Becoming a Somm

I've opened thousands of bottles of wine standing at the side of a table, all eyes on me as I pray that the cork doesn't fight me, that I don't drip all over the tablecloth, and that I have enough left in the bottle after I've made my way around the table of six to give the host a generous pour. I've made all the mistakes that can be made when serving alcohol. I've rough-housed a cork until it was nothing but crumbs, I've spilled on many tables (and their occupants), and I've shot a champagne cork clear across the dining room. Wine service is performance art, and I've had my fair share of bad reviews. 

I've also known the happy feeling of reaching into my pocket at the end of a busy night and pulling out dozens of foils from pricey bottles, from which I have earned twenty percent. I've had people underestimate my ability to finesse a stubborn cork out of the bottle only to later marvel at how I pop that sucker out like it was greased lightning. I've had some really good wine shared with me by generous guests.

In short, wine service is the agony and the ecstasy of my job. When it's going well, it's a selling tool, it's lucrative, it helps me to look good! But when it goes poorly, it is the definition of embarrassing. Nothing is worse than making a mistake and having to continue to stand red-faced in front of strangers as they watch you struggle with ever-more discerning eyes. That bottle may have cost them $300, after all. 

DESPITE THE OPINION OF SOME, WINE IS IMPORTANT AND THERE ARE EXPERTS IN THIS MATTER

Earlier this year I decided that my career was due for a challenge. Even though I had years of experience poppin' bottles, I knew that I had a lot to learn when it came to wine. So I registered to take the Introductory Course of the Court of Master Sommeliers, the venerated institution responsible for promoting excellence in professional beverage service. 

I understand that some people don't get what the big deal is with wine. They don't like it, they think it all tastes the same, and they consider it wasteful to spend a large sum of money on something you'll just guzzle down your throat. I see where they're coming from, because there are other things people obsess over that I also don't "get," including Grey's Anatomy, facebook, the Kardashians, and college athletics (you'll get my money when you turn pro, dude). Despite my distaste of these things, I can't deny that they have a profound cultural impact. The difference between those things and wine is the fact that wine has been swinging its dick in every part of the world for thousands of years. It's important historically and relevant to today's food and beverage industry, and I felt it was worth some study.  

The Introductory Course cost me $525 and for that price I would be spending two days in classes taught by Master Sommeliers. In the world of wine, these guys are the big guns. There are only about 240 Master Somms worldwide, and they worked hard to reach such rarefied heights. From grape to glass, they know it all. Master Somms know about every wine-making region in the world, the topography of the area, and how the chemistry of its soil type affects the final product. They know the biology of the vines and what pests and molds are found in vineyards. They have the laws down pat -- how long does Chianti have to be aged to be called "Riserva?" What percentage of rice bran must be polished away to make Daiginjo sake? They have to be able to serve wine to guests in the most demanding of atmospheres, and most importantly, they have to be able to sell it. And just when you'd think they've learned everything they possibly could about the world of alcoholic beverages? Happy New Year! It's a new vintage -- and they have to memorize what the weather and current events meant for production in every region of the world for this particular year. 

But I was starting small. I began to look at the workbook that was sent to me, which was laid out in pretty much the same order that the classes would follow. We'd start with France and learn all of its regions and laws, because most of the wine world pretty much follows suit with the French standard of organization. I was not far into the book when I realized that I'd better take notes. Enter the flash cards. If you have seen the movie "Somm" on Netflix, or spoken to anyone who studies wine, then you know that flash cards figure prominently in a somm's life. There is simply no better way to drill yourself on the soil of every wine region in the world, or the names of every Grand Cru in Chablis. Index cards became my best friend, and for several months I quizzed myself again and again, putting the cards I aced in a "know" pile and the cards that made me struggle into a "don't know" pile. Guess which was bigger?

I TURN IT INTO A VACATION BECAUSE HEY, WHY NOT?

On July 17, 2017, I left on a road trip to Raleigh, North Carolina, where I would be taking my exam. It felt like an adventure. First of all, I'm a mother and a wife and the idea of taking a road trip by myself felt oddly exhilarating. To all my single, childless friends -- never underestimate the freedom you have to listen to whatever music you like in the car. There would be no Moana soundtrack on this trip! 

This cup is not filled with wine. 

I made phone calls on the way and was on the phone with my best friend when I realized I would be driving by South of the Border, that destination of kitsch and cultural appropriation between North and South Carolina on I-95. Of course, I had to pull over. A helicopter toy was procured for my son. Alligator selfie, check. I moved on. 

I checked into my hotel and got straight to the work of quizzing myself on more flash cards. Several hours later, I got into bed. I needed a good night's rest before my first day. 

SARAH IS NERVOUS AND THE BOW TIES AREN'T HELPING

The next day I woke up and got myself ready. I arrived ridiculously early at The Angus Barn, a huge restaurant with event space in which our classes would be held. I stayed in the parking lot and watched other students walk in before I mustered up the nerve to enter the building. In the lobby there were dozens of other people introducing themselves and going through their wine workbook. I hung back and didn't talk to anyone. 

I was nervous. This isn't an uncommon state of mind for me, but in this instance I was worried about making the right first impression. Master Somms take their job very seriously -- or else they wouldn't be Master Somms. I didn't want to appear as if I were wasting their time. Finally, one of them bounded down the steps and checked us in. He looked dapper in a perfectly-fitted slim-cut suit and bow tie. His Master Sommelier pin was proudly displayed on his lapel. We went upstairs to be seated in our "classroom," and were greeted by the other three Masters that would be teaching our course. More suits. More bow ties. More Master Somm pins. 

I emphasize how they look not because I'm obsessed with appearances but rather because Master Somms know that details matter. I'm sure wine geniuses in an old hoodie and threadbare sweatpants exist, but no one is going to trust that they can tell the difference between Albariño and Chardonnay. Furthermore, no one is going to pay them for that knowledge. These men were crisp, sharp, and ready to work. 

Note that I didn't mention any women. Sadly, only about 15% of the Master Sommeliers in the United States are women. This was lamented by one of our instructors, who encouraged the females in the class to continue on with our studies. "Our parties are really boring," he joked, and even though his joke made me giggle, I was saddened to learn of yet another industry in which women aren't equally represented. As people become aware of the disparities in the wine cellar, I do hope that changes. 

SPIT HERE

The two days of classes flowed as each Somm took turns lecturing us on a different wine region or topic. Intimidating as they were, the Master Somms turned out to be pretty charming, and even funny. Wine service involves a lot of public speaking and it was clear that these guys had honed their craft. I began to scribble down some of their better lines in my workbook, and most of these simplified what at times can seem an almost mysterious course of study. Regarding the difficulty of food and beverage pairing, one of them stated that "Ultimately you're shooting for milk and cookies." Another stated that the Semillon grape is going to taste like "lemon laser beams." Simple enough. 

We took several breaks each day, and each time we came back into the room, there sat before us four wine glasses filled with small pours of mystery wines. Ah, the fun part! Over the course of two days I got to taste over twenty glasses of wine that best exemplified typical characteristics for their region. However, this wasn't a party. Before beginning our first tasting we were given a stern warning from one of the Masters that this line of work already has a reputation for being a bunch of people that sit around and get drunk all day. "Spit the wine out," he told us. "Don't be that guy." 

This is where we learned that we've been tasting wine incorrectly our whole lives. The "Deductive Tasting Method" was developed by the Court of Master Sommeliers to help people identify certain characteristics of wine that tie together what we've learned about wine making with with we have in the glass. This should help us to identify wine "blind," that is, without knowing what has been poured. The end goal of all of this is that we will be better able to sell bottles to guests based upon their stated preferences. 

I'm sure you've seen caricatures of the Deductive Tasting Method before -- a snobbish swirl of the glass, followed by a taste, a swish, and a spit. And honestly, that's not far off (minus the snobbish part, hopefully). We learned over those two days that to properly "get to know" a wine you have to take baby steps. The first step is visual. Look at the glass, preferably in natural light through a polished wine glass against a white background. Is the wine clear or hazy? Is the color the same throughout or does it change tone at the rim? When you swirl, does the glass seem like it's "stained" with the wine?

The second step is olfactory: Stick your nose in there and take a whiff. You should be reminded of different types of fruit, or as one Master Somm put it, "Wine comes from fruit. Of course you're going to smell fruit." But there's other stuff hiding in every glass, as well. Flowers. Earthy scents like forest floor. Funky stuff like barnyard or cat pee. Pen ink. Old money.  I think this is where we lose most people, but these smells are really in there, I promise. If you think this is ridiculous, simply smell two different wines next to each other. They'll smell different and remind you of different things. Don't overthink it. It's nothing more than a Pepsi challenge.  

Finally, we arrived at the tasting of the wines. A small sip was drawn in and dragged over the tongue so it hit all of those taste buds. Some of us made bubbling sounds. Swishes were performed. And then, no matter how good it tasted, we had to spit it out. Did the fruits we tasted on the palate match the fruits we identified when we smelled the wine? And what about those fruits? Were they ripe, tart, baked, dried, or jammy? Were there traces of oak, minerality, or sugar? When we breathed in, how far down our throat did we "feel the burn" of the alcohol? Did we salivate? 

I AM CONFIDENTLY WRONG

With all of these clues at our fingertips, sommeliers are expected to guess what's in the glass by ruling other varietals out, one by one. You're guessing what the wine is by identifying what it definitely isn't. One Master put it this way: it's "Survivor" by the glass. Take the clues you've found from your tasting and use them to knock wines without those characteristics off the island. With those instructions and only one example performed by the instructors, we proceeded to go around the room and perform these deductive tastings on our own. 

One person would stand up with the microphone and state what they saw in the glass. The next person would state what they smelled, and so on. We were apprehensive, of course. One lady won all of our hearts when she took the microphone and said, "I have no background in this. I'm a nurse practitioner and this is my Mother's Day gift." The Master Somms were standing by for guidance and critique and by far the most common complaint they had was that we were all acting unsure. You see, certainty is key. When you stand in front of them and state what you're observing, they don't stand for "Um," and "I think," or "maybe."  

The time came for my turn and of course, I had the difficult task of guessing what was in the glass after everyone else had described the wine. I might have been nervous and unsure, but I knew one thing: I was going to ace the delivery. "This is a 1-3 year old Kabinett Riesling from Mosel, Germany." Mic drop...except I was wrong. They did give me a gold star for my confidence, but other than that, I got the varietal and country wrong. I learned you can't "fake it 'til you make it" in the wine world. Heard. 

TESTING, TESTING, 1,2,3...

At long last, the time came for us to be evaluated on our knowledge. The first test on one's way to becoming a Master Sommelier is very forgiving: a score of 60% on the 70-question exam is considered a passing grade. That didn't help to calm any of our nerves. The wine world is vast and complex, and to achieve 60% on a test that has what seems like an infinite possibility of questions is still overwhelming. Everyone was cramming. 

Then it was test time. I'm convinced the first question was a "gimme," put there to make nervous test takers at ease. "What varietal is the Willamette Valley known for?" Ha! Pinot noir, next. But then the next question wasn't so easy. And neither were the following six. What soil is there in Pessac-Leognan? Where is Greco de Tufo grown? I became flushed and embarrassed. PANIC SET IN. I had paid $525 for this and my husband had supported me the whole way. I was away from my son for two days. My parents were watching him. I WOULD HAVE TO GO HOME AND TELL MY FAMILY I WAS A BIG FAT FAILURE.  

After allowing myself a minute to wallow in pity and shame, I just had to move on. I gave myself a pep talk and took some deep breaths. I did know some stuff cold. And hey, I was able to make educated guesses on the other things. I turned my test in after about forty minutes and flew out the door to get some air. 

Eventually everyone was out there commiserating. "What did you put down for the answer to...?" was a common refrain. I chuckled that a surprising number of people overthought the answer to "What country has an abundance of eucalyptus that affects the flavor of the wine?" When she was told Australia, one woman wailed, "I didn't even think about koala bears!" 

I texted my family and friends and told them it was over. I would update them with my results when I had them. Until then, pacing and biting my nails were in order. 

AND THE SOMMS ARE...

When the Master Somms called us back, we nervously shuffled back into the room. There were over eighty of us in the class, and they'd be announcing the names of those who passed one by one. We stood up and prayed that our name would be called. 

My name was called somewhere in the middle. (!!!) A wave of relief passed over me and I went to the front of the room to retrieve my pin and certificate. A Master Somm handed me something that meant i did a good job. Elation. And I got a pin, y'all. Mine is a ghastly orange and it says "introductory course," but I don't care. To me, it's a big deal. 

I don't have the exact numbers, but more people in my class passed than failed. The Master Somms poured us all glasses of champagne and we didn't have any tasting or deduction to do -- we just had to drink it. I called my husband and facetimed with my Mama, because no matter how old you get, you still want to impress your mom.

My mother is going to be super pumped that I put this pic on the internet.

                            My best friend is very supportive and curses a lot. 

I RETURN HOME VICTORIOUS AND AM QUICKLY HUMBLED

When I went back to work the following day, my coworkers gave me a bottle of nice Champagne with a congratulatory card. I was eager to unleash all my newfound knowledge on my guests, and to sell some big bottles. But the thing about wine is that it's a personal, objective experience. Nobody is asking me about soil types. To this day I get stumped by questions that I'm simply not sure how to answer. When guests ask me if our house wine is "good," I still have to pause, because it isn't. But I can't say that, because it doesn't help sales and I don't know for sure that it won't taste good to them. I feel weird asking how much my guests want to spend. And it's particularly difficult to sell bottles that I haven't yet had the chance to taste. 

So, I'm proud of my accomplishment but I have a long way to go before I feel truly confident selling wine -- and it's possible that I'll never get there. But at least the journey is fun. Wine is simply one of life's greatest pleasures. It tastes good, it's food's best friend, and heck, it's inebriating. Pouring it for guests makes me feel professional like no other act. I love wine. And if the biggest thing I've learned about wine is that I have a lot more to learn, then I'll drink to that.