I think it was from an ancient episode of Maverick that I first learned about wine tasting. The young Brett Maverick was offered a glass of wine by his pappy and proceeded to guzzle it down. Pappy stopped him short and said (with the appropriate drawl), "If you're thirsty, son, drink water. Wine should be sipped and enjoyed." Or something like that.

Wine-tasting classes or seminars are all the rage these days. Maybe all those who started out on Two Buck Chuck are now making their way to better wines, or perhaps folks are wanting to get more out of their general wine experience—either way, there are some simple, yet important, basics to master.

A good class will cover the facts about which glass to use, how to swirl and sniff, when to decant, how wine is made and a myriad of other fascinating topics. The amount of technical information can be overwhelming, and a short article like this barely scratches the surface. Nonetheless, if you follow my two primary rules of tasting, you will experience a dramatic improvement in your appreciation of wine and your enjoyment of all things gastronomic. Results guaranteed or your money back.

The first rule regarding tasting anything is slow the heck down. We are a society of power eaters and power drinkers. It seems that most of us make our way through life without tasting or smelling much at all, so it's no wonder that we need some coaching about the subject of wine tasting in general.

In the U.S. I grew up in, "fast and bland" could describe an embarrassingly high percentage of the meals I experienced. Most of the time, I drifted through meals nearly unconscious of which food (or the amount of food) I was consuming. Quantity has become the rule of measure instead of quality. I'd like to throttle the marketing genius who came up with the notion of "super size," as if more boring food makes up for the lack of taste and texture.

The second rule regarding wine tasting, in my opinion, is learn to smell stuff, everything and anything. Children do this, yet somehow, as we get older and start moving quickly through our world, we stop smelling things. Try this exercise to get you started: Go through the produce section of the market and slow down long enough to smell things. Scratch the skin of an orange. Rub some basil leaves together. When you get home, go out in the garden and sniff around. Pick up the newspaper and smell it. Smell your own skin, for that matter. Ignore the neighbors staring at you. Build an "aroma memory" in your head.

You see, tasting is not an action of your mouth alone. Flavor is mostly aroma-based.

Here's the challenge: It's easy to find the word to describe the aroma of something in front of you, but it's tough to name the aroma when all you have in your glass is a liquid. Take a flower, for instance. You put your nose up to a gardenia, and you automatically find the word to describe the aroma. Obviously, it smells like a gardenia. The trick is to keep the vision of that flower and the aroma in your head, so that when you smell the aroma somewhere else, you can visualize the flower and find the word. This is what makes describing a wine so tough.

Many times, instead of finding the right word to describe a particular aroma in a wine, we are transported to another place back in our memory. For example, a certain chardonnay reminds you of your grandmother's kitchen. Could it be that what you're smelling is reminiscent of vanilla? If tasting a wine reminds you of a place, think about what the smells of that place were. A forest, a wet garden, movie popcorn, picking berries in the backyard—all these images represent a mixture of aromas.

There are no absolute right or wrong answers when it comes to the question of what a wine tastes like. Your opinion on the matter is just as reasonable as the "experts'." The difference between your opinion and theirs often is that the experts have had more practice at putting what they smell into words. Sometimes it's helpful to get an aroma "wheel" that has lists of common descriptors on it. Often when you see the word in print, you will make the association.

Ignore wine descriptors that have nothing to do with what a wine tastes like. Some of my favorite terms that offer no information include sassy, pleasant, pretty, understated, curious, and sophisticated; the same type of favorite is any review that compares a wine to a sports car or movie actor.

Slowing down and thinking about the aroma of a wine will make a good wine much more enjoyable. Don't rush it, and certainly don't "super size" it. A few ounces of a great wine sipped slowly and contemplated is a pleasure that has been cherished through the centuries—a pleasure not unlike a great conversation and fine food, both of which also deserve the time to be enjoyed.

Want more from your wine-tasting experience? Stop and smell the merlot.

Cara Finn is the owner of The Grapevine, a fine wine and cheese store and tasting bar. She can be reached at 408.293.7574 or at info@grapevine-wg.com.