey towards changing tastes as your knowledge grows thanks to those around you. I also tend to hold a deep-seated grudge against the many sommeliers and wine experts who play on people's insecurities and lack of experience to cultivate a snobbish sense of superiority.

We could easily replace that glass of wine with a poem, that sommelier with a swanky poet, and the snobbishness would still remain. By this, I don't mean I'm an advocate of superficiality. Instead, I'm convinced that we have to encourage the development of taste and knowledge rather than relishing a false sense of belonging to an elite just because we've  been lucky enough to have the chance to acquire the veneer of literary or vinous experience.

On the menu in St Andrews...

Just what will be on the menu in St Andrews on Friday 15th November?

Well, there will be a fair few tapas of this on toast...

Plus lots of carving and scoffing of this...

Washed down with glasses of this...

With readings from this alongside...

All of the above for less than a tenner. You can get hold of a ticket here!

Awards

The wines that win awards aren't necessarily the ones that people enjoy drinking. The collections that win awards aren't necessarily the ones that people enjoy reading.

Poets' second jobs

I encountered an excellent article the other day (on the NPR website) on poets' second jobs. Its focus is the U.S., but many of its remarks are also salient in the case of the U.K.. You can read the whole thing here, but I'd like to highlight a number of key points.

The feature mentions the huge growth in the last few years in poets who make a living from teaching poetry, stating that almost all the 75 contributors to the 2012 edition of "The Best American Poetry" "have taught poetry in universities or earned an advanced degree in poetry, or (more frequently) both."

As mentioned previously on Rogue Strands, I'm very much in favour of the positive effect a non-poetic job can have on the writing of verse. As this article explains, there's a long tradition of scientists, bankers, lawyers, etc, etc, being published poets: "One of the most obvious benefits of a day job is that it offers another lens through which the outlines of poems can emerge."

Once more, this argument leads us on to the role of poetry in wider society, to the value that we apply to the genre:  "the ways in which we value poetry can be very different from the ways in which we value poets themselves."

The article might go over old ground, but it does so in fresh ways. It certainly got me thinking again about how my job interacts with my verse, not just in overt content such as Tasting Notes, but implicitly in all the rest of my poems. Apart from the roles I play in my personal life (father, son, partner, etc), I'm also an export manager, and have a very specific and consequent type of interaction with people on a daily basis. Those experiences contribute to everything I write.

Samples

As an export manager in the wine trade, I often seek new outlets for my products. This entails making offers, sending out samples and awaiting a reply. More often than not, a rejection arrives back, as supply far exceeds demand. However, there's a real rush when a customer takes a new wine. Who cares about all those rejections in the face of a beaming acceptance...?!

As an poet, I often seek new outlets for my work. This entails making offers, sending out samples and awaiting a reply. More often than not, a rejection arrives back, as supply far exceeds demand. However, there's a real rush when an editor takes a new poem. Who cares about all those rejections in the face of a beaming acceptance...?!

Best of 2012 lists?

Merry Christmas to all the readers of Rogue Strands! I won't be doing any "Best of 2012" lists, as I've got an ever-growing aversion to absolute rankings and points-scoring for stuff that involves personal interpretation, such as poetry and wine. What's more, some extremely flawed or limited poems or bottles can also provide great pleasure if they fit the moment, while other huge achievements can turn out to be somewhat dull on the physical and emotional palate.

Much more than a wine blog

A few years ago, Un vino más seemed to start off as just another wine blog where tasting notes were posted by the author. These days, it's much so more than that. I stongly recommend that the Spanish speakers among you take a few minutes to trawl through its treasure trove of posts, a series of ruminations on the way wine, food and love intermingle and play against each other in the writer's life. Generosity of spirit shines through. It's terrific stuff!

An ideal Christmas gift

Poetry and wine...wine and poetry...they make a terrific combination and an unusual, original Christmas gift.

Fifteen quid gets a bottle of Zaleo Tempranillo 2011 and a copy of Tasting Notes (the poems about the wine) delivered straight to the door of your choosing by courier service, p&p included, see here.

47.50, meanwhile, includes a whole mixed case of six bottles (Zaleo Premium, Rosado, Pardina and three bottles of the Tempranillo) along with the book, see here.

Sipping the wine while reading the poem about it - now that provides a great talking point around the dinner table!

It's alive!

First off, the semantics of the stuff: rosé wine is made to "bleed" as it's being vinified, while red wine needs to "breathe" once it's opened. White wine seems to "fall off a cliff" when it reaches the end of its life.

What's more, let's say I take a six-bottle case of Zaleo Tempranillo that was bottled on the same day and placed in its case at the same time. On opening the bottles, I'll find that every single one has developed in a slightly different way, as if they've got a sole set of genes but different upbringings.

Wine is alive! That's why I wrote Tasting Notes, to let it speak for itself, all in implicit contrast with the juxtaposed blurb that usually accompanies the "product". 

The wines

Tasting Notes draws on wines as a point of reference, but not just any old plonk:  I've been working in the wine trade down here in deepest Extremadura (Spain) for longer than I care to remember, and these days I earn my living as the blender and export manager of Viñaoliva, a local co-operative, selling our Zaleo wines globally.

I write the back labels, brochures, website copy and, of course, the tasting notes. If you'd like to find out a bit more background about the wines, why not visit the website here? On the site there are also some lovely shots of the beautiful scenery (all those rolling vineyards!) in this part of the world.

What's more, you'll soon be able to taste the wines alongside the poems, both at two imminent launches and in your own home! More exact details in the next couple of days about those launches.

Ham from Extremadura

Tasting Notes, my forthcoming HappenStance pamphlet, allows the wines that I blend to speak for themselves. More about them in the next few days. However, it also deals with how wine matches with food. In that respect, one of my personal favourites is a glass of decent red from Extremadura with some of the local ham.

Ham from Extremadura is the best in the world. Forget about that Italian stuff (cry your eyes out, Parma!) or even Guijuelo or Jabugo in Spain. An acorn-fed, free range, on-the-bone Ibérico ham from Extremadura is unbeatable. Ibérico is the local breed of pigs, offering up delicious, marbled fat. Cut wafer-thin, it just melts on the tongue!

Fair enough, you might say, but why isn't it world-renowned, sold in the best restaurants and talked up by glossy magazines? Well, it certainly is making a major name for itself among foodies, but marketing has long been one of Extremadura's failings.This is maybe because of the old farmers' mentality in what is one of the poorest and most remote regions in Spain - Extremaduran people were just glad to get a good price for the animals at slaughter, letting companies from other parts of the country cure their hams, create brands and thus an image.

Nevertheless, things are now changing. Ham from Extremadura is now served at some of the top London restaurants. Moreover, it's coming to a poetry reading near you very soon for the price of a chapbook, together with a fair whack of that red wine I mentioned above. This is going to be a launch with a difference!

Tasting Notes

Not long after last year's publication of Inventing Truth, I met up for lunch with my editor at HappenStance, Helena Nelson. We talked about my day job as the blender and export manager for a winery down in Extremadura, Spain, and she encouraged me to write about it. I recall discussing the minefields and pitfalls inherent in a subject and genre with such potential for kitsch when brought together. However, I drove back home that day in a blur of thought as to just how I could meet the challenge.

As part of my job, I write the back labels, advertising copy, website and tasting notes for all my co-operative's products. The wine world has a linguistic shorthand that's packed with hyperbole and clichés, and so in my poetry I decided to play about with them from an insider's perspective.

The first consequence was a set of four poems that I sent to Helena Nelson for some feedback. After all, she had been the initial catalyst for my creative process. Her reply was a shock - they were the basis for a chapbook that she'd like to publish!

In the months that followed, I fleshed out my ideas, building a manuscript that suddenly, with a tweak here and there, took off. The result is Tasting Notes, my second HappenStance pamphlet, due in September. I'll be giving a number of readings (and tastings!) to launch it. Dates and venues in due course...