The Wine Man's Burden

With apologies to the maker's of Pear's soap (the original advertisement)

and anyone with a spec of artistic talent

I've been reading the Vinography blog lately, something I highly recommend. Alder Yarrow, whose name sounds like a mixed-use forest, is a strongly opinionated wine blogger. Even when I disagree with him, which is more often than not, I've got to really sort out my facts because he usually has his thinking cap firmly fastened. Another good reason to read Alder's blog is my friend and co-writer at Winemaker magazine, Tim Patterson, who does book reviews there. He's a sharp guy as well.

So I was going through back entries when I came across a bit of what struck me as parochialism, albeit on an international scale. Alder was making a sally into the increasingly heated and vicious debate on internationalised wine vs. terroir. This debate revolves around a bunch of things, but basically boils down to whether or not you think Robert Parker is a horseman of the apocalypse or the best friend a wine drinker ever had. Full disclosure: I happen to think there'll be a whole new circle in the Inferno for Parker when he finally stops being able to buy off the grim reaper with cases of spoofed '82 Bordeaux.

His basic premise is that 'terroir' (charmingly defined by wine writer Matt Kramer as the 'somwhereness' of a wine) not only includes the positive flavours and nuances of the place, but also all of the bad ones, using old Rhone wines which used to be horsey, with a smell of barnyards and saddle blankets years ago as a previous example, and South African wines, which often smell of burnt rubber (a butyl sulphate compound produced by indigenous yeast). Alder's feeling is that if wine scientists can find and eliminate these flavours then the wine will be better. This will also remove a portion of identifiable 'terroir' from South African wines, so is it desirable?

While I agree with him wholeheartedly on removing serious technical flaws from wine to as a form of continuous improvement, I can't help but get the feeling that it's a sly poke at people who defend the idea of terroir. If you defend it, then you like stinky wine! You must be craxy, you terroirist-sympathiser! You want to drink win that tastes like 'peeled willow bark'! If the global wine market demands rubber-free wine, then wineries had better provide it, or they'll (apparently deservedly) go out of business. To quote him directly:

". . . if very few people like it, does it matter how well the wine represents the place?"

Well, let's look at it. A general dislike of SA wines isn't holding water. Lots and lots of people like their wines, rubber and all. If he defines the rubber note as a sales-limiting flaw, then he isn't actually in tune with global markets at all (global market-based arguments are often like this–less than completely global in scope, designed to support a preconceived notion). Of course, a lot of their appeal has to do with price point, but hey, that's what markets are all about–not the specific objections of a critic.

Second, tastes change. In the wine world, they do nothing but change, washing back and forth so fast marketers and product planners can't keep up. Once it was white wine spritzers, another time it's big cabs and red meat, next it's goofy-tasting under-ripe Sauvignon Blanc, then it's chemically altered lab-wines with animals on the label. The global market isn't a static situation. At best it's a snapshot of roiling chaos. The average wine consumer would spit out wines made a thousand years ago as rotting swill. The market is now in the process of shifting from uber-sweet white Zinfandel to dry Rosés, something unthinkable twenty years ago. It's parochial and patronising to think that we have achieved the pinnacle of perceptive tasting right here, right now. I think in fifty years the kind of heavily manipulated, terroir-free fruit-goo that has captured so many critics and drinkers admiration may well not be the first choice of a lot of the marketplace. Perhaps the cult of burnt rubber will prevail.

But we won't get the chance to see an evolution of taste if we abandon terroir as a concept and globalise and internationalise every last example of regional differentiation. Discarding the past in an attempt to mimic a critic's perception of popular taste doesn't seem like a wise course to me.

Barrel of vin Jaune oxidising away. Peekaboo!

Case in point: I had the opportunity to taste a very special French wine once, Vin Jaune de Jura. Rare and interesting as it was, I was eager to try it, but my first sip made me think I'd had a trick played on me. It was kind of like the worst homemade Sauvignon Blanc I've ever had. It was oxidised, bitterly dry and had some floral notes hidden under a layer of rancio that was really off-putting. And yet I learned it was a sterling example of the style, in perfect condition, and showing very well. Since oxidation is typically a flaw, if we follow Alder's logic then the Jura winemakers had better sharpen up, buy new barrels, keep them topped up, and maybe bring Michel Rolland in to help them eliminate this nasty bit of terroir so the market can judge their wine on its more global merits.

Me, I'm thinking of buying myself another bottle of the Vin Jaune, before it's outlawed or something.

Posted by Tim AT 7:26PM 0 Comments Comments Post A Comment Post A Comment Email Email

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