Matt Kramer got it wrong about bullies who put down wine

Without wine lore, and wine tasting, and wine talk, and wine labels, and, yes, wine writing and rating—the whole elaborate idea of wine—we would still get drunk, but we would be merely drunk. The language of wine appreciation is there not because wine is such a special subtle challenge to our discernment but because without the elaborate language—without the idea of wine, held up and regularly polished—it would all be about the same, or taste that way. —Adam Gopnik, The New Yorker

Two days ago, in Wine Spectator, Matt Kramer penned a polemic against nameless skeptics of the sensory value of wine. In Kramer's defense, he attempted to use an article by Adam Gopnik (yes, I misspelled his name (twice) in a comment over on the Jackson Family Wines blog, and for that I apologize) in the The New Yorker as evidence this anti-intellectualism bullying. The problems with him basing his condemnation on Gopnik's article are twofold. First, the article is more than ten years old. If you haven't read it, I strongly suggest that you do so. Yes, it reads as if it were written yesterday (or maybe tomorrow) and that is the sign of a good writer. But nevertheless it was written at a different point along the wine industry continuum and was actually an editorial on the 2004 state of wine prompted by William Echikson's book, Noble Rot. Second, and more important, Kramer completely missed the point of Gopnik's article. Kramer chose to quote Gopnik out of context. He should have started his article with the full quote that I've provided above. Gopnik actually accomplished what Kramer was attempting to do by making the case that wine talk and wine description are an integral "part of what lets the experience happen."

Dr. Oldman channels Oprah to expose a doping scandal that will rock the wine world...

After his surprising Boxing Day interview, Dr. Harry Oldman thought that today would be the perfect day to share his next interview with us.

I had so much fun with my interview with my anonymous wine critic friend (though I hope the interview wasn't the real reason he is no longer a critic...), that I thought I'd try my hand again at asking another famous wine personality some tough questions. Bobby P and I go all the way back to his early days as the world's first blogger, a camp which I too have fallen into. Together, Bob and I would take on the heathens of the wine world on Prodigy's Wine Forum. It had been some time since we last talked, but I've long defended him from the many sheep of the Interwebs. When Bob agreed to sit down with me I decided that I had better improve my interview skills, so I watched countless hours of the best interviewer I could think of: Oprah. I've followed Oprah from her very start on AM Chicago, but spending a week straight of watching reruns gave me all the insight I'd need to make this a newsworthy interview sure to cause a ripple in the space-time-wine-blogger continuum. One day, I am sure that this interview will be as talked about as any interview Oprah did with Tom Cruise, Lance Armstrong or Lindsay Lohan. Make sure that you are sitting, because what I'm about to share with you will knock your tastevins off!

Dr. Oldman on the Wine Writers Symposium

I was in Napa Valley two weeks ago for Premiere Napa Valley, but I was unable to attend the Wine Writers Symposium. Others have written a few accounts of what transpired during the workshops and sessions at the secluded Meadowood Napa Valley resort and spa. With not being there, I find it interesting to hear about the fun and informative events attended by a whole host of wine writers. I think it is pretty cool that simple bloggers, or people new to the world of wine writing, can hang out with established writers from Food & Wine, Wine Advocate and Wine Enthusiast as well as columnists from the New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle and Wall Street Journal. My extern, Dr. Harry Oldman, was disappointed that I was not going to chime in on an event that I did not attend, so he asked if he could. I know I shouldn't let him post anymore, but he can be very persuasive...

Drink It In (a review of the wine guide to Western Colorado)

I've been without Internet at CWP World Headquarters for the last 10 or so days, so I haven't been able to update the blog. By now, I'm sure everyone is already finished with their holiday shopping and has no need for a suggestion on another wine book to purchase for the wine lover in your life. Plus, there are lots of other book suggestions by every other wine writer out there (Eric Asimov, W. Blake Gray and Dave McIntyre fun the gamut).

But what the hell, I'm going to offer one recommendation that you will not find on any other list of wine books. I know you'll be shocked to hear that it is a book about Colorado wine. Two other books on the emerging industry have been published in the past two years, but neither of those offer the information, usefulness and aesthetics of the most recent addition. Granted, I haven't thoroughly read or reviewed either of those two, but I have skimmed through them enough to know that they don't intrigue me. Both of the other books were self-published and written by people unfamiliar with the wine industry, and it shows. They are filled with black and white text and not much more. One is nothing more than a colorless brochure; it is just a list of wineries and contact information with space for the reader to take tasting notes. The other seems to offer a bit more depth and information, but the first paged I opened to contained a factual error (claiming that Chateauneuf du Pape is known for its syrahs) and the author (who for some reason uses a pen name) argued with me about the federal labeling requirements for listing an appellation. That doesn't do a lot to convince me that the book is worth my time.

Voiceless

After reading Dr. Oldman's guest post a few weeks ago, another friend of mine wrote me and demanded to contribute to the blog, too. I had to ask her to remind me who she was again, and then it hit me. Her name is Remi Burmí. How could I forget her, with her bright red, Buddy Holly glasses and Converse low tops. She's a few years older than I. She's a self-taught wine expert whose dad was an award-winning science fiction author (I think his last novel even won gold at the California State Fair). Her mom was a sex therapist from Mendocino. She writes a biennial wine column for Examiner.com (or at least that's what she claims). Her writing makes me think of Eric Asimov and Jon Bonné co-publishing an online magazine using a nom de guerre.

Any way, she said that with all the Baby Boomers and Millennials writing past each other in the wine blogosphere she felt like she was part of a forgotten generation. She said, for some reason, that my blog was the hispster-est place to speak out for these forgotten beer wine consumers. Oh, and to even make it more hipster, she wanted the post to go live after 5:00 EDT on a Friday because no one will read it over the weekend and people will still be talking about the non-cabernet Parker perfect wine and the imminent wine shortage. Oh and it's a poem... (Oh Lorde, save yourself and just stop reading right now!)

Wine as a food or a lifestyle?

In the New York Times last week, Eric Asimov wrote an article about how little consumers pay attention to what ingredients are actually in wine. This article sparked a 6-page long (and still going) thread on the Wineberskers online forum about ingredient listings on labels and was the catalyst for a multi-day Twitter discussion between Bruce Schoenfeld, Keith Levenberg and myself (there were a few others in there, but those were the principals) about marketing wine as a food. Asimov pointed in his article out that Americans "weigh the nutritional, environmental, humanitarian, aesthetic and even political consequences of what they cook and consume," but do not do the same for wine. He concluded that perhaps if we were to start considering wine as a food that "standards for quality and authenticity" may start playing a part in wine consumers' purchasing decisions. I figured that this post would be much more conducive to laying out my argument than the restrictive nature of Twitter.

I actually disagree with Asimov on two points. First, many, many Americans don't give two seconds worth of thought about any consequences of what they eat. More than one in three Americans is obese; and that number is rising every year. Cheap and easy is easily more important to more people than any nutritional, environmental, humanitarian, aesthetic and even political consequence of food (or food-like product). Why would people care what is in their wine when products like sodas, hot dogs and chips are considered a traditional American meal. How many people look at the ingredient lists of those foods? Those three "foods" aren't even food. Now don't get me wrong, I've consumed all three in the last week, so I definitely live in a glass house. But wine is already confusing enough to the average consumer that they don't want to think about what's in their bottle of chardonnay.

On top of that, and as Asimov started his article, wine is still considered to be "natural" product. I don't have the numbers to back me up, but I'd be willing to bet that most people think only grapes are used to make wine. Just as when you buy an apple or orange juice, you probably assume that's all you're getting. I think people actually consider wine a food. People might like chardonnay more than merlot just like they like Golden Delicious more than MacIntosh. Perhaps wine is not thought as a natural accompaniment to the nightly dinner table (well, Europeans might, but not most Americans), but neither are apples. Consumers also think of wine as a glamorous lifestyle choice. But can wine be both?

When I saw Bruce Schoenfeld (who I often agree with, but love to argue with) tweet, "promoting wine as a lifestyle adjunct comes at the expense of promoting it as a staple food ... Not saying one or the other is better, but they're kind of mutually exclusive," I had to jump into the discussion. Bruce (for some reason I just can refer to him as Schoenfeld) was hitting on the point in Asimov's article that treating wine as a food would cause more consumers to care about the ingredients that go into making a bottle of wine (not all remain in the finished wine). Asimov and Bruce both are correct in there assessment that in America wine is most often marketed as an aspirational product and not generic food. "Drink my wine because it'll make you fun or make you more alluring," is the premise of most wine ads. There is the occasional, "drinking my wine will make you feel like you're at this beautiful, pastoral place when you're just on your couch." But by and large there is no "Got Wine?" campaign in the United States. There is no push to make a place for wine on your dinner table.

That's not to say there couldn't be. And that happens to be my main point in my argument with Bruce. He can think what he wants, and I'd love to shake the hand of a person that has actually changed Bruce's mind. Commodity and luxury are not mutually or intrinsically exclusive of each other. Why do people buy those asinine 2002 Chevrolet Earnhardt Signature Monte Carlos? The car itself serves the same purpose of a regular Monte Carlo, but offers the aspiration to be like a NASCAR driver (yay, I know how to make left turns...). Same could be said about designer jeans or lots of other products. Even foods like bison, heirloom tomatoes and farm-fresh eggs could be considered luxury staple foods. Marketing wine as a generic foodstuff and a glamorous aspirational good can and does happen.

Does it happen often in the U.S.? Nope. But travel to Europe. In Spain, ask for a glass of tinto at a bar and you'll be brought a glass of red wine and a tapa. The bartender most likely will not tell you anything about the wine. The wine's brand is a mystery, yet the brand exists. And I'm sure the winery that made that wine has several other wines that they market as a premium wine. Wine is both a staple food and an aspirational good in Europe. I've only spent an evening in France (and I ate pizza...) and never been to Italy, but I've heard anecdotes about house wine there too being just a generic wine.

Some restaurants in the U.S. also have brand-less house wines, but wine is definitely on fewer tables. My in-laws drink lots of house wine. They don't care what brand it is, they just order a glass of white wine at a restaurant. The fact that many fewer tables are graced by wine is not from wine being inherently incompatible as a lifestyle good and a staple food, but more from America's puritanical history. European history is steeped in wine. American history is not. In fact, it was outlawed for more than 13 years less than a century ago. Nudity and sex are also taboo in the U.S. (though slowly becoming less so) whereas in Europe or Asia the naked body or a sexual act is not something mutually exclusive from decency. Our culture is the reason wine is not usually considered a nightly dinner accompaniment. Marketers in the U.S. know this and have used the wine as a lifestyle campaign to their advantage. But that's not to say wine couldn't be marketed as a food. Wineries would just be barking up a tall tree if they were to attempt that approach.

Though someday the wine as a food campaign may not be so difficult in America. Take the Drink Local Wine movement. All 50 states now have wineries. Today, America wine isn't as much as a special product from the mystical land of California, but something that is much more approachable. Much of the argument for local wine supporters is that wine can be every bit as local as local cheese or local vegetables. Local wine should be considered (considered, not mandatory) when thinking about eating locally. The locapour crowd is much more wine as a food oriented than people that only want to drink top Napa or Bordeaux wineries. Yet, the locavore movement is also about aspiring to a certain lifestyle. And so the circle continues...

Of wine writers and idiots

A few days ago, I read something that both puzzled and impressed me. Steve Heimoff wrote a rambling article about the Alma Wine Academy and orange wines. What caught my attention was that Steve professed his ignorance of this rather unusual, and small category of wines. Orange wines actually have a long history, but they have seen an increased awareness in the media (and not just no-name bloggers like me but big hitters like Ray Isle and Eric Asimov) for more than a few years. Sure, these skin-macerated white wines, often aged in clay amphora, are not the next-big-thing in the wine world that even my mother knows about, but they're not a new, unknown phenomenon.

I figured, and so did a lot of other readers, that a "fairly well-known, a big fish" like Steve would be in the know. However, I was even more impressed that Steve was willing to share his ignorance with his readers. It is not too often that the biggest names in the wine writing world admit that they don't know something. It takes a lot of confidence to undermine one's expertise. If only more critics would admit when they get something wrong or don't know something, we'd all trust them a bit more. Well done, Steve.

Wine critic vs. wine writer (which is more important?)

A few recent posts by W. Blake Gray got me thinking about the difference between wine critics and wine writers. Wine critiquing and wine writing are two different activities that are often confused as the same thing. Dave McIntyre, wine columnist for the Washington Post, eloquently explained that "the writer tells wine's story in a way that hopefully gets the reader thirsty, while the critic can tell the reader which wines are worth buying." This isn't to say that they are mutually exclusive, and in fact most wine critics will claim they do both. But can someone do both at the same time? To paraphrase McIntyre, critical analysis of wine (i.e., blind tasting) takes wine out of its context, but for wine writers context is the story.

Nothing beats Champagne for sparkling wine

It is that time of year again when all of the newspapers start publishing their Champagne stories in time for the New Year celebrations. Both the New York Times and San Francisco Chronicle have gotten in on the action. The NYT piece focused on how the big négociants (they buy grapes from independent growers) are dealing with the push for terroir-driven wine, whereas the Chronicle described how grower-producers have gained ground in the Champagne conversation. Several weeks ago, I was lucky enough to attend a tasting of importer Terry Theise's grower-producer Champagne selections. I think these wines offer some of the best value (not necessarily inexpensive) for sparkling wine from around the world, and I wanted to share the highlights of this tasting with you.

There is a lot of sparkling wine in the world. Unfortunately, only a small portion of it is Champagne. Champagne is sparkling wine from the Champagne region in northeast France. True Champagne is made predominantly from three grapes (chardonnay, pinot noir and pinot meunier) though up to seven cultivars are permissible (more on that later). Sparkling wine from other regions can be made from any number of grapes, and while the style may be similar to Champagne, it is not Champagne. If you're drinking sparkling wine from Germany, it is called Sekt, Spanish bubbly is called Cava, and the most predominant Italian sparkling wine is called Prosecco. Even in other French regions, the term Champagne may not be used. One of the main reasons for the seemingly strict semantics is terroir. Champagne's distinctive natural characteristics are based on its exceptionally northerly location (it is France's most northern viticultural area) and its location in a geologic formation known as the Paris Basin. Here, the grapes take root in Cretaceous chalk, which is key to true Champagne. While the method of production may be duplicated elsewhere, the terroir is unique.

Despite this uniqueness, there is an increasing dichotomy of Champagne. Most of the Champagne that you and I see on retail shelves or on restaurant wine lists is dominated by a few brands. The big luxury négociants produce millions of bottles of wine each year in an industrial process that rivals the biggest wine factories of Modesto, California. These négociants own very little of the vineyards and buy most of their grapes from grape growers and blend grapes from all over the region. Only 3.8% of the Champagne sold in the United States is made by small growers that handcraft their Champagne from individual vineyards and villages. Terry Theise is one of the main U.S. importers of this "farmer fizz," and sells some of the best Champagne that money can buy. After tasting over 50 different wines, I found 6 that should be purchased when spotted on store shelves. I used to think that most bubbly was the same (and still do to some extent), but these 6 wines are well worth their cost and will open your eyes to what Champagne really means.

The true wine dichotomy

In his recent New York Times column, and subsequent blog post, Eric Asimov boiled the choices for describing wine down to two words: sweet and savory. Asimov declares that many tasting notes "only succeed in making wines incomprehensible" and suggests using one of those two words to describe all wines. While he is being overly simplistic in his descriptive efficiency, he is also has the dichotomy wrong. If wine descriptions are to be reduced to two choices, a better dichotomy for the consumer is whether the wine is worthy of buying or not.

As people experience sweetness and savoriness in different ways, and if two broad categories are able to "explain more about the essence of any bottle than the most florid, detailed analogies ever could," what better categories are there than saying a wine is worth your hard earned money? After all, that really is the reason for all the descriptive words, badges and scores thrown around by every critic, writer, journalist, blogger and wine guru these days.

Many consumers have a mental rubric into which they input all those data just to compute the binary purchase decision (to buy or not to buy?). Why don't all tasting notes tell consumers whether they should buy a wine or not? The answer may or may not surprise you. It is because wine is a complex and dynamic product. I don't mean so complex that consumers can't understand it, but complex in the sense that tastes, preferences and circumstances are varied and change over time. They change as both a person's palate and wine's characteristics evolve. If wine description is stripped to its simplest elements as Asimov attempts to do, then the discourse and individual choice that it evokes will be lost.