thesoggblog

speaking truth about wine

The T Word

There’s truth. There’s propaganda. And so far as it concerns “terroir”—the single most abused and overused word in the wine world—there’s more of the latter.

Terroir is best understood as the personality of site. It encompasses the (non-human) factors that shape the style and quality of wines from a particular vineyard. These factors include the drainage capacity and chemistry of the soil, the climate, and the exposure(s) to the elements. (Some people insist that the human factors—the viticulture and winemaking—should get clumped into the definition, but that’s like conflating nature and nurture).

It’s my hunch that the concept developed out of two not necessarily conflicting urges. The first is the human impulse to identify and define essence—Meaning and Truth writ large with a capital M and T. For winemakers and impassioned consumers, this is an inexhaustible source of fascination. What is the essential character of a vineyard or a region, and can we identify it blind?

The second impulse is the need to sell. There’s a lot of wine, so how can Chateau X differentiate itself from Chateaus A through Z? In this regard, terroir was the greatest wine marketing concept ever (at least until Robert Parker started with the 100-point scale). Every vineyard has a terroir, so terroir can be a catchall explanation for so many particularities of style and quality.

Marketing is essential for most producers now. But it’s unproductive to frame subjects in a way that actively misleads or discourages substantive inquiry. That’s where marketing becomes propaganda. Retreating to terroir talk as a default position distracts from what is usually determinative—the human factor. Vineyards don’t make viticultural and winemaking decisions. If it’s a good site, and a well-designed vineyard, terroir is not usually the reason a vintner picks unripe or overripe grapes. Terroir is never the reason a vintner entombs a wine in new oak. Unless the production decisions highlight the personality of a vineyard, there’s not a whole lot we can know about that personality. And if everyone who makes, sells and consumes wines could stop the terroir talk for a bit, we could develop a clearer understanding of why our wines are they way they are and how they might improve.

Posted in State of the World | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Borders Books, Retailers and Wineries

The recent news of the closing of Borders Books got me thinking about the consequences of selling scores for wine retailers and wineries.

Borders faced brutal headwinds this decade. Online merchants—Amazon, most obviously—supplanted them with many consumers, and eBooks have redefined the market in just four years. In simple terms, Borders’ problem was that a book is a book is a book. If I want the latest from David Sedaris, I get an identical Sedaris book if I buy it from Amazon or at my local store. But at Amazon I pay a lot less.

If I’ve made the jump to an eReader the purchase is even cheaper than buying a book online, albeit after the initial investment for the Kindle or iPad or what you will. Sure, local bookstores get impulse sales, but that isn’t near enough to keep the lights on. And now it seems that many consumers only visit bookstores to scout for online purchases.

Borders couldn’t compete with Amazon on price any more than the publishing industry can compete with eBooks. And that brings me to wine. It’s been a rough 15 or so years for the small and midsize wine retailer, too. Not so long ago, the local wine shop had a more or less captive audience, but now consumers can buy wine at a supermarket and they can even buy it at Walgreens. Then there’s the web, BevMo and Costco, and no one can consistently compete on price against Costco.

You might be thinking that wine isn’t the same as books, that smaller wine retailers can provide more expertise and product knowledge and can develop a relationship with the customer. Besides, the quality retailer offers wines that are not available at the supermarket so they do not need to compete on price alone. And every winery has its own story and its own people that differentiate it.

Perhaps, but not when they sell scores. Every time retailers use shelf talkers, or plug scores on their websites, they stop leveraging their expertise and product knowledge. In effect, they are telling potential consumers, “Don’t buy this bottle because you trust me or because you’ve really liked my other recommendations. Buy it because it got 92 points from so-and-so.”

Producers selling scores make a similar mistake, devaluing their own story and distinctiveness in favor of that third party endorsement.

For all practical purposes, score-selling retailers and producers transform wine into a commodity—the commodity of the you-fill-in-the-blank-point wine. That in turn plays directly to their weaknesses because, just like Borders, they cannot compete on price.

And why would anyone pay more than necessary for a commodity?

Posted in State of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

In Search of a Useful Wine Note

Savory or sweet?

In the 2/22/11 New York Times, Eric Asimov makes a compelling case that “consumers could be helped immeasurably if the entire lexicon of wine descriptors were boiled down to two words: sweet or savory.” He’s definitely on the right track. The sole purpose of a wine review is to provide the consumer with useful information, and ornate descriptors tend to function as so much verbal static.

Another article, in the 2/23/11 Slate, suggests that wine descriptors are only so much price-related rubbish. That’s off-base, certainly, and ignores the genuine differences that can exist between regions and varieties. But it’s apparent to me that the standard long form wine note isn’t getting it done anymore.

It’s a truism of writing, design and art in general that less is more. But at least so far as it concerns wine reviews, the prevailing wisdom is that more is more. The better the critic thinks the wine, the more verbiage it apparently deserves. More descriptors. A higher word count. Not only is this approach very dull (I do not recommend ever reading multiple wine reviews at once, except at bedtime), but it also misleads the consumer by implying that “more” is what makes wine better. Sure, many great wines have noteworthy complexity, but it’s not the complexity that makes them great. It’s the balance and the purity of the flavors.

Asimov makes some irrefutable points. First, that wines change, so what tastes like one thing today might taste like another next month. Second, what I call X you call Y. So what purpose is then served by all the descriptors?

On those rare occasions that I thumb through wine reviews (nearly all my reading is online now), my first thought is regret for all the trees sacrificed for a, err, pointless endeavor. My second impulse is to backhand some of the critics. Linzer torte?! Damask plum?!

Let me be the first to admit that there have been times when I’ve been that critic deserving a backhand. I believe that while at Wine Spectator I described some Sonoma Coast Pinot Noirs as tasting of tayberries. For those of you unfamiliar with this fruit, which I first encountered several years ago at the farmers market at the San Francisco Ferry Building, the tayberry is a loganberry-black raspberry cross. It is to my taste a spot-on match for the flavor of some Sonoma Pinots.

The writing of multiple reviews can be quite tedious, especially if the wines are average. So many wines have similar flavors and structure, and the notes can get mind-numbingly monotonous. Editors quite understandably encourage all appropriate variety in both descriptors and sentence construction, so working from that admittedly flawed perspective you somehow find yourself typing tayberry.

I recognize this is an explanation rather than an excuse. There’s one fundamental question about any wine review: Is it useful to consumers? And by that standard, there’s no place for tayberry or linzer torte.

So here’s the question: What is the most important information to include in a wine review? Not only could we all cut to the chase, we’ll save some trees.

Posted in State of the World, wine reviews | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Time To Rethink Wine Criticism

The prevailing approach to wine criticism is broken. The job of the wine critic is to guide the consumer toward a representative range of the finest wines and producers. By “representative” I mean reflecting the diversity of styles that characterizes quality wine. This is not happening now with anywhere near the consistency that winelovers should demand.

Many of the wines receiving top scores today are misshapen caricatures that are overripe and overextracted, then buried under a mountain of high toast new oak. Many outstanding wines receive relatively mediocre scores. We got here for a number of reasons, but not principally for the reasons that have received the most blame. Yes, there are shortcomings with the 100-point scale, the scoring system used by every major critic. (I know this system well, having spent nine years as a reviewer at Wine Spectator, and will post something on the topic in the near future).

But when the review process itself is flawed it frankly doesn’t matter if a critic grades with numbers, stars or emoticons. To have any validity, a product review must fulfill several essential prerequisites. For starters, the reviewer must approach his or her work with integrity, knowledge and talent. I leave it to my readers to decide which critics successfully foot that bill.

There’s also one other criterion that is every bit as important: The process used by the critics must be relevant to the consumer’s experience with the product. And this is where the current system fails miserably. Consider how most professional critics work. Wines get grouped in flights according to varietal(s), region and vintage. Like with like, if you will. So 2008 Chateauneuf-du-Papes get reviewed together, or 2007 Napa Valley Cabernets. It varies between critics, but most reviewers taste anywhere from five to 50-plus wines at a sitting. Some critics, who don’t have the luxury of getting samples sent to them, review dozens of wines at trade tastings.

If you’re wondering how the experience of trying multiple wines side-by-side applies to the consumer, who opens a bottle or two for the evening, let me make it easy: It does not in the least.

Trying one wine poses simple questions: Is this good? Do I like it? Is it good with my food? Trying many wines side-by-side the question becomes: Which wines stand out? The principal flaw with so much wine criticism is that those qualities that make a wine stand out alongside its peers make it an unpleasant drink that is lousy with food. So many ecstatic reviews from critics are actually misleading for the consumer, unless he or she happens to open multiple bottles at a sitting and prefers wines that destroy everything in the zip code.

What makes a wine excel with critics? Size, as reflected in more fruit weight, more alcohol and more new oak. It doesn’t matter how gifted the taster, palate fatigue dulls the senses. This reality is exacerbated by tasting like with like. Wines from the same region, vintage and varietal(s) have similar flavors and structure. They are hitting the same taste receptors (and parts of the brain) again and again and again. The first things that go with palate fatigue are the ability to detect balance, freshness and nuance. But what continues to register is size. Smaller comes across as leaner and more severe, while bigger is most definitely better. Many winemakers also understand that residual sugar, which softens tannin and acidity, can help immensely with critics, though it often makes for a cloying dinner companion and a wine that ages badly. Talented, experienced tasters recognize the challenges of the process and they try to recalibrate. But judging by the wines getting the great scores–and the wines that are not–critics have had limited success.

Just to be clear, I’m a fan of ripeness. Good wine, by definition, is made with ripe fruit—and many of the world’s greatest wines are made with very, very ripe fruit. However, a disturbing number of winemakers are stumbling over themselves trying to show critics who’s bigger. For every ultra ripe wine that works—that actually has balance, freshness and distinctiveness—there are too many that have the individuality and spontaneity of a blowup doll.

There’s been discussion in the last few years, especially in California, that the pendulum has swung and producers are stepping back from the extreme ripeness precipice. I’m sure there’s some truth to that, and I applaud those producers, but the fact remains that restraint doesn’t garner the loudest kudos from the critics.

Why do so many critics structure such flawed tastings? Habit and money. This system has been in place for years and it’s a rare bird that lives in the cage and notices the smell. Moreover, publications review as many wines as possible because they sell subscriptions and advertisements by generating content.

I’ve tried a good number of great wines and I know that size has little to do with what makes wine great. A critic unable to recognize this truth is of little value to winelovers.

Posted in State of the World | Tagged , , , , , | 26 Comments

Selling Scores Or Selling Wine?

There have been plenty of hard lessons for the wine industry in the two-plus years since the start of the recession. The consensus used to be that there were enough wine drinkers who needed that $100 bottle, that consumers would always equate expensive wine with status and that there was inexhaustible demand for new brands, so long as they got the scores.

Clearly, there’s been an intensive course in revised market realities. But for all these misjudgments, I’d say that the most important lesson the industry and consumers need to absorb is there’s a huge difference between selling and buying wine and selling and buying scores. A big part of the current predicaments (mind-numbing sameness of wine styles, bloated inventories and ongoing downward pricing pressure) results from the fact that so much of the trade has long since made a habit of selling scores: producers and retailers highlight good reviews on their websites; scores are displayed in tasting rooms; shelf-talkers are standard procedure at so many retailers.

This approach isn’t working like it once did. Wines with reviews that previously would have sparked healthy demand now gather dust. I recently spoke with a Napa Cabernet producer who received a mid-90s score from Wine Spectator. As a result of this review (for a wine that retails for significantly less than $100), the winery received zero response. No faxes, no phone calls, nada. I’ve heard a similar story during the last two years from many producers and retailers.

Consumers now are more price driven than score driven. And grade inflation is so egregious that it takes a very high score at a great price to make any kind of splash. Even cult producers, whose success was built almost entirely on critical approval, are struggling to move inventory due to the contraction of their mailing lists and restaurant accounts.

There are certainly some noteworthy wineries, retailers and trade that would eat ground glass before citing scores from any critic. But they are a decided minority that have not defined the terms or tone of the conversation. More of the industry need to recognize that even though selling scores may help short-term sales, it hurts long-term prospects. For one thing, every time scores are sold the message to the consumer is that they should buy because of the score, rather than the more substantive factors that foster brand loyalty. Yes, one score can really help move a particular wine, but that sale does no lasting good for a winery or a retailer (marketing types would say there is no halo effect). Once the scores drop (or the producer decides they no longer want to make wine in a critic-pleasing style), so do the customers, who move on to better numbers.

Looking at a shelf-talker or score on a website, a consumer thinks something along the lines of:

1. This is a really good wine that I should buy.

2. I should buy this wine rather than that wine.

3. The critic recommends this.

However, they do not think:

1. This bottle was made by a good winery.

2. I like the story behind this wine.

3. I met and liked the people behind the brand.

4. Next year’s wine will be just as good, if not better.

And here’s the nasty hitch: wineries and retailers that sell scores are promoting the critic (for free, no less!) and perpetuating their power. The consumer walks away from the purchase thinking that the critic’s opinion matters because the wineries or retailers say it does. That’s wonderful for the critics, but it’s not in the best interest of consumers or the industry given that the prevailing approach to wine criticism is a mess, in large part because it punishes winemakers who deviate from narrow stylistic parameters.

There’s a lot that can be said about how and why wine critics became so influential (someone please tell me of another industry where critics have comparable clout). I’ve often heard people in the business lament this reality, but if they’re looking for someone to blame they need only look in the mirror. Robert Parker and Marvin Shanken have power because wineries and retailers have been selling scores for the better part of the last thirty years and taught consumers to equate scores with quality.

I do not in any way mean to minimize the difficulties of selling wine, especially now. The time and cost, particularly for small producers, can be crushing, so I understand the temptation to sell scores. Nor do I have any magic bullets. But the oceans of unsold wine and the distress felt by so much of the industry are convincing proof that the old ways are not working. Healthy companies in whatever industry tend to succeed by controlling the variables, not by incessantly plugging the opinion of a not-so-disinterested third party. Why can’t that work for wine?

It takes a lot of effort to connect with consumers or partners in the trade, but that is the only path to long-term success in the wine business. It might seem like a path of too-much resistance, given how tempting it is to send a couple of bottles to Parker or Spectator and hope for that 90-point benediction. But the only way to build a solid foundation is to develop a relationship with the consumer that doesn’t start and end with a score.

Posted in State of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments