Warning: Uncertified wine writer

Sometimes people ask, "How did you start writing about wine? Were you a sommelier?"

My answer is usually, "I drank a lot." It's meant to be a laugh line, but it's also true. I got the wine bug in 1990, began mentioning specific wines in food and travel articles in 1997, and wrote my first serious wine articles in 2001. So now I've been writing about wine for a decade, but I have never had any official certification.

Last week I decided to change that. I took the Certified Wine Professional exam at the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone.

I'm not sure exactly why I took the test. I'm probably not going to get more writing assignments as a CWP, and in fact, if I were stupid enough to write a blog post announcing that I took it, and then I don't pass (results arrive in three weeks), some editors would probably never give me another assignment.

The 2 1/2 hour test covers literally the whole world of wine. Some of the 120 multiple-choice and true-false questions asked about the primary grape variety in Barossa Valley, what grape makes up Savennieres, and whether most grapevines are irrigated in Washington state.


There were also three wines, a white and two reds, for which we had to identify the grape variety. We were told we would get the majority of our points for our reasoning -- in complete sentences -- so that even if our conclusions were wrong, it's possible (though difficult) to pass the test without getting any of the varieties right.

The CIA teaches a 5-week wine immersion class that leads into the CWP exam, but I didn't take it, nor did I study. I'm very competitive when it comes to tests, and I really wanted to pass. But taking it without preparation came from both curiosity and a point of honor. I have been pitching myself as a wine expert for 10 years. If I couldn't pass this thing, then I guess I have a lot of 'splainin' to do*.

* (Dear editors: This does not mean I will refund any money. All story sales are final.)

I believe that all of the other 25-30 test takers took the course, and everyone I spoke to loved it. More than one praised sommelier Christie Dufault as their favorite instructor, saying she gave great practical tips on everything from buying and storing to "reading a table" and, I love this one, "up-selling." Probably that was the class I should have gone to, because I think I know a lot about wine but when I worked at the San Francisco Chronicle they wouldn't let me pour for public tastings because I have a tendency to leave fingerprints on the glass. (At least you know which one was mine.)

Most students were folks who work in the hospitality industry in some way, although I did have a nice, short pre-test chat with an Oakland housewife who said she had been commuting to St. Helena every day and thought it was totally worth it.

But the first fellow test-taker I met was an exception to the friendly crowd: precisely the kind of guy who makes people hate wine snobs. He was in his 50s and said he's been in the food industry for 25 years. Then he told me how never before the class had he known that in Europe, they make wines that are representative of a place, not a grape variety. "They don't make Sauvignon Blanc, they make Sancerre," said the 5-week-class graduate to the guy who had said he'd been writing about wine for 10 years. He went on to tell how the class tasted some Tuscan wines and Sassicaia was a wine without place. I said, "Yeah, but I love me some Sassicaia," and got a lecture on Sangiovese and terroir and I forget what else. You know what they say about a little knowledge.

I wish I had hung around to chat more with the class; everyone else seemed more like the kind of folks I would want telling me which wine goes with a mushroom tart (on the test I said Pinot Noir.) Their level of confidence differed greatly; some were studying too hard to chat beforehand, but one woman, an ad copywriter, said her husband poured her a blind tasting the previous night and her favorite, a Pinot Noir, "opened with violets, then went into nag champa ..."

I'm feeling pretty good about the 120 question written test. One question I now know that I got wrong was "What kind of wine is Asti?" Two of the options were "an Italian sparkling wine" and "an Italian red wine." I couldn't decide which was being sought: Asti Spumante or Barbera d'Asti. So I guessed the less-likely answer (red), figuring it was a trick question because everybody my age had heard a Martini & Rossi Asti Spumante ad. Fortunately I am allowed to get 30 (!) questions wrong and still pass, so it should be OK, as long as I didn't mess up the one about where the Finger Lakes are. (Lenn Thompson would probably hop on a plane out here just to laugh at me.)

However, as with any multiple-choice test, there were some answers where I had to give what the test wanted, rather than what I believe. Example: What kind of wine goes best with grilled beef? "Red Burgundy" was the first option and is what I had the last time I was at Bern's Steakhouse, but the CIA is in St. Helena so I chose "Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon." Another asked the expected characteristics of Barossa Valley Shiraz, listing "prominent eucalyptus and a full body," if I remember the second part correctly. I know Barossa Valley Shiraz used to have eucalyptus notes, but so many of them are so ripe these days that if "big rippin' fruit" had been an option, I would have missed another question.

And then there's this one: which grape variety produces wines that are commonly described as "jammy"? Two options were Zinfandel and Petite Sirah. I went with the latter, assuming that whoever wrote the test hasn't been to ZAP in 10 years. But seriously, CIA test-creators, there's no B & C option for that?

Or how about this? The very last true-false question asked, "Rose Champagnes are lighter in body than golden Champagnes." Hmm, are we talking usually, or theoretically? Tete de cuvee or non-vintage? Ultimately I decided I wasn't going to get 29 other questions wrong, so it wasn't worth worrying over. I guessed True, and would be prepared to defend it in an essay question, but that wasn't required.

As for the blind-tasted wines, I would stake my life (although I want a decent stake against it; at the very least 4 club-level Giants tickets) that the first was Sauvignon Blanc. I would stake a friend's life (not yours, Glenn) that the second was Pinot Noir. And I told the test administrator that I would stake his life that the third was Syrah. If the test hadn't asked us to "identify the grape variety," I would have spent longer on the peppery, earthy, not-fruit-driven wine; I might have wondered about GSMs or Chateauneufs du Pape (because, you know, in Europe they don't make grape varieties, they make wines of place).

We were told that even after we get our results, we will never know what varieties the wines were. So if that first wine was a really underripe Chardonnay, I won't even know why I failed.

But I'm not gonna fail, right? I mean, it would be colossally stupid to write up this blog post, telling everyone I took this exam, and then ignominiously sink into the shadows later this month.

Yet I felt an obligation, because my readers have a right to know that all of this blather about wine you've been reading has been completely uncertified. Until I get the test results, read at your own risk.