Sometimes drinking the unusual and the obscure gets a little scary.

Writing a blog about unusual wines, spirits and cocktails is great fun. I have a venue in which to share my opinions, I attend delightful events like the Wine Bloggers Conference, I get free samples from time to time, and every great once in a while, I’ll receive an invitation to visit some romantic place to learn about the wines or spirits produced there. I take great joy in these experiences, and I’m not planning on giving them up any time soon.

Writing a blog about unusual wines, spirits and cocktails has had a number of unintended consequences, however. The focus on the unusual eliminates all sorts of delicious things. Much to my bewilderment and consternation, I found myself turning down free samples of wine from a top Burgundy producer, because Burgundy’s Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays don’t exactly count as obscure. The resourceful marketing representative understood the situation, and offered to send me free samples of some Indian wine instead. I have nothing against wine from India, but let’s be honest here — something unfortunate has happened to a person who turns down free samples of fine Burgundy in exchange for bottles from subcontinental parts unknown.

My wine rack has also become problematic. It used to represent a sort of buffet from which I could pick and choose any bottle at any time. Now there are strict divisions. On three of the shelves are bottles I want to eventually write blog posts about, and on one of the shelves (actually, only half a shelf at this point) are bottles I can open at leisure. Basically, if I want to open a bottle from my collection, I better be prepared to also open my notebook.

And this is the unexpected thing that happens when you turn a vice into a job. That vice slowly and surely starts to feel a lot less like a fun indulgence and a lot more like work. I did it with my 9 to 5 job as well. I used to take great pleasure in exploring as many different places as possible on my vacations, visiting perhaps five different cities on a 12-day trip. It boggles my mind how much like work that now seems. Instead, I look forward to staying in a cottage for a week, avoiding fancy restaurants and concierges and valets. Just reading my book and hiking and cooking and cuddling.

I realize that this is not the sort of situation that engenders a flood of sympathy. These “problems” are not problems. Coptic Christians have problems. Gay Russians have problems. Syrians have problems. What I have is an extremely fortunate and extremely unusual situation. I did what you’re supposed to do — work at what you love. But what people tend to leave out of that story is that what you love then becomes work.

I still haven’t quite figured out how to reconcile that issue, but this week, I’m going to give it a shot. I’m going to a cottage in Wisconsin, I’m going to leave my internet connection behind, and I’m going to leave any thoughts of a planned itinerary behind as well. What I am bringing with me is a Central Coast Pinot Noir, a California Cabernet, a Washington State Merlot and a number of wines already discussed on this blog. Drinking wine and not taking notes? Now that’s starting to sound like a vacation!

See you in a week. Cheers!

The author and Anthony Terlato (right) at Tangley Oaks

Some people envy wine writers because of all the delicious wines they get to taste, and I certainly love that part of the job. But just as much, if not more, I love the people who I meet along the way. People who love wine, I find, tend to love life, and spending time with them is invariably a pleasure.

I recently made my way to Tangley Oaks, a Tudor-style mansion that serves as the headquarters of Terlato Wines, a major importer and winemaker. According to its website, one in ten bottles of wine over $14 in the U.S. is marketed by Terlato. This company became so influential due in large part to the efforts of Anthony Terlato, who Wine Enthusiast named “Man of the Year” in 2003, noting that he changed the way Americans drink.

And so he did, importing one of the very first Pinot Grigios on the market (Santa Margherita) and introducing American wine drinkers to the joys of Sicilian wines. Now also an owner of wineries, Terlato never compromises on quality, choosing to raise prices when necessary rather than market an inferior product. This philosophy helped increase the sophistication of the American wine palate, which in turn lead to the generally wine-savvy culture we enjoy today.

It was fascinating to meet such an important figure in American wine history, but what made tasting this tasting such a delight was the obvious enthusiasm Terlato had for these wines. Here is a person who has tasted thousands upon thousands of fine wines over the course of his career, and yet each wine we tried excited him. “This is a beautiful wine,” he would say, or “This I love, love, love.” Other bottles brought up memories of the winemakers: “M____ is brilliant, but he’s a brat — he’s an adult delinquent!”

As delicious as the wines we tasted were (more on them in a future post), it was the company that made this tasting truly memorable. The afternoon with Anthony Terlato reminded me of why I love wine in the first place. However many you drink over the years, quality wines don’t become boring. The evocative aromas and flavors of a well-crafted wine somehow never lose the power to stir the emotions.

The Wine Blogger Conference (WBC) approaches! This year’s event takes place in Penticton, a lakeside town in the heart of the Okanagan Valley, one of Canada’s premier wine regions. If you’ve ever encountered a Canadian wine, it’s likely to have been a sweet ice wine, but they’re not just making dessert wines up there. Apparently, the terroir is well suited to a host of different varieties, many of which make perfectly tasty dry table wines.

I’m thrilled to be able to explore this odd corner of the wine world, along with Washington State’s unheralded Lake Chelan AVA. These two regions have unusual and obscure written all over them, and I have no doubt that all sorts of gems are waiting to be unearthed.

After my recent spin through Germany, I think it wise to slow down for a few days in order to recuperate. I usually post on Wednesdays and Saturdays, but I’m going to pause for the next week to prepare my palate and liver for the onslaught to come. Until Penticton!

Wine, like many fields, has its own vocabulary. For some, that’s part of its appeal, and for others, it can feel intimidating. I must admit I use winespeak on this blog not infrequently, with the goal of adding precision to my descriptions. But some of these terms, as my mother recently alerted me, can’t even be found in a typical dictionary.

I thought, therefore, that it would be handy to have a quick glossary of some potentially confusing terms you’re likely to encounter when reading about wine:

Acids: As in citrus fruit, acids can give wine a juicy, mouth-watering quality, and they’re usually very important for making a wine food-friendly. I find they can take on different shapes and colors, like pointy limey acids, or round orangey acids, or bright lemony acids.

Brut/Extra Dry: Ages ago, some marketing genius in deepest France decided it would be smart to use these terms counterintuitively. A brut Champagne (or other sparkling wine) will be dry, and an extra brut Champagne will be even drier. An extra dry Champagne, however, will be on the sweeter side. It’s France — they like to keep us barbarian Americans on our toes.

Cuvée: This word is thrown around willy-nilly these days, and it’s sometimes used just as a synonym for “wine” when wine writers don’t want to use “wine” too often in a single sentence about wine. It usually refers to some specific subset of a wine, perhaps indicating different blends, for example.

Noble Rot: I suppose even a true marketing genius would have trouble making the botrytis fungus sexy. Noble rot can be quite desirable because it creates little holes in the grape skins, drying out and even shriveling the grapes a bit. This concentrates the sugars and flavors in the remaining juice, resulting in (ideally) marvelously deep, rich, sweet and lively wines. Sauternes and Tokai Aszú are two classic examples.

Tannins: In contrast to mouth-watering acids, tannins tend to dry the mouth. If you drink a wine and it sucks the moisture off your tongue, or (in extreme cases) feels like a mouthful of cotton, those are the tannins at work. Wines aged in stainless steel typically have fewer tannins than wines aged in wood, though the amount of tannins tends to be determined more by the grape variety and how much the winery used the stems, skins and seeds in the winemaking process. In any case, tannins help add structure and balance, and help keep a wine intact as it ages in the bottle.

Terroir: More and more, wine drinkers are seeking out cuvées– er, wines, which are expressive of their terroir. This French term doesn’t just refer to the qualities of the soil in which a vineyard is planted. It encompasses the entire microclimate of the vineyard, from soil to sunlight to rainfall to temperatures. Basically, terroir can be anything that gives a wine a sense of place. A single-vineyard wine should theoretically be most expressive of its terroir, as compared to a wine made from grapes grown across an entire region. It matters less whether a wine is a varietal or a blend of different varieties.

Variety/Varietal: Speaking of which, let’s talk about “varietal” versus “varieties.” I admit I confused these terms myself until relatively recently, and you’ll see them used incorrectly in all sorts of prestigious publications. Editors take note! A variety refers to the type of grape, such as Merlot, Chardonnay, or everyone’s favorite, Öküzgözü. A varietal wine is a wine made entirely (or almost entirely) from a single variety, and it should probably express the characteristics of that variety. Although “varietal” is technically an adjective, it’s also common these days to refer to a varietal wine as simply “a varietal.”

My goodness, well that’s enough vocabulary for me. Does anyone happen to have a glass of tannic terroir-focused extra-dry varietal something or other?