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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.
