L’eau and behold
EVEN THOUGH it’s tough on your teeth, I really enjoy judging at wine competitions. It’s a great way to get a snapshot of current trends, conditions of the vintage and, of course, how winemakers are embracing new technologies and techniques or time-held traditions.
I love it because no matter how many years you have under your belt, you’re learning something new all the time.
Recently, I’ve also entertained the idea of stretching my palate into something like tea, coffee or olive oil judging; I could definitely have a crack at that.
But it wasn’t until earlier this week that my eyes, nose and mouth were given a real shake-up by how amazing goodquality water can be.
Most cities I’ve lived in around New Zealand have had great water, but others offer dull, flabby water from the taps.
My house in Christchurch has its own well deep underground — and I thought our water was the most sublime nonalcoholic drink I’d ever ingested until I put a glass of it up against Acqua Panna from Italy. Sourced from an aquifer deep beneath Monte Gazzaro in the Tuscan Apennines, it has amazing clarity and luminosity, reflecting loads of colour just like I imagine a beautifully cut diamond would (alas, I only possess cubic zirconias . . . ).
Both waters smelled very clean and fresh, however the Acqua Panna definitely had the edge in terms of taste.
It has very low acidity and mineral salts apparently, which probably accounted for why it so incredibly smooth, light and velvety.
The crazy thing was, the flavour of the water persisted in the mouth long after it’d been swallowed — odd, because you expect after drinking something that prides itself on being neutral there’d be no aftertaste at all.
Although when I think about it, it was less of a ‘‘taste’’ and more of a ‘‘texture’’.
I’d been told that a reliable test of a mineral water’s quality is to have a really good swig after drinking a cup of coffee or a glass of wine; swirl it around in your mouth, swish it right to the back teeth then swallow.
If you can still taste the