Wine Quality
“Wine quality – the critic’s perspective” was the title of one of the more interesting sessions of the Institute of Masters of Wine 2006 Symposium this summer. James Halliday, Jancis Robinson and James Laube all defined quality in their own terms and then provided wines that they felt exemplified their definition. Perhaps the most fascinating element was what the critics didn’t say, but left the wines to say for them.
James Halliday was the first to speak, and he described a two-tier system for defining quality, placing the characteristics of focus (described as an American term), line (an Australian term referring to the ability of a wine to present an unbroken sensation from the attack through the finish), texture, length, balance, and elegance or finesse into the first tier and power, typicity, complexity, and absence of fault into the second.
Jancis Robinson said that the most important characteristic was that of refreshment – that a wine should make you want to have a second glass. Another important element for her was the ability to age or, as she put it, “to beguile and change in the glass”. Balance was another important attribute, as was the expression of place. Also included on Ms. Robinson’s list was the necessity to have an interesting or distinctive personality and to have “flavor as well as texture”. Finally, Ms. Robinson also mentioned “line”, but defined it a bit differently than James Halliday had, saying that a wine needed to have a beginning, a middle and an end.
The last participant, James Laube, also spoke about the necessity for a wine to have a beginning, a middle, and an end, and noted that he likes wines that “reveal themselves slowly”, which seemed somewhat similar to Ms. Robinson’s dictum that wines should beguile and change in the glass. Mr. Laube went on to describe the importance of depth of flavor and of length and the quality of the finish. He summed up by saying that “pleasure is the salient point”.
The wines chosen by the participants were interesting and illustrative. James Halliday included the Leeuwin Estate “Art Series” Chardonnay 2003, and the Penfolds “St. Henri” South Australian Shiraz 2002; Jancis Robinson included the Morstein Grosses Gewächs Riesling from Klaus Peter Keller (based in the Rhienhessen) and a Ridge Monte Bello 1996 (Santa Cruz Mountains), while James Laube included the Alban “Reva” Syrah and the Marcassin “Bondi Home Ranch” Sonoma Mountain Pinot Noir 2002.
The speakers each had very similar definitions of quality, but the wines they chose revealed their the opinions and prejudices quite clearly. Each picked wines typical of the regions and the styles with which they have become associated: James Halliday stayed with the Oz classics, Jancis championed restraint and elegance over power, and James Laube opted for what could be called “gobs of fruit”.
What would I choose? Krug Grande Cuvée and Château d’Armhailac 2001 (that was easy).
My view on quality begins with the catechism that I absorbed on the MW course: balance, length, intensity, complexity. I see this as an essentially valid framework, and that neither “power” nor “size” appears of necessity on this list. My love is for wines that are elegant rather than forceful. Big, powerful, full-bodied, alcoholic wines are often bottled with a hint of sweetness. In my opinion, these wines are more suited to being poured over ice cream than to being consumed with dinner.
A friend once noted “The first duty of a wine is to have fruit”, and there is nothing more true – wine, after all, it is a beverage made from fruit juice. This does not mean, however, that wine has to be “fruity”, a word which is often a euphemism for “slightly sweet”, a deplorable style.
What I mean by fruit is perfume, and to enchant me a wine needs an elegant and penetrating perfume. It needn’t be all primary berry/tropical/apple-y fruit, but can also include mineral notes and other terroir expression, earthy/gamey/leathery notes, winemaking notes such as butter, lees or toast, or secondary (developed) characters such as truffle, forest floor (sous-bois), or lead pencil. Ideally, it would have a wide palate of aromatic characters.
Often these aromatic wines are leaner, lighter, and more focused than their richer, stronger, more powerful brethren. This does not, however, mean less substantial. The French have a tasting terms (“vineux”) to describe my favorite wines. Often applied to Pinot Noir, it technically translates as “vinous”, but that doesn’t give the same sense in English. The Brits sometimes say “sappy”, but that sounds like “stupid” to an American. I have taken to saying that such wines show good extract, which means having substance without necessarily being heavy (think great red burgundy or German Riesling).
All of our quibbling is of little importance in legal terms – the EU has adopted a very liberal definition of quality wine – their framework includes a demarcation of quality production regions, a definition of quality grape growing and winemaking methods, a declaration of alcoholic strength and maximum yield, and the requirement that all wines be analyzed and tasted. Aligning themselves with the Mad Hatter, they have decreed that a quality wine is what they say it is, neither more nor less. At present, there are more than 10,000 quality wine appellations in the EU.
Most new world regions do not embrace even these minimal standards. While the concept of geographical indications is gaining ground in new world wine producing nations, the distinction between quality wine produced in a specific region (QWPSR) and table wine or country wine has largely not been adopted.
This discussion begs one question, however: is quality wine necessarily good wine? There is logically a difference between well-made wine and wine that that is aesthetically pleasing. In other words – is what is good necessarily beautiful? Here I would suggest that it is necessary to craft a definition that is sufficiently flexible to include both Jancis Robinson’s Riesling and James Laube’s Pinot Noir. As a wine professional, I will certainly allow that both are quality wines, while I must also confess that I found the former delicious and the latter undrinkable.
Perhaps the idea of “quality wine” is itself a red herring. Do we speak of “quality painting” or “quality music”? I would be just as eager to attend a performance of Bach’s Goldberg Variations as I would of Hindemith’s “Ludus Tonalis”, while I would have radically different expectations walking into the concert hall.
If the idea of “quality wine” must be replaced by one of “beautiful wine”, then perhaps it is also time to retire the 100 pt system. I find it difficult to imagine that a music critic would suggest (whatever his personal preference) that Mahler’s “Songs of the Earth” was a 94, while Bach’s Christmas Oratorio was only an 89. If our judgments of wine speak more to style than an objective quality, how can we justify such a pseudo-scientific approach?
My personal framework is that wine is either “poor” quality, “good” quality, “very good” quality or “outstanding” quality. I hate to waste my time with the first category – being of good Midwestern stock, I was raised me to believe that if one can’t say anything good, then its best not to say anything at all. What remains are the delicious and deliciously different wines from around the world.
