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(Inspired by Taylor Swift’s controversial new single)
Taylor Swift has received some grief for her song “Wood” and it’s not-so-subtle references. Little do those critics know that, in the wine world, we’ve been bragging about the wood we get for decades. Thanks, Taylor, for the inspiration for this column.
I remember it like it was yesterday — the shape, the feel, the smell… sweet, with just a hint of toast and char. Yes, it cost me a fortune, but it was worth every penny. My first wood.
I got my first wood from a man named Mel Knox — “Knox on Wood,” as I called him. Mel’s wood was legendary throughout the wine community. Maybe that’s not the best thing to say — Mel’s wood certainly got around. But if so many trusted winemakers were enjoying Mel’s wood, I figured it had to be good. And indeed, it was. Mel had exceptional wood.
For years, I used nothing but Mel’s wood. Others tried to tempt me — especially as my wines gained attention — promising their wood was smoother, sexier, or more expressive. But I remained loyal. Mel’s wood was all I needed.
Until Todd came along. A smooth-talking younger salesman who claimed his wood had a different kind of energy — same forests, but a fresher cut, tighter grain. And damn it, Todd’s wood lived up to the hype. For a while, I two-timed them — Mel and Todd, Todd and Mel — trying to decide whose wood I liked better.
But once I opened the door to new wood, there was no going back. I was traveling more — Oregon, Santa Barbara, Monterey — and discovering all sorts of exotic wood. French, Hungarian, American. Each had its own personality. I learned that how your wood is treated matters — some prefer a gentle touch, others like a heavy toast. Some boast about how their wood is bent (a strange thing to brag about, but hey, whatever works). And yes, I discovered that longer aged wood, though softer and subtler, can still deliver incredible nuance — a truth I’ve come to appreciate as I grow older.
For a long time, I thought getting wood was a strictly male endeavor. But then I met Françoise — elegant, French, with an accent that could turn “barrel sample” into a love poem. We met at World of Pinot Noir. I was young, impressionable… and she offered me my first wood from a woman. I’ve never forgotten it.
At the height of my fame, I was getting wood from over fifteen different people in a single year. I know — it was too much. I wasn’t really savoring any of it, just chasing the next new toast level or forest origin. Eventually, I stopped. Some said I’d sold out. Whatever. There will always be haters. I just got tired of the chase — tired of sampling every new stave that came along. So, I quit.
And for a few years, I didn’t get any wood at all.
It’s been over a decade now since that phase. I’m older. Maybe wiser. I’ve settled down — or, as I like to think, refined my palate. I know what I like. You boys and girls don’t need to come around here offering me your wood anymore. I’ve got the wood I want.
I think Taylor can say the same thing.
“Forgive me, it sounds cocky
I settled down and opened my eyes
French oak tree, it ain’t hard to see
Time was the key that helped me be wise.”