In the realm of the senses

Virtues and Necessities
by Martin Field

Wine is all about the senses. About sensory evaluation, sensuality and consensual enjoyment. And wouldn’t it be awful to lose your sense of taste, of smell, of touch, of sight?

It happens. Years ago, a wine-loving colleague went through a devastating course of chemotherapy to treat cancer and was cured. Afterwards he told me he had permanently lost his taste for wine. He sold his not inconsiderable cellar soon afterwards. Another friend had an operation on his nose that left him without a sense of smell. He’ll drink a glass of wine with dinner but admits to being indifferent to its finer points.


I was reminded of this aspect of wine and the senses recently while listening to a wine expert banging on about the unimportance of colour in wine. If I heard him correctly, his thesis was that if the wine smelt and tasted good you shouldn’t worry too much about its colour.

I couldn’t disagree more. I love the colour of wine in the morning, or the evening. The crystal clear, green-hued glisten of a young riesling; the black cherry colour of a young shiraz; the vibrant inky purple of a Coonawarra cabern… [enough already! – Ed.] The visual appeal of wine in the glass is to me an unmissable part of wine drinking.

The banging on wine person finally admitted to being colour blind! They used to call this attitude making a virtue of a necessity.

And talking of sensory evaluation
Long due for reassessment is the ancient scoring system used at most Australian wine shows. The one where wines are scored out of 20 – with a possible three points (15%) awarded for appearance, seven (35%) for bouquet and ten (50%) for palate. Anyone who’s ever had a cold will tell you that smell is probably the most important sensory sensation where wine is concerned. When people have colds they typically complain, ‘I can’t taste a thing.’ What they really mean is, ‘I can’t smell a thing.’ It’s their noses that are blocked up – not their mouths.

I realise that many judges just award an intuitive score out of 20 rather than individually scoring each component and then adding up the total. Nevertheless, I’d re-jig the weighting thus: three points (15%) for appearance, nine (45%) for bouquet, five (25%) for palate and three (15%) for overall finesse and balance. Whether the scoring system is out of 20 or 100, or whatever, the percentage weighting would remain the same.

1 thought on “In the realm of the senses

  1. Perry Middlemiss

    My father gave up smoking about 10 years ago and started complaining within a short time that his sense of smell had been greatly reduced. I’d done the same about three years before and noticed that I was leaning more towards the big hefty reds of Rutherglen and the acidic Clare Rieslings of my youth more than I had in previous years. At the time I put this down to just a sense of nostalgia or a maturing palate, but I’ve since come to the conclusion that I had come so used to the smoking component of my palate that, once it was removed, I was unable to compensate.

    Dad and I discuss this from time to time and you’ll be relieved to hear it’s started to come back for both of us. Though I reckon it took the bulk of ten years for that to occur.

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