A couple of years ago, I started a little tasting group out here in West Marin — a gathering of interested wine lovers — we call ourselves the West Marin Wine Nose, puns intended. After we do the semi-serious part of our tasting, one of us will pull out a bottle of late harvest wine to end the evening on a sweet note. The last one we had was a very nice, light, late harvest wine from Dry Creek. It was delicate and refreshing.

Dr. Sam Spivak, one of the more outspoken of our little band, mentioned that his favorite wine and food pairing was foie gras with Chateau d’Yquem. His eyes misted over when he made that pronouncement.

I immediately jumped into the fray by saying that personally, I thought it was the worst wine and food match I had ever tasted. Thus sparked a lively discussion that lasted a very long time. The group polarized. At the end of the evening, no side was declared the victor.

Every true wine and food lover knows that the foie gras and d’Yquem pairing is one of the most lauded combinations under heaven. Why do I detest it? Therein lies this column.

To my tasted buds, fresh foie gras has one of the most delicate tastes in the meat hierarchy. I must mention, as an aside, that you whisper the word foie gras in West Marin, and the food Nazis will assault our local papers with invectives not heard since I was in the United States Army, and the effigy of a goose might be burned on my lawn.

I have had foie gras with d’Yquem and also with Dolce, one of California’s greatest wines ever. Same idea; same results. I take a small bit of foie gras and it melts in my mouth. Heavenly. Then I take a sip of one or the other of these estimable wines and — wham — my taste buds are flooded with the sweet elixir. And this complex of sweet and acid tastes stays in my mouth for a very long time, and it is supposed to. Soon after tasting the wine, I put another small bite of foie gras in my mouth and … and … and — nothing! I can’t taste the foie gras. I paid a lot for this treat, too. No taste, not for love or money.

As an aside, cholesterol being what it is, I can’t have foie gras anymore, so the point may be moot.

Dr. Spivak counter-punched with a blow to my midriff. He told me that if I didn’t like foie gras with a Sauternes-style wine, what wine would I like with the banned gourmet treat?

Now he had me. I had to stop and think. I thought long and hard and my brain taste memory circuits started working hard. I mumbled, “Maybe a cold Beaujolais? Maybe a viognier? Perhaps a rich chardonnay? Maybe a sauvignon blanc. Maybe a nice, chilled sake?”

Maybe I was confused but maybe I was getting on to something.

I have long railed against wine experts doling out wine and food pairings as the Holy Grail to wine enjoyment. I believe it is mostly humbug for reasons expressed above. It is now more of a problem than ever with bigger and bigger wines. Now I get on the old soapbox and express my current thoughts.

Big deal wines like Napa Valley blockbuster cabernets are so big, so rich and so full of huge aftertaste impressions, that for me, they don’t pair with any food. Not just figuratively — literally. I take a slug of one of these beauties and the taste lingers so long in my mouth that the hunk of steak I next put in my mouth is overwhelmed. I … can’t … taste … it!

Are my taste buds screwed in wrong? And, mind you, I love these wines. Many of them are the best in the world.

During barbecue season, wine pundits suggest that with spicy barbecue one should have a rich, hearty, spicy zinfandel. Did you ever try that? I did, once. I took a bite of spicy meat and then took a swig of a room temperature, high octane zinfandel and immediately my mouth caught on fire. I had to head to the ice water in my glass to recover. The only drink for me for really spicy barbecue is beer, cold thank you, or Diet Coke. Think about it. Why pile on spice over spice, heat upon heat? If I must have a rich zinfandel with spicy ribs, I would have it over ice and plenty of it. Zin on the rocks, the new cult drink for summer.

You may say my taste buds are plebian. Could be. But I think, way down deep, you really agree with me. If you don’t, e-mail me at ejsprwine@aol.com. However, if you do agree with me, by all means, tell me that my observations are correct. Wimps of the wine world — unite!