I’m constantly working on improving my tasting skills. It’s partly to become a better wine writer/critic, and partly to get more enjoyment from the wines I pour for myself and others.
And because, as I’ve talked about on the blog recently, I’m thiiiiiiiss close to embarking on my WSET Level 4 Diploma journey. Blind-tasting competence is an important part of all advanced wine certifications, and it’s something that takes a ton of practice.
I try to taste blind a few times a week in different contexts. I taste at home and in public, solo and with friends, alongside elite wine pros and with less-experienced folks. Today on the blog I wanted to share one of my newest avenues for practice: Squeezing in blind-tasting flights on slow nights at work.
Before I go too much further, I should mention that I’m sampling the merchandise with the full knowledge and support of my very chill boss. I get to try whatever I want, within reason. You can’t become a great taster without popping a few corks, and I’m so grateful for the opportunity to study at work.
The process
I usually pour three wines at a time. The wines will have something in common so I can compare them and lock in the sensory differences. For instance, it might be three grape varieties that have similar traits, three Chardonnays from different countries, or three Sonoma Pinot Noirs at different price points.
My study strategy is based on the WSET Diploma tasting exams, which feature testable wines in flights of three. It’s also influenced by conversations I’ve had with somms and students about their personal “Bermuda triangles”–the triads of easy-to-confuse wines that have tripped them up in the past.
I pour the wines into standard glasses to the same volume. Then I shuffle them up real good on the bartop, go about my business for a few minutes, and come back to evaluate them when I’ve forgotten which wine is which.
I’ll take detailed tasting notes on the wines if I have time. But this tasting exercise is more about quick recognition: Being able to pick up a random glass, sniff it, and have a good deal of certainty about which wine it contains.
I try not to make my solo blinds too hard. That’s because I want to build speed and confidence–and because there’s usually no one to help me sort out the wines if any of them end up being too close to call.
When identification comes easily, it’s a relief. When it doesn’t, at least I learn something. 🤔
Example blind flight (what I thought vs. what actually happened)
Here’s an example of a semi-blind tasting I set up a couple of weeks ago:
The guiding theme of this flight was something like “unoaked, high-acid Old World whites.” From the fridge, I grabbed a Chablis (Chardonnay), a young Vouvray (Chenin Blanc) and an Alvarinho from Portugal.
The labels:
Jean-Marc Brocard “Sainte Claire” Chablis (2024) – France
Nortico Alvarinho (2025) – Portugal
Jacques Dumond Vouvray (2023) – France
Besides sharing some structural similarities, these three wines were chosen because I expected that they would all be quite youthful and dominated by apple/pear and floral aromas, with zero oak influence.
As I poured, I had a few thoughts on which wines were going to give me the most trouble: The neutral whites.
I drink a lot of Alvarinho/Albariño at home, and it’s also an emerging grape in my home state of Texas. So I was sure that a typical, fresh ‘n floral example would pop out immediately from the lineup. (I have confused lees- and oak-aged Albariño for Chardonnay in blinds before…but Nortico is not that.)
I have less experience tasting Chablis and Vouvray. Not only because they tend to be relatively expensive, but also because I strongly prefer pronounced, exotic flavors in my white wine. Chenin Blanc in particular can be non-descript in its youth. So, my initial strategy was something like “Locate the Alvarinho first, by aroma–then sort out the other two on structure.”
The big surprise, then, was how much the Vouvray stuck out in this flight! I expected it to be the vaguest, and it practically announced itself.
I look at and smell all of the wines before tasting. The textbook aroma note for Chenin Blanc goes something like, “Quince, honey, wet wool…” and one wine had all of those things on the first nose. The honey note was starting to tip over into a waxy/petrol-ish thing, too. It really couldn’t be anything other than Chenin.
Pushing the (likely) Vouvray aside and moving on to the other two wines. I noticed one of the two glasses was slightly greyer/frostier–a visual trait which can be due to temperature, but that I also associate with the thick-skinned Alvarinho variety. The nose confirmed this. Along with the citrus notes that are common to all three wines, it had pronounced aromas of flowers and pears that were almost like scented hand soap.
A third glass, the (likely) Chablis was not so different on the nose, with lots of grapefruit, apple, and white flowers. But the florals had a mineral character interlaced with them, like baby powder. And there was some pineapple, too–a trait that suggests Chardonnay on the threshold of ripeness. This one pretty much had to be the Chablis.
Feeling 90% sure that I had sorted the wines on sight and smell (yay!), I shuffled them again. Then I came back and tasted all the wines to confirm my guesses.
Acid wasn’t going to be a big help here, as all these wines are high acid. Body, too–they were all in the medium-minus to medium range. And sugar was misleading, too. The Vouvray was technically off-dry (at 5.5 g/L), but you wouldn’t know it because of the acid. The Alvarinho reads as slightly sweet due to its elevated alcohol (13.5%) and huge fruitiness–but it’s fermented almost completely to dryness. All three wines had a platform of orchard fruit, some saline/mineral character, and a fresh, citrus-zesty finish.
On the palate, it was the Chablis that stood out most. Bone-dry, squeaky-clean texture, and the highest acid of all. The Vouvray distinguished itself by its long, honeyed finish and a phenolic element that presented as slightly grippy/sticky. That left the Alvarinho–also plenty of mouth-watering acid, but rounder in feeling than the other two.
The challenge of tasting at work
I did well with this particular flight, which was encouraging. But success is far from a given.
Blind tasting is hard, full stop. But identifying wines while working in the bar is a new kind of challenge.
For starters, I rely on my sense of sight a lot to identify wines. Color (and movement in the glass) can often jog my sensory memory, giving me options as to what a wine might be. Tasting in a dim bar isn’t, like, a full black-glass challenge. But the mood lighting and flashing TVs do conspire to take away some of the visual clues.
The other tough thing about this kind of on-the-fly tasting is that I’m in work mode, not student mode. I’m never starting with a fresh palate or with my full attention on the wine.
In between glasses, I might be taking care of customers or shop tasks. I also tend to taste a lot at the start of my shift. I’m tasting with reps and producers, checking open bottles for condition, tasting new wines that have just arrived in the shop, etc. There are times when I just blank out on a wine that I know I should know–but I’m overwhelmed and it just smells like fermented grapes.
Will tasting flights like this prepare me for the WSET Diploma? I hope so.
The Diploma tasting exams won’t take place behind a busy wine bar, with customers waiting to cash out and a dishwasher churning three feet away. But learning to recognize wines under chaotic conditions has value of its own. Real-life service environments are distracting and messy. Palates get tired. Glassware varies. Sometimes the wine you’ve been asked to evaluate is the twentieth one you’ve tasted that day.
What I’m really practicing isn’t just identification. It’s the ability to focus, trust my senses, and make a judgement quickly and decisively. Sometimes I can do it and it feels amazing. Sometimes I’m stuck staring at a mystery glass, thinking “What in the…?”
But if a quiet shift at the bar gives me the chance to taste one more flight, compare one more set of wines, and strengthen one more sensory connection, I’ll happily take advantage of it. 🍷
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