When it was time to go back to America, my mother-in-law, Jenny, dropped Dominic and me off at the airport. Before leaving, she gave each of us a nice hug and, to me, she said:
“You’re my favorite daughter-in-law.”
At least... that’s what I thought she said.
I turned to Dominic, eyes wide and heart full, practically skipping through the terminal like I’d just won the in-law Olympics. “Guess what Jenny just told me!” I beamed.
Except—yeah. That’s not what she said. Not even close.
Months later, I casually brought it up to Stuart, my father-in-law, fully expecting a nod of agreement. Instead, I got stunned silence.
"Jenny doesn’t really use the word favorite,” he said, suspiciously. Then he did the unthinkable—he asked her.
Turns out, what she actually said was:
“You’ve become a really good friend.”
Which, don’t get me wrong, is sweet, kind, lovely even.
But not quite the “favorite daughter-in-law” level I was dreaming of.
Honestly, I think it was just the Leo in me that wanted to hear that. So I clung to that on-brand-for-a-leo fantasy like it was a vintage Barolo I couldn’t afford to replace.
And you know what? I’m still clinging. Despite multiple eyewitness accounts (okay, just one, but still), I refuse to bring it up to Jenny herself.
Delusion? Maybe. But it pairs beautifully with denial and a bold red.
Some things are just better left uncorked.
Wine, Delusion, and the Problem With Our Cheeky Taste Buds
Now, you might be wondering: what does this have to do with wine?
Everything. Because just like I selectively heard “favorite daughter-in-law,” our brains do the exact same thing when we drink wine.
Ever had someone describe a wine to you before you tasted it? Something like:
“This is a New World Pinot with bright cherry, rose petal, and just a hint of forest floor.”
Then you take a sip, and boom. Cherry! Rose! That weird earthy mushroomy thing you only understand because you once fell into a pile of damp leaves.
But here’s the kicker: if they had said, “This wine has smoky bacon and wet gravel,” you probably would’ve tasted that instead.
Our brains are desperate to connect the dots. Once someone plants the idea, we start to taste what we expect to taste. And this psychological trick has a name: confirmation bias.
A Quick Lesson in Wine Psychology (Stick With Me, There’s a Joke Coming)
In 2008, a study at the California Institute of Technology had people taste wines while their brain activity was monitored. The twist? Some of the wines were labeled as super expensive, and others were labeled cheap—but they were actually the same wine. The result? People consistently said the “expensive” wines tasted better—and their brains backed them up. The reward center lit up more for the “pricey” sips.
Your palate didn’t just lie. Your brain literally changed how the wine tasted based on what you thought it was worth.
That same principle applies to regions, varietals, bottle design, and yes, even wine descriptions. Someone says “black pepper” and you’re already sneezing. Say “blueberries” and you’re back in your nana’s kitchen.
So next time you swirl a glass, take a pause. Ask yourself: Am I actually tasting cherry? Or did Becky in the tasting room mention it and now I’m just trying convince her I'm a sommelier?
Becky can smell fear, by the way.
It's Not All Lies—Just Mostly
The truth is, we all do this. We don’t taste in a vacuum, we taste in context. You’re bringing your memories, your expectations, your mood, your lunch, and your personality disorder to the glass every time you sip.
Same wine, different vibes:
- After a stressful week? “This Cab tastes like sadness and Taylor Swift lyrics.”
- At a party with friends? “Omg, this is giving me full-on champagne vibes of joy and freedom!”
- Alone on a Tuesday? “I taste… Pinot. It’s Pinot, right? …Is it Pinot?”
And that’s the beauty of wine. It’s not an exact science. It’s a sensory free-for-all wrapped in grape juice. You’re allowed to taste what you want to taste...just maybe don’t argue with a winemaker about it.
(Or just yell “minerality!” and run away. Works 60% of the time.)
Wine Bias Breakdown: Are You Tasting or Just Projecting?
Let’s get honest with ourselves. Here are a few signs you might be drinking with your imagination:
- You read the tasting notes before sipping.
And now you're "detecting" ripe mango and crushed sea shells. Sure. - You saw the bottle cost $70.
Wow, such complexity! So much nuance! No, that’s your wallet trying to justify your decisions. - You picked the wine because the label looked classy.
And now it “tastes” elegant and refined. Coincidence? I think not. - You changed your answer after someone told you what it actually was.
“Oh yeah, I totally meant Gamay.” Mmhmm. Totally. - You tasted “red fruit” but said “cranberry jam on toasted brioche” because you heard someone else say it once.
We’ve all done it. You’re safe here.
So, What Do You Really Taste?
It’s okay if you don’t get the same notes everyone else does. In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t. When you try to match up your tasting notes with what others say, you’re losing out on your own personal connection to the wine. You’re not just tasting grapes; you’re tasting your own perception of those grapes.
Wine tasting is subjective. Like my favorite daughter-in-law moment, it’s all about what you choose to hear and what you choose to taste.
The best advice? Taste with an open mind and a full glass, but don’t let anyone else’s notes make you second guess your own. Whether you taste berries, leather, or something vaguely comforting, it’s all valid.
Final Sip
So, no—I wasn’t Jenny’s favorite.
And no—that bottle probably wasn’t really giving notes of artisanal leather and a moody soundtrack.
But I believed it. And sometimes? That’s enough.
Wine, like family praise, is deeply personal and often a little misunderstood. And if delusion makes it taste better… then pour me another glass.
Especially if Jenny’s the one pouring.
