Desi Rant #4 Aspirational Faux-Connoissuers of Booze

Few annoying habits of desis in America cry out "I wish I were white!!" like their pathetic attempts at convincing themselves that they understand and appreciate the nuances of different kinds of wines, micro-brewed beers and single malt whiskeys.

It all starts with the mandatory desi pilgrimage to Napa Valley. Desis don't want to admit to themselves that they are just hitting Napa for the sake of all the free wine they get in tiny glasses at wine-tastings. So they start pretending that they can actually taste the flavors mentioned in the description. Yes, yes, they say, I totally detect the oaky flavor, never mind that there are no oaks in India where I grew up, so I don't have the first clue about what oak even looks like. Oooh and yes, I get the smoky tobacco flavor too, although Amma said smoking is bad, so I never touched a cigarette.

The Napa Valley trip changes the desi. Now he knows what to do with the disposable income leftover after buying tickets to India for the Christmas break and making the latest payment on the Japanese sedan. He buys expensive wine. He religiously pores over every issue of Wine Spectator, and zeroes in on some 80-dollar-a-bottle wine that he can buy, sip with masala peanuts, and then casually bring it up to his white colleagues and bosses at the next office party.

The problem is, his spice-bombarded palate does not really know how to differentiate wines. He can rattle off the histories and geographies of the cabernets, muscatos, merlots, shirazes and a bunch of other genres and grapes, because he read it on wikipedia and in Wine Spectator. But give him a blind taste test and he could not tell you the difference between a zinfandel and white zinfandel.

But there is something so "white" and "sophisticated" about the aspirational appeal of knowing about wines, that the desi now starts pretending he is the best brown oenophile around. Oh, and did he mention that he now also has a favorite year?

Other desis feel wine-tasting is a bit effete. So they immerse themselves, sometimes almost literally, in that manliest of all liquors, as our colonial past taught us - single malt whiskey. Yes!! From Scotland, the land that also gave the wannabe-white desi another sophistication to pretend to like - golf.

Dipshits who have grown up gulping down old-monk-and-thums-up start believing they can suddenly differentiate between a 12-year-old and 18-year-old single malt. Guys who are perfectly normal and likeable otherwise, become insufferable windbags when it comes to talking about whiskey.

Take this idiot for instance. One of us knows him a bit personally. Really nice and interesting guy otherwise. But bring booze into the picture and you want to grind him up and stuff him into a cask. Even the name of his blog - empty hip flask, cries out for validation. Doesn't really understand whiskey, but wants to desperately believe that he does, because he spends hundreds of dollars on it each month. And ever-so-subtly-and-humbly brags about it to anyone who cares to listen.

And of course, blogs about booze! That's the most precious thing for him - his blog posts about booze. They are so transparent! Take this recent post for instance. Do you really think that a guy whose idea of a good time is cheap lukewarm Mallya beer with that MSG-laden monstrosity called chilli chicken, can even pronounce Ardbeg Uigeadail? No wonder he brags about the price right off the bat. Ooh, you spend 120 dollars on a bottle of booze? Wow, man! You have really made it in America! That's what he wants us to say, so we say it.

The rest of the post has shallow and inane description, including a smattering of flavor names likely taken verbatim from the whiskey's own website - peat, tobacco, iodine. Yeah, right, like his podi-munching mug could ever make out those flavors! When he tries to be original, he displays his stupidity - "salty sea water"! ROFL! As opposed to other flavors of sea water, eh? Like gooseberry, musk and melon?

And of course, he mentions the one thing all desis check before spending their hardly-earned money on booze - alcohol by volume! Yes, ladies and gentleman, our wannabe friend here feels the need to obsess over the ABV of even an Islay malt! It would be cute if it weren't so pathetic. As if a poser like him can even tell the difference between an Islay malt and Mallya whiskey. As if he could even drink it without wincing.

Sure enough, he admits in as many words that he forced himself to like it. Drank a "glass" everyday for a week before he convinced himself he must like it. Heh, a "glass".... notice how the carefully accumulated connoisseur vocabulary deserts him occasionally? So our avial-humping friend drinks whiskey by the "glass", and still pretends to be some sort of an enthusiast. He should stick to his pedestrian level, we think - reviewing generic and ubiquitous beers that stopped being talked about glowingly by normal people after Woodrow Wilson left office.

The blog is a gift that keeps on giving. Read all the moronic posts here and try not to die laughing. What a guy! He hasn't given out his real name on the blog, so we will respect his decision and keep it private too. On the blog, he goes by the name Alan Smithee, which incidentally is another clear indicator of his wannabe-white status. The Alan Smithee concept stopped being "cool" when we were in high school. But I am sure this dude discovered it recently, was taken by it and goes around asking fellow-desis wrily - do you like the director Alan Smithee? snicker snicker snicker! We digress...

But enough of thos kootu-bashing. Back to the greater point. All you desi wannabe booze connoisseurs who live and die by the price and the ABV. Please, lay off. Use that money for things that give you actual pleasure, rather than make you think you got pleasure.