MICHAEL FRIDJHON: How to taste with precision and refinement

There is a class of professional tasters — not just wine tasters but also those in the food and other beverage industries — who appear to outsiders to be endowed with superhuman capabilities. It’s assumed that they are in some way gifted, born with an attribute that separates them from mere mortals.

There’s no doubt that some display skills that appear magical to those who don’t make a living from these senses. But does this mean that the ability to taste with precision and refinement is in some way inherent and cannot be taught?

There’s been considerable research into the field of taste (which is, incidentally, largely about perception of aroma — you can only taste sweet, sour, salt, bitter and umami/savouriness). We know that most people have “blind spots” — notes and nuances they simply cannot discern. We also know that, as with any sensory loss or absence, there are (largely subconscious) ways to compensate for this.

If the ability to taste is an attribute acquired from one’s ancestors, there would be no point in attempting to enhance or refine it, no reason to study it and certainly no value in attending a wine course. But there are courses and qualifications, from the Cape Wine Academy and the Wines and Spirits Education Trust to Cape Wine Master, Master of Wine and Master Sommelier. Are these snake oil operations fooling people into thinking that if they pay their money they will learn to walk on water? Or do they train only the elect, those who possess this arcane gift?

I’ve been running a wine judging academy in association with the University of Cape Town’s Graduate School of Business for more than 15 years. It trains about 20 people each year and draws on (mainly) industry candidates who have had considerable experience in tasting wine. So while it’s not a sample of the total population, it does show something of what is possible, and also the limitations.

There’s no doubt that some people have sensory skills that differ from others: a better taste memory (just as some people have a better memory for numbers, for names, for faces), a more nuanced ability to discern different flavours, a greater taste sensitivity to the notes that are important in wine judgment. But except for those who suffer from anosmia (the inability to smell) and ageusia (the inability to taste) anyone can be trained to discern better and to recognise the key elements in wine appreciation.

Graham Beck’s Pieter Ferreira has been presenting the fizz section of the course for 15 years. By the time he’s completed his talk and tasting almost all his students can tell the difference between cap classique, prosecco and champagne and understand what sets them apart. Charles Hopkins from De Grendel has been covering the white wine segment for the same period of time. This year he was able to show — and the class was able to discern — the impact of fractional differences in acidity, sugar and alcohol. By “fractional” I mean two or three grams per litre of sugar, or half a gram of tartaric acid.

Vergelegen’s Luke O’Cuinneagain has been covering the Cape reds for two years. He selects wines to illustrate the specifics of site (the three separate Storm pinot noirs from Hemel-en-Aarde) and the specifics of selection (the three different “grades” of Paul Cluver pinots.) All of the Storm wines were from the same vintage, made by the same winemaker. Of the Cluver wines, only the Seven Flags was a different vintage (because it is released later than the Village and Estate cuvées). These subtleties were evident to students who knew nothing about the basis of his selection.

People who look at paint colour charts have no difficulty picking up minute differences in shades of the same colour or fractional tonal distinctions across the colour spectrum. This skill comes without formal training. Why should it be any different when it comes to recognising the finest nuances in the taste of wine?

Business Day.