I am not a wine snob

I admit that I am a hypocrite and that I despise snobbery, yet I am a terrible snob about some things. But not wine. Or am I? I'd never touch white zinfandel. I can, in fact, taste the difference between a merlot and a cabernet franc. But I suppose it's more fashionable these days to be a champion of wine democracy. To adopt the, "It's all about what you like" attitude.

Of course, there are those who would define me as a wine snob. After all, I'd prefer to find the wine bargain with some taste rather than drinking Gallo's Hearty Burgundy. But let's face it, my palate isn't sophisticated enough to be a wine snob. You will never catch me describing a wine as "Slightly funky with ripe fruit and toasted oak," or "Wonderful fragrance, with bright aromas of honeysuckle, pear, apricot and toasted almonds." (Courtesy of Wine Spectator Magazine) The most you'll get out of me is an exclamation of, "MMMM ... tastes like feet," or "Does that smell like cat pee?" And the occasional, "Berries! I taste berries!" How can people tell the flavor of a boysenberry from a blackberry when it's in a glass of wine, anyway?

So, I like wine. That doesn't make me a snob, does it? Is it okay that I like some wines more than others? I think it is. The more wine I drink, the more I am able to pinpoint flavors, and identify things like oak and tannins. And the more I am turned off by the less flavorful mass-produced crap you find in Wal-Mart. Oops, I said crap.

Maybe I am a snob after all.