There are a million books out there that instruct readers in the fine art of wine tasting.  These run the gamut from technical manuals for professional sommeliers, to introductory books offering beginners a how-to, Wine-for-Dummies approach. Hip Tastes by Courtney Cochran belongs to the latter category, striving to make the complex concepts and techniques behind wine tasting easily accessible even to readers having no previous experience whatsoever with drinking wine. At the same time, with her frequent usage of the word “hip,” the author implies a degree of sophistication and subtle understanding already extant in her audience. So we begin with a conundrum.

I think Cochran, for the most part, succeeds in reconciling her two contradictory impulses. Her information and understanding of her craft (she’s a professional sommelier) are solid, her language is easy to read, and her train of thought is easy to follow. The book probably won’t make you a sophisticated wine taster filled with subtle understanding of the art, but it’s very readable. The average beginning wine taster should finish this book having gained a good grasp of some basic concepts. Even oenophiles may learn some interesting new facts or little-known bits of history.

There are many things to like about this book as an introductory guide. Ultimately, Cochran doesn’t completely reject the traditional lexicon of wine tasting—e.g., “chewy tannins”—but explains terms with clarity. Cochran’s explanation of terroir is simply one of the best I’ve ever read, in addition to being beautifully clear, simple, and vibrant. Her championing of personal preference as “the most critical factor” in tasting, and her definition of wine tasting as “a subjective thing,” is the major element that makes me like this book, since satisfying one’s personal taste is ultimately what enjoying wine is all about.

Cochran’s explanation of the differences between Old World and New World wines and their naming systems is excellent, as is her passage on the effect of degree of toast in wine barrels. I appreciate her defense of rosé wine. Her chapter on champagne and other effervescent wines, and the following chapter on sweet wines are simple, clear, and comprehensive in explaining complex subjects. The description and categorization of Madeira are concise yet thorough. I like her consideration of wine pairings that include sushi and burgers—wine was created as liquid accompaniment for food, and more of us eat sushi and burgers than haute cuisine. Cochran’s demystification of the process of decanting is well done; and I agree completely with her commonsense, diplomatic approach to wine ratings—take them with “a grain of salt,” refer to more than one critic, and pay attention when the majority recommends a wine.

The section titled, “Stop Making Sense of the List,” accomplishes a much-needed debunking of arcane restaurant wine lists, while giving clear pointers about major signposts to watch for in, well, making sense of the huge variety of wine lists out there. I do disagree with her abjuration to order beer or a cocktail at a restaurant that only offers “boring wine.” (What if the only beer they offer is Bud Light? Beer can certainly be just as boring as wine.).

Another problem I had with this section is the implication that it’s better to know in advance, or to figure things out at the table without help, than to ask questions. Cochran supports sommeliers (as she should, being one herself) and reassures the reader that they can be trusted; however, the simple strategy of asking questions of one’s server appears late in the chapter and is not one of the primary options proposed in navigating a wine list. Cochran states that one should not feel at all reluctant to defend a specific price range and taste preferences; but rather than clearly stating taste and price constraints, she suggests “tip-offs” that can help a server understand one’s concerns indirectly. These “tip-offs” are clever, as is her suggestion to call ahead and speak to the sommelier in advance of dining to decide upon what wine should be served—but what’s wrong with just being straightforward—at the table—about one’s lack of knowledge and/or cash? Concealing both seems to me more of a male concern than a female one, since we are mostly concerned simply with getting something that will please us, while not overspending. We don’t order wine to impress anyone, and therefore we are not as concerned with concealing our limitations.