Texture is SEX IN A GLASS
The first time I thought seriously about the sense of texture was in design school, in a lesson about the “skin” of a building.
“If you were to run your hand over the surfaces of this building,” the instructor asked, “how would it feel?” Exterior concrete walls were cold and dense. Wide-paneled oak flooring was smooth with occasional whorls of rougher spiraled knots. Bullicante glass windows were thick and muscular. A leather detail could have been grainy or embossed.
You get the idea. We began to think of every surface as a landscape, punctuated by creases and folds, open expanses and tight corners.
It wasn’t as though we were seeing or experiencing landscapes for the first time; the landscapes themselves were known and familiar. It was more that we were seeing them for the first time through the particularly special lens of texture. Once those lenses were on, our awareness was dialed up. As a result, our designs and interpretations became far more nuanced and richer with context.
Which is exactly what I want to encourage this week, in your experience of the sense of texture as you taste wine. There are, I think, three key things to remember.
Awareness - Just like the “landscape” of those buildings, the experience of wine shifts when texture is front of mind. As a sip of wine passes through your mouth, slow it down and notice. Become aware, a moment at a time. Is the texture thin and quick, or does it fill your mouth with an ongoing sensation? Is it crisp like a light summery white wine, or has it put on an autumn-weight sweater, warming your chest and shoulders? Can you still feel the “grip” of a tannic red wine ten or fifteen seconds after you swallow the sip? You’ve got to be aware to notice these things. Which means being quiet, and attentive. It takes practice. I believe in you.
Sensitivity - Sure, most of us know the difference between silk and velvet. You’ve just read those words, and you can probably imagine the difference in texture between your fingertips right now. But how about the difference between corduroy and twill? Or between a silk tie and a silk pocket square? That takes sensitivity, which is really a mindful, dedicated practice of paying attention. (See “Awareness,” above.)
When it comes to wine, try being sensitive to a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc (Arona, Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, 2022 - suggested retail price of $16) relative to a northern Italian Friulano (Livio Felluga, Friulano Sigar, 2019 - suggested retail price of $68.) Or maybe a Pinot Noir (Smith Story Wine Cellars, Helluva Vineyard, Pinot Noir 2019 - suggested retail price of $60) from the Anderson Valley relative to a Gamay (Domaine Marion Pral 2021 - suggested retail price of $20) from Beaujolais. These wines are similar enough, but it will take practice and sensitivity to discern the nuances of their differences. That’s the sweet reward.
Owning Your Own Experience - One of my favorite experiences is to share a glass of the same exact wine, and listen to my friend’s reaction and description. Theirs will be theirs, and mine will be mine, because our vocabularies of texture over our lifetimes will be different. Atlanta versus Boston. Seaside versus mountain. Meat versus seafood. Vegetables versus herbs. Honey versus spice. And etc. The best thing you can do - the best contribution to the conversation that you can make - is to own your own vocabulary of experience. Describe your reaction with confidence, without wavering uncertainly or unsure of what you “should” be saying. What you should be saying, what we want to hear, is your experience in your own voice, because that will widen our apertures. Which will enrich our own experience — of texture, of wine, of tasting within our community and with each other.
[Toss the mic to Matthew]
I am a textual drinker. I love sparkling water, for instance. I can talk ad nauseam about the different interpretations throughout the world: which has tighter bubbles, which is lighter or has more body, which is more salty and saline, etc. In wine, there are a plethora of textures influenced by many factors, that long to dance across our palates and delight us with their artistic layers.
Here are some descriptor you may have used or heard being used to describe the texture of a wine: smooth, coarse, crunchy, austere, gritty, sharp, astringent, succulent, bright, creamy, waxy, chewy, oily, tight, viscous, flabby, velvety, fleshy, juicy, and silky.
I’ll focus on a few that make me happy.
When a wine is oily, it gains a mid-palate weight and has an almost slippery effect in your mouth. Wines I love that show there are Furmint from Tokaj as well as Pinot Gris from Alsace. Here are producers of each that I love:
Sanzon Furmint 2019 (suggested retail price of $26) & Albert Boxler Pinot Gris 2019 (suggested retail price of $47.)
When a wine is succulent, it’ll give a sweet tart kind of feeling and it always makes me smile. When the acidity far surpasses the residual sugar so there’s supple fruit, but still a clean pucker of fresh acidity. I often find this in Riesling from the Nahe region of Germany, as well as epic Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley. Here are some producers of each that you cannot miss:
Emrich-Schönleber Riesling Estate Trocken Nahe 2020 (suggested retail price of $28) & Arnaud Lambert Saumur Blanc "Clos de Midi" 2022 (suggested retail price of $29.)
When a wine is astringent, thing of the sensation you get if you steep a tea bag too long in the water. The tea gains a toothy or hairy. It grips your mouth as you drink it. That’s a quality in wine we look to for aging potential, as well as to breakdown fats in wine pairings! Think Nebbiolo from Barolo, Baga from Beiras in Portugal, or Malbec from Luján de Cuyo in Mendoza, Argentina. Here are some producers that will upgrade your next grilling sesh:
Ascheri Barolo 2018 (suggested retail price of $49.99), Luis Pato "Vinha Pan" Baga 2017 (suggested retail price of $49.99), & Trivento Malbec "Golden Reserve" 2019 (suggested retail price of $19.99.)
