Nurse the Hate: WSET Diploma, Completed

One of the great disappointments of this particular era is that personal news is often delivered via email.  I found it to be a bit anti-climatic to receive an email on my phone that I had passed my sparkling wine exam with merit and thus passed the WSET Diploma.  Immediately after my brief moment of triumph a smiling waitress asked if I wanted more iced tea.  I thought it would be different.  When I had pictured this moment, it was with me ripping open an envelope reading an overly formal letter while standing by my mailbox, not seated at the restaurant “Melissa”.  Further dampening the moment was the email said, “Congratulations Troy!  You have passed your exam!”.  Wait…  Did I pass or did Troy?  Who the fuck is Troy?  It turned out after several anxious minutes and a clarifying email exchange, that not only did Troy pass, but I did as well.  I guess my “iced tea re-fill of triumph” was justified.

I sat at my seat at the counter with my salad and tea.  All that work, and here was the moment of payoff.  I think I had a flicker of accomplishment for about 7 seconds before that faded.  I had five more hours left of work.  It was Tuesday.  I was sitting there by myself.  Most importantly, I didn’t feel like I had succeeded.  The waitress had this permanent yet genuine smile that had to be caused by either chemicals or a groovy yoga Zen.  “Is everything good over here?”  This placed me at the crossroads of saying, “It’s really good because I just found out I somehow passed the WSET Diploma, which is something I couldn’t possibly explain to you.” Or “Yes.  Everything’s fine.”.  I opted for the latter.

Rumor has it there are only something like 4000 people in the world that have passed this exam since the program started up in the late 1970s.  Part of the reason there are so few people is that I am sure it took a couple decades to get some traction and allow people to know outside of England that the program existed.  The other reason is that it is very difficult.  I don’t care about soil types or geological characteristics of locations in general.  When I first arrive at a new place, I normally don’t take soil samples.  Yet, this program forced me to remember all kinds of subtle soil differences.  I have used the word “schist” more often than I thought possible.  That information didn’t want to go in my head, but I pounded it in there.

Who wants to talk about long term oxidation of the sangiovese grape in Brunello and the variances possible with different barrel selection?  No one?  Well, I can if you’d like.  No?  How about the effect of morning fog on the Semillon grape in regard to botrytis in Sauternes?  Would you like me to tell you why a bottle of Chateau D’Yquem is so expensive and yet still underpriced?  Sit right down my friend…  While you wait let’s have a quick breakdown of low oxygen, low temperature fermentation within stainless steel for Northern Italian whites and the criminal over cropping in Soave.  I’m sorry.  Did I wake you?  It never ends.

So, why did I feel so empty?  The problem is now two-fold.  I had anticipated becoming some sort of expert in wine.  I suppose I am now.  However, what I did not anticipate was that the more I learned, the more I realized I did not know.  I feel like I have only scratched the surface and the problem is now that I will run out of time before I run out of information.  I have come to the painful realization I cannot ever truly master this subject matter as the waters run deeper than first estimated.  So now instead of feeling like “Ah-ha!  I’ve done it!”, I feel more along the lines of “You fucking fraud.  You don’t know a goddamn thing.”. 

The other issue is that I am perhaps too competitive.  I am not sure how I turned wine into a competition, but I have done it.  It is sort of like Leo’s idea of “competitive yoga”.  Inserting competition into something that has no obvious measurement is a very Whiskey Daredevil thing to do.  I have to win.  My thinking now is that since thousands of people have done what I have done, what’s the big deal?  What have I accomplished?  How can I beat these other people that are unaware I am competing with them?  The answer is obvious, by trying to breathe the rarified air of becoming a Master of Wine. 

There are 38 Masters of Wine in the United States.  Ever.  The exams are legendarily difficult.  I spoke with a woman that failed her last tasting exam partly because her mouth had broken out in lesions due to a combination of stress and too much wine tasting preparation.  There are stories of grown men weeping.  The challenge is so absurd, to essentially store into memory an entire planet of wine production’s tiny details while understanding how these parts all fit together.  Meanwhile you must be able to identify wines blind in a swift, decisive and most importantly, accurate manner.  All the while there is an undercurrent of not being worthy to join this secret society.  A difficult entrance exam must be passed just to have the opportunity to enter the program so you can torture yourself with further impossible exams.  You need to have a written recommendation from an existing MW, just like trying to get into a Mason’s Lodge.  Most MWs I have met look at me like I am a circus freak.  It would be hurdle after hurdle after hurdle just to get in for the chance to fail.  Clearly, this is something I will need to beat.

The nagging question is whether the organization would be willing to allow me to even attempt to enter.  In many ways, I represent the exact opposite of what has been the traditions of the wine world.  There is a certain pomp and circumstance that exists that doesn’t always mesh with my more punk rock sensibilities.  When I see authority figures, my first inclination is to try to knock them down.  Blame Joe Strummer, Jello Biafra, and Hunter S. Thompson.  I don’t tend to want to join clubs that want me as a member.  Yet, I clearly have the passion and the ability to succeed in this endeavor if given the opportunity to apply myself.  I must somehow trick these people into letting me in.

I have succeeded in getting the Diploma.  Why do I think the real struggle has only just begun?