2019-10-01 Robb Report

GUTTER CREDITS

122122 SEPTEMBER 2018OCTOBER 2019

Field Notes

A

decade ago, I was

invited to judge a three-

day international wine

competition known for

taking blind tasting to

the extreme. Not only were we clueless

about the varietals, but we also weren’t

told where the wines were from. All we

knew about each flight was what we

could see—red, white, pink, sparkling.

I was utterly stumped by one of the

elements we were asked to evaluate:

typicity. Did the wine fall into the profile

it should, given the place it came from?

I’m guessing that only a handful of

judges in that room were capable of

nailing the origin of each flight. The

rest of us were hopelessly shooting in

the dark. Yet it struck me that “place”

went to the core of something really

important about wine, something that is

the subject of serious discussion among

wine lovers today: authenticity. A wine

should taste, authentically, of the place

where it was grown.

Or should it? I’m reminded of

another scene from the same time. I

opened a bottle of iconic California

Cabernet for a friend who had begun a

deep dive into premium wine. His eyes

got big after his first sniff and sip. “It’s so

big!” he exclaimed. He meant it as high

praise: The Cab was brimming with

seriously extracted ripe fruit and had a

massive alcohol level. If I hadn’t seen

the label, I probably wouldn’t have a

clue about where in California the wine

was from. It was, though, right on trend,

the sexy style of the day.

The debate pitting authenticity

against fashion in wine has grown

louder in recent years, with a backlash

against the über-ripe, high-alcohol

wines prized during the 1990s and

early aughts. And the authenticity side

of the argument has taken many twists

and turns. To be authentic, does a wine

have to be picked at low enough sugar

levels so that characteristics of soil and

climate come through? Does it have to

be “natural” (a current buzzword that

lacks a definition, but tends to mean a

wine made with minimal intervention

or manipulation—no subtractions and

no additions, except for maybe a tiny bit

of SO 2 )? Hot-button issues like native

fermentation, alcohol extraction, adding

acid and boosting color and flavor with

the likes of Mega Purple (a grape-juice

concentrate) lurk around every turn.

And those are techniques that allow

winemakers to chase fashions in taste,

if their vineyards alone aren’t getting

them close enough.

Cathy Corison—whose Cabernet

from her Corison Winery and Kronos

Vineyards in northern Napa Valley has

been an anti-fashion, much-revered

statement for decades—has thought

hard about authenticity (and its

supposed nemesis, manipulation). “I’ve

never de-alcoholized a wine in my life,”

she says. “And I haven’t added acid to

a Cabernet since 1981.” In fact, Corison

considers herself a natural winemaker.

“I chose a great corner of the world,”

she says. “My job is to let it speak.” She

calls herself an “interpreter,” which I

take to mean an active role in eliciting

the best from the land each year.

Her personal sweet spot is where

she took her own wine, which has a

spectrum of fruit, velvety tannins and

snappy natural acidity, and is always

under 14 percent alcohol. Of course,

Corison would use reasonable, minimal

tools in a winemaker’s kit if a problem

cropped up. But, she argues, “great

grapes don’t need a lot of manipulation

to make great wine.” And in the end, I’m

with her. Wine doesn’t speak of time

and place when grapes are purposely

allowed to develop sugar levels that

would translate to, say, 17 percent

alcohol, which is then manipulated back

to the 14 percent range. That might be a

fashionable wine. It might be delicious.

But it’s not honest or authentic.

But as trends shift, here’s a juicy

irony: Authentic wine is the new

fashion. Aficionados and collectors are

increasingly looking for honest wines of

place, not just indulgent goblets of ripe

fruit. And winemakers are listening (if

they, like Corison, haven’t stood their

ground all along). I’d say the onus is now

on us to learn the nuances of the places

we like best and to choose wines that

express them beautifully.

Sara L. Schneider is Robb Report’s

consulting wine editor.

“Great grapes don’t need a lot of

manipulation to make great wine.”

SARA L. SCHNEIDER

Don’t Let Fashion

Design Your Cellar

WINE Why authenticity of place—rather than the

style of the hour—makes for more timeless bottles.

levels so that characteristics off soil and

climate come through? Doesit haveto

b l ( bdh

Her personal sweet spot is where

shetook herown wine,which hasa

f ff l d

s.

122 OCTOBER 2019

Field Notes

A

decade ago, I was

invited to judge a three-

day international wine

competition known for

taking blind tasting to

the extreme. Not only were we clueless

about the varietals, but we also weren’t

told where the wines were from. All we

knew about each flight was what we

could see—red, white, pink, sparkling.

I was utterly stumped by one of the

elements we were asked to evaluate:

typicity. Did the wine fall into the profile

it should, given the place it came from?

I’m guessing that only a handful of

judges in that room were capable of

nailing the origin of each flight. The

rest of us were hopelessly shooting in

the dark. Yet it struck me that “place”

went to the core of something really

important about wine, something that is

the subject of serious discussion among

wine lovers today: authenticity. A wine

should taste, authentically, of the place

where it was grown.

Or should it? I’m reminded of

another scene from the same time. I

opened a bottle of iconic California

Cabernet for a friend who had begun a

deep dive into premium wine. His eyes

got big after his first sniff and sip. “It’s so

big!” he exclaimed. He meant it as high

praise: The Cab was brimming with

seriously extracted ripe fruit and had a

massive alcohol level. If I hadn’t seen

the label, I probably wouldn’t have a

clue about where in California the wine

was from. It was, though, right on trend,

the sexy style of the day.

The debate pitting authenticity

against fashion in wine has grown

louder in recent years, with a backlash

against the über-ripe, high-alcohol

wines prized during the 1990s and

early aughts. And the authenticity side

of the argument has taken many twists

and turns. To be authentic, does a wine

have to be picked at low enough sugar

be“natural”(acurrent

lacksa definition,buttendstomeana

wine madewithminimalintervention

or manipulation—no subtractions and

no additions, except for maybe a tiny bit

of SO 2 )? Hot-button issues like native

fermentation, alcohol extraction, adding

acid and boosting color and flavor with

the likes of Mega Purple (a grape-juice

concentrate) lurk around every turn.

And those are techniques that allow

winemakers to chase fashions in taste,

if their vineyards alone aren’t getting

them close enough.

Cathy Corison—whose Cabernet

from her Corison Winery and Kronos

Vineyards in northern Napa Valley has

been an anti-fashion, much-revered

statement for decades—has thought

hard about authenticity (and its

supposed nemesis, manipulation). “I’ve

never de-alcoholized a wine in my life,”

she says. “And I haven’t added acid to

a Cabernet since 1981.” In fact, Corison

considers herself a natural winemaker.

“I chose a great corner of the world,”

she says. “My job is to let it speak.” She

calls herself an “interpreter,” which I

take to mean an active role in eliciting

the best from the land each year.

spectrumoffruit,velvetytanninsand

snappynaturalacidity,andisalways

under 14percentalcohol. Of course,

Corison would use reasonable, minimal

tools in a winemaker’s kit if a problem

cropped up. But, she argues, “great

grapes don’t need a lot of manipulation

to make great wine.” And in the end, I’m

with her. Wine doesn’t speak of time

and place when grapes are purposely

allowed to develop sugar levels that

would translate to, say, 17 percent

alcohol, which is then manipulated back

to the 14 percent range. That might be a

fashionable wine. It might be delicious.

But it’s not honest or authentic.

But as trends shift, here’s a juicy

irony: Authentic wine is the new

fashion. Aficionados and collectors are

increasingly looking for honest wines of

place, not just indulgent goblets of ripe

fruit. And winemakers are listening (if

they, like Corison, haven’t stood their

ground all along). I’d say the onus is now

on us to learn the nuances of the places

we like best and to choose wines that

express them beautifully.

Sara L. Schneider is Robb Report’s

consulting wine editor.

“Great grapes don’t need a lot of

manipulation to make great wine.”

SARA L. SCHNEIDER

Don’t Let Fashion

Design Your Cellar

WINE Why authenticity of place—rather than the

style of the hour—makes for more timeless bottle

levelssothatcharacteristicsoffsoiland

climatecomethrough?Doesithaveto

b ( h

Herpersonalsweetspotiswhere

shetookherownwine,whichhasa

f l d

s.