Ducal crest of the Duke of Delicacies
A Royal Decree

Against Tasting Notes That Describe Rocks

I have read a tasting note describing a wine as evoking "crushed gravel after rain." I have read another citing "wet slate." I have read, and I am not inventing this, "the smell of a quarry."

Nobody in the history of drinking has eaten a rock. These notes describe an association, not a flavor, and they are passed between writers like a cold.

The purpose of a tasting note is to help another person find the thing you found. If you write "gravel," they search their memory for gravel, discover they have no gustatory memory of gravel whatsoever, and conclude their palate is deficient. It is not deficient. Your note was.

Write what you actually taste, in words a person could act upon. Sour cherry. Green apple. Toast. Black pepper. Butter that has gone slightly further than intended. These are things people have eaten and can recall.

If you must reach for the minerals, reach instead for the sea, which at least has the decency to be salty, and which people have genuinely tasted whether they wished to or not.

Yours, with a raised brow and a raised glass,

Bluffton
The Duke's Crest

A Final Decree From The Duke's Hand

While it may come as a shock, His Royal Excellence, the Duke of Delicacies, does not, in fact, exist. We apologize to any visitors who were preparing to curtsey or request an audience. The esteemed Bluffton Moxley Palmetto is a purely fictional aristocrat, conjured for the sole purpose of adding an air of regal absurdity to these volumes.

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