Want Some Cheese with That?

Let's become wine snobs!

I'm pretty sure the main qualification for being a wine snob is to be good with words. Being a lush is a plus, so it's right up my alley. I'm poor, so I only get to be a Franzia snob; still, as long as we can toss around terms like "bouquet" and "insouciant" and "oenology," we should be able to pull it off.

Of course, Franzia isn't particularly insouciant. The Chianti is fruity and robust, with a bulbous nose like a middle-aged Tuscan monk. The Chardonnay is peevish and irritable. The Rhine has an aroma of pear and apple, with overtones of orange kool-aid. The Burgundy is an angry wine, with a bouquet reminiscent of dead roses from a disgruntled ex, and the Cabernet Sauvignon will hold you up behind a convenience store.

My ex-husband, a student chef, is taking a class in wine snobbery, and I don't think Franzia is part of the curriculum. But one of the samples was of a California red with, he said, strong overtones of tar and hot asphalt. "It smells like a car crash," he said at the tasting, and he got an A.

So I don't see why I can't do it.