Sunday afternoon. For me, Sunday afternoon is all about the last refuge before beginning another work week. During the NFL season, it’s a time to bundle up in comfortable sweaters for the colder months and surround yourself with good food, good friends, and good beer. This past Sunday in particular featured almost none of the aforementioned.

The day started off promising enough; a sports bar in the Fan district of town supplied the televised sports and the decent options for beer. I stuck to Sam Adams Boston Lager and Oktoberfest, but really appreciated the decor… a lot nicer than your average hole-in-the-wall with a tv. We were hoping to grab a bite to eat, but with limited seating, it was a standing-room only affair.

Nevertheless, the Carytown Wine Festival was happening this weekend, ironically enough in front of the now-closed and yet-replaced Carytown Wine and Beer. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a single drop of liquid on the premises that featured malt. Strawberries? Check. 30 Peppers condensed into one surprisingly clear serum? Check. Beer? Negative. Besides, what kind of jerk goes to a wine festival, during Virginia Wine Month, and expects to find something else? It was time to “get cultured.”

So yours truly perused the stations of Virginia wineries offering their array of reds and whites, from Vigoniers to Meritages, most of which only marginally impressed me. This guy wasn’t so generous. Maybe I’m just a contrarian, constantly seeking to devalue a beverage that is supposedly classier and more esteemed than the one I hold dear. But the format of the festival is what really got to me.

Being a wine novice, I can’t say that I’ve ventured to too many wine festivals and witnessed their pourings. However, it seems as though many wineries wish to offer the consumer a full demonstration of their capabilities, from dry chardonnay to sweet dessert wines. I have to say though, that it all felt a bit disingenuous. With several groups of people wedged in toward the iced cooling troughs for the wines, the minimal pours, and the brief attention paid to filling each festival-goer’s glass with one sip, there seems to be something lacking at a wine festival. Not to belittle the trade, or state that the vintners care nothing for their product, but I find much less intimacy there than at beer festivals.

It could be the sample size. Without a chance to let something linger, and allow enough time to rinse one’s glass before the next pour, it seems somewhat rushed and focused on proving the range of a particular vineyard. I’ve heard that some wine tastings are all about the spitting, not actually drinking the wine, which would make more sense in terms of coating the palate. At beer festivals, there seem to be less offerings per table and a little more time to savor the beer, but that may be due to the larger sample size and (generally) lower alcohol content when compared with wine.

However, it could just be festivals in general. You have the types who are looking to get a hellacious buzz from several small samples, or the ticker types that need to mark every beer they’ve tried a few ounces of and furiously note that they’ve tried it. Actual enjoyment seems to play second fiddle. Me, I feel like I’m probably somewhere in between. But imagine brewers that bring several styles of beer to a festival and rush you through each one in quick succession so that others may taste. Sure, they’re normally pouring rather quickly, but it’s a smaller selection. If you had one sip of one red right after another, and repeated this from table to table, how can you truly get a feel for the intricacies?

Whilst rushing through style after style, I noticed a certain element within the crowd. Some were there to get free sample after free sample, and I can’t say I’m completely innocent in that regard, however, there were some in attendance that made my blood boil. I’m talking to you, Mr. Loud-mouthed polo-shirt-wearing wine snob. It was bad enough the guy was trying to pick up anything (with apologies to the upstanding young ladies that were present) in a skirt, but the weak attempts to pass himself off as the next… I dunno, Steve Mancuso?? I’m not up on who’s who in the realm of the grape… just seemed aggravating and generally lame.

And don’t get me wrong, I plan to investigate this whole “wine world” some more very soon, even touring Virginia wineries, sampling their wares, and judging for myself. With that kind of time, I should be able to really sample their wares and see what they have to offer in a more temperature-controlled environment, with fresh wine close to the source, etc. But you can also be sure I’ll be hitting an area brewery or two as well along the way.

Believe it or not, this strange subculture also has its own publication, to which its minions adhere like followers of Joseph Smith to the Book of Mormon. So much so that they wine and dine at fake restaurants. (Been sitting on that one for a while, but I just had to… it’s good to see both sides of the aisle keeping themselves in check)