The Wine Savant: A Guide to the New Wine Culture by Michael Steinberger Page A
Authors: Michael Steinberger
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much stronger vintages (and the Spectator has since downgraded the 2000 Piedmont vintage, now rating it 93 points). Just as critics have lots of incentive to give out high scores for individual wines, they also have incentive to hype every promising vintage that comes along, and thatâs because buzz sells. But the hype isnât always justified. How do you find out when it is and when it isnât? Thatâs tough. A trusted retailer can help. Following the chatter on a wine discussion board such as wineberserkers.com can also help. But the most reliable way of determining whether a vintage is overhyped or appropriately hyped is simply to taste some of the wines yourself.
Hereâs something else to keep in mind. All the buzz over vintage obscures an essential point: the producer matters more than the vintage, and great producers make excellent wines pretty much every year. Even under the most favorable conditions, a middling producer is not likely to make a brilliant wine. By contrast, a gifted vintner can turn out compelling wines even under the most challenging conditionsâand it is often those wines that they are most proud of. If you were a producer in Burgundy who failed to make a fabulous wine in 2005, when the conditions could not have been more favorable, you should probably be in another line of work. In contrast, 2008 was a very challenging year, with lots of rain and rot in the vineyards, but the finest producers in Burgundy still managed to craft excellent winesânot as strong as their â05s, to be sure, but delicious wines in their own right, and much more attractively priced. The point is this: donât let yourself succumb to the Bright Shiny Object Syndrome. Some intelligent buying in so-called off years can yield a lot of drinking pleasure.
B UYING F OREIGN W INES
Obviously, imported wines can be intimidating ones to buy. The names are unfamiliar, and the bottles often donât list the grape or grapes used to make the wine. By law, for instance, most French wines are labeled according to their place of origin, not the grape or grapes that went into the bottle. (The major exception is in the Alsace region, where the wines are identified by the grape.) Chablis, for instance, is a region in northern France, not far from Paris; the wines we know as Chablis come from this region and are made from the Chardonnay grape, but producers are not allowed to put the word Chardonnay on their labels. This stricture is rooted in the notion of terroir , which is the cornerstone of French viticultureâthe belief that the vineyard is the most important component in the winemaking process and that the grape is merely a vehicle for conveying the voice of the soil, the terroir . Most Italian and Spanish wines are also labeled by place rather than grape.
WHATâS IN A NAME?
Should the French ease up and allow producers to put grape names on their bottles? Itâs a contentious issue. Franceâs winemaking tradition is rooted in the notion that the vineyard matters more than the grape and that a wineâs first duty is to express a sense of place; allowing winemakers in Burgundy, Bordeaux, and Rhône to label their wines by grape variety rather than site would be a repudiation of that centuries-old heritage and the philosophy that has guided it. But itâs also the case that millions of consumers around the world buy their wines according to the grape name, and lots of them donât drink French wines in part because the labels confound them. They go to the store looking for a Chardonnay, see a French wine labeled Mâcon-Lugny, and donât realize that a Mâcon-Lugny is a Chardonnay (and the kid working behind the counter might not know it, either). For the collector crowd, there is no such confusion, and there is no need to list the grape varieties on, say, a bottle of Château Haut-Brion. At the discount end of the global wine market, however, the French have seen a
Hereâs something else to keep in mind. All the buzz over vintage obscures an essential point: the producer matters more than the vintage, and great producers make excellent wines pretty much every year. Even under the most favorable conditions, a middling producer is not likely to make a brilliant wine. By contrast, a gifted vintner can turn out compelling wines even under the most challenging conditionsâand it is often those wines that they are most proud of. If you were a producer in Burgundy who failed to make a fabulous wine in 2005, when the conditions could not have been more favorable, you should probably be in another line of work. In contrast, 2008 was a very challenging year, with lots of rain and rot in the vineyards, but the finest producers in Burgundy still managed to craft excellent winesânot as strong as their â05s, to be sure, but delicious wines in their own right, and much more attractively priced. The point is this: donât let yourself succumb to the Bright Shiny Object Syndrome. Some intelligent buying in so-called off years can yield a lot of drinking pleasure.
B UYING F OREIGN W INES
Obviously, imported wines can be intimidating ones to buy. The names are unfamiliar, and the bottles often donât list the grape or grapes used to make the wine. By law, for instance, most French wines are labeled according to their place of origin, not the grape or grapes that went into the bottle. (The major exception is in the Alsace region, where the wines are identified by the grape.) Chablis, for instance, is a region in northern France, not far from Paris; the wines we know as Chablis come from this region and are made from the Chardonnay grape, but producers are not allowed to put the word Chardonnay on their labels. This stricture is rooted in the notion of terroir , which is the cornerstone of French viticultureâthe belief that the vineyard is the most important component in the winemaking process and that the grape is merely a vehicle for conveying the voice of the soil, the terroir . Most Italian and Spanish wines are also labeled by place rather than grape.
WHATâS IN A NAME?
Should the French ease up and allow producers to put grape names on their bottles? Itâs a contentious issue. Franceâs winemaking tradition is rooted in the notion that the vineyard matters more than the grape and that a wineâs first duty is to express a sense of place; allowing winemakers in Burgundy, Bordeaux, and Rhône to label their wines by grape variety rather than site would be a repudiation of that centuries-old heritage and the philosophy that has guided it. But itâs also the case that millions of consumers around the world buy their wines according to the grape name, and lots of them donât drink French wines in part because the labels confound them. They go to the store looking for a Chardonnay, see a French wine labeled Mâcon-Lugny, and donât realize that a Mâcon-Lugny is a Chardonnay (and the kid working behind the counter might not know it, either). For the collector crowd, there is no such confusion, and there is no need to list the grape varieties on, say, a bottle of Château Haut-Brion. At the discount end of the global wine market, however, the French have seen a
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