RO ON SPACE & WINE GLASSE5 – 1

DOES WINE REALLY "BREATHE"?

Does wine really inhale and exhale, sipping the air with long, deep, yogic breaths? If so, when it ages, will it puff and pant, as if challenged by climbing stairs? If wine possesses a “backbone”, and a “nose”, not to mention “legs”, surely it has “lungs”!

What’s with wine breathing – leave alone having to be decanted?

Imagine you’ve just met someone new. After the initial formalities, it would probably take you time to process the layers of multi-sensory information you’re absorbing, before you come to be your true self.

Like you, wine needs to inhale the air and mingle with it before it can let go of its “closed fist” and express its true aromas and attributes without inhibition. And those characteristics, in younger wines, take after their specific grape variety (bell peppers in Cabernet Sauvignon, for example). As the wine evolves with fermentation, exposure to oak, and age, other nuances start to come through, along with a marked complexity (think cigar, earth, leather).

A 1945 Mouton sitting on an old leather chair in an exclusive club, puffing away pompously at a Davidoff torpedo. What a picture!

How much air should you let a wine breathe? is the Question.

In full-bodied reds such as Cabernet, Shiraz, Merlot, Barolo, Barbaresco, and Amarone younger than four years, exposure to air “rounds off” the harsh tannins, making them silkier and softer. A tannic mouthfeel is hard to miss; it’s a coarse, drying, adhesive texture, followed by a bitter astringency that has you make a face. So pour that Cab into a decanter, slosh and wait an hour. Voila! Goodbye Sandpaper, hello Suede. (Or so they say.)

As reds age, the reason for decanting shifts. After years of being bottled up, wine develops a unique character – from forced rumination, no doubt. A gradual, gentle oxidation has already taken place within the bottle, softening the wine as chemical changes occur within, throwing off a residue. Which, dear Drinker, is precisely why you decant: to separate this sediment from the wine. So yes, wine does need to reorient itself to the new surroundings and the new timeline, but over-decanting would only “fade” the wine’s palate. (Oho, now it has a palate, too?)

Traditional wine tasters in France define a “first nose” as one where the wine is lightly breathed in as soon as it’s poured, without so much as a swirl. The “second nose” follows the ritualistic swish-and-swirl, when new aromas released are inhaled deeply, and flavor receptacles discern the distinctions. I’ll never forget the way Jean Baptiste at La Cave du Verger des Papes in Châteauneuf-du-Pape said, “Ah, ze wine, ’ee ’as opened!”.

A sommelier I once met in a beautiful Château in Provence would pour the wine with great delicacy into a decanter, and then (alarmingly) jostle it around with all the vigor he had in his elbow. Oh, Monsieur Phillipe, do be careful, you will bruise this old wine!

Bruise a wine? The next time you meet a wine with a black eye or a purple nose, you’ll know exactly what happened.