Creative Marketing

My eyes opened wide when I read this entry in winemarketer.com:

“We are currently in the process of opening our winery. We will be selling beer while we wait for our first run to age. Should I try building web presence for the wine in the meantime????”

Of course, we’ve all heard that it takes a lot of beer to make good wine, but, apparently, it also takes a lot of beer to sell good wine!!!???

I think these folks could take a lesson from Josh at Pinotblogger, but that’s just me. Best of luck to you, Briarwood Cellars!

P.S. – Is the beer any good? I need one after reading posts like this (I’m not as nice as Josh).

Whither Hangtime?

Where to start on this issue? And how to know where it’s going? This has been brewing for quite some time but, in the last 4-6 weeks, the drum-beat has gotten so loud that it’s making my head hurt! Is this truly the beginning of a significant pendulum swing or is this just a lot of people (mainly bloggers) talking?

I mention the bloggers because, like Jeff at Good Grape, I wonder how much influence blogs have. I took a quick look at the Winery Website Report to get an idea of how many wineries post a blog and, I must say, Goosecross is part of a very elite group. No doubt they’ve missed a few, but they reported that 51 wineries in their global database have a blog, a few in California, and the ones from Napa Valley can be counted on one hand with a finger or two missing. High profile, influential wineries are conspicuously absent from the list. If they don’t write them do they read them???

But I digress… Anyway, here’s a recap of the main gripes:

1. High alcohol wines are too overbearing and don’t go with food. I was lucky enough to ask Darrell Corti directly about his decision to stop carrying wines over 14.5% in a podcast interview (episode to be released 8/21) and he said he doesn’t consider them table wines. They’re too big for the food and they’re too tiring.

2. High alcohol wines all begin to taste the same and the sense of “terroir” is lost.

3. They’re too sweet.

And, here are the main reasons cited for the high alcohol (for a little background read previous post):

1. Longer hangtime: Winemakers are waiting longer to harvest in order to produce richer, rounder, extremely flavorful wines, AKA “fruitbombs”, and to avoid “green”, tannic character.

2. “Super yeasts”: Yeasts have been “cleaned up” over the last few decades and are more efficient converters of sugar to alcohol.

3. Healthier vines: The replanting during the phylloxera years has given us younger, healthier vines that are also more effective at converting sunlight to sugar.

4. Vertical shoot positioning (VSP): The above combined with the maximized sunlight exposure the vines get with VSP bumps up the sugar.

5. Powerful wine critics: This can’t really be separated from the first point. Winemakers go with extended hangtime because they’re more likely to be rewarded with high ratings by a handful of extremely influential wine critics.

Some blame global warming, but that seems a bit premature. See previous post for more on that.

So, with all of those factors conspiring together is a pendulum swing back toward lower alcohols a possibility, assuming that’s a good idea? Many see these factors as overwhelming, especially in a warm climate like Napa Valley, but Eric Asimov believes big, high-alcohol wines are a choice and I tend to agree. “…to suggest that it’s necessary in California rather than a stylistic decision on the part of the winemaker is plain wrong.”

I know I’ve cited this study ad nauseum (scroll down to get to the hangtime section), but it’s pertinent to this issue of the necessity of high sugars/alcohols to get full fruit maturity. In this study Ed Weber, the Napa County viticulture advisor for the University of California Cooperative Extension, noted that metabolized sugar increases seemed to stop at about 25-26 degrees brix and after that the sugar accumulation was due to simple dehydration. He also observed that a vineyard that tended to make vegetal wine at low sugars still made greenish wine at 26 degrees brix.

And, guess what? All those vines that we replanted in the 90s are getting older as we speak.

We don’t have to use “super yeasts”, or any yeast at all, if we decide it’s not smart.

VSP is great, but we can manage the vines in whatever manner we decide is the most advantageous – admittedly these changes would be slow, barring some kind of catastrophe. Bite your tongue!!! :-0

So how to predict the future? That’s the hard part. There’s this nebulous feeling that the pendulum just might be ready to swing back. Is it truly change that’s in the air? Or is it all just a bunch of hot air in the blogosphere?

“High alcohol wines have had their day.” says a grocery chain wine specialist. But, as Bob Pepi has said repeatedly, it’s possible to make balanced wine that’s 14.5% and I can’t argue with the countless delicious examples I’ve tasted to back his theory. But still… And what about those wines that are over 15%? Who knows? Hang on…

Breakfast of Champions!

Well, this is fun. The Austrian government has come down on wine producers for an ad promoting the leading wine of the country, Grüner Veltliner. I’m not so sure about government intervention and I don’t pretend to have formal education in marketing, but you gotta wonder how people who do have the education came up with a misguided campaign like this. Were they mainlining G.V. when they came up with this stuff?

I guess being delicious just isn’t enough these days. Its supposed attributes include being an “anti-depressant ideal against the usual Monday-morning blues.” Does this mean we’re supposed to have a belt of Grüner Veltliner with our Cheerios, or maybe Muesli, before we hit the Monday morning commute? Maybe it’s better to stick with giving away T-shirts.

And when the industry came under fire for being such knuckleheads they promptly shot themselves in the foot again by coming out with a position paper “Admitting the necessity of responsible approach to the subject: and “went to great lengths pointing out the positive effects of moderate wine consumption, the important role of wine in Austrian cuisine and culture” – so far, so good – “and its significance as an icon of a hedonistic lifestyle.” Boom!! Ouch! Perhaps something was lost in translation here, or these marketing geniuses should be looking for a job.

I don’t know about you, but when I think of hedonism I think of wild-eyed Romans rolling around on the floor and the fall of the empire, like this definition from Dictionary.com:

1. the doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the highest good.
2. devotion to pleasure as a way of life: The later Roman emperors were notorious for their hedonism.
Synonyms: sensualism, libertinism, debauchery, dissipation, carousal.
Antonyms: puritanism, asceticism, abstemiousness, self-denial.

Maybe the Austrian version is tamed down a bit like this one from WordNet:

1. the pursuit of pleasure as a matter of ethical principle
2. an ethical system that evaluates the pursuit of pleasure as the highest good

In either case this is a most unorthodox way to lend credibility to their stated goals of promoting responsible marketing and moderate consumption.

I’ll admit to using “hedonistic” as a wine descriptor on very rare occasion – you know – for one of those wines that is so good that you need to go to confession after indulging in just a taste? Ah…

Anyway, I guess these guys are just doing what we humans seem to do best: putting our foot in it only to find out it’s quicksand. I think we should all go out and buy a bottle of Austrian Grüner Veltliner. A nice, cool glass of G.V. sounds awfully good right now and we can hope they do the same for us when it’s our turn to look like our industry is chaired by graduates of clown college. Prosit!

Improvement or Manipulation?

I was fascinated that someone would think to undertake a survey like this one (PDF) on wine manipulations, such as adding color or oak chips to wine.

For one thing, I think the vast majority of consumers and probably a big percentage of the trade are completely unaware that this stuff is going on at some wineries. For another, a lot of wine professionals, including winemakers, tend to think that the industry would be better off if consumers and the trade remain ignorant of these goings-on. I approached an enologist/friend about explaining some of these techniques in a podcast, and the reply wasn’t exactly “why expose dirty laundry” but that was the message. No interview.

Reality is, with the rapid rate of communication these days you’re going to hear about this stuff, whether we want you to or not, and it’s better to discuss the facts up front rather than let “truthiness” rule the day. I plan to outline simple explanations for these techniques in the near future but, in the meantime, it’s so interesting to consider how we determine exactly what constitutes manipulation.

For instance, I was surprised to see barrel aging referred to as a manipulation. Huh? We’ve been keeping wine in wood containers since at least Roman times, presumably originally as a method of storage and transport. According to our barrel broker at Artisan Barrels, the flavor addition wasn’t really a factor until the middle of the 20th century. So, is the reason that I don’t think of barrel aging as manipulation because it’s so long standing? That kind of shoots a hole in any objections we may have to some of these other manipulations because if we just wait long enough they’ll become “traditional”.

How about “chaptalization” or adding sugar before the fermentation? That’s been going on for centuries too, in a casual way, and was finally recognized as a technique that “improves” wine and given a name in the 19th century. Well, it’s illegal in California. I guess it’s too much of a manipulation here (aside from the fact that it’s rarely necessary).

And then there are extremely modern techniques such as de-alcoholization and micro-oxygenation that are viewed as more controversial. Is it just because they’re new?

I start to play devil’s advocate with myself: “Maybe these new techniques bother us because they’re more intrusive.” Well, what’s more meddlesome than a 60-gallon oak barrel? A large wood container doesn’t have as much impact, but that small cooperage? That’s a pretty big happening in a wine’s life. I honestly don’t know if more high-tech equals more intrusive. Should we be complaining about stainless steel tanks replacing old clay, stone, leather, concrete or wood containers? You’re going to have a tough time getting a winemaker to part with his stainless steel tanks, valve fittings and equipment for reasons of hygiene, and we all like that, don’t we? How do we define improvement vs. manipulation?

I loved this remark from a decidedly non-interventionist winemaker in Friuli, courtesy of Vinography: “…all winemaking is intervention in a natural process that leads to vinegar.” All he’s trying to say is that grape juice wants to be wine, and wine wants to be vinegar, so the winemaker always has to step in and exert some control rather than adopting the romantic notion of letting nature take its course.

What do y’all think? Where do we draw the line? How would you respond to this survey?

Rating the Ratings

Here we have a wine critic who’s puzzled about how to approach a wine that got a 90 from Parker (this critic was also put off by the fact that the wine was rated by one of Parker’s employees rather than Parker himself) and an 84 from the Wine Spectator.

Every critic has his methods, but this one strikes me as odd, and adds to my long list of concerns about the 100-point ratings scale.

#1: Why did he seek out the opinions of others before tasting the wine himself? Sometimes you can’t avoid hearing things about high-profile brands, but it seems to me the critic should approach the evaluation without pre-conceived notions whenever possible. His write-ups include scores from other publications, which is a good, democratic idea, but he himself should start out by tasting the wine blind.

#2: His conclusion that “Someone is right and someone is wrong” regarding the 90 vs. the 84. And this, on a 6-point spread. Is anyone ever right or wrong when it comes to evaluating something that we eat or drink? Or read? Or take in at the theater? Life would be a lot simpler is this wasn’t subjective, but it is. And I don’t see a big discrepancy in that spread. Just a different take.

An 84 vs. 90 communicates to me, right or wrong, that the wine must be at least a clean, well-crafted representative of the type. Beyond that, it seems that the style suited Mr. Parker’s guy better than it did the Spectator’s. They each have a right to their opinions. We may or may not agree.

Recently, I was researching wines for a staff tasting and discovered that a highly regarded, fairly pricey Merlot we wanted to taste got a 94 from Robert Parker and, hang on for this – 78 from the Wine Spectator – pretty much a slap in its $65.00 face. Once we tasted it, we began to understand why. The “herbal note” that you expect from Merlot wasn’t subtle – it was something akin to vegetal. It was big and luscious, very clean and well made, so we respected it, but most of us weren’t crazy about it. How do you fairly score a wine like that?

Something like that definitely needs descriptors so that those of us who aren’t vege inclined can make another selection. That’s the fatal flaw in the phoenix rising from the Wine X ashes. Justwinepoints.com goes to the ridiculous extreme that “nothing else matters”. Just the points. But numbers don’t tell you what it tastes like. I appreciate their wish to be unpretentious and concise, but it actually seems rather egotistical to suggest that we will like it simply because they say “98″. For instance, in the category of sparkling wine, the 2003 Schramsberg Cremant received 98 points. Period. No comment. So, some unknowing enthusiast might run out and buy the Cremant to go with his oysters on the half shell, completely unaware that this particular wine is sweet. Yuk! I don’t care how “good” it is – no sweet wine with my oysters, please!!! It “matters”.

I’ve already ragged sufficiently on some of the other problems with numerical ratings such as the producers of the world being at the mercy of a small handful of powerful critics and questioning how one differentiates between an 89 and a 90.

So, the debate rages on. I know that some of the flowery, over-the-top descriptors are more laughable than informative. That sort of self-indulgent writing can send you running and screaming to the numerical scores. But, don’t you think most reviewers are genuinely trying to be helpful? From the vast sea of wine publications, there’s no doubt you can find a writer or two whose tastes and sensibilities are somewhat aligned with yours, whether or not they use points. And if it tastes like a 94 to them and a 78 to you, who is right? Not that they’re mutually exclusive, but couldn’t some well-chosen words give you a better idea of what to expect in terms of aroma and flavor and whether there are any characteristics that may be controversial? Or if the critic views the wine as an outstanding or poor example of the type? Numerical ratings? I guess I’d give them a 71.

Is This What George Jetson Will Drink?

Wow! This is pretty interesting stuff. A bunch of industry experts got together to collectively take a peek at what the winery of the future will look like and there’s good news and bad news as far as I can tell.

The good news is that they foresee sustainable agriculture across the board. Organic and sustainable farming are positively mainstream and where biodynamics used to be an “out there” concept, now it seems that hardly a week goes by without hearing about more wineries jumping on the band wagon. That’s a very good thing for our kids and grandkids.

They also predict that we’ll be using varieties that are unfamiliar to us now mainly for the purpose of avoiding pest and disease problems. Unless we’re projecting waaay forward, I think they misjudge human nature. One thing I know for sure is that we humans prefer what we’re accustomed to and we’ve been loving the same old grape varieties for centuries. It’s going to take generations to wean people off of their beloved Cabernet and Chardonnay in favor of new flavor profiles.

Oddly enough, they didn’t factor in global warming, or the topic didn’t make its way into this article. I keep wondering if Napa Valley is destined to be the next Fresno, the “raisin capital of the world” and if the Willamette Valley will be the next hotbed (so to speak) for Cabernet? Perhaps they see these new varieties as the way to adapt.

Barrels may go on the chopping block. One speaker commented that she sees “…many mid-sized wineries are already on the path away from oak barrels, and believes that many more will be soon.” Recently, I’ve spoken in depth with two of the barrel brokers we work with at Goosecross in preparation for a podcast and neither of them sees barrel alternatives as a threat to the barrel industry. Both of them believe that the best producers will always prefer the effect of actual barrel aging as opposed to micro-ox in combination with oak chips or some other alternative. Fooling themselves? Who can say? How far in the future are we looking?

The bad news, in my view, is that they also predict that something so primitive as walking the vineyard is likely to go by the wayside. A highly respected viticulturist predicted that “The main tasks will be mechanized and controlled via computer interface and global positioning systems (GPS). Growing conditions will be closely monitored by aerial and surface observation using geographic information systems (GIS).”

The upside? When they refer to “greater precision” in cultural practices, I assume they mean things like monitoring irrigation and nutritional needs and making decisions on shoot, cluster or leaf thinning. It’s a comfort, at least, to know that they still plan to use grapes.

The downside? Maybe I’m just a sentimentalist but I can’t help wondering what else is lost when we lose the human element? Can read-outs on a monitor truly replace or even surpass the abilities of humans to observe and make judgments based on experience, instinct and a grower’s intimate knowledge of his own vineyard? I’m all for high-tech plus human observation, but I don’t know about trusting a bunch of monitors completely. More efficient? Yes. Better results? Doubt it.

And it appears that the future is now when you talk about using metrics to model your wine after another wine that got a 99 from Parker. Will that become routine in the future? And will all the wines kinda taste the same?

I’m just having a little trouble, here, imagining Chateau Margaux making wine out of some crazy hybrid and flavoring it with oak chips (or who knows what???).

Well, it could be that my reaction is the typically human fear of change. Maybe, but I think I’ll probably be 6 feet under by the time any of these predictions come to pass. I think I’m more protective of the basic thing that appeals to so many of us about wine. It’s a product of the earth and the human senses. If the sensuality of the process is removed will the charm of the beverage be lost too?

At a time when life is getting more and more impersonal, it seems to me that people are getting increasingly hungry for authenticity and the personal touch – that sense of warmth that can only come through human interaction as opposed to digital, hit-and-run communication. IM-ing your sweetheart a dozen times a day is fine, but it can’t begin to replace the feeling of contentment and pleasure you feel when you curl up on the couch together and share a little wine and conversation.

So, at the risk of coming off like a Luddite once again, I pose the question: If you digitize and analyze and take the humanity out of it will we still crave what remains? Will it still inspire poets to wax eloquent about it? Will George Jetson be reduced to drinking something that’s merely grape juice with a kick?

What’s in a Name?

I caught myself being cynical/complacent when I read this article. It’s just the way of the world, right? Sigh…

But really, why is this necessary? It’s very sad that the tiny brand known as Inman Family Wines in the Russian River Valley has had to knuckle-under to power-house Grange without even putting up a fight. The bottom line is that it makes good business sense. Why throw away legal fees fighting against a titan who is destined to win through sheer force of dollars?

Grange is a limited-release wine, yes? Why such a Goliath? Because Grange is really Penfolds, which is really Foster’s (as in lager), one of the biggest beverage companies on the planet. How is the Inman family, which produces about 1,500 cases total of Pinot Noir and Pinot Gris to even begin to combat such a giant? It’s pointless.

So, what’s the deal? The word “grange” is the issue. Penfolds has sued the Inmans to get them to stop using that word on their front label which, up to now, referred to the Olivet Grange Vineyard, their estate in Russian River. So, they’ve decided their best option is to simply use an acronym, OGV, and hope that their customers can figure it out.

Why am I making a stink? Penfolds Grange was there first, right? Well, it turns out that the term “grange” commonly refers to a farm in England and Australia. Kathleen Inman said “It means a small farm with out-buildings.”  No surprise that the Inmans chose to call their new vineyard in Sonoma County a “grange” having relocated there from an 11-acre grange in England. And evidently Penfolds has strong-armed numerous Aussie producers away from using the term on their labels.

But, a trademark is a trademark. Penfolds has the right and they’re using it. We certainly don’t want to confuse people. So this tiny, virtually unknown California producer is trying to pass off their $42.00 Pinot Noir, called “Olivet Grange Vineyard”, for a world-renowned Shiraz that’s simply called “Grange” Yeah, that’s pretty hard to keep straight. I wonder if Fosters thinks that the folks in the northern Rhone should have taken issue in the old days when Grange was called Grange Hermitage? I wonder if they think that was confusing?

Fortunately, Foster’s cannot stop them from using the term grange on the back label or in their literature. This is one way the Inmans and their winery contractors can hope to assure their customers that the grapes are, indeed, coming from the same vineyard – only the name has changed.

Drat! Perhaps I was being provincial or rationalizing when I was in favor of the Napa Valley Vintners when they fought Fred Franzia over the use of the term  “Napa” in the branding of the wine. But, in that case it seems to me there was a genuine risk of confusion, plus you had deep pockets fighting deep pockets. It was a fair fight.

I know, I know, all you lawyers are going to respond that Penfolds had to do this to send a message to anyone who might like to try to mislead. But it still looks like they’re doing this just because they can. I wish I could react more like Alder, and get all energized, but in truth, it makes me tired. All of this must be quite ironic for Simon Inman, who is a business attorney, Goosecross being among his many clients.

So, best of luck to the Inman family. Being another very small, virtually unknown fish in a big, increasingly competitive pond we completely empathize and hope that this bit of publicity from these various sources may result in some new friends and customers for Inman Family Wines.

Good-bye, Mr. Gallo

It’s hard to believe he’s gone. He’s one of those people who appears to be indestructible. And yet, the services take place this very day.

As so many have said, regardless of what you might think of his business practices or the wines, you have to admire what he and his brother built from virtually nothing. I was very lucky to get a rare peek at Gallo headquarters in Modesto many years ago. One thing you can never forget is a tank (not in use at that time) that holds a million gallons! And when is the last time you toured a winery in a van? The compound is so massive that walking it is impractical. How many wineries are so large that they find it best to make their own bottles???? Part of the tour was a run through the dizzying blur of activity in their bottle factory. And now that behemoth is only one of a number of facilities around California and the globe.

With very little money or knowledge, using winemaking books they borrowed from the Modesto public library, they created what became the largest winery in the world. Constellation passed them up recently, but you can’t really compare the two companies. Gallo is a privately held, family company that built dozens of brands as opposed to a large, public company that became a colossus mainly by way of acquisition. We used to always say “If the label says Modesto, whether or not it says Gallo, it’s Gallo!”

Many view Ernest Gallo as the single most influential figure in California wine history. His good friend, Robert Mondavi, summed it up nicely: “Ernest was a visionary. He was committed to making America a wine-drinking country.” That’s reason enough to honor the passing of a perhaps controversial businessman, but ultimately, someone who contributed immeasurably to re-building the industry following prohibition and to the success we all enjoy today.

Poking More Holes in the Ratings System

Ran across a couple of posts that re-confirmed in my mind that there have to be better ways than wine scores to wade through the sea of wines and make a selection. Dr. Vino was tasting with a critic who uses the numerical system in his work, because it’s required, but revealed that he thinks “it’s stupid” because it gives a false appearance of objectivity.

And then Beau in Basic Juice described the changing flavors of an inexpensive Spanish wine he tasted a few minutes after opening it and at different time intervals up to about an hour. His notes evolved considerably along with the wine in that hour. If a $10.00 bottle shows that kind of evolution, imagine what something with more complexity might do!!! I can’t be certain, but I imagine that tasting panels such as those at the Wine Spectator don’t have the luxury of spending that kind of time with the wine. Their site explains that “Each flight may consist of 20 to 30 wines, and no more than two flights are tasted by a taster each day.”

At a seminar by Karen MacNeil, she stated unequivocally that she doesn’t think we give the wine a chance if we don’t spend a couple of hours with it. That’s a great assignment for those of us who “rate” wines over dinner with friends. For those in the business of cranking out wine ratings on a frequent basis this isn’t so practical.

And, of course there was Gary on Wine Library TV, tasting through and talking about the vast gulf separating the Wine Enthusiast and the Wine Spectator ratings of 4 different wines and offering his own opinion. Who are we supposed to believe?

One of my favorite ways to evaluate from way back (having been spoiled by the insider discounts):

• I’d pay full retail for it: truly yummy stuff! The ultimate accolade.
• I’d buy it at inter-winery price or a trade discount: pretty good stuff.
• I’d drink it if someone gave it to me: clean, OK wine; nothin’ to write home about.
• If someone gave it to me, I’d give it away: speaks for itself, and not a very generous impulse.

But would you agree with me, having tasted the same wines?

Numerical ratings:
Snappy way to make a decision? Definitely. Genuinely helpful? Guess the jury’s out.

Are High Alcohols a Trend?

Tom Wark wrote an interesting post on the high alcohol trend. At the end of the post he wondered if the growing concern expressed within the industry will spread to the consumer. I think so. I certainly hope so. It seems like the topics that consume wine industry insiders eventually make their way to the consumer.

There was a fascinating article in Wine Business Monthly by George Vierra a year or two ago, that has stayed with me. He was voicing his concern about the high alcohol trend in relation to enjoying wine with food. If, for some reason, you have any doubt that things have changed all that much, take a look at these amazing statistics: “Everybody knows the style of wines being produced in California has changed drastically in the past 30 years. In the Napa Valley, in 1971, the grapes were picked at an average of 20.5 Brix. In 2001, the grapes were picked at a Napa Valley average of 24.2 Brix. Average alcohols rose from 12.5 percent to 14.8 percent in 30 years. In the wines, the acid fell and the pH climbed. But, the Robert Parker/Wine Spectator ratings climbed.” I don’t much care for the way he proposes to categorize wines. I think most of us can determine how the wine should be used on our own, but he makes some good observations.

I remember talking with an excellent winemaker I admire very much about this article and the whole “hang-time” thing a year or so ago. She kind of tsk’d and said that George, a winemaking veteran, isn’t in step with industry evolution and indicated that if we pick grapes at more moderate sugars we’re going to have green, harsh characteristics. We need to wait for “physiological ripeness” and hang the sugar. So, a decade ago, we were all drinking green California wine? That’s not my recollection.

There are a couple of things at work now that weren’t in the picture a few decades ago. One is that we did so much replanting in the’80s and 90s, due to phylloxera, that we have younger, healthier vines that are more efficient at converting light to sugar and that all the vertical shoot positioning just encourages them.

And Bob Pepi reminded me that yeast strains have been “cleaned up” over the last few decades and are also more efficient in terms of alcohol conversion. A few decades ago about 51 or 52% of the sugar would convert to alcohol. Now, it’s more like 59-61%. I wish our conversation hadn’t been cut short before I got to ask him why we don’t select yeasts with a lower conversion rate. Are they otherwise inferior?

I enjoy a blockbuster red as much as the next person, but it’s just too bad that it’s gotten to the point that I can’t order a bottle of Zinfandel without checking the alcohol before the server opens it. I love Zin, but not with my baby-back ribs if it’s 17%! And it really bugs me to see cold-climate wines with hefty alcohols, presumably to score big with powerful wine writers.

A chef-friend told me that he sees the beginnings of a push-back coming from restaurateurs. Accomplished chefs are fed up with monster wines that out-shout their efforts when they reach the plate. That’s a good start.

Adding momentum: grower push-back. As this trend has unfolded they’ve watched their revenues shrink just as their grapes do on the vine while the winemaker “waits for the flavors”. Understandably, their patience is shriveling up along with their profits. Based upon recent discussion there’s a very strong possibility that winemakers and vintners may have to pony-up for these super-ripe grapes, at least in Napa Valley.

And just a day or two ago there was an article in the San Francisco Chronicle about a trend toward big, beefy Pinot Noirs with high alcohols. The sommeliers quoted seem to think that these big Pinots are pleasing to inexperienced consumers, but don’t taste very much like Pinot and aren’t nearly as versatile with food as the classic style with its characteristic elegance and subtlety. There were also comments about the sense of place diminishing as the alcohol and body of the wine increase.

I like to think we’re going through a phase, and I agree with Tom that it has a lot to do with wine ratings. And I’m inclined to think that this reliance on the scores is a symptom of our inexperience (relatively speaking) as new world producers and consumers (now don’t jump all over me -I know that old-world producers care about the ratings too!)

As wonderful as the wines are, the local industry is still finding its way, and I’ve seen the pendulum take wide swings regarding our attitudes and theories about how to grow and produce “world-class” wine in my 2-plus decades in the biz. Remember the “food wines” of the 80s? Those lean, elegant, “food-friendly” wines? Well, those wines weren’t any fun and went the way of the do-do bird pretty quickly.

In my humble opinion, the pendulum has swung too far and now, 2 decades later, we’re in this fruit-bombs phase. At some point, as we mature, surely we’ll strike a balance. They’ve had centuries to figure out this stuff in the old country, but even they’re still learning. That’s the thing about wine. You can never learn enough. But learn we will, and that’s great news because the wines can only get better and better as a result.

Nature or Nurture – Second Thoughts

So, I’ve been thinking, drinking and reading since my last post and have run across some interesting material to continue our ponderance.

Here’s a straight-on opinion from wine guru Bob Pepi, who also happens to be a consulting winemaker for Goosecross: “The best wines begin in the vineyard culminating in the single most important decision the winemaker can make, when to pick.”

There was a short, interesting article about the significance of yeast selection in physorg.com “Our research clearly shows that the yeast strains used during alcoholic fermentation play a significant role in determining the colour, aroma, mouthfeel and overall flavour of Shiraz,” according to Associate Professor Skurray of University of Western Sydney. “…different strains of yeast can produce different wine smells, such as blackberry and plum, or black pepper and other spice aromas.” While we’re on the subject, why is it that almost every time you read an article on wine research, it’s being done by the Aussies?

And the August issue of Wine Business Monthly had an in-depth article on choosing the best yeast for Chardonnay. Along with advice about vigor, alcohol tolerance and good choices for barrel vs. tank fermentation they made recommendations about which yeasts would bring out the fruity or floral or give the wine a better mouthfeel.

Then, there was this fascinating article by Lance Cutler, again in Wine Business Monthly, on barrel profiling and how it can influence whether your wine shows more coconut or coffee bean or tobacco. He contends that “Aside from grapes themselves, nothing influences the aroma and flavor of wine as much as oak barrels.” He may be in for a debate with the yeast producers.

So, we’ve got terroir, picking at the right time, selecting the right yeast vs. wild fermentation, matching the barrels to the wine in the best possible way…anyone else care to weigh in?

In the industry we love to say “When you’ve got great fruit, get out of the way” and talk about being non-interventionist and all that. And it’s certainly true that you don’t want to over manipulate great fruit any more than you should over work the buttery dough for pie crust. But it matters whether you sort. It matters how you crush, if you cold-soak and what press you use and when. It matters whether you pump-over and aerate or punch down. Blending REALLY matters. These and the other myriad decisions along the way make the difference between a wine that’s pleasant and a wine you remember for years to come. So, maybe our friend in Provence had a good point. During the intense discussion about terroir that’s taken place over the last several years perhaps we’ve lost sight of the indelible impact the winemaker makes. Jon Bonne’s assertion that house style trumps terroir when it comes to sparkling wine was a good reminder. Terroir can take you only so far. People, in concert with nature, make great wine.

Nature or Nurture?

Of course, there’s been enough written about terroir to overload a landfill and permanently blur the vision. Soil, climate and whatever else you choose to include in your personal definition of terroir are obviously going to be the single biggest influence on the wine’s character and quality.

But, as we know very well, you can give a winemaker great fruit and he can still manage to produce a stunningly offensive bottle of wine. The winemaker is a V.V.I.I.P.P. in the process.

Since Champagne and sparkling wine are my favorite weaknesses (see Napa Valley Wine Radio, episode 31), I was fascinated by this article by Jon Bonne in the San Francisco Chronicle. He concludes that for sparkling wine, technique trumps terroir. My limited experience makes me tend to agree. I remember back in the 80s, when domestic sparkling wine was really starting to take hold, my wine buddies and I would hold blind tastings as frequently as our pocketbooks would allow. Part of the routine was to guess if the wine was California or French. Pas de problème! These tastings always made an inexperienced taster like me feel like a genius! The California wines always seemed sweeter, simpler and fruitier than Champagne and were ridiculously easy to identify.

Lots has happened since then and there are some wonderful California-style sparklers that aren’t so simple now. They’re absolutely lovely, and identifiably not Champagne. But there are some real ringers out there too. My favorite domestic bubbly is Roederer Anderson Valley, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought it’s French when it’s served blind, especially the L’Ermitage. A few other local bubblies have tripped me up too.

Last year I was fortunate to attend a Champagne/sparkling wine seminar with Karen MacNeil, and part of our experience was a blind tasting in which we ranked the wines most to least favorite and with the “name the origin” game thrown in too. Out of six wines, my 1 and 2 rankings were Roederer Brut Premier Champagne and Roederer Anderson Valley Brut. I though they were both Champagne. I think the terroir for me, in this case, is Roederer! But, I have to say that most of the group thought the Anderson Valley was Champers too. Somehow Roederer has figured out how to get that toasty, biscuit-like nose and what Ms. MacNeil refers to as an enticing “contrapuntal tension” between the creamy richness and the bracing acidity from two very different “terroirs”.

I don’t know if our cheeks were a little warm and pink from the wine or from our embarrassment (it’s so hard to spit Champagne!), but we managed to botch the identity of a few other wines, too, which says something about how techniques have evolved here in California in the last few decades. You may or may not feel that the growing similarity between Champagne and local bubblies is a good thing, but since I can often get the Anderson Valley Brut on sale at Safeway for $16.99 vs. $40.00 for the Brut Premier, I’m grateful for these advances in technique!

When Colleen, our proprietor, and I were in Provence awhile back (see post called Culinary Getaways a la Provencal) one of the winery owners we met commented that he thinks too much emphasis is placed on terroir and not enough credit is given to the winemaker. He went on to regale us with a story about how a group of Master Sommeliers held a tasting of Merlot from several continents with a common denominator of Michel Rolland, the famous wine consultant, as the consulting winemaker (my apologies to those who’ve heard me tell this story before). These highly experienced tasters got it all wrong. They thought the Chilean wine was Bordeaux and the Italian wine was from Napa Valley. Their terroir was Rolland.

Maybe some styles of wine are more about technique than others. Sparkling wine has sooooo many steps compared to still wine production, I don’t understand why anyone makes it (but I’m infinitely grateful they do!). Also, the grapes are significantly less mature at harvest, so perhaps some sense of terroir is lost there too. But that doesn’t explain the Rolland story above. Guess we’ll have to keep drinking and thinking! Cheers!

Times, They Are A-Changin’

As I wrote earlier in the Culinary Getaways a la Provencal entry (I know… when is this woman ever going to shut up about Provence, already??!!!), Colleen, our proprietor, and I have recently been slurping up as much wine (and food!) as we possibly could in the limited time we had in Provence and the southern Rhone. What a time…

In the course of events we had the opportunity to sit down with a few vintners over a way-indulgent meal and really get to talking. You just can’t beat sharing a meal for bringing out what people really want to talk about compared to the polite discourse of a winery visit.

Anyway, Colleen and I noticed that every owner, producer, distributor, whomever we talked to volunteered that the French really need to pull themselves out of the Dark Ages in terms of marketing and labeling. They believe that even the French find the labels too complicated to understand.

One vintner, Allan Wilson of Chateau St. Esteve de Neri, put it in terms that rang a very familiar bell with me. I was unaware that some quality producers have begun de-classifying themselves from the top-of-the-line AOC classification to “Vin de Pays” (three rungs down on the 4-rung French-classification ladder) in order to produce 100% varietal wines, or to blend as they please and very importantly, to put the varietal name on the label.

What this means, from a practical standpoint, is if they call the wine Cotes de Provence they are limited in their choice of grape varieties, viticultural and winemaking practices and may not put a varietal name on the label. So, they say “the heck with it” and de-classify either to express themselves artistically or have a fighting chance of selling it or both. They know that most new-world consumers, who they very much want as their customers, are going to walk in to their local retailers and ask for a Chardonnay or a Syrah and that it will be the exceptional consumer that asks for a Chateau d’I-can’t pronounce-this, from “Les-never-heard-of-it” vineyard.

The deal is, that unless you’re one of the top chateaux in whatever region, you’re probably having trouble moving your wine. It’s very ironic that the stratospheric price of 2005 Bordeaux futures from the top houses is the subject of outraged, incredulous debate while lesser known producers fight for shelf space and some AOC producers in Bordeaux are even having their wine converted into fuel. C’est terrible.

It’s complicated. The French are drinking less wine, for starters. The new world has flooded the market with attractive, well-made, very affordable wines and Spain and southern Italy are coming on strong as competitors. The dollar is weak compared to the euro making the competition yet more difficult.

I don’t think anyone believes it’s a quality issue. Every wine-producing region is guilty of putting out some yucky stuff, but the French no more than anyone else.

It seems the two main forces at work are government regulations regarding both production methods and labeling laws that may no longer serve the interest of the majority of French producers and complacence regarding marketing. Among some producers the attitude is that “it’s enough to be French” and that its reputation will carry the day.

That certainly wasn’t the opinion of any producers we met. If what we saw (and it was a handful of people) is a reflection of the general attitude among French vintners then you can expect to see big changes in the way French wine is marketed and perhaps labeled in the near future. I’m not talking about the great houses. But, there’s room for movement in the mid-price Vin de Pays, which make up a significant part of French production. The proposed changes will allow producers to be more responsive to their environment, consumer preference and market conditions.

Major problem: Some important regions, like Bordeaux and Burgundy don’t allow the Vin de Pays option. Probably a matter of pride. So, a war is brewing in an effort to change that. It’s not going to happen easily. And the INAO has promised to become more restrictive regarding labeling regulations, not less. If they have their way, you’ll be able to buy a wine called Chardonnay from the Languedoc, for instance, but not if it’s from Burgundy, it’s venerable home. Ouch! This makes my head hurt!

If the laws don’t change, you can bet the producers will. People always find a way. As Allan said, it’s already starting to happen. This whole de-classifying business sure brings to mind Tuscany in the 60s and 70s. Great producers like Antinori became frustrated with hand-tying DOC laws and just labeled their made-as-I-please wine Vino de Tavola. Of course, we now know them as Super-Tuscans and they get quite a premium for their “table wine.”

Some quality French producers have already gone that way. They source grapes, choose their varieties and blend almost as they see fit (within the Vin de Pays regulations for the region) and call it Vin de Pays or even Vin de Table. Of course, to get any kind of respect or remuneration for these wines the producer must have a fine reputation already. But these respected producers, as they were in Italy, are the trail blazers. Guess what’s happened in Italy since the Super-Tuscans came about? The laws have adjusted.

It would be fun to fast forward 10 or 15 years, to see what happens, but it should be interesting in the meantime. Stay tuned…

“Great Wine” by the Numbers?

I was thinking about an interview I did with my friend Jeff Booth, of Pepi-Booth Consulting (they consult for Goosecross and have clients as far away as China!). It was for an upcoming episode on our podcast, Napa Valley Wine Radio, and one of the questions I asked him was if he thought the day would ever come when great wine could be made in a lab. He didn’t exactly answer my question; he just replied with “That would be a drag” and went on to talk about the joys of working with nature and how formulaic winemaking would take all the fun and surprise out of it.

I suspect he was probably sidestepping the issue because he didn’t want to get into talking about things like the techniques used by a company called Enologix – that’s fodder for a whole episode of its own! I read about them awhile back, and it’s pretty interesting stuff. They use software developed in-house to measure things far beyond the usual sugar, acid, pH and alcohol in a quest to match the profile of wines that get 100 point scores from Parker or the Wine Spectator. And tasting? How quaint. Why bother? It appears to be all about the numbers. The owner of Enologix, Leo McCloskey, says he’s identified about 100 chemical compounds that can affect our perception and uses them to compute a “quality index” for the wine. It kind of boils down to analyzing wines that have received the high scores for their chemical breakdown and then advising winemakers regarding when to pick, when to press, etc, based upon his analysis in order to create a wine of similar structure. He claims that winemakers can improve their scores by 5-6 points in one year by using his system. Evidently, he can even take a vineyard that’s naturally disposed to produce a restrained style and can time the pressing and blend in order to produce that unctuous, 99-point style that’s currently in vogue. His market is mainly high-end Cabs.

Who wouldn’t want 99 points? You can’t blame a businessman for trying to make a product that sells. As long as there’s been commercial winemaking there’s been that push and pull between the drive to bottle a unique artistic expression and keeping food on the table. But you’ve got to have a killer vineyard to even begin approaching these scores (I don’t think they’ve figured out a way to fake the fruit yet – stay tuned). It may be an antiquated concept, but would that vineyard make more interesting wine if the winemaker simply attuned himself to it by walking it frequently and making harvest decisions by tasting as well as testing? And used the same approach to winemaking? One of McCloskey’s clients referred to “babysitting the fermentation tank”. Well, conscientious winemakers should be doing that anyway.

And how does that producer feel if he’s made a wine of distinction that languishes on the shelf because it got an 87 from the Wine Spectator? Wine as art/wine as business. What a dilemma!

Critics of McCloskey and proponents of terroir say his methods erase the sense of place and the charming quirkiness that has been inherent to wine. The objection is that they offer us only one style: the highly extracted, so-called fruit-bombs and that we may as well make a box of Cheerios if we’re going to go by the numbers. I think McCloskey would probably say that he’s giving his clients and their customers what they want.

I just keep wondering if the industry and we, as consumers, are going through a phase. Last night I had a glass of Dolcetto with my pasta and it was 14% alcohol (no, it wasn’t a 2003). That can’t be the historic norm for Dolcetto. Sure, I enjoyed it, and it still had that nice little zing of acid you expect, but it’s kind of too bad when a producer in Piemonte feels he has to mimic the California style in order to survive. I’m waiting for the backlash when we all get tired of the huge reds just the way we got tired of fat, over-oaked, overwrought Chardonnays.

If we do, operations like McCloskey’s can simply adjust their parameters. Science marches on. And science has done a whole lot to improve wine over the years. But I think I agree with my buddy, Jeff. If I want a glass of white Burgundy, I want that unmistakable minerality, bright acidity and hint of soy you don’t find in most Napa Valley Chardonnays. If I’m in the mood for a glass of Napa Valley Cab, I want the ripe, luscious black fruit that isn’t (or wasn’t) so evident in a typical Bordeaux equivalent. It would truly be a drag if science and globalization blur the lines beyond recognition.

To read about a great man who was diametrically opposed to Enologix in his approach to winemaking, and still managed to make rich, satisfying wine that also reflects the local terroir, read about Henri Jayer, may he rest in peace.

Dumbing down of wine labels and wine?

I’ve been (casually) following the discussion on blogspot.com regarding new-world vs. old world, and something Trish said in New World vs. Old World Part Deux caught my attention. She was troubled by her own observation: “People want at-a-glance labels, suggested pairings, critters, playful names and specified grapes. They don’t want micro-appellations, regular-size appellations or any appellation, for that matter. They want wine. Just wine. So many people don’t really care where it comes from or about the traditions and geography behind it.”

I think it depends upon the consumer. Representing a high-end producer here in the Napa Valley, I find that our customers care very much where the grapes came from, want to understand viticultural practices and are fascinated to know what part of Europe the variety hails from so they can draw the comparison.

The folks who want and need simplified labels are entry level consumers and I don’t blame them. This is a complicated subject, even for those of us who like to think we know something about it – just think of the first time you tried to decipher the label on a German wine or a bottle of Burgundy! Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to simplify the label and make it kind of fun by way of using critter labels or whimsical names for wines under $15.00 or so.

My opinion has always been that all roads lead to Napa Valley Cabernet (my own personal bias – you could just as well say all roads lead to fine Bordeaux). I’ve heard people make fun of White Zin drinkers, but not me. I say “Go for it!” I figure they’ll get bored eventually and maybe try a glass of Pinot Grigio and begin to move on.

Recently, I hosted a delightful young couple from Scottsdale who said they didn’t know much about wine, and yet they’re interested enough to have watched all 2 hours of Mondovino (oy!). We spent probably a good 10 minutes talking about the threat of winemaking becoming globalized and wine character homogenized. We came to the conclusion that while there’s some evidence of it in the low end, and there are even fine wine producers who care more about getting a 96 from Parker or the Wine Spectator than they do about producing a style that’s uniquely their own, there will always be small, artisan producers who try to capture that wonderful and mysterious sense of place.

And the really encouraging thing is to read about the Millenials, who are characterized as a generation that wants to know where its food and wine comes from and doesn’t mind spending a bit more for quality. That can only be good for the future of small producers with high standards and fortunately, while we may not produce much volume, we proliferate all over the world.