“I don't listen to
what art critics say. I don't know anybody who needs a critic to find out what
art is.” …. Jean-Michael Basquiat
This will probably be the
least read but most important blog post I’ve written: It asks: “What is a wine review, really?”
What does it mean for you? How should you take what the wine critic says (I prefer the term wine “reviewer”) to mean for
you?
As with any review of wine,
it’s important to remember a few things.
Pliny the Elder, a Roman historian, said “The best wine is that which
taste good to thine own palette.” He
said that over two thousand years ago and I believe it still applies
today. Updating that for students in my
“Wine 101 Appreciation” classes, I tell them: “Don’t let the wine snobs bully
you.” Certainly, most somms and
reviewers are not intentionally trying to make you feel inadequate. You just need to understand they are
operating off a list of bullet points as to what makes a wine average, good or
excellent. And these bullet points (acquired
through a disciplined course of study or years of passionate independent study)
may be more detailed and nuanced than yours.
But your tastes are your tastes, funded by your wallet and you’re
entitled to them without apologizing.
It’s also important to be
aware that no matter the “wine expert’s” level of knowledge, he/she comes to a
declaration of the wine’s quality with a lifelong of prejudice. And this is something most experts don’t
admit. Yes, it’s true that there are
objective standards universally accepted as to what markers identify excellent
wine. But every reviewer will tell you that he or she has tasted wines they
thought were over or under rated. Why is
that? And since these differences of
opinion are fact, then what does a wine review really mean to you?
 |
Grapes are fruit, but a fruit forward
wine is not the same as a fruit wine. |
In my own case, my prejudice
is toward “old world” style wines. I
bring that preference of style with me to every wine I taste. Unconsciously. Everyone in this business acknowledges that
“blind tasting” is necessary. Knowing
what wine you are tasting, for example, -- seeing the label and knowing its
reputation -- will affect your evaluation.
But how do you “blind” a taste preference that was acquired decades ago,
reinforced over time and that now is firmly implanted in your physiology? You can’t.
Not completely.
Let’s use my own prejudice as
an example. When I became of legal age to buy wine in my home state in the
Midwest, California (new world) was growing prunes, almonds, apricots and other
agricultural products. Some wine, of
course, was being produced and some of it was quite good. But its distribution was limited. What was
commonly available, in even small neighborhood liquor stores, was French (old
world). Much of Western AND Eastern
Europe had been making wine almost since dirt was invented. But even so,
quality wine from Spain, Italy and other countries was primarily being enjoyed
within the borders of those countries.
New York State enjoyed some shelf space, but red wine was limited to
Cabernet Franc with Riesling being the white option. Bordeaux from France, on
the other hand, was plentiful and inexpensive.
It was being exported from top Chateaus with an uninterrupted history
(no Prohibition experiment there) going back hundreds of years within the same
proud family. As were the craftsmen of
Europe’s guild system respected, winemaking in families was craft. And the
French were respected the world over for establishing the standard.
That changed with The Judgment
of Paris in 1976, or better said –
 |
| Can your Sauvignon Blanc be grassy? |
The Judgment of Paris put California on the
world stage. But by that time, it was too late. My palette had matured through
“old world” style wine: less fruit forward and with more earthy notes, and that
taste introduction became the marker for identifying what made, for me, good wine.
I often say, I don’t just taste the fruit but the whole “process”… the
earth, the barrel and everything else.
For me, that defines balance. But how about you? No wine reviewer can completely shuck himself
of his prejudices. So when you read a
review, understand that some of that praise for a wine is distinctly personal
to the reviewer’s personal preferred style.
And the reviewer’s personal preferred style may be different than
yours. Ever read a movie review heavy
with praise for a film that you then went to see and thought stunk?
 |
The taste can be had
but only in some. |
And there are other
considerations even more unpleasant to admit: As we age, our bodies change. Our
palettes, our sense of smell may become less sensitive. But more confusing is
that our tastes may change in opposing directions. So while we may prefer our food more aggressively seasoned, we may prefer our wines to be softer, less
tannic. Or we may not.
A good reviewer must be aware
of all these things and put forth some conscious effort to become free of the
effect of any prejudice when tasting a wine for review. Recently, I tasted a California Pinot Noir
rich in fruit (blueberry) and about as “new world” in style as a wine could be.
It was delicious. It was beyond delicious!
I absolutely loved this wine. Its mouthfeel, the finish, the way
everything worked together was just so well done that I couldn’t help but sing
its praises. But, for me, such wines are
more exceptional than common. And while
my taste preference may be leaning somewhat now toward softer, more fruit
forward wines even that definition establishes an area that is difficult to
communicate. Exactly how fruity must a
wine be before it is fruit forward? And
where along the journey of a changing palette is that wine reviewer when
writing about that wine?
Finally, let’s look at this
area of communication.
Somms-critics-reviewers use words like body, back taste, legs, and
descriptors like forest floor and other strange terms when describing
wine. There are many who use this
against them. This too is unfair. As in
any craft, there is a necessary jargon.
Talk to a lab technician, a chef or a mechanic and you will see that the
language of their craft is established to provide a common understanding. So
too with wine. The wine reviewer is
using these terms to help you understand what you may expect to taste from that
wine, whether it’s cellarable or not, what foods the wine may best pair
against. Understanding wine language will
enhance your understanding of any wine review and increase your appreciation of
wine. Numerous inexpensive books can
help you with this. Four of my favorites are: (1) Windows on the World Complete
Wine Course by Kevin Zraly (2) Wine. A Tasting Course by Marnie Old (3) the
Wine Bible by Karen MacNeil and (4) The Everyday Guide to Wine (a book and
video course) by Jennifer Simonetti-Bryan.
Any one of these books will
help you better understand your own tastes.
You’ll learn what it is in wine that you enjoy – wines of low/high acid
for example. Or cool climate vs. warm climate Pinot Noir. What’s the benefit?
You’ll be more comfortable ordering wine in restaurants and when perusing the
aisles in a big-box wine store. You’ll chose fewer wines that you don’t enjoy
and more that you do. You’ll be better
able to pair wine with food and not have to resort to pulling out the old
standby. Learning is fun and the
experience is immediately joyful. And
you won’t be intimidated by the wine snobs.
All this, of course, is at
great risk to me because with all that new found knowledge, why would you need
a reviewer?
Cheers!
……………. Jim
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