My sense of smell often overtakes me.
With the filter of a toddler, I blurt out every scent my nose detects.
You can imagine how annoying (and often embarrassing) this is for the people in my life.
Working with wine, however, has put this skill to good use.
(Except for the time that I screamed out "Bugles!" after a whiff of a distributor's wine evoked those cone-shaped corn snacks with the tips that collected all the grease.)
But when a wine smells like gravel after a rain shower--as the Cortese-based whites grown in and around Piemonte's Gavi region tend to do--I breathe deeply.
Even better when, eyes closed, the bouquet conjures up a memory of dancing outside to Maggie May in a driveway puddled and steamy from a summer downpour.
And when the flavor reminds me of honeydew melon and greengages with a squeeze of lime? And I sip it alongside crostini topped with sweet pea pesto and fresh ricotta?
Well, then my cross becomes considerably easier to bear.