Human beings are marvelously equipped to enjoy the vast and detailed spectrum of sensations brought to them by their food and drink. Strange then, that science should maintain that our ability to taste is limited to our powers of detecting a mere five distinct and foundational elements. These are sweet, sour, bitter, salty and the recently designated umami (savory).
It’s astonishing that the great and many-chambered house of gastronomy should have so few points of entry. But there you have it.
Of these five, the bitter taste seems to me widely misunderstood and little appreciated, at least as far as wine in concerned. I’m here today to wonder aloud and in public why this should be so.
I’ll begin by noting that bitterness is a key contributor to the flavors of foods we enjoy everyday. Citrus fruits depend for much of their refreshing character on that slightly edgy bite (distinct from acidity) without which their high sugar content could well prove cloying. Beets, carrots, squashes, green beans and parsnips owe their delightfully earthy nature to bitterish compounds. Much of the appeal and culinary usefulness of cabbages, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, as well as leafy greens like radicchio, kale, turnip tops and arugula derive from the same source.
Bitterish undertones add interest, countering the over-richness of some dishes, relieving the too-keen sweetness of others, offering a vigorous touché! toblandness and ho-hummity wherever they’re encountered. I lump these culinary counter-culture types together as the Bitterverse. It’s a star-studded set — including such luminaries as coffee, tea, chocolate, walnuts, and — in an Oscar-worthy performance — the eponymous Italian digestive sip, amaro.
In wine, bitterness serves an identical purpose to these. As a fruit product, wine naturally contains bitter compounds derived primarily from grape skins, pips and stems, but also present to some degree in juice. Still, talk of the bitter aspects of a wine at the point of sale is sure to turn some clientèle off. Why should this be so?
One reason is that few wine drinkers, save those who can be described as enthusiasts at some level, will have any idea that quality wine always harbors a bitter component or will be used to thinking of bitterness as making an essential contribution to both drinkability and complexity.
Another is that bitterness is often confused with astringency — that disagreeable feeling that someone has Hoovered all moisture from your mouth — and with abrasive, badly managed tannins. But these have to do with texture, not taste.
I’ve left the most unwelcome news nor last, in the (not unreasonable) hope that many readers will by now have thrown in the towel and sought diversion elsewhere: An appreciation for the bitter element in wine is an acquired taste and can take time and effort to attain — but it’s one well worth aspiring to.