In “How to Talk About Wine Like a Japanese Tea Master”, Ogasawara challenges:

[A]re you sure that when you say “It tastes like a peach” that every peach tastes the same, or everyone else tastes a peach the same way you do? Peaches are tough enough to pin down, but what about fuzzy figs and gushing oranges, candied cherries or Asian pears…

Instead of referring to categories of notes as I've suggested before, Ogasawara finds a high-minded alternative, emphasis on high:

A grand crus from the Côte de Beaune is the Virgin and Child with Canon van der Paele by Jan van Eyck.

Or this Amarone della Valpolicella that I’ve been saving for Christmas is the Madonna della Vittoria by Mantegna.

She quotes physicist Richard Feynman, emphasis on high out of his mind:

The glass [of wine] is a distillation of the earth's rocks, and in its composition we see the secrets of the universe's age, and the evolution of stars.

Then she goes off the rails:

You can choose whatever you like. My husband—the ever-competitive astrophysicist—suggested our wine tastings involve speaking in terms of stars and galaxies.

Yes!

No! We're getting further from usefulness, and bending toward classism! I don't want to find the secrets of the universe in my Target glass. And I definitely don't think of Two Buck Chuck as the North Star nor the Andromeda Galaxy. Let's converse over drinks, not via drinks!

It reminds me of this excerpt from Death & Co: Modern Classic Cocktails, to which I'll respond to highlight the non-translation of high-minded tasting notes:

Find useful, meaningful words to describe each spirit. … Tasting spirits is about a connection to a personal experience, a way of articulating a memory or an association with what you smell or taste. A peaty Scotch might remind you of a campfire near the ocean, for example …

My last camping trip we brought minimal supplies to “live closer to nature” or whatever. When it rained, we dug through the mud with our bare hands to cover the campfire with a tarp, then took turns in the “cancer shack” suffocating on smoke to keep the fire alive long enough to cook quite possibly my saddest meal, I Can't Believe It's Not Rations!®

So if your Scotch reminds you of a campfire near the ocean, get bent, I'll have a glass of extra ordinary Two Buck Chuck instead.