When I first started in the various wine classes – at a local winery or through monthly Smithsonian tastings, I was like everyone else: just looking to try a few new wine without committing to a full bottle…in case I didn’t like what was inside.
Some were there to explore. Some were deeply passionate. Some just needed a Friday night activity during Covid. And a few were tagging along in support of the wine lover in their life.
I fell somewhere in those first two groups.
When I started Wine & Spirits Education Trust (WSET), that international certification institution in wine, spirits, beer, and more, I found a similar mix.
Level 1 was a 2-day weekend course with about 10 other casual drinkers learning the basics.
By Level 2, things escalated. Six weeks of classes, a larger group, and a few few wine professionals joining in.
Then came Level 3.
Longer classes.
Deeper dive into regions, climate, soil, vineyard management, and winemaking. Nearly 100 grape varieties to memorize. Essays. Blind tastings.
And suddenly, I was one of only two people not “in the business.”
My classmates? Sommeliers, distributors, wine shop managers.
Me?
“I’m a boring government policy wonk. She sells it, he recommends it, they distribute it… I just buy and drink it. Thank you, next.”
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That dynamic didn’t change in Level 4.
Many of us moved through the Diploma together, including one retired classmate who spent every fall volunteering at a vineyard harvest.
Meanwhile, I kept hearing that old Sesame Street tune in my head:
“One of these things is not like the other…one of these things just doesn’t belong.”
I’d felt it before – when I was performing flying trapeze in my 50s alongside performers in their 20s.
And now? Same song. Different setting. Same feeling.
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My classmates had a head start.
They knew vineyard names, producers, and regions far beyond “France” or “Napa” – we’re talking St. Emilion, Stellenbosch, and Carneros.
When we started writing full tasting essays – a full page essay per wine – they were already discussing structure, acid, tannin, and finish.
I was still swirling my glass.
Acid? My knowledge was based in 2 years of college chemistry.
Body? That Bellamy Brothers song now replaced that Sesame Street ditty.
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While I certainly was playing a lot of catch up, I learned my strengths.
I could identify flavors with precision.
Not just citrus, but bergamot peel.
Not just floral, but a slightly bruised magnolia blossom that has just fallen from the tree.
Not just meaty, but smoked, thinly sliced prosciutto.
Tannins made sense to me, too.
Not just “stalky” – stalky like celery, not asparagus. There’s a difference!
Not just “ripe” –ripe like a fresh picked black plum.
Not just “green” – green like an underripe strawberry, not raspberry.
I still found myself struggling.
Someone recommended, Beyond Flavour by Nick Jackson – a deep dive into how wine feels, not just tastes.
It helped. A lot.
Now with a few years of tasting and learning under my belt, I combined this new knowledge to create the full picture…or full glass!
I would have loved to have had some of these basics like “this is high acid, this is low acid” lessons.
Something like “this wine’s acid is felt all around your mouth vs. this wine’s acid is felt only at the sides of your mouth.”
Once I started thinking about wine that way – physically, structurally – everything changed.
My tasting improved. My exam performance improved.
More importantly, I understood why I liked what I liked…and why I didn’t like those wines that just weren’t for me.
So that’s where we’re starting.
For my first series of posts, we’re diving into acid.
Side-by-side comparisons.
High vs. low.
How acid feels and moves in your mouth. Get ready for some puckering!
Vin There, Drank That 
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