I feel the same way about Star Trek as I used to feel about wine.

I like it. It’s fun. I’ll pay some money to go see the movies and I’ll even talk about it with my friends. But I never learned Kligon and assure you I never will. I can’t really remember any specifics about the older movies or episodes (except maybe the tribbles. Who can forget the tribbles?). And you won’t catch me anywhere near a Star Trek fan convention.

To put it bluntly: I’m just not a Star Trek geek.

Before I met my #sommhubby Charlie, I felt pretty much the same way about wine. I’d drink it if it was offered, buy it myself on occasion, and totally enjoy it like a proper sophisticated grownup should.  But all the geekery associated with “wine people” — the special vocabulary, the training, the heroic status of certain winemakers, the reverie shown to particular vineyards and vintages— I just didn’t get it.

How can an alcoholic beverage made from grape juice deserve that much prestige?

Find the True Inspiration of Wine

If you find yourself wondering the same thing, let me tell you how to become wine enlightened: do what I did. No, I don’t mean marry a sommelier (although that certainly helps!).

Go visit a proper winery and really talk to a true winemaker.

I’ve had opportunities over the last few years to tread on some truly special ground. Chateauneuf du Pape. Cassis. Tuscany. Napa Valley. Oregon.  I’ve walked the vineyards, even tasted the grapes straight from the vines. I’ve felt the breezes, smelled the dirt, seen the people farming the land to grow the best crop possible, fighting too much rain or not enough; unusual winds that bring wildfires; wild boars that seek to root up vines planted carefully, by hand, only to fling them hither and yon and destroy an entire season.

I’ve watched as the fruit is crushed, juice flowing in red rivulets through the few cracks where it can escape, the rest siphoned into barrels or tanks or whatever holding container the winemaker decided was right for that year’s production.

I’ve listened as those same winemakers explain how oak barrels impart a particular flavor — vanilla, cinnamon… And how stainless steel tanks preserve lemony acidity, freshness, green apple or peach blossoms. How sometimes a combination of both will give one year’s grapes just the balance it needs to reach its potential.

And then I’ve tasted those wines, both straight from the barrels and out of the bottle. Trust me when I say that in those moments, surrounded by the inevitable beauty of the very ground from which the juice was born (because vineyards seem never to be planted in ugly places), I understand what all the geekery is about. Good wine made with passion, love and dedication can be transcendent. In it you can smell the place, taste the work. You can intuit the pride that the winemaker must feel after years of strenuous, stressful toil. All the decisions he or she made, all the challenges he or she overcame, exploding in the glass before you.

So now, you will find me speaking the wine language. Attending the occasional conference. Waxing poetic over a glass that speaks to me. I geek out a little more now because finally, I get it.

Turns out I have more in common with those Star Trek fans than I thought.