Thoughtfully posted by John on Thursday, April 15, 2010.
About ten years ago as I was reaching for a box of Entenmann’s chocolate doughnuts a friend told me that, “those really aren’t doughnuts.” I kind of knew what he meant, but being the sugar-addict that I am, I had to have that delicious little chocalatey preserved doughnut-like food. His rule was simple, if it’s packaged and a labeled as something and it has preservatives, it ceases to be that thing (unless of course you are reaching for a jar of that wonderfully preserved jam or tomato sauce made from your garden). In the case of the Entenmann’s, it was pathetic derivative of a fresh doughnut that could be bought at a local bakery. A few months later I took a job at a great restaurant in New Jersey (yes, they do exist) and learned very quickly what the difference was between what I like to call fresh and plastic food. A decade later, I am a full-fledged snob, but I still occasionally grab a Donut to feed my addiction and soul.
Does the same dichotomy exist with wine? Isn’t all wine real? As a movement for natural wines produced through non-interventionist practices sweeps through the industry, it is becoming quite clear that there is a huge difference between natural wine and ‘plastic’ wine. Technically speaking, a certain level of intervention is needed to produce a bottle of wine, it can’t grow up all by itself. However, what I am referring to is the emerging technological revolution sweeping vineyards far and wide. There is a little bit of a pushback from winemakers who intervene with a heavy hand in the winemaking process as almost anyone who tastes wine with a bit of objectivity will agree that wines made through sustainable, organic or biodynamic means don’t always mean higher quality. I have tasted enough ‘organic’ wines to know that both the term organic and the resulting wines can often not live up to the lofty ideals bestowed upon them.
So, what’s all of the hubbub surrounding the sustainable movement? I think there are two important and related tenets that need to be fleshed out and understood. First, I believe that responsible winemaking often preserves a wine’s sense of place. Second, non-Frankenstein wines offer better choices for the consumer. How so? Let me explain.
One of the great benefits of traveling is that when your plane lands in a far away place, you are instantly immersed in a new culture of sorts (unless you’ve just arrived in Florida). There is nothing more intriguing than getting out of the airport in Paris and taking a cab to the city. The City of Lights is like no other place in the world. For me, the best part of Paris is going to Café du Fleur and having an espresso or two while watching the world go by on Boulevard St.-Germain. Then there is a mid-day ham and cheese crepe along the River Seine. A week later, after being full of French food and attitude, it’s time to head back to the states. Now I try to imagine the same trip, except every morning I go to Starbucks and McDonald’s to get my day started. Am I still really in France or am I having lunch in a branch of a science experiment with hundreds of thousands of other branches all over the world? Scientists and technicians worked damn hard to make sure that their coffee or “burger” was the same no matter where I had it – New York, Paris, Hong Kong or any place in between.
I think about wine the same way. When I go through the store or wine list and look for different wines to try, I steer clear from factory produced bulk wine – for me, it has no personality and hardly represents a specific place of origin. Whether they hail from California, South Eastern Australia or from the South of France, many of these wines hardly exude a unique personality and as was the case with Red Bicyclette – the wine doesn’t even have the qualities of the grapes listed on the label. But who is reading the label anyway? They are just full of silly little details. There is nothing natural about these wines. They are made in vast quantities under the watchful eye of a team of technicians that masquerade as winemakers and their goal is to make sure that year in and year out there wine tastes exactly the same which brings me to a related point.
Wines that are doctored (and these don’t have to be bulk wines, in fact, highly sought after cult wines subscribe to the same manipulations) fail to represent place, vintage or any other sense of character that makes place of origin great. Why is it that so many California cult Cabernet Sauvignons all have lush, soft tannins, high alcohol and huge gobs of forward, saturated fruit? It’s not because of the sun or the soil – it’s because these wines are science experiments. Designer yeasts, high-tech winery manipulation and other practices insure that these wines are high-test home runs. The game is much more exciting with bunts, singles, defense and good pitching. However, the market demands that manipulated wines are made. And although these steroid-wines have a bit of differentiation between them, they are all essentially the same in character.
The consumer who gives a damn about vintage, climate and vineyard situation often reject what importer Joe Dressner calls the “democratization of shitty wine.” I have said here before that wine is being democratized for drinkers worldwide and that is a good thing. However, I think the job of wine writers, retailers and sommeliers is to educate the wine drinking public. An example of the lesson to be learned is to understand why a naturally made Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa should taste different from its counterparts in Sonoma, Bordeaux and South Africa. In a world that is becoming increasingly homogenized, wine is one of the last conduits to understanding different cultures.
A decade ago, about the only thing I knew about wine was that it was made from grapes. However, one of the most important lessons that I have learned over the years is that a wine represents to me a sense of place. Within that sense of place is the personality of wine and its origin. It’s like having Dim Sum in the Kowloon neighborhood of Hong Kong. There is nothing in the world like it – no matter what your local Chinese restaurant tries to sell you. This same glimpse into regional expressiveness can be found in a naturally made wine that is absent in manipulated cuvees. And it might be a losing battle in the long term as it’s becoming more and more convenient for consumers to drink soulless wine, but it’s a fight worth fighting.
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