I love a writing assignment that requires me to enjoy a glass of wine. But drinking wine while I read Wine for Women: A Guide to Buying, Pairing and Sharing Wine, by Leslie Sbrocco, quickly progressed from a research technique to a survival tactic.
Wine for Women is geared specifically to the supermarket wine shopper—apparently, a gender-specific activity—and it has noble intentions: to demystify the wonderful world of wine for the majority of wine buyers, which are, you guessed it: women. There is a need for simple, straightforward guides to wine for the supermarket shopper. I’ll even concede that I’d like to see such a guide targeted to women: the cooks and hostesses among us, along with those who simply, um, thirst for wine knowledge.
The problem with Leslie Sbrocco’s book is that she assumes women are less interested in wine than we are in not looking like idiots.
I welcome a beginner’s wine guide that allows me to leave books like Wine for Dummies and the Idiot’s Guide to Wine on the bookstore shelves. But does my guide have to explain wine to me using fashion metaphors? I’m going to need a bottle of Chianti for this.
According to Ms. Sbrocco, Chianti is made primarily from sangiovese grapes (okay, that’s helpful information) and it’s the “sleek Italian heels” of a wine wardrobe. If you’re not sure what that means because you buy your shoes at Payless, then I’m right there with you. Luckily, Sbrocco goes on to explain that she “gravitates toward stylish Italian heels that miraculously seem to make any outfit look elegant.” Wait, isn’t Chianti that cheap wine that comes in a funky bottle that looks half like a basket?
Okay, so maybe my experience with Chianti before my honeymoon in Tuscany was severely limited. However, I’m further confused when Sbrocco calls chardonnay the “basic black of white wine,” while cabernet sauvignon is the “classic suit of red.” I guess this means that women who love “spring dresses” would most enjoy Rieslings and gewürztraminers while only those who wear “seductive satin” would be into pinot noir. Not only do I still not know which wine to serve at my next party; I definitely have nothing to wear.
It feels good to write.
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