I have a playlist on my iPod devoted to music I think I like but I’m not completely sure; I’ll need a few more listens before I decide to keep the songs or jettison them. Some of my favorite songs and movies are those that I wasn’t completely sure of the first time I heard or saw them. That was true of books, too, back when I had the patience to read a couple hundred pages of something that was mystifying or irritating, just because I had a feeling that I held greatness in my hand, if I could only persist.

That’s the wonder and glory of the arts: sometimes the works we resist, those that are most difficult and alien, will move us most deeply and stay with us long after, the plays of Shakespeare being the most obvious example.

That’s true of wine, too.

I’ve been delving into aromatic whites and its cousins recently, and you have to marvel at wine’s sheer variety while you’re looking, puzzled, at your glass. I had a Torrontés from Colomé in Argentina, recommended very strongly by our regional wine panelist, Mike Schachner. The first whiffs out of the glass were so floral I was reminded, oddly, of wakes I’ve been to, where there are enough flowers around the casket to irritate the deceased. That note was followed on the palate, along with citrus and a vague musky backnote, so that the whole was foreign, strange and, eventually, delightful.

The spicy, floral, anything-goes, lychee-driven character of Gewürztraminer is a surprise every time. I get a distinct pine scent and flavor from Italian Gavis that bewilders as well as bewitches. The assertive apricot nose and flavor of Viognier, plus the slightly oily mouthfeel that Viogniers, Sémillons and some of these abovementioned wines exhibit, are facets that my brain is telling me I should reject but my mouth is saying, hey, cool.

Just think of the unlikely notes that great red wines and whiskies exhibit, from cigar to horse sweat to peat. The human brain, I’m guessing, likes the exercise of resolving conflicting data: unpleasant in memory, but pleasurable in context, and in the now. My palate being pulled in different directions remind me of watching a great drama and not being able to decide: do I admire this character or hate him? That’s great art and, sometimes, great drinking.

I’d love to read examples from you, whether it’s wine, movies or literature.

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