The Elephant in the Cellar

          I’ve enjoyed the Syrah discussion, and am pleased to be asked back for another round. This time, I want to see what the nation’s foremost wine geeks think about an issue that I think is vitally important but never seems to be addressed much beyond eye-rolling shrugs and head shaking.
          This elephant in the room—or, if you will, the wine cellar—is viticultural and winemaking practices that subvertly change the nature of wines being marketed as honest expressions of special vineyards.
          Here’s where I come from, as simply as I can state it. I started drinking wine for the obvious reasons, long before I got excited about it. What was it that finally engaged me to the point where I’ve now spent thirty-odd years thinking about—no, pondering wine on a daily basis? In a word, truth and beauty (okay, two words, but I’ve always thought they were synonymous).
          Most of you will recognize the script: young guy goes to Europe and discovers that each mystical, magical place has its own drinkable essence called wine. This local wine contains the landscape, architecture, culture, and everything else that gives a sense of place. Plus you get a buzz, especially helpful when you decide to, say, sit in a café across from Rouen Cathedral for an entire day to experience the changing light on that iconic façade as recorded by Claude Monet in his amazing 31-painting series.
          Honestly, I’ve long since forgotten what wines I drank that day, if I ever knew; they were mostly fresh, local quaffers served proudly in carafes. But I can still clearly remember what some of them tasted like. Ditto the anonymous riesling I drank after hiking along the Mosel near Trier, and the plump, juicy red in that Alentejo hill town. And couldn’t we all go on and on in that vein? (And isn’t it fun to open a few bottles and trade the actual stories?)
          My point is that it’s been at least 10 years since I’ve been confident that I was getting that kind of signal impression from wines of the New World, especially California. Truth be known, I’ve come to doubt the truth and beauty quotient of modern European wines, as well.
          I’ve put it in terms of confidence because it’s become very difficult to know for sure whether a given wine is telling a real story about a real place, or a fiction that may be based on actual events yet has been cleverly enhanced to be what the producer thinks I want to taste or would be willing to pay for. For example, a cult-stature Pinot Noir which I raved about to anyone who would listen before being told by an informant in a commercial lab that the producer had doctored the wine with Mega Purple, supposedly to make up for “deficiencies” in the fruit. I wasn’t just embarrassed. I felt betrayed.
          In fact, I’ve come to suspect that California, in particular, is increasingly a bottled lie. Marketing campaigns that represent wines as pure expressions of special sites are quite often overtly deceitful. I believe that many wines that are represented as pure expressions of exalted sites are concocted, that is, heavily engineered to hit a desired note. And it’s not that I think that every wine has to be from a single block of vines, produced without any technique whatsoever. I don’t doubt that a great winemaker is like the resourceful teacher who knows how to help a child reach her full potential. But plastic surgery? C’mon. Nor do I have a problem with a good appellation or AVA wine. I just want to know that I’m tasting the true essence of grapes grown in a particular place or places.
          Most of you are familiar with consulting outfits like Enologix, a firm that helps wineries engineer their wines to get high scores (and actually guarantees higher scores). And many of you either make wine yourselves or have made a point of getting hands-on experience in vineyards and wineries. So I’m not here to break any shocking news, nor to lecture or instruct. My point, rather, is to try to move the conversation toward an objective examination of what a fine is, what it should be, and how various viticultural and winemaking techniques may support or contradict a wine’s stature. And please note that I’m deliberately excluding mass-market table wines from the discussion, although I believe, ironically, that most of them are relatively non-manipulated for economic rather than ethical reasons. Let’s focus on wine that expensive because it’s ostensibly a remarkable manifestation of a given summer in a certain place.
          My position going in is that many of the currently accepted winemaking practices (particularly additions such as acid, water, enzymes, tannin, concentrate, etc.) compromise the integrity of the fruit itself, and therefore defeat the ideal of fine wine. They also effectively insult the producers who endeavor to embrace the ideal without cheating. The contrarian might say, “Hey, if Mega Purple is used correctly, not even the most experienced taster can spot it.” Well, maybe not. But is that the point? Hey, if Barry Bonds hits the ball out of the park, who can deny that the ball actually did leave the park? (Yes, yes, I’ve spent long evenings with my redneck wine-geek friends chewing on topics like HGH, Photo Shop, Dolby sound, computers in academics, you name it.)
          Other practices (such as mechanical de-alcoholization, reverse osmos, and various applications of oak essence) seem to me in poor taste, or contrary to the spirit of fine wine, without necessarily triggering my “foul!” alarm. Still others, including chapitalization, irrigation, temperature-controlled fermentation and sterile filtration, may be considered unacceptable manipulations by some yet are already established beyond the point of practical debate.
          And then there’s the whole yeast thing—yikes, where do we start with that?
          So: Truth and beauty versus (or enhanced by) Voodoo vinemaking. Any thoughts?
  • Lots of cogent comments, and rightly so. This is truly a substantive topic. I’m thinking about the excellent remarks from Geoff, Paul, Andres, and Peter.

    But first--I’ve anticipated the issues raised by Jospeh Spellman and would like to get them out of the way first. Joe, you suggest that this is not worth discussing and ask, why have I chosen not to name names?

    Well, because I had no intention of launching a witch hunt. That’s not what this is about. Nor would I care to test the waters of libel litigation, given that most of what I know comes from priveleged conversation, well off the record.

    More to the point, this issue can be effectively discussed without resort to specific allegation. Joe, your post contains the essence of the discourse. You rightly point out that fine wine is not created by nature alone, but rather is a human collaboration with nature. Decisions are made and actions taken every step of the way. We might say that winemaking is, by definition, manipulating a raw material to obtain a commercial product. Say we characterize a fine wine as a unique manifestation of a growing season in a particular place, whether it’s a vineyard, a valley, or some other geographical feature (Sonoma Coast, anyone? There’s a future topic.). Some manipulations kind of buff and polish that expression, the essential nature of the wine, while others mitigate, interfere with, or alter it. Where do we draw the line?

    Regardless of who may or may not be doing what—and Joe, I have to thank you for mentioning a couple things I haven’t encountered yet—the fact remains that we all know there’s some funny winemaking going on in the shadows. So—why in the shadows? And what do we think about it?

    (Hey, has enyone noticed that elephant over there in the corner? No? Oh, okay, never mind.)

    A little earlier I alluded to the steroid issue in athletics. I’ve pretty much given up on baseball, which was formerly akin to a kind of religion for me, because I hate the idea that some players are juiced. Now, I don’t particularly like regulation of any kind. In fact, I wouldn’t be averse to letting them do it, if they were open about it. (So then what, do we handicap them? Another topic.) But to physically alter your body to gain a secret advantage on a supposedly level playing field—well, that just seems like cheating to me.

    Likewise, some winemaking procedures seem like cheating, too. The truth and beauty that I value in wine are not served by Mega Purple—whether I know it’s been used or not. (And by the way, I’m quite aware that MP and its rainbow of siblings are derived from grapes; I still don’t like them.)

    But perhaps this whole thing really is just about cheating, and how pervasive it’s become in this ultra-competetive world, and what a shame that is, and it’s not really about wine at all.

    Or not? Is it worth talking about? Or should we just move on to talk about, say, the meaning of the term Sonoma Coast?

  • Kudos to Rod for putting this subject out in the open.

    Everyone who know me knows where I stand on this matter, which, for me, first came to light ten years ago during my WSET Diploma Studies. In doing my research for the winegrowing and winemaking sections of the written exam, I became increasingly alarmed by what I was uncovering. I had long been aware of the bags of tartaric acid lurking behind the shed doors of nearly all new world wineries, but when it became apparent that this was just the tip of the iceberg I must admit to being appalled. And when I visited the winery of a well-known California producer who had made a reputation for himslef as a champion of "terroir", and saw all of his micro ox devices, reverse osmosis machines, etc etc, I pretty much felt that we fine wine lovers were on the recieving end of a massive fraud.

    Like Rod says above, mass-market wines are a different animal because by definition they are made for mass consumption and, like cola or chocolate milk, have a certain taste profile that is considered commercially acceptable, and are priced accordingly. I doubt that there is much expectation for an artisinally made wine at the $9.99 price point.

    But where we get into muddy water is with wines that are marketed as "artisinally made", and into this category falls the "cult" wines and all like them. The inherent problem in these monster wines that are clearly manipulated to appease the taste buds of certain American critics, and therefore gain high score achievement, and therefore command high prices. The whole thing becomes a house of cards. These wineries try to sell us on the fact that they are special, that they are from a single estate or vineyard or appellation and, by extension, reflect that terroir. They tell us the wines are "handmade." They tell us that they keep their yields low (the magic 2-3 tons/acre) when any student of viticulure can count the clusters on the vine and see that this is a lie. They talk about "letting the fruit express itself", yet the minute cultured yeast is added to influence fermentation, the minute water is added to the must to lower alcohol, the minute mega purple or powdered tannin is dumped in to "correct" the color and mouthfeel, the wine no longer expresses the pure essence of whatever vineyard it comes from. In my experience, the biggest practitioners of these methods are also among the most vocal users of the "Terroir" word. What a sham.

    The only solution, which I have been touting for years, is what Geoff mentions above, which is for full disclosure of ingredients and production processes on a wine label.

    Or maybe we establish some sort of criteria where, if certain standards have been met (say, organic viticulture, natural yeast fermentation, no must adjustments, etc), the label could bear the words "Artisanal Wine" or something along those lines.

    But when I think about, that won't happen. We can't even establish a law regulating the use of the word "Reserve" on a wine label - but that's another discussion.

  • I dont believe ingredients will provide anybody with a good picture as to what extent the wine has been manipulated. Just like organic farming cannot guarantee that different practices are being done after the fruit has been harvested in the winery. The fact is, that as discussed, some technologies developed to alter the winemaking process work to the advantage of the wine itself (like temperature control) and others to alter the perception of what the terroir or the wine are trying to express (microoxygenation).

    California is an extremely financial driven wine growing region. There are those trying to mirror what was done in the past, for the love of wine; and there are those trying to capitalize at the expense of that fame.

    The Elephants in the Cellar are created sadly for people who see wine more like a social status, and not an expression of place and time.

  • Although I am not a supporter of the rating system and recognize that Robert Parker and the Wine Spectator are easy targets for disdain, I think we have to accept the fact that we are in collusion with them because we support the products they hail. If you can get the wine you know you have an easy sale and a tidy profit.

    There are Grand Cru vineyards everywhere in the world. They are hallowed grounds that provide the raw ingrediants that don't need manipulation and the best of winemakers know when to get out of the way and let the ground speak. We as sommeliers need to be better at sharing the truth with each other so that perhaps before long we can supplant the present status quo with a new system where winemakers strive to get the endorsement of "The Guild of Sommeliers"!

  • I don't wish to seem cynical, but I think these issues are really meta-problems. That is, I would like to see the primary research on real-world real-time examples, rather than the generic dismissal of manipulation. Sure, wine is manipulated--the very idea of training or pruning a vine, let alone irrigating, is a primary manipulation that we all accept and in fact demand. The list could go on throughout the viticultural cycle, and we think of such manipulations as dropping fruit or clipping leaves to achieve greater ripeness as perfectly acceptable. Not to mention a dizzying array of inputs both organic and non. Manures, minerals, herb teas, fertilizers, potassium, calcium, nitrogen, copper sulfate, whatever.

    And this is well ahead of anything done in a cuve or a cellar. There we have concocted for centuries ways of making something raw and crude taste better: sparkling wine, fortified wine, flavored wine, multi-vintage wine, multi-regional wine, on and on. Chaptalization, must additions, dosage, acidification . . . all time-honored, and responsible for some of humankind's greatest wine achievements.

    The fundamental problem is the complete disjunction of two things we think we like, or have been conditioned to like, by modern winemaking and its cheerleaders in some segments of the so-called press. These are "ripeness" and "somewhereness" (I dare not use the t-word). The former, much praised, totally displaces the latter, much mythically and spiritually craved. And that is just the beginning.

    I would like to see a primer, and perhaps more investigative journalism, of delineated practices that are oft-decried, even though they were developed in honest attempts to make wine" taste better." What exactly is a must evaporator, and who uses one? How many methods are used to dealcoholize wine? What goes on in a "spinning cone?" Please define and give me examples of wines whose must was "watered back" before or during fermentation. Also, list the allowed proteins and enzymes and yeasts and bacteria that can change wine, and give us concrete descriptions of how they're used and who uses them. Are they all bad? Where do we draw the line?

    Sure, it's easy to condemn Enologix. THAT's a cynical operation. What are its recommended manipulations, and who uses them? I want names. And what makes an egregious manipulation obvious, or distasteful?

    Sorry to be so strident, but the general sense of shortcutting, manipulating, and cheating by the evil mad scientists in the winery seems like the stuff of urban legend . . . until whistles are blown. Let's hear 'em.