Christina Kelly's
"Wine Tales"

I admit to following wine scores more than I should.

Sometimes I’ll buy a wine just so I can compare my palate next to the big guys who score wines for Wine Spectator or Wine Advocate or Wine Enthusiast.

I say “big guys” because the majority of wine critics for the upper tier, major publications are men. So, I size myself up next to the national critics, and about 65-75 percent of the time, I find myself agreeing on the assessments of a particular wine.

Now, I figure that when God created Adam and Eve, he made some differences—anyone who has read “Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus” knows there are gender distinctions in the way men and women react to each other. Jeeze, I know that in my own house.

But I don’t ever recall any references to taste buds.

A recent national wine magazine featured a photo inside the cover of the eight editors who cover the world’s largest wine regions, with each writer giving his opinion of the new crop of wine coming up. These are folks whose opinions I respect.

But I kept returning to that photo like an itch I couldn’t scratch. All eight were white, mostly middle-aged men. When you consider that more and more women are educating their palates to the pleasures of wine, and food/wine pairing, why didn’t I see that reflected in the photograph?

It isn’t like bodybuilding, where a male weightlifter can generally bench press more weight than a woman. Wine tasting is not a brute strength issue like arm wrestling.

The fact is, most national wine publications do not reflect the growing wine audience. I don’t think that opinion surprises such publications, nor do I believe I am the first person to point out the omission of women wine writers.

Oh, we’re out there, working hard to develop our audience and struggling to compete. Just like any other profession where men outnumber women, I can give you the usual handful of women doing a great job. We just don’t get as much opportunity at a national platform.

The truth is, we do often bring a different perspective to what we do, and writing is no exception. As a journalist for more than 20 years, I have seen the differences between my coverage of a tragedy and that of a male competitor. In most cases, we’ve done a good job, reported accurately and provide readers with the facts and information needed.

But there are subtle differences. Maybe it’s that touchy-feely thing. Maybe it’s the set of circumstances we bring to the table. With 20 years of writing experience, I can definitively say that women bring different perspectives to the table.

However, I spent a considerable number of years, early in my career, covering the “women first” stories, and I don’t intend to camp on that soapbox. I never wanted to hear my name called in a newsroom again for an assignment focusing on the first woman rabbi in the military, or the first woman firefighter or police officer in a rural town. Spent too many years on those stories.

Yet, the lack of women wine writers on a national level continues to poke my conscience. More so, after I read a recent study from Yale University about “super tasters.” Those are people who apparently are born with more taste buds than others, thus allowing them to distinguish more tastes than the average person.

Results from the study indicated that about 35 percent of women in the population are “super tasters” compared to about 15 percent of the male population.

Intrigued, I took a simple tongue test to see if my mouth held the key to distinguish everything I put in it, except my foot, of course.

The test involves swabbing the first half of your tongue with blue food coloring. Your tongue will look as though you just sucked on a blue snow cone, except your taste buds remain pink. Using a piece of paper with a 7 mm-wide hole punched through it, examine the taste buds with a magnifying glass.

If you count fewer than 15 papilae, or taste buds, you are a “non-taster.” Between 15 and 35 buds puts you in the average category. More than 35 papilae indicates you are a super taster.

I counted 46. That explains why, growing up, I hated my mother’s cooking. Didn’t like the way her cooking smelled either, which was a double whammy for me. I can remember times when I held my nose to eat dinner. That usually sent me scurrying to my room when my younger brother exasperated the situation with fits of laughter.

While I continue to cover the Northwest wine industry, I will also continue to read all those national wine publications. I like comparing my take on a wine to those publications, and shake my head in wonder when I just don’t agree.

The lack of diversity in those major publications leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And, as a “super taster,” there are times when I want to hold my nose, too. I can hear my brother giggling. I know I’m probably in trouble somewhere.