the gauntlet

nine bottles, poured in one order and no other. something to land on first, then the climb.

nobody was told where their own line was. that's the entire reason to pour in order instead of putting nine bottles on a table and letting people fend for themselves.

the warm-up

a red to land on, then three bottles of wine cider. none of this is the gauntlet proper. this is the part where everyone arrives, gets something in their hand, and finds out that cloudy and fizzy is not a warning label.

1. 1

   gran cerdo tempranillo

   easy drinking

   a red to land on. spanish, unfussy, made by a producer who named it after the bank manager who turned him down.
2. 2

   roc'ambulle negrette, magnum

   wine cider

   pink, fizzy, cloudy, and it arrives in a bottle the size of a toddler. this is the point where the evening stops being polite.
3. 3

   folias de baco 'uivo' renegado

   wine cider

   portuguese, murky on purpose. if you can drink a farmhouse cider you can drink this.
4. 4

   delinquente weeping juan rosé

   wine cider

   australian, named like a bad tattoo, labelled like one too. the last of the fizz before things get sticky.

the climb

one direction only: sweeter. we start somewhere you already recognise and we finish somewhere ridiculous. the bars are sweetness, not quality. nothing here is a test.

1. 1

   gosset petite douceur rosé

   grungy bubbles

   champagne, sweetened enough that it stops feeling like homework. the handshake between the fizz and the real business.
2. 2

   zilliken rausch riesling spätlese 2019

   the best fruit juice you've never had

   german, sweet, and completely serious about it. this is where the whole thing opens up and people who said they don't like sweet wine go quiet.

   if you only stay for one rung, stay for this one.

3. 3

   zilliken rausch riesling auslese 2019

   a melted ice lolly

   same vineyard, same producer, same year as the one above. picked later and given more time, and it lands rounded rather than just sweeter.
4. 4

   pelee island vidal icewine

   i want to die sweet

   canadian. the grapes were left out in the winter until they froze, which is either genius or a crime scene.
5. 5

   tokaji essencia

   i saw god and he wouldn't make eye contact

   hungarian, barely wine, closer to syrup. it comes with a spoon and it deserves the spoon. everybody gets a mouthful and everybody makes a face.

one question

somewhere in the middle of the climb we worked out what the whole format is actually for. every bottle that goes on the table has to answer one question, and it is not a hard one.

is this sweet enough?

not is it good. not is it correct. not can you name the grape, the region or the year. just: is this sweet enough for you, right now, in your mouth.

if the answer is no, you go up a rung. if the answer is yes, you stop, and that is your line. that's the whole apparatus. nine bottles and one question, and everything else people build around wine is decoration.

where the room split

it split early, in the warm-up. the pet nats were too dry for a few people. the rosé champagne that opens the climb was close to too dry as well, for the same people.

then the rieslings landed and the sweetness really opened up. that's the line. below it, the people who wanted things drier. above it, the people who had spent years being told they don't like sweet wine.

the auslese got called more rounded rather than just sweeter, which is fair. same vineyard, same producer and same year as the spätlese — it's had more time and more care, and that turns up in the glass as shape rather than sugar.

everybody found their own line without being told where it was supposed to be, and nobody was wrong about theirs. that's worth saying out loud, because wine spends an enormous amount of effort implying otherwise.