The surprising way to taste wine more honestly—and enjoy it more
Most people assume that blind tasting is about showing off. They picture wine experts sniffing theatrically at a glass before announcing, ‘Château Margaux 1999’ to the admiration—or irritation—of everyone around the table.
In reality, blind tasting is almost the opposite. Its purpose is not to demonstrate superior knowledge, but to remove everything that gets in the way of seeing the wine clearly. Far from being an affectation, it is the fairest, most honest, and ultimately most enjoyable way of tasting wine.
It also teaches us something unexpected: not only about wine, but about the workings of the human mind.
Allow me to explain.
Pure Objectivity
Wine is a combination of acids, alcohols, sugars, polyphenols, and other biochemicals—up to one thousand of them. Together, they create its colour, aromas, flavours, texture, and structure. Grape variety, soil, climate, viticulture, winemaking, and ageing all leave their imprint on the liquid in the glass, and the experienced taster learns to read these clues.
Unfortunately, we rarely taste wine alone.
Instead, we taste the label, the bottle, the reputation of the producer, the prestige of the region, the price on the shelf, the opinions of critics, and even our own expectations. We may think, ‘I once had a wonderful holiday in this vineyard,’ or, ‘I don’t like Sauvignon Blanc.’ We may be influenced by the grandeur of a château, the atmosphere of a restaurant, or even the temperature of the room. All these things can enrich our enjoyment of wine. But they can also distort our judgement.
Blind tasting strips these influences away. The wine is served anonymously in a standard glass, ideally in a neutral setting, without flourish or fanfare. Nothing remains except the liquid itself.
Rather than asking whether we like a famous label or a prestigious appellation, we ask a much simpler—and much more interesting—question: What is actually in the glass?
Beyond Objectivity
Blind tasting is often presented as a way of eliminating bias. It is certainly that. But reducing prejudice is only the beginning.
There is immense pleasure in focusing entirely on the wines before us; in stretching and refining our senses; in applying judgement rather than preconception; in searching our memories for forgotten aromas and flavours; in comparing our impressions with those of fellow tasters; in getting it exactly right, approximately right, or even wrong for the right reasons. Above all, there is the pleasure of discussing the wine and learning not only about that particular bottle but about wine itself.
Blind tasting encourages curiosity over certainty. Instead of asking whether we guessed correctly, we begin to ask why a wine tasted as it did. Every bottle becomes an opportunity to learn.
In refining their senses and aesthetic judgement, blind tasters become much more conscious of the richness not only of wine but also of other potentially complex beverages such as tea, coffee, and spirits, and, by extension, the aromas and flavours in food, the scents in the air, and the play of light in the world.
For life is consciousness, and consciousness is life.
Wine and Consciousness
In philosophy, phenomenology is the study of the structures of conscious experience. Blind tasting is phenomenology in one of its purest forms. It returns us from our ideas about the world to the world itself, while revealing just how readily the mind colours our experience with expectation, memory, and suggestion.
Wine, then, becomes a remarkable instrument for studying not only the world but ourselves.
The more practical among you may rest assured that blind tasting also serves more immediate purposes. Winemakers need to taste a wine as they are making it; buyers before adding it to their stocks; journalists, critics, and sommeliers before recommending it to their readers and patrons; and wine lovers before sharing it with their friends. Blind tasting also forms the basis of many wine qualifications and competitions, and may even open the door to a rewarding career in the wine trade.
‘My genius,’ wrote Nietzsche, ‘is in my nostrils.’ Many years ago, I called the police to force entry into a neighbour’s house, on the basis that I could smell through the letterbox that the neighbour had died—rather than just gone away, as everyone else thought.
Our senses are capable of far more than most of us ever ask of them. Blind tasting begins with wine. It ends by changing the way we pay attention to the world.
Continue Exploring
If you enjoyed this article, you might also enjoy my book The Concise Guide to Wine and Blind Tasting, which explores not only how to taste wine, but why it matters. Combining practical guidance with philosophy, psychology, and the science of perception, it will help you taste with greater confidence, objectivity, and enjoyment.
Related reading
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- How to Host a Blind Wine Tasting
- How to Become a Better Blind Taster
- Why Wine Matters
- Dionysus: God of Wine, Ecstasy, and Liberation
- The Real Meaning of Terroir
- Wine Ratings: Can Wine Be Reduced to a Number?
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