We all need to remember that we pull a cork for sensual reasons and that sensual words best capture the experience.—Joseph Spellman, Master sommelier
Old-Fashioned
On a first date at Martini house in Napa Valley this summer, my dinner companion, a relative newcomer to the wine business and a Sonoma native, arrived with a bottle of Napa Syrah provided by his host. I gently explained the two reasons I didn’t think it was appropriate to open it. First of all, it was on the wine list. Second of all, I had no intention of obliterating my palate. I was excited about the food and was determined to enjoy a balanced wine that would flatter it, not some super-ripe, concentrated, tannic monster.
Pity the man who thinks he can win me over with modern wine. Am I old-fashioned? You bet. Am I unfashionable in my wine tastes? Yes sir. Will I give up lacy Riesling and tart, mouth-puckering Pinot Noir to drink killer cab and monster zin? I think not. Popular wines, which fall easily into the “bigger is better” category, are gleefully described in American wine publications as oozing, explosive, thick, chewy, super-concentrated, huge, packed, full-bodied, powerful, authoritatively rich, loaded with fruit, palate-saturating, impressively rich, smelling of port, with huge wood and thrashing tannins, and off the charts with an intense, concentrated assault of overripe fruit. We have, I suppose, made some progress from this:
We’ve Come a long Way, Baby
When did wine become “The Terminator?” Up until a decade ago, we had two benchmarks of wine style, new world and old world. Exuberantly fruity wines generally come from warmer new world climates and from countries including North and South America, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. Dependable sunshine gives more reliable quality year after year, but individuality is sometimes hard to find in these wines. Wines from the old world include those from traditional European countries including France, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Hungary. Old world vineyards are generally in cool climates, where grapes struggle to ripen and their quality reflects annual weather patterns. Therefore, each vintage is very unique and there is great variation from year to year. grapes that struggle to ripen such as those planted on steep slopes or mountainsides, just like children who overcome obstacles to survive and make it to the top, tend to show more character when they are fermented and made into wine. The premium wines of the old world also tend to reflect more of the character of their origin, a distinct personality, rather than just offering straightforward fruit characters.
Somewhere along the line, perhaps best illustrated by the contributions of the recently deceased Emile Peynaud, the “grandfather of Bordeaux,” we got richer, riper wines from the old world. Peynaud convinced growers to harvest fully ripe fruit instead of underripe fruit high in acids that would protect it from spoilage in dirty wineries. He convinced winery owners to clean up their cellars and tanks. Bordeaux even before Parker was becoming softer, rounder, and riper. From the 1982 vintage onward, there was no turning back.
In a recent issue of The wine Spectator, thirty-three out of thirty-six 90+ point wines had a common adjective – “rich”. Chateau Montelena owners Jim and Bo Barret say “We’re gonna make a wine that is compatible with food and will improve with age, not a boozy Chardonnay.” Robert Mondavi, on his 90th birthday, said, “Densely fruity California wines that are popular with wine critics are like high-end call girls with a lot of glitter.” New York Times writer Frank Prial agrees. He says, “California Chardonnays are vinous SUV’s. They’re over-oaked and over-flawed.”
wine has intrinsic tartness. This is one of the reasons it has graced the tables for so many centuries; tartness serves to stimulate the gastric juices as well as to cleanse the palate between bites. Many of today's most highly rated wines are crafted to please the palate without the benefit of food. While enjoyable on their own as cocktails, unfortunately these 100-point blockbuster style wines are unbalanced and generally unsuitable for the table. They are donut wines - flashy, fruity, and creamy, with nothing there.
A handful of Napa Valley wineries including Robert Mondavi, clos du Val, Robert Pecota, long Vineyards, Sky, and Chateau Montelena, and Hanzell, a Sonoma winery, are bucking the trend of making boozy cocktail wines, instead making wines that are subtle, understated, compatible with food and capable of aging. Passionate, traditional winemakers in dry Creek and Russian River valleys are holding on as well, despite huge financial incentives to DO otherwise. In both areas, the decision was made jointly amongst the majority of producers to act as stewards of the land to protect terroir - distinct expression of region - at all costs. brambly, velvety dry Creek Zinfandel will for the time being maintain a refreshing backbone of natural acidity, as will the cola-sassafras imbued Pinot Noir of Russian River Valley. oak usage is judicious. The wines are balanced and are delicious with food.
One of the world’s most influential wine critics, Robert Parker, openly admits his preference for the “bigger is better” school. In his The wine Advocate, he gave a high score to a particular French Sauternes, one of the most elegant, subtle, and discreet dessert wines in the world, because he found it “corpulent, full-bodied, unctuously-textured, mouth-filling, well-endowed, and hefty.” But then again, the author, a corpulent man himself, whom I encountered just coming out the front door at France’s Chateau Margaux, was rumored to have gone out for pizza after a 16-course meal at Charlie Trotter’s Restaurant in Chicago because he was still hungry.
An excellent example of how far we’ve come, but how far we have to go, is the 2003 vintage of Chateau Pavie, a “modern” style producer in St. Emilion. Master of Wine Jancis Robinson described Chateau Pavie 2003 as a “ridiculous wine more reminiscent of a late-harvest Zinfandel than a red Bordeaux." Parker gave this wine 95 to 100 points on a 100-point scale.
How Did We Get Here?
Over-stimulation deadens the senses. In many parts of the world today, nature is completely obliterated, leaving nature’s creatures sensation-starved, and thus sensation-addicted. Where once a simple cappuccino would have delighted, today’s customer expects a choice of froth, whip, foam, no foam, flavored syrup, mocha, high fat, low fat, no fat, or even soy milk. With wine, as it seems with everything else, the louder, richer, and deeper in color, the better. With spicy dishes, it seems as if the hotter they are, the more highly regarded they are. Certainly as our senses are barraged, we lose the ability to enjoy subtlety and nuance of flavor, of music, of perfume, of art. Many popular prescription medications skew the palate, while gout, a common affliction of middle-aged men, skews the perception of acid. With the act of sex, size of sex organs takes relevance over technique, and a quick coupling replaces luxurious lovemaking.
Americans’ palates are evolving as well, but not nearly as fast as our culinary options. No matter how sophisticated we become, the national preference is still for big flavors and big portions. “Melting pot” ethnic influences have long influenced even the most basic of offerings. Spaghetti and meatballs, pizza, Greek salad, pastrami sandwiches, tacos, and stir-fry are staples. Chefs are taking these basics and expounding on them, feeling free to mix elements of Asian, Latino, or even French cooking on the same plate. Today chefs and consumers in Milwaukee have access to the same ingredients as DO their counterparts in Manhattan. With such a diverse population base, the new American cuisine is based on a wealth of rich, cultural traditions from all over the world.
We are coming to understand that with such a variety of flavors, textures, and spices on the plate, our palates would be more pleased with simpler, cleaner, lighter wines. Ten years ago, Americans had not yet invented the elaborate art of wine-and-food pairing. In those days, we may have had to rely on a simple formula of Alicante with appetizers, Barbera with beef, and Colombard with cheese. Life was so much less complicated when salad was Iceberg lettuce with tomato wedges and either Russian or green Goddess dressing, and wines were still being modeled on the every day table wines of Europe—pleasantly fruity, medium to high palate cleansing acidity, straightforward, and unoaked. Trying to make matches between one of today’s typical viscous, alcoholic, overtly oaky wines and a dish that may have twenty ingredients is as challenging as finding the perfect mate.