“I’m not saying, of course, that full disclosure of additions would result in better wine. It’s not the presence or absence of an intervention, an addition or an adjustment which matters, but the quality of judgment which lies behind that presence or that absence. Full disclosure would, though, make all winemakers at least stop and think about why they are making an addition – and might spare us some of the wine caricatures which undisclosed, heavy-handed additions create.”

The practice of labeling ingredients will almost always result in customers getting an honest look into what’s in the bottle they are about to purchase – and customers have the right to know what, besides fermented grapes, is in the bottle.  And most importantly, the customer can choose to support or not support those who add what they deem is more than necessary to the finished wine.

While walking through a retail store earlier this week, I came across this label from a fairly well known Napa, California winemaker.  I’ve blacked out the name of the winery not because I am afraid of offending them, but I wish not to pick on them in particular – listing only grapes as the ingredient on the back label of a bottle is a fairly common practice.

The winery produces a number of wines – all of them sound and proper examples of Bordeaux blends coming from California.  Their label alludes to their use of organically grown grapes.  And the winery’s website goes further and proudly explains that their organic practices are certified.  I applaud both their efforts – more wineries should follow suit.

Organically Grown Grapes and...?

Plenty is added and taken away during the wine making process – even when a wine is produced in an organic and/or biodynamic manner.  However, when a winery (and I am sure this winery isn’t the only winery who does this) lists organically grown grapes as the only ingredient, is this effort more self serving than an attempt to be honest with the consumer?

Listed below are a few processes that add ingredients to wine as it is finished in the winery.

Acidification

Chaptalization

Use of oak chips or oak staves

Fining and/or filtering agents such as bentonite, egg whites, etc…

Addition of sulfur (listed, but how much?)

Yeast (especially certain types of cultured yeasts used to add or guide flavor enhancement)

I didn’t make the wine above, but chances are there is more than organically grown grapes and sulfites in the bottle.

So, if wine is as simple as the above equation, what is complicating the picture?  Many winemakers manipulate the hell out of their wines in an effort to produce a wine that they believe is more universally palatable (and worthy of higher critical claim from highly paid professional tasters).  In the fairly free society that we live in, who can blame winemakers for adjusting their wines as they see fit?  Not me, I just choose not to drink it.  However, what bothers me most is not the intellectual divide between heavy handed manipulators and those who use a similar amount of, but quite different (see below)  guidance in the winery.  You see, winemakers who wish not to use tannin powder, sugar, acid, spinning cones, reverse osmosis, grape concentrate, Syrah or other flagrant manipulative tools also interfere in the wine making process.  They are just as hands on as the manipulators, except their goal is to keep the bullshit out of the wine.

Expressive winemakers wish to allow fruit to express itself without being coaxed into appearing as a fruit cake.  Those who don’t adjust acid want it to be in balance, providing a nervy backbone to the wine.  Tannin and residual sugar are also left to their own devices in an attempt to achieve a harmony of sorts. And for those looking for the most interesting expression of their vineyard site allow naturally occurring yeast to do all the work – no banana, bubble gum or boysenberry surprise here.  And while they allow their wines to grow up to become expressive examples of terroir and sense of place, most do so in a manner that adheres to a strict hygienic code which prohibits unwanted influences from spoiling their efforts.  And as for preserving the wine – those looking to preserve what they deem as expressive wines use sulfur.  And some use more than others.

Why let the wine find its own way?  Because conventional process, for all its profits and glamor, often misses the mark on what is so incredibly special and delicious about expressive wine’s inherent sense of place.  Without a sense of place that is guided not by a chemistry set and glossy magazine covers, but by the intent of the soil, climate and vines guided by the gentle hand of a winemaker, wine is nothing more than a prepackaged process.  And don’t we have enough of that in our daily lives already?

I’ve written about the topic of natural wine enough times to know I am getting tired of writing about it.  But I can’t help but shake my head and pick up my pen when baseless vitriol is heaved at those who believe their work represents what’s wholesome and redeemable about wine. These self-serving dinosaurs who tout their greatness of their wines, even as they are produced more through science than substance, would rather trample the efforts of those whose aim is simple – taking something from the natural earth and guiding it into the glasses held by wine drinkers who are seeking to replace monotony with expression and creativity.  As far as I am concerned, if winemakers and critics don’t understand or accept that basic premise as to the appeal of more natural and authentic wine, they’ll never get it.  And that’s ok with me.

Narcissus, or the daffodil to you and me, begins to reach through the soil and towards the sky this time of year in New Jersey.  The green shoots serve as a subtle hint that Spring is around the corner.  Sprouts of green along the driveway are rooted in specific sense of time and place – basking in an increasing amount of sunlight and anticipation – carafes and wine glasses will be resting on the garden table sooner rather than later.  It has been an unseasonably warm winter so far, but more snow, wind and Arctic air will re-emerge before our daffodils bloom in the greener months.  And we will welcome them, with more than a dram of Txakoli in hand.

Photo Credits - Tiffany Heater, Teroldego & Tomatoes

Tonight I came across a post from Charlie Oken as he chimed in on the latest kerfuffle over natural wine.  Tom Wark posted his latest thoughts on vitis naturalis on his site (and for the record, I have almost zero respect for anything that comes out of Wark’s mouth or keyboard since he compared wine wholesalers to Nazi’s awhile back) which led to a response from Hardy Wallace on his site – Dirty South Wine.  Oken, like so many wine writers, misses the point when it comes to understanding why a growing sector of the wine market prefers place over process.  For those of us who prefer to drink wines that are reflective of place and are produced in a manner that involves minimal intervention, our value for these wines isn’t based solely on method – the wines need to taste delicious.  I have had many wines made with little to no intervention that taste terrible, while others are some of the most memorable bottles I’ve ever come across. However, for those wines that taste delicious and are made in a responsible, non-interventionist fashion – they represent not only a process that allows a wine’s voice to speak, but they offer something that is real.

What do I mean by real?  I mean there wines out there that are mind-blowing examples of what’s great about non-manipulated food products.  They fall into a category that is much bigger and more important than taste alone – they represent a method of production that is anti-process.  And by process I mean processed product.  When I teach wine classes, I often use the analogy that when foods such as doughnuts, cookies, juice from concentrate and by-product cold cuts replace their freshly made, and more authentic predecessors, these pre-packaged food-like products represent more factory than real ingredients.  I, along with a large number of natural wine lovers, believe, though “flavor” and “texture” might be gained by manipulating grapes in the vineyard and juice in the winery, a connection to what’s real is lost – our feet are no longer on the ground.  Instead of viewing a painting in a museum, we are now understanding it through a 17 inch high definition computer monitor.  Though shiny, crisp, clear and lucid, it’s no longer the same painting.  We believe that same “there there” is lost when wines going through the funny business of manipulation.  These wines aren’t always delicious, but those that are represent something that far too many people in this world are losing touch with – an experience that cannot be duplicated, wrapped in plastic and mass produced.  And that my friends, is what the best wines in the world stand for – an unmistakable sense of place that provides an eye opening respite from banality that floods too many wine shops and restaurant lists.

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?

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.

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. 

Producers in prominent winemaking countries are crying foul over the plans.  They believe that expansion of vineyard areas will drive grape prices even lower than current levels.  Many winemakers are still suffering depressed crop prices from the Great Recession.  And for those winemakers with products in the lower end of the pricing spectrum, their brands would be most hurt by the competition.  Though I am no defender of $7 table wine from France or Spain, I can’t help but side with those who are against the proposed expansion for a very simple reason – wine shops and restaurant wine lists are already full of substandard, mass produced wine-like products.  Do we really need to add to the overflowing wine lake that’s full of the likes of Red Bicylette, Lulu and Blue Nun?

For those unaware of how much wine is really in the market, consider this tidbit – each year, Europe distills an eye opening amount of wine into neutral spirits as these grapes do not measure up to the quality standards for even the factory assembled brands stacked in your neighborhood discounter.  And the EU thinks adding vines will enhance their competitiveness in the market?  We need less wine, not more wine!  Unless I am missing something, I can’t help but shake my head and suggest that the EU decreases the quantity of vines already planted and increase the quality of winemaking through less expensive and more efficient methods.  They already have the raw materials for competing with the sugar-laden schlock from other behemoths like Yellowtail and Woodbridge, they simply need to learn how to make their assembly line more efficient.

As for a sense of place, it’s unclear if new vineyards planted in regions such as Bordeaux, Burgundy, Rioja and the Mosel will be allowed to use those appellations on their labels.  I certainly hope not as there are already enough backwater vineyard sites within the best wine regions.  Many offerings coming from these inferior sites are already clogging the market and misleading the consumers into buying wines that lack any semblance of personality and character.  With any luck, officials in the EU will come to their senses and abandon this expansion proposal, but based on the ineffectiveness of European leaders to stem the current financial crisis on the other side of the pond, I wouldn’t count on it.

In no particular order:

The Opportunity to Speak with Joe Dressner

When Joe Dressner passed away a few weeks ago, I wrote a bit about my limited relationship with him.  And as the sadness of his passing was replaced with feelings of appreciation for his efforts as an importer and friend to so many, his friends, family and colleagues drank themselves silly on wines that he helped bring into the US market for countless numbers of wine drinkers to embrace and enjoy.  What I am most thankful for taking out of the handful of conversations I had with Joe was his honesty and uncompromising point of view that great wine should be celebrated for what it is – an expression of vineyard, winemaker and tradition.  And what we should all be thankful for regarding Joe is the impression that he has left on wine drinkers, retailers, sommeliers and up and coming importers and distributors as so many in our business are attempting to emulate his formula – bringing in honest and representative wines into the marketplace for many to enjoy.

The Hill of Madone

Located in the Beaujolais village of Fleurie, the Hill of Madone provided not only the most spectacular view of all ten of the Crus, but was also the first place I have been to in quite some time where it was completely quiet.  No planes, cars, phone calls, text messages or alarm clocks – only wind, and the rustling of swaying Gamay vines.  And the hike down the sun-baked hillside into the town of Fleurie with the promise of carafes of young Beaujolais awaiting us was the perfect ending to an unforgettable afternoon.

Visiting Lopez de Heredia

A winery lost in time – that is the best way to understand what I saw at Lopez de Heredia in Haro, Spain.  It wasn’t difficult to imagine how prior generations made wine there as Maria Jose follows the same practices and uses the same equipment that her father and grandfather did before her.  Like walking into Notre Dame in Paris, you really haven’t been there until you walk in the front door and let the aromas of time and tradition overwhelm your senses.  The walk to dinner from the winery was unforgettable – as was the party in downtown Haro afterwards. I am not quite sure I will ever have the opportunity to participate in a quarter mile long conga line ever again!

Jorge Posada

ot every Yankee fans appreciates how well Jorge Posada played during his tenure in the Bronx.  Though I wanted to throw my remote at the television when he pulled himself from the Red Sox series earlier this year, Posada is one of the best catchers to ever man the plate on 161^st Street.  A borderline hall of famer, Posada is a throwback to another generation and his batting glove-less doubles into the right center field gap will be missed.

Endless Chablis in Noyers

Patrick Piuze, winemaker in Chablis, hosted us when we visited him this past summer.  Instead of the usual winery tour, he took us to the top of the Grand Cru ‘Les Clos’ to explain his winemaking practices and to give us a tour of the rolling hillsides of Chablis.  Afterwards, he gave a magnificent party in the medieval town of Noyers.  Hosting a barbeque until four or so in the morning, Patrick hospitality was second to none on the trip. And the setting couldn’t have been more wonderful.  Noyers, with buildings dating back to the 13^th century, gave me a glimpse into the storied and permanent sense of place that some Europeans towns still maintain today.  Getting up a few hours later for the bus ride to Champagne, now that was something I wasn’t very thankful for…

Our Tomato Garden

For the first time in a couple of years, Mother Nature cooperated and provided my wife and I with a bountiful crop of tomatoes from August through the first few days of November.  Though we still lost a few vines, our backyard tomatoes were a staple at nearly every meal this summer.  I am not a farmer, but the few minutes each day that the garden gives my wife and I to escape are priceless.  Soon enough we will be starting next year’s vines in the hallway!

Authentic Wine

Jamie Goode, author of The Science of Wine, and Sam Harrop, winemaker and author, teamed up to write a wonderful book on responsibly made wine.  Though it is far from a dogmatic manifesto championing all things sulfur and cultured yeast free, it is a well written and accessible guide to all types of wine, while working towards a specific goal – helping wine consumers understand why wine that captures a sense of place should be consumed and enjoyed with curiosity.

Born to Run

In the past year, I have taken up running.  I participated in the Philadelphia Livestrong Event in August and I am training for the Rutgers 13.1 in April.  After a recommendation from a friend, I picked up Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.  The only way I can explain how wonderful of a read this book has become is to compare it to Adventures on the Wine Route by Kermit Lynch.  It’s hook is unavoidable and it was one of the quickest reads I’ve ever picked up.  As my curiosity and sense of wonderment was heightened by Lynch, McDougall has hit the primal note in me and caused me to embrace the innate pleasures that I have for running.

Drinking Wonderfully Delicious and Responsibly Made Wines

I believe that the world has evolved into a bat shit crazy corner of the universe and as the hysteria over greed, power and ideological fanaticism grows, we need a place to escape.  That is why I embrace sense of place.  I believe the best wines in the world capture a sense of place and tell a story with a voice that is distinctive and true.  The best wines don’t need to blow your hair back, they simply make you take pause and exhale.  That brief moment of release can be blissful, even if we don’t know it.  Few beverages can provide this experience and at the top of the list is expressive and honest wine.  We should all be thankful that these wines are readily available in both retail and restaurant settings.  We should all also be open minded enough to give them a chance in our glasses.

Being Able to Share These Wines with Friends and a Loyal Customer Base.

Perhaps what I am most thankful for is the opportunity to share these wines with family, friends and the loyal customers that invite me into their shops and restaurants.  I suppose drinking great wine without friends and family is similar to a tree falling in a forest without anyone around to hear it come down.  And for those in the business that understand their role in bringing vinous delights to their customers, it is comforting to know that wine hasn’t been completely commodified to the point that we haven’t abandoned tradition, story-telling and the romance associated with wines that capture a sense of place.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and remember, with Turkey and various side dishes – Riesling, then Cru Beaujolais.

-John

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