If geeks have invaded one aspect of wine appreciation, it is surely that of a wine’s aroma, or “nose.” You can tell because, now that so many authorities have weighed in on the subject, we can’t decide what to call it anymore. Some enophiles will save the term “aroma” for a wine’s more fruity smells, such as a Chardonnay’s whiff of pear or apple, while they reserve the term “bouquet” for the more floral odors, such a Cabernet’s perfume of violet and cedar. Some–including, she confesses, Winegirl herself–are developing a taste for a wine’s less romantic-sounding olfactory sensations, including the downright smelly “stink” of barnyard (for example, in well-aged Bordeaux) or the slight odor of cat pee (as in a racy Sauvignon Blanc from the Sancerre region in France.)

Stop and Smell the Roses

It’s a good thing that nerds are helping to explain the science of smelling wine. It’s a lamentably-overlooked element in the enjoyment of fine wine. Because of the international wine market’s focus on mass-produced, ready-to-drink vino (ninety-eight percent of wine purchased, in fact, is consumed within 24 hours), winemakers have sacrificed on the odorific potential of their product and consumers have ceased to require it. But a wine’s aroma is something that develops and intensifies through careful vinification and bottle-aging; moreover, the proper appreciation of a wine’s bouquet takes some waiting, concentration, and maybe even some gadgets–the latter not being an issue for the readers of Alicehill.com, I’m sure.

Here’s why all that slowing down is worth it. You’ve eaten food when you have a cold, right? Remember how tasteless it was? That’s because your stuffy nose was rendered inoperative. Tasting wine without smelling it will similarly render your beverage one-dimensional. Plus, when you raise a glass for a sip, your nose is the first part of your body to greet a wine. Then, after you’ve tasted and swallowed, more aromas waft up from the back of your throat into your nasal cavity, giving you a second round. It’s as if a swallow of wine begins and ends with your nose, not your mouth. Knowing that, why would a perfectly healthy person spend $250 at a restaurant on a ‘82 Haut Brion and, by neglecting to give it a good sniff, only enjoy $125 of it?

How will you Nose?

A fine aroma begins in the winery. So, if you want to jack up your olfactory appreciation, you need to select the right wine. May I recommend (as I did in “Understanding Low-tech Wines”) moving away from the varietals and the winemakers you’re most familiar with–probably Californian Chardonnays and Cabernets–and experimenting with different types of grapes, and new terrain? Spain’s native Tempranillo, for example, is one of the world’s stinkiest–and with the right care, most delicious–varietals. Rhone varietals such as Viognier or Mourvedre, whether from Santa Barbara or Chateauneuf du Pape, are also widely known for their unusual odors: honey and melon in a good Condrieu, for example, or roasted game in Syrah from Southern California’s Santa Ynez region.

After you uncork your bottle, if it’s young, let it breathe. Most of a wine’s aroma can only be released as the wine “oxidizes,” that is, binds with oxygen molecules either through slow aging in a cellar, or a few minutes in a decanter. (If it’s really young, like the bottle of 1997 Comte M from Lebanon I drank with friends the other night, decant it.) Pour the wine. Wait one minute before diving in. (Swirling the liquid in your glass once or twice will help oxidize a bit, but keep the motion to a minimum. Otherwise you will accelerate the aromas’ expulsion.) Then take an extended sniff. Use both your esophagus and your stomach for a good, long pull. Take a gulp, let it coat the inside of your mouth, and then swallow, concentrating on the appearance of new aromas as the wine goes down.