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The Appreciation of Wine : Sport, Science or Art?
Two recent incidents had me thinking about how wine critics, and those that read their musings, think about wine.
The first was the latest in a series of e-mails I've had from readers of The Winedoctor over the past year or so, disagreeing with my opinions of the Inycon wines. These wines come from a joint venture between UK importers Enotria and a Sicilian co-operative, and are widely available in UK supermarkets. Although they have received positive comments from some of the UK wine press, on tasting three of the wines just a year ago I formed a markedly different opinion of them, and in my write-up (Inycon Wines) I made my opinions crystal clear. In particular, two of the three wines had an obvious raisined quality. I expect to find notes of raisins in some wines, most notably Amarone and Recioto della Valpolicella, wines from northern Italy which are made using grapes dried, traditionally, on straw mats. One of the Inycon reds, however, the 2000 Syrah, was dominated by this characteristic, with an overly rich, fat, chocolate unctuousness. To me this signified poor management of the fruit prior to vinification, either a mistaken delay in harvest, leaving the grapes to achieve a baked over-ripeness on the vine, or a delay between harvest and reaching the winery, with a resultant drying (raisining) of the grapes.
More recently, at a tasting of Northern Rhônes from the 1991 vintage, there were radically opposing opinions regarding one of the wines, a Côte-Rôtie from Clusel-Roch. Whereas myself and one other taster felt it to be a perfumed, elegant wine, others felt it to be hard, backward, tannic, and in need of bottle age. Eventually there developed a consensus that the former description was more apt, perhaps as the wine opened up in the glasses of the tasters, but it was fascinating to be embroiled in discussion featuring such a diverse set of opinions regarding the same wine, poured from the same bottle.
Conflicting opinions regarding Inycon wines, and a disagreement over Clusel Roch Côte-Rôtie 1991. These are two episodes when my opinion of a wine differed markedly from others. Should I feel uncomfortable about this? How is it possible for individuals to have such bipolar opinions of the same wine? Surely it must be the case that one taster is wrong, and the other right? I don't think so, although the author of one e-mail regarding the Inycon wines I received made it clear that he felt this latter point to be the case. I was informed that a well known UK critic had rated the wines highly in print, describing the Merlot as one of "Italy's finest". The author of the e-mail stated his position clearly - "I'm inclined to be on his side" - as if the debate necessitated some sort of tribal allegiance, akin to some sort of sporting event.
Strange though it may seem to some, there are a few wine critics that do have such a strong following it may perhaps be described as tribal. The loyal subjects purchase only those wines rated highly by their favoured critic. Low scoring wines, and the opinions of other critics, are steadfastly ignored. This black-and-white approach makes wine appreciation easy to comprehend, but clearly falls well short of the actuality. There's more to wine than the black-and-white approach allows, and blind allegiance to a single critic and his or her recommendations is not an enlightened way to fill your cellar. Many such leading critics and wine publications use scores to describe the success of a wine, this being an important component of the black-and-white approach. It implies that a description of the wine may be successfully reduced to a number, and this I believe to be false. Admittedly, there are usually accompanying tasting notes, but these take second place to the all important 90 points. Conflicting opinions I can accept - in fact, it is one of the joys of wine. Wine should not, however, be about tribal allegiances or pseudoscientific points scores. Wine is not a sport or a science. I would argue that wine is more like art, and there aren't many people who would reduce the contents of The National Gallery to a series of numbers, or form allegiances in support of a certain Turner or Botticelli.
Essentially what I am saying is that everyone's view point, provided that it is spoken honestly, is equally valid. There is no right or wrong when it comes to wine opinion. Wine, like life itself, is a long series of many shades of grey, more than black and white. In her book 'Confessions of a Wine Lover' (Penguin, 2001), Jancis Robinson wrote on this matter. She describes her apprehension as she attended her first professional tasting. Surrounded by old-school wine trade types, she quickly noted that despite there being so many contradictory comments made about each wine, no one argued. She goes on to declare "Two decades of tasting and talking about wine myself and listening to others do the same has convinced me that there will always as many opinions of a wine as there are tasters of it, and sometimes more even than that." And there is nothing wrong with variety of opinion.
When two opinions of a wine differ, variables such as wine temperature, accompanying food, tasting environment, bottle variation, faults and so on are often cited as likely explanations. My argument is that although these factors are undoubtedly important, they are not necessary as an explanation for differing opinions of a wine. The interaction between a wine and an individual's palate is a unique and subjective experience, similar to the emotions experienced when witnessing opera or ballet, or viewing fine art, and this, in itself, is sufficient to explain why critics opinions differ. The upshot of all this is that there is only one successful route to wine education, and that is to taste it yourself. Reading the opinions of others can be fascinating, as can participation in the numerous online discussion forums that now exist. There is no substitute, however, for experiencing that interaction between wine and palate for yourself. Drink wine! (13/11/02)
