I really like that - it’s very much aligned with what I’ve experienced at its best, and the way that a wine can symphonically tell a story as it opens up with different highlights of character emerging, shifting, re-emerging. Poetry (as poems) for me is about awakening ineffable almost sensory experiences within through the play of language, and wine awakens these through its sensuous nuance. So, ‘poetry’ comes close as a word for what we’re describing, but I’m open to others.
The Margaux really brought Baudelaire and William Blake to you?
Does anyone else have a beam of light suddenly illuminate them from above when tasting a good wine?
Keep in mind, this is an affectation sort of thing. This wine appreciation stuff is learned, so we are sort of programming ourselves for these epiphanies.
Exactly; anatomical linkages. The olfactory bulb in the brain has direct connections with the amygdala and the hippocampus, which play a significant role in processing emotion and memory.
I’ll leave now before my college biology training further sullies this poetic thread.
Ch Margaux brought out the Blake quote, because the wine just seems to attack me like a tiger. And the finesse and balance of Margaux calls to mind “fearful symmetry”.
Baudelaire’s love of cats makes him come to mind when having Ch Margaux for a similar reason.
The other quotes were really just jibes at Mr Suckling, who seems to have a generic and not terribly poetic notion of poetry in that review. So I picked some jarring, confrontational poetry to show that it is not all Emily Dickinson- not that there is anything wrong with her verse.
I’ve been able to travel to several wine regions. Whenever I open a bottle from one of those regions, I’m often transported there; most certainly if I carried the bottle back myself.
“It is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine that sets the wisest man to sing at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool - it drives the man to dancing…
it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told”
So cool. A couple nights ago, I opened a super garbage sauvignon blanc from Washington that had a pour left in it, just a real nothing mass cheap wine that has opened in the fridge for about a month, and I was gonna deglaze with it. I smelled it and it took my straight to my childhood neighborhood friend’s house that I would hang out at ages 6 to 9. Coolest thing ever when it does that