What is Minerality? The First Part of a Modest Inquiry

What does it mean for a wine to have a component that expresses minerality?  Those who support the notion that minerality exists believe that it manifests itself in the aromas and flavors of a wine as it exhibits notes associated with certain stony, earthy or other soil characteristics.  Other Mineralites believe that the “tension,” “nerviness” or “grit” in a wine represents minerality.  Perhaps the most famous example being the “chalkiness” that jumps out of a glass of Grand Cru Chablis.  At the other end of the spectrum are the Anti-Mineralites – those, for various reasons, who debunk the idea that minerality exists as they believe it’s impossible for earthy elements to directly find their way into a grape and subsequently into a bottle of wine.  For instance, the anti-minerality camp does not believe that “slatey-ness” is expressible in Rieslings from the Mosel.  What then, is the taster perceiving when he puts his nose in a terroir-driven offering?

What I am going to attempt here, over the course of any number of ruminative posts is to explore what we mean by minerality and if it does in fact exist in wine.   What, as Randall Grahm asks, is the mechanism by which minerality expresses itself in a glass of wine?  I dare not offer an essay of sorts – I have neither the patience nor the time to sit and write thousands of words at once.  However, I am going to take whatever knowledge I have, both from the bottle and the book, and combine that with different newly found references in books, blogs and winemaker accounts in an attempt to shed light on the subject.  There are far more qualified and learned minds already working on the question of the existence of minerality – I simply want to read what they have to offer and discuss anything that they might have overlooked or misunderstood along the way.  This is also a journey into a bit of my own philosophy – I firmly believe that slate, limestone, chalk, volcanic and other soils can be perceived in a finished wine.  Have I fallen for a bit of romantic vinous philosophy?

Below is a crude sketch I put together last week as Randall Grahm and wine writer Howard G. Goldberg pondered the mechanism by which minerality expresses itself as a sense of place in wine.  I have the artistic ability of my 4 year old niece, but I think it’s a good jumping off point for how I currently understand how minerality might find its way into a wine.

How Does It Get There?

Why Proposed Privatization Effort In Pennsylvania is a Sham

In the summer of 2010, I appeared on the Fox Business Network to engage PJ Stapleton, Chairman of the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board in a debate over the installation of wine kiosks in supermarkets in the Keystone State.  I argued that installing wine vending machines was a half-hearted attempt to deliver wines to the public outside of the state-run stores.  And less than a year later, the vending machines were scrapped due, for the most part, to technical issues. In addition to arguing that these machines would not drive demand for one-stop shoppers, I believed that the machine’s inventory had a limited number of choices and consumer’s choice was being restricted.  Restriction of choice seems to be the modus operandi for Pennsylvania’s state controlled liquors system.  However, with the introduction of House Bill 11, lawmakers in PA are taking steps modernize and effectively privatize wine distribution.  Except that this bill might be the most restrictive piece of regulatory legislation to affect Pennsylvania wine consumers yet.

As Stacy Brown writes in the PA Independent writes, “House Republicans set aside plans to privatize all liquor stores in favor of a hybrid blend that would allow some competition for wine sales while maintaining the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board’s long-time monopoly on liquor.”  Sounds like a fair deal for wine consumers so far.  However, the catch is that the bill will, “allow the state to sell wholesale wine licenses for $100 million each.”  If you aren’t up to date on fee structures for wine licensing, aspiring distributors in New York State pay $5,000 for similar licenses and their counterparts in New Jersey pay a bit more.  That’s right – the same license that can be purchased in New York and New Jersey for the price of a used car will cost distributors in Pennsylvania one… hundred…. million… dollars.

Such a high price tag begs the question, why even offer distributors the opportunity to buy a license as nearly every distributor who is currently selling wine to the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board wouldn’t be able to afford a new license at the proposed price?  Because the princely sum of $100,000,000 almost guarantees that the state run monopoly system will be replaced by another monopoly – perhaps a national distributor who has deep enough pockets to pay the sum and control the wine distribution system alone as many of their smaller competitors lose the right to sell their wines to the newly “privatized” wine stores.  Perhaps this national distributor, who controls markets – in some instances, say the size of Las Vegas, has enough capital to lobby local, state and even Congress, might in fact be the driving force behind the proposed legislation in Pennsylvania?

As for retail licenses, they would be sold for a more reasonable $50,000 apiece, which is a bargain compared to some of the insanely high prices set across the Delaware River in New Jersey.  That fair of a price for a retail license seems to give plenty of incentive to would-be wine shop owners to open up neighborhood stores in all corners of the state.  After all, the best wine shops, big and small, in New York and New Jersey are family owned and operated stores that serve not only as a place to pick up a great bottle, but also provide a locus of community where friends, family and regulars gather to find new, curious and interesting juice to bring home.  However, what if I proposed that a large, regional discounter was also lobbying lawmakers in Harrisburg to keep the price of retail licenses at a low level in order to buy as many as they could when they become available.  Hypothetically, this regional chain would open up as many as hundred or more big-box stores throughout PA and in doing so, would essentially replace the state run locations with neon signs, ‘discount prices’ and selections provided to them by, you guessed it, the only distributor who could possibly afford the license to do so.  And since this chain would dominate the Pennsylvania retail wine landscape – prices on these products would essentially be fixed – and just as you guessed again correctly, as they are fixed now (at much higher prices than neighboring states, by the way), by the current state run monopoly.

Unless House Bill 11 is amended to include a provision that grandfathers in distributors who are currently doing business in Pennsylvania, this ‘privatization’ effort will amount to nothing more than a sham that will continue the fleecing of the PA wine consumer.  Though the proposed bill claims the jobs currently filled by employees in the state run stores will be preserved, consider the number of jobs that will be lost as distributors who are not able to continue business in PA will be forced to cut back their sales and office staff.  Pennsylvania is a key market for more than a few wine distributors and if their pipeline dries up, in all likelihood they will be forced to make changes to their business plan that will have a negative impact on more than just Pennsylvania, but in other markets as well.

Distribution systems, especially those involving alcohol, can be problematic and imperfect.  However, the most efficient systems are those that give the consumer the ability to purchase what they desire at a price they deem fair.  If they think Cabernet ‘A’ isn’t worth the price at their local store, they can choose that wine at another store that has better pricing.  Or they can try Cabernet ‘B’ to see if it represents a better value than Cabernet ‘A.’  Therein lies the fun of buying wine – finding great values at your local store.  I am afraid that if House Bill 11 passes in its current form, wine consumers in Pennsylvania will not have any more freedom of choice than they have now as politics and big money replace one monopoly with another.

*Schill Alert – I work for a small distributor that sells wine in the New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania markets.  In no way was I asked by my employer to post this piece.  Like all of my posts, this piece is independent of how I make my living during the day.  All content above is my own and if I were asked to write a piece by my employer, I would politely tell him to write it himself.

Philosophical Approach to Place – Brettanomyces

A number of tweets, Facebook posts and blog posts are sprouting up with reactions to the recent Decanter piece on scientists cracking the genetic code for Brett.  Many writers, bloggers and winemakers have commented on the story and Joe Roberts, aka 1 Wine Dude even wrote that this breakthrough is one of the most significant findings in the development of winemaking in quite some time.  Though cracking the genetic code for what many call a spoilage yeast, perhaps the philosophical consequences of this finding and its effects on terroir and winemaking process overall is where our discussion should be focused.

As we know, Brettanomyces is a strain of yeast that can be very difficult to control.  It can be found in cellar equipment, including oak barrels.  The yeast can also be transferred throughout the winery via fruit flies.  Because Brett can produce barnyard, horse saddle and even ‘poopy’ aromas, it’s fair to say that most winemakers take whatever steps they deem necessary to keep Brett at bay.  And there are some who don’t mind introducing some of these aromas and flavors into their wines, as these winemakers feel that Brett adds a bit of complexity that comingles with the other notes in their wines.  Of course, there are evangelists on both ends of the debate – some winemakers keep their wineries cleaner and tidier than a doctor’s office, while other winemakers leave Brett to do in their winery what it will.  An incredibly high-tech example of the former is Palmaz Vineyards in Napa Valley.  Though I haven’t been to their winery, I once went to a lunch featuring their wines and based on the slideshow they put together, I can’t imagine a more hygienically-correct winemaking facility on the planet.  And on the other end of the spectrum is Chateau Beaucastel, situated iconic Southern Rhone region of Chateauneuf-du-Pape.  As the Pope of All Things Rated, aka Robert Parker, wrote in his book, Wines of the Rhone Valley, “some critics of Beaucastel have argued that the wine possesses an unacceptably high level of brettanomyces… and say that in a finished wine, the wine possesses an unusual, off-putting smell of sweaty saddle leather and horse dung.”

Wines from both Palmaz and Beaucastel come with rather high price tags, but they represent the stark divide that exists among winemakers, critics, consumers and wines at all price points regarding the acceptance of Brett in wine.  So, it comes without surprise that those who believe that Brett is part of terroir (specific to winemaking) dismiss the report that there is a potential for the yeast to be completely eliminated from the winemaking process.  And almost certainly winemakers who cherish pure and pristine fruit driven flavors in their wines are lining up to consult with the geneticists who cracked Brett’s code so they can rid their wineries of what they see as spoilage yeast.  For these winemakers who wish to not have Brett in their wines, winery or vineyard, it seems as though eradicating the bacteria makes sense both economically and helps ensure that a certain style of wine is made more consistently.

One of the questions I posit for the anti-barnyard camp is – Does the absence of Brett guarantee a wine that better captures a wine’s sense of place?  And does this expression of place without Brett necessitate a winemaker to then produce a wine without cultured yeasts, too much sulfur and abandon other ‘interventionist’ winemaking techniques such as reverse osmosis, sous-vide concentration and spinning cones?

As we established above, some winemakers believe that a certain amount of Brett is necessary, either as a part of the winemaking process or as a facilitator of the expression of typicity.  And they contain the excessive spread of Brett more primitive means – cleaning the winery, barrels, etc…  And some believe that Brett should be unbridled and whatever amount finds its way into the bottle is part of a more natural winemaking ethos.

One of the questions I can’t help but ask these ‘more natural’ winemakers is, how much Brett in a wine is acceptable and does the inclusion of Brett in wines mean more than simply having ‘funky’ notes in a wine?  And to follow up, what does funk from Brett in wine really mean?  Clearly the presence of Brett indicates a more natural winemaking process at some level, but does Brett enhance a wine’s sense of place – especially if Brett smells and tastes the same no matter where it’s present.  Brett in Napa Valley will probably yield the same aromas and flavors as Brett in the Bandol, no?

I have my own opinions as to what Brett means in the wine making process*, but I objectively believe that the engineering of Brett out of wines does pose some important philosophical questions that might not necessarily yield clear and exact answers.  For instance, does eradicating Brett using genetic means open a Pandora’s Box of scientific manipulation that will lead winemakers to producing wines that carry fewer and fewer indigenous qualities? Perhaps the floodgates of manipulation are already open as Frankenwines are being produced in every corner of the wine world.  Some of the most highly sought after wines in the world have tannin powder added, acidity removed, become enriched with sugar and beefed up using wine steroids such as Mega Purple.

However, instead of analog additions and extractions, winemakers might be entering a brave new digital world of winemaking that could include more than the simple genetic modification of an unwanted yeast – they might have the ability to alter, with pinpoint precision, the qualities in wine that nature doesn’t bestow upon them in the vineyard.  And that scares the hell out of me.

Your thoughts?

* I do not think Brett is an indicator of terroir in the sense that a bottle of Bandol with brett doesn’t necessarily speak of Provence.  However, I think it does indicate that the winemaker is working towards a more natural wine making environment.  And as long as the barnyardy aromas are in balance with the other qualities of the wine, the expression of place and typicity is not adversely affected.