Carroll County Maryland Chapter	The 35th National AWS Conference The Buffalo-Niagara Conference Was A Hit by Dean Wilson I must admit, I had some reservations about attending my first AWS National conference. I had heard some of the horror stories from last year at Hilton Head, and was braced for some disappointment. But thankfully, it went off very well, indeed. I was warned about how many attendees there would be, how rapidly paced everything was, how much wine I would be subjected to, and that I would simply "learn to spit." Frankly, I had never spat in mixed company before, and wasn't looking forward to not swallowing each taste that passed my lips. I also hold on to a theory that a large part of one's palate is just above the throat, and that spitting didn't allow one to really 'taste' the wine, but sort of just 'feel' it. I had checked out the Adam's Mark website, indicated by the AWS National Website, and saw that it appeared to be a commendable location in its photographs. But stepping into the lobby, I could really, and with great relief, sense quality. The precise sense of quality that is shattered when you step into the Days Inn behind Cranberry Liquors. Upon first impression, we were very pleased with the accommodations and staffing. But after the long drive from Providence, Rhode Island were we ready to roll up our sleeves and bend elbows? I thought not: just some rest after a brisk and bouncy bus tour of Niagara-On-The-Lake and a popular waterfall. That said, my first night placed me unexpectedly at the judging table of amateur entries of Vidal Blancs. Nine wines! - I was thinking more of a nightcap - but the adrenaline kicked in as the din of the huge gathering mounted. And then an unexpected sense of urgency: It occurred to Becky and I that one of these wines was probably Bill Eisberg's. This notion set our tone to a very serious level. But we had to resolve to ourselves that Bill was a big boy, and his wine would have to hold its own, which we had confidence it would. If we didn't, someone else would - that would never do. It was more troubling when we thought we knew which of the unknown straw-colored samples was his - further we found that we could not agree which wine was his... But we took a deep breath and called them as we saw them. As we should all along. We were coached on the usual behavior, and tutored that we were to judge a wine on its characteristic, not just how well we liked it or did not. We were told what made a classic Vidal Blanc, and that aside from faults, it needed to fit that pigeon-hole, or score it down. Nine glasses arced around our placemats, with no 'starter', so I kept revisiting the first on occasion to make sure it still held what I had seen first. I made sure to rinse with lush gulps of water between, trying to level the playing field - for Bill. But of course, to be fair, as a rising tide lifts all ships, the field was level for all the other winemakers as well (Enough layered metaphors!) By the end, my tongue was nearly burning, not just from the grapefruit sensations and general citric acidity, but from raw concentrated attention. As one might struggle to count change with one's toes while blindfolded, I was working my tastebuds to their useful limits. Of course, I've tasted many wines before, and many judges among you have tasted hundreds at a sitting, but this was fairly grueling for me - and the pressure was on in a very new way. On the upside, of the four at our table, three of us were in large agreement. But one member, a tasting judge, winemaker, and a chemist, was giving painfully low marks all round. Why was he so critical? He even said he felt he was being somewhat too kind, compensating for his normal brutality level. I smiled quietly as this fellow lectured, and tried to imagine Ham Mowbray smiling politely with me. As the conference picked up momentum, I was trying, but failing, not to be shocked by six champagnes at breakfast...! It sounded more like a convention of clown's toys with several hundred pop guns and giddy whoops everywhere (and we think Hogwart's School of Magic is an odd place!) On The Sessions I had signed up for more technically oriented subjects, while Becky had followed the road less hungry. My selections crossed my path with Jack Johnston many times, while Becky pal'ed around with the Johns (Pardoe and Landon). Jack had a fleeting fantasy that I might be interested in making wine. I had to disappoint him, in that I am only interested in winemaking - not in making wine. The sessions were, for the most part, fairly interesting. I selected these more technical seminars, such as Making Better Wine - A General Overview and Cork and Alternative Closures. Becky's selections were much more domestic: Ice Wine and Desserts (there is a difference?) and Asian Flavors and Western Style (Yes...but is it wine?...) Vive le difference. Jack and I attended Lab Analysis for Home Winemakers & Small Wineries, where I was not sure what to expect. It turned out to be an infomercial for a device that electronically read special kinds of "litmus strips" that you plugged into them. While it did this to high accuracy, it was a far cry from the Star Trek Tricorder that its introduction promised. ...So many wines... Of our group, only I managed to get into Cork and Alternative Closures. This sounds mundane, but when brought up, everyone showed interest and opinion. I found it quite enlightening, and may paraphrase it elsewhere (I did manage to get a copy of the PowerPoint Presentation, but no literature). Becky and I did manage a rendezvous in Wine & Chocolate - admittedly a bit scary sounding, but quite satisfying - it was too short: One needed all afternoon to contemplate eight professional grade chocolates and all permutations of six fine sherries, ports and even an Irish Cream (Yow!) As Becky was heading for Dr. Konstantin Frank Riesling Vertical Tasting, my inclination was more toward horizontal than vertical. Lunch was a big deal. Sitting down to five or six glasses with eight or nine wines on the table - and paired with great food - way beyond the wedding-reception fare one might expect with a group this big. The chef was actually the orator at Ice Wine and Desserts seminar, and cranked out some fine desserts for 500 as well (I don't know the attendance, but it could have been. 'Judge, lest ye be judged...' I was outside the hotel, getting a picture above, and turned and saw what appeared to be a mannequin in a store window that had an amazing resemblance to Pat Valas. Of course, it was Pat, who took a brief moment to look at something blue and not poking her nose into yet another glass. Doesn't this mannequin look like Pat? My judging initiation was nothing in comparison to the Herculean effort made by the Judges. Hundreds of commercial wines, and hundreds more amateur wines had to be judged. It wasn't even thinkable that they would finish by the Saturday Lunch and Awards Ceremony... but they did. And down to the wire it was. They had finished the amateurs just as the last of the commercial categories was read off. Jack & Emily at the Awards Luncheon. Sadly, we did not get to cheer madly for Bill's wines. And while his Vidal Blanc didn't make the cut to the finals, three or four of the nine did get medals. This meant that our selections tended to be confirmed by the judges. A small feather in our private caps. But we wished one for Bill. That would have really iced the cake. MORE ____>
		©2002 Dean Wilson, CCAWS