Sun Sentinel Palm Beach Edition

Why does wine on a plane taste blah?

- The Pour Man

is different right away, and within moments, you can sense that it’s as dry as Phoenix in there. The air also has a distinct staleness to it because you’re in a profoundly long tube, and although there are windows everywhere, not a single one of them rolls down.

That air is being recirculat­ed, and it carries provocativ­e notes of jet fuel, upholstery and carpet, all of which tend to fade the longer you spend in that tube, and maybe that’s a good thing for those of us who don’t particular­ly love those smells. But the problem is that even the stuff we do want to smell eventually fades. And when the aromas go, the flavors go too. It’s all caused by your own aircraftin­duced dehydratio­n — the drying-out that afflicts you every time you go wheels-up.

You don’t get entirely stripped of your ability to smell and taste, obviously (you can taste well enough to know that you’re not wild about the over-salted yet still-kind-of-bland food resting on the tray in front of you), but your senses very quickly begin to operate at a fraction of their normal capacity — and they go downhill from there. You gradually lose your ability to smell and taste the subtle aromas and flavors you might have been easily able to identify and name in the most creative ways on the ground.

“Ripe blackberri­es, pomegranat­e, orange zest, white pepper, rosemary, crushed limestone, Spanish leather, midmorning coffee grounds and Christmas Eve 1983,” is how you might have described a wine on earth. In the air, the closest you might come to that is, “Fruity. Grapey. Liquidy.”

So finding the right wines for dehydrated and diminished palates at 36,000 feet is key. And it’s a fine line. Your dulled faculties need something bold — like a come-to-your-senses slap across the face — but they need a certain kind of bold, not just unbridled brawn and fury. They need pronounced fruit, but it should not come with a lot of tannin because the last thing your dried-out mouth needs is a wave of fuzz to suck it dry of what little moisture it had in the first place.

Your body doesn’t need a boatload of alcohol, either, because remember, you’re at least mildly dehydrated already. Most likely you’re not going to have to make choices based on these factors because whoever chose the wine for the flight — for the airline — will have done that work for you already. Those folks know what you will be going through; it’s their business.

There’s no getting around the dry air or your dulled senses after you’ve spent even a little time in that environmen­t. But one thing you can do to help yourself out is to stay well hydrated. Your senses of smell and taste will work just a little bit better during the flight, and your body will feel a lot better when you land.

If you stayed close to home this summer and your next sky ride lies ahead, perhaps around the holidays, keep all of this in mind. And if you come across a wine you love up there, think twice about buying a case of it when you touch down. Keep in mind that your dining room is not a pressurize­d cabin with flotation devices under the seats. You might have a different experience with the airline wine down here, and if you do, don’t hold it against the wine. Hold it against the airplane. You think the food is bad up there? The same concepts apply. Imagine eating that stuff down here.

 ?? ABEL URIBE/CHICAGO TRIBUNE; MARK GRAHAM/STYLING ?? Finding the right wines for dehydrated and diminished palates at 36,000 feet is a difficult endeavor.
ABEL URIBE/CHICAGO TRIBUNE; MARK GRAHAM/STYLING Finding the right wines for dehydrated and diminished palates at 36,000 feet is a difficult endeavor.
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