Wittgenstein on whisky

One of the most haunting observations of that haunted philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein is: “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent,” the conclusion to his masterpiece Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. A concluding silence he had clearly not yet reached when he grabbed a poker and brandished it at Karl Popper in a blazing row at Cambridge University in 1946. The disagreement was on whether there were major issues in philosophy (Popper’s position) or merely linguistic puzzles (Wittgenstein).

Wittgenstein’s work doesn’t stop musicologists from writing books on hidden meanings in the Enigma Variations of Edward Elgar or wine hacks waxing lyrical about the ethereal delights of Pinot Noir.

The problem with using words to describe music is that tunes work with rhythm, harmonies and melodies, rather than concepts, for which words don’t work. The same applies to the appreciation of wine or whisky. Heck, there is not even an adequate vocabulary of smell.

Here is masterofmalt.com on the aroma of Mortlach 70-year-old whisky (the world’s oldest) auctioned by Ray Edwards from Spar in aid of a local foetal alcohol charity at Whisky Live in November. “A mellow nose, at once waxy and fruity; candlewax to the fore initially, which becomes snuffed candle (a thread of smoke), with Maraschino cherries in Madeira cake behind, and after a while an orangey citric note – fresh and juicy, becoming apricot jam. Flaked almonds and whin flowers, becoming light coconut oil.”

Talk about being culturally biased. The smell of a Californian candle, all Jane Fonda, patchouli oil and The Eagles on the iPod is a world away from a smoky tallow candle, guttering in a mud hut in Côte d’Ivoire, while what the dickens is a whin flower?

Judging the Diners Club Winemaker of the Year Competition last year, the final round of blind tasting threw up six contenders and I argued for a six-way tie as the wines were all equally ‘smart’ and any decision would be one of stylistics: do you prefer flint and ozone to green peppers and grass in your Sauvignon Blanc?

My inner anarchist even suggested a Sauvignon Showcase – a six-pack supplied to restaurants which triumphed in the sister competition, the Diners Club Wine List of the Year. Then punters could taste the Super Six and arrive at a popular winner.

If a democratic decision is not available for logistical reasons, how do you decide on a winner? Spar liquor consultant Tinus van Niekerk has an algorithm. A student of Émile Peynaud, the French winemaker who almost singlehandedly invented modern French wine, Tinus says you must start off by dividing your information into the tangible and intangible.

Diners being a blind tasting, tangible information is supplied by the five senses. Intangible is harder and for this Tinus recommends the mnemonic B-BECDEF. The first B stands for balance and is non-negotiable.

The remaining six features come from a glossary straight out of Proust: Breeding, Elegance, Class, Distinction, Etherealness and Finesse. Wittgenstein would argue that an exercise in wine appreciation has been translated into splitting linguistic hairs, and he would have a point.

Sipping the Sauvignon Six, I had the briefest glimpse of Thomas Aquinas, a philosopher who wrote two million words on the nature of the world, God’s purpose and the part played by man in Summa Theologica. As another philosopher, Roger Scruton, pointed out, “he ended his short life in a state of ecstasy, declaring that all that he had written was of no signifi cance beside the beatific vision that he had been granted, and in the face of which words fail”.

The Diners Club Winemaker of the Year 2010 was Bartho Eksteen from the Hermanuspietersfontein.