YOU SAY PO-TA-TO, I SAY PO-TAH-TO
I’ve made a conscious effort to *not* correct words that customers pronounce incorrectly. Frankly, it just doesn’t matter to me if someone wants to call Merlot “Mer-LOT” (as in Camelot) or call Pinot Gris “peanut grease.” If someone asks me “how do you pronounce this,” I’m happy to oblige. The wine world can be confusing enough without trying to figure out how to say Viognier, Marechal Foch, and Gewurtzraminer. David Hook, the absolutely fabulous (Kiwi) winemaker from Chateau Lorane taught me to say Viognier. “Vee-on-YAY!!!” – and on the final syllable, he put his arms up in a cheerleader-like V-position. I’ve taught many customers how to say Viognier using this method.
And while I also try not to correct certain phrases that sound like fingernails on a chalkboard to me, I sometimes can’t hold back, and yesterday was such a day. I just can’t stand it when people say RED ZINFANDEL. It feels like an insult to one of my favorite grapes. In my humble opinion, the only Zinfandel worth drinking *is* red. As such, the default should be that when speaking the word Zinfandel, the red is implied. Yes, I know there is such a thing as white zinfandel and it is a hideous thing to me. However, since some people enjoy it and are willing to pay money for it, I do keep a token bottle or two in a remote corner of the store. If you are willing to crawl and stretch a bit, yes, you can buy white zin in my store. Try to be subtle about it though.
My apologies to the innocent customer who got jumped on when using the phrase Red Zinfandel yesterday. He was a true gentleman and a good sport about it. It must have soured him on the idea of buying zinfandel though, since he bought pink champagne instead.
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