The first time I ever paid for a professional tasting was in the summer of 1987. It was at Singer & Foy, a now-defunct retailer then located just off Washington Square in North Beach in the city. The tasting listed in their mailer that day was, if you can believe it, several recent vintages of Premier and Grand Cru Chablis from Domaine Francois Raveneau. Mind you, this was long before the brilliant wines from Raveneau attained cult status and became all but unobtainable. 
 
I walked into the shop, the only customer at the time, and was greeted by owner Steven Singer. I told him I wanted to taste the Raveneau and he smiled knowingly as if I had just uttered a password and gained entrance into some kind of secret club. Little did I know. After sitting down, Steven set out ten glasses in front of me and began to pour wines from almost identical bottles replete with hard yellow wax capsules--the same yellow wax capsules knowingly loved and hated by sommeliers the world over (because they’re impossible and very messy to remove). After that, he left me in silence with the wines and my note pad. 
 
To this point, my experience of Chardonnay was limited to the new world, primarily California. I had never tasted a good much less great Chablis. But I clearly remember picking up the first glass, raising it to my nose, and frowning in that serious “I know what I’m doing” kind of way that all wine geeks love to sport. The first sniff of the wine revealed a series of aromas that were more than a bit alien to me. Not much in the way of fruit compared to the California Chardonnays I was used to. I then took the first sip and the experience was like a combination of loud feedback on a public PA system and eating several whole lemons in rapid succession. It wasn’t painful. No, I lied, it was physiologically uncomfortable to the point of pain--but in a very enlightened way, if that’s possible. The first sip of what was the 1979 Montée de Tonnerre​ was like someone had plugged a home electric appliance into my palate (waffle iron?) and flicked the juice on with the expected results.
 
Nothing remotely similar had ever come across my vinous radar. Here was a wine that was immensely powerful, bare bones dry, and painfully acidic. In comparison, the Chardonnays of my previous experience were like going to a church social as a kid. Some of them had big hair, others wore lots of jewelry, while still others wore an alarming amount of perfume. All of them wore lots of makeup. The Raveneau wine was different; we were no longer in Kansas but somewhere closer to the Dog Star.

At that point I put the glass down and looked at the other nine wines realizing that I was really in for it. But being of very stubborn German and Irish stock, I took a deep breath and resolved to get through the flight and even more, to somehow make sense of it. I had, after all, paid my $15 (!). Somewhere around the sixth or seventh glass, I had two of my first wine epiphanies in short order. First, that it was possible to come across a wine that was perfectly well made but that you strongly disliked. Second, and more important, some wines simply didn’t care if you like them or not. It was precisely at this moment that I dubbed the flight of Raveneau Chablis “Dominatrix Wines.” They truly didn’t care if I liked them or not. They also were completely unapologetic for their character. And they definitely would not be calling me in the morning. 
 
Fast forward twenty years: I’m teaching a Master Sommelier Introductory Course in New Orleans for a group from the CMAA, the Club Manager’s Association of America. The attendees were mostly middle-aged men who managed highly successful golf clubs across the country. I was leading the group through a blind tasting of four wines. The second white wine of the flight was a recent vintage of Domaine des Baumard Savennières, a dry, mineral-drive Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley. We worked through the wine using the MS deductive tasting grid as our guide. Going through the nose, the group had problems finding much of anything. Some remarked that the wine was corked (it was not) while others said that it smelled musty. Then they tasted it. In moments I was standing in front of 80 adults all experiencing gustatory melt down. Practically everyone spit the wine out immediately and looked at me with an expression somewhere between wince and grimace (two of the evil dwarves). It was the same expression your kid gives you when you take them to the pediatrician and the nurses sneak up behind them and give them a shot in each arm--at the same time. I think the expression is called “betrayal.” 
 
It goes without saying that the group positively hated the wine and strongly voiced their objection. I attempted to counter saying it was more than possible to come across a good—even great—wine that one wouldn’t like, and how important context was in any tasting experience. I also told the group that the Baumard was the most expensive—and probably the most complex—white wine they would taste during the two days of the class. They didn’t buy it--and were definitely not amused. Fortunately, I escaped unharmed.  

Chablis and Savennières are not the only two dominatrix wines. There’s actually a smallish universe of wines, both white and red, that qualify for dominatrix status. Here are a few more.

a. Barolo and Barbaresco: or anything remotely connected to the Nebbiolo grape. So pale and delicate in color but one sip and it can be like Rottweiler in a glass as in shockingly tannic, acidic, and bone dry. If you’re hanging out late at night watching Dancing with the Stars and want that last glass of red, this is definitely not it. But make no mistake, Barolo and Barbaresco are two of the world’s greatest red wines. To me, they’re quintessential cold weather reds to retrieve from the cellar and match with the best braises, stews, and game. Even live game. Just kidding. 

b. Sercial Madeira: balance searing acidity barely with the meagerest “may I have some more gruel” bit of residual sugar and you have Sercial. Madeira could even be the ultimate restaurant wine by the glass because the wines are indestructible. After all, they’ve been cooked, oxidized, and fortified. You could probably run them down your driveway and then retrieve them just in time for the cheese course. 

c. Aged Palo Cortado and Amontillado Sherries: think all Sherries are sweet and the domain of geriatrics? Think again. There’s no more vinous, intense, and bone-dry fortified wine than a good aged Palo Cortado or Amontillado. 
 
Coda
 
Our smell and taste preferences can change dramatically as we get older. Most of us move on from the simply sweet of youth to the delightful trio of sour, savory, and salty—three more of the evil dwarves, if you will. Add bitter to that trio and you’ll understand my fondness for Fernet Branca. But that’s another story. How do I feel about Raveneau Chablis now? I’m a huge fan. I think it’s one of the greatest white wines made anywhere. Period. I’ve come to absolutely love the Raveneau wines to the point of coveting them. And if anyone reading this would like to send me a few bottles or a case, I’m sure they would be blessed for several generations. I promise. 

In blind tasting practice and exams there are two sets of grapes that consistently give students nightmares. I call them the “Evil Dwarves.” Each set is populated by grapes easily confused for one other. The first set is made up of semi-aromatic white grapes including Albariño, Grüner Veltliner, Loire Chenin Blanc, Alsace Pinot Gris, Northern Italian Pinot Grigio, and dry Riesling from Alsace or Germany. The other set is comprised of thinner-skinner red grapes such as Pinot Noir, Gamay, Sangiovese, Tempranillo, and Grenache.  

One would think that it wouldn't be that difficult to tell the various grapes/wines apart. But stop for a moment and think about how similar the fruit qualities are for all the grapes within each set. Add to that the fact that within each group the colors of all the wines can be remarkably similar. Thus, if a student is keying off color and fruit trying to tell the grapes apart it will be an endless nightmare. 

But there is good news in that practically all the grapes have a strong signature in terms of impact compounds such as botrytis, TDN, or phenolic bitterness. Combine these impact compounds with the unique structural profiles of any of the wines (levels of acidity, alcohol, and in the case of red wines tannins) and you have a blueprint to be able to tell classic examples of any of the grapes/wines apart. And that’s a very good thing. So without further ado, here’s a road map to help identify the Evil Dwarves and tell them apart from their brethren. Onward!

Part I: Semi-Aromatic White Grapes

Albariño

Look for: floral (terpenes), ripe-tart fruit, lees contact, stony mineral notes, and no oak

Structure: medium to medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus to high acidity, and phenolic bitterness

Why it’s not:

Grüner Veltliner: Albariño lacks the white pepper or vegetal qualities found in Grüner Veltliner. Smaragd Grüner will also always be a much richer wine than Albariño along with the pepper/vegetal qualities and botrytis notes.

Loire Chenin Blanc: Chenin Blanc, even when dry, often shows botrytis notes and green olive/green herb character as well as pronounced chalky minerality. Structurally Chenin has medium-plus alcohol and high acidity. It also lacks the overt terpenic qualities of Albariño.

Alsace Pinot Gris: Albariño lacks the botrytis notes and phenolic bitterness found in Pinot Gris. Structurally, Pinot Gris has higher alcohol, lower acidity, and often displays residual sugar.

Northern Italian Pinot Grigio: in weight and structure Albariño and Alto Adige Pinot Grigio can be similar, but Pinot Grigio is less terpenic and usually shows wet stone minerality and phenolic bitterness on the finish.

Riesling: the lack of TDN (petrol/fusel/kerosene notes) in Riesling sets it apart from Albariño. Alsace Riesling—especially Grand Cru quality—and German Grosses Gewächs Riesling also tend to be much richer wines with slightly higher alcohol and higher acidity. Finally, the fruit profile in Riesling is also much broader than Albariño with botrytis notes sometimes found in the former even in dry wines.

Grüner Veltliner
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Look for: pepper (rotundone), herbal-vegetal notes, stony mineral, and used or no oak

Structure: medium to high alcohol, medium-plus to high acidity, and phenolic bitterness

Considerations: ripeness levels as applied to the Wachau classification (Steinfeder, Federspiel, and Smaragd) or reserve wines from other regions

Why it’s not:

Albariño: pepper/vegetal notes and less overt terpenes.

Loire Chenin Blanc: Chenin will usually be a richer wine with less overt terpenes, chalky minerality, and possible sulfur notes.

Alsace Pinot Gris: no rotundone in Pinot Gris. It will usually be a richer wine with lower acidity, phenolic bitterness, residual sugar, and the possibility of botrytis character. 

Northern Italian Pinot Grigio: can be similar in weight and structure to some lighter Grüner Veltliners but again lacks the pepper/vegetal qualities. Pinot Grigio will also have less phenolic bitterness on the finish.

Riesling: it’s pepper/vegetal qualities of Grüner Veltliner vs. the TDN and possible botrytis notes of Riesling.

Loire Chenin Blanc

Look for: floral (terpenes), possible botrytis character (even in dry wines), chamomile-botanical-herb, chalky minerality, and used or no oak

Structure: medium-to-medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus to high acidity, and phenolic bitterness

Why it’s not:

Albariño: the terpenes set Albariño apart from Chenin.

Grüner Veltliner: Chenin completely lacks the rotundone character found in Grüner Veltliner.

Alsace Pinot Gris: both can show botrytis notes but Pinot Gris will offer more phenolic bitterness and residual sugar on the finish, and have relatively lower acidity.

Northern Italian Pinot Grigio: Loire Chenin will be a richer wine showing chalky minerality and possible sulfur notes.

Riesling: both can show botrytis character but Chenin lacks the TDN of Riesling.

Alsace Pinot Gris

Look for: floral (terpenes), possible botrytis character, mushroom-earth-mineral notes, used or no oak, and possible off dry to slightly sweet in style

Structure: medium-plus to high alcohol, medium to medium-plus acidity, and considerable phenolic bitterness

Considerations: AC vs. grand cru wines

Why it’s not:

Albariño: Albariño generally is a lighter wine than Pinot Gris with higher acidity, lack of botrytis notes, and lack of residual sugar on the finish. 

Grüner Veltliner: while it can match the weight and richness of a Smaragd Grüner Veltliner, Pinot Gris will  lack rotundone pepper qualities.

Loire Chenin Blanc: both grapes can show botrytis character but Chenin will often show the sulfur/herbal notes, pronounced chalky minerality, and have higher acidity and phenolic bitterness.

Northern Italian Pinot Grigio: will be a much lighter wine than Pinot Gris from Alsace. Pinot Grigio will also lack any botrytis notes and will be a dry wine.

Riesling: Alsace Pinot Gris can easily match the weight and richness of Riesling from the same region not to mention Riesling from Germany or Austria. However, Pinot Gris lacks the acidity and TDN qualities of Riesling and will also show phenolic bitterness on the finish.

Northern Italian Pinot Grigio

Look for: white floral (terpenes), lees contact, stony mineral, and no oak

Structure: medium alcohol, medium-plus acidity, and phenolic bitterness

Why it’s not:

Albariño: both grapes can be similar in weight and texture but Pinot Grigio is a more narrowly defined--almost neutral--grape/wine by comparison. Pinot Grigio is also not quite as terpenic as Albariño.

Grüner Veltliner: Pinot Grigio lacks the pepper/vegetal qualities of Grüner.

Loire Chenin Blanc: Pinot Grigio is generally a lighter-bodied wine compared to Loire Chenin. Classic Pinot Grigio will also not show botrytis character and will less acidity.

Alsace Pinot Gris: Alto Adige Pinot Grigio is a scaled down version of its Alsace cousin but with higher acidity, more restrained alcohol, and no residual sugar.

Riesling:  Pinot Grigio lacks any TDN qualities found in Riesling not to mention possible botrytis character. 

Riesling

Look for: floral (terpenes), fusel-petrol (TDN), possible lees contact, slate/mineral qualities, no oak

Structure: low to medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus to high acidity, and possible phenolic bitterness, especially in dry wines

Why it’s not:

Albariño: TDN, possible wider fruit profile, and higher acidity set Riesling apart from Albariño.

Grüner Veltliner: it’s the rotundone pepper/vegetal in Grüner vs. the TDN in Riesling.

Loire Chenin Blanc: although both can show botrytis notes, the chalky minerality and lack of TDN set Chenin apart from Riesling.

Alsace Pinot Gris: both can again show botrytis character but Riesling will often display TDN and have higher acidity.

Northern Italian Pinot Grigio: TDN, more complexity, and higher acidity will set Riesling apart from Pinot Grigio.

Part II: Thinner-Skinned Red Grapes

As with the white grapes in the first set, the color and fruit qualities of thinner-skinned red grapes can be similar making them difficult to tell apart. Again, practically all display unique signatures from impact compounds that can be an important aid in identifying the grape/wine. Add the unique set of structural qualities (levels of acid, alcohol, and tannin) found in each grape and you have a blueprint to be able to tell classic examples of any of the wines apart. For our purposes, we’ll use the following wines as models for their respective grapes:
​

• Pinot Noir: Côte de Nuits/Beaune or California/Oregon New World
• Gamay: Beaujolais Villages
• Sangiovese: Chianti Classico Riserva or Brunello di Montalcino
• Tempranillo: Rioja Reserva or Gran Reserva
• Grenache/blend: Châteauneuf-du-Pape or Gigondas
• Nebbiolo: Barolo or Barbaresco

 
Pinot Noir

Old world – Burgundy: red fruits, rose-floral, tea-herb, possible green stem quality (stem inclusion), possible Brettanomyces, soil-mineral-game, and oak usage

Structure: medium to medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus acidity, and medium to medium-plus tannin

Considerations: AC vs. Premier Cru vs. Grand Cru wines in regards to oak usage and price

New world: fruit-dominant (primarily red), floral-herbal notes, possible earth-mineral, and oak usage

Structure: medium to medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus acidity, and medium to medium-plus tannin

Why it’s not:

Gamay: Pinot Noir usually lacks the candied/artificial fruit character from carbonic maceration as well as granite/stony minerality. Pinot Noir also commonly offers new oak.

Sangiovese: Pinot Noir lacks the tannin of Sangiovese—specifically grape tannin often perceived in the front of the mouth on teeth and gums. Sangiovese also has higher acidity as well as anise-bitter herbal flavors.

Tempranillo: extended aging in American Oak (coconut, dill, herb, pronounced vanilla, and baking spices) sets classic Tempranillo-based Rioja apart from Pinot Noir.

Grenache: riper alcohol and higher tannins set Grenache-based blends apart from Pinot Noir. Pinot Noir also lacks the peppery-rotundone and savory herb/garrigue qualities of Grenache. Larger cooperage is also traditionally used for a Grenache/blend vs. smaller barrique in Pinot Noir.

Nebbiolo the tannin and acid levels in Nebbiolo are far higher than in Pinot Noir. 

Gamay

Look for: candied, confected red fruits from carbonic maceration, green stemmy quality from stem inclusion, stony-earth, and little or no oak

Structure: medium alcohol, medium-plus acidity, and medium-minus to medium tannin
​
Considerations: villages vs. cru wines with more carbonic character in the former
 
Why it’s not:

Pinot Noir:  carbonic character in Beaujolais Villages sets it apart from Pinot, whether from Burgundy or the New World. Beaujolais will also lack the overt oak character often found in Pinot Noir.

Sangiovese: carbonic notes again differentiate Gamay from Sangiovese with the latter also having more tannin. No stem inclusion notes for Sangiovese.

Tempranillo: carbonic notes and lack of overt oak influence—specifically American Oak influence.

Grenache: lack of carbonic notes in classic Grenache blends with the latter also having more non-fruit complexity (pepper, dried floral, garrigue/herbs, savory qualities). Structurally, Grenache has higher alcohol and more tannin without pronounced stem inclusion.

Nebbiolo: has higher levels of alcohol, tannin, and acidity compared to Gamay as well as an oxidative character and completely different fruit/non-fruit set. Again, no carbonic character and stem inclusion.

Sangiovese

Look for: tart red fruit with darker fruits in wines from riper vintages or those containing Cabernet family grapes; tomato-green herb, anise, sandalwood, chalk-mineral-earth, and oak usage – large cooperage or barrique

Structure: medium to medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus to high acidity, and medium-plus tannin

Considerations: degree of oak influence as far as barriques vs. larger barrels

Why it’s not:

Pinot Noir: more grape tannin in Sangiovese as well as higher acidity and more of an anise/herbal character.

Gamay: lack of carbonic artificial fruit character in Sangiovese as well as a higher level of tannin.

Tempranillo: the oxidative style and American Oak set Tempranillo apart from any form of Sangiovese. The latter is usually more tannic as well.

Grenache: lack of pepper/rotundone character in Sangiovese. Grenache blends also offer a higher level of alcohol with relatively less acidity.

Nebbiolo: Sangiovese vs. Nebbiolo is one of the more challenging side-by-side comparisons. There are many similarities between the two but in the end Nebbiolo in the form of Barolo and/or Barbaresco is usually more tannic and acidic as well as offering floral and high-toned aromatics.

Tempranillo

Look for: dried dark, red, and raisinated fruits, dried floral-potpourri, dried herb, dust-soil-terra cotta, considerable oak American oak usage, and oxidative character

Structure: medium to medium-plus alcohol, medium-plus acidity, and medium to medium-plus tannin

Why it’s not:

Pinot Noir: oxidative winemaking-aging and American Oak set Tempranillo apart from Pinot Noir regardless of origin. 

Gamay: no carbonic character or stem inclusion in Tempranillo. Oxidative style and American Oak in the Rioja.

Sangiovese: oxidative style and American Oak. Sangiovese is usually more tannic as well.

Grenache: although some styles of Grenache blends may show oxidation similar to Tempranillo with age, the wines will never display the American Oak character. Grenache blends will also offer more alcohol as well as pepper and Mediterranean herb (garrigue) notes.  

Nebbiolo: American Oak is rarely, if ever, found in Barolo and Barbaresco. The latter two will also be far more tannic and acidic than Tempranillo.
 
Grenache and Grenache Blends

Look for: range of dark, red, and raisinated fruits; pepper (rotundone), savory herb (garrigue), sanguine notes (roasted meat, blood, iodine), pronounced earth-mineral, and oak usage (large cooperage)

Structure: high alcohol, medium-plus acidity, and medium-plus to high tannin

Why it’s not:

Pinot Noir: too much richness, alcohol, and tannin on the part of Grenache.  The peppery and herbal qualities in Grenache/blends also sets the wines apart from Pinot Noir.

Gamay: unless it’s basic Côtes du Rhône, use of carbonic is very infrequent for Grenache blends; thus the artificial fruit qualities of Gamay set it apart from the latter. Grenache will also offer more richness, higher alcohol, and pepper/herb notes.

Sangiovese: Grenache is richer with higher alcohol and peppery qualities than Sangiovese. Sangiovese will often have more grape tannin in the front of the mouth as well.

Tempranillo: Grenache/blends lack the American Oak character of traditionally made Tempranillo-based wines.

Nebbiolo: more acid and tannin (most notably grape tannin) in the Nebbiolo.

Nebbiolo

Look for: ripe-dried red and dark fruits, pronounced rose-floral, dried herb, mushroom-earth-tar, and oak usage–large cooperage or barrique

Structure: medium-plus to high alcohol, medium-plus to high acidity, and high tannin

Why it’s not:

Pinot Noir: Nebbiolo is usually far too tannic and acidic to be Pinot Noir. 

Gamay: ditto the above about tannin and acidity. Note that Nebbiolo rarely, if ever, shows carbonic notes. Finally, Nebbiolo often shows considerable oak influence.

Sangiovese: as mentioned above, Sangiovese—especially Brunello—can often be confused with Nebbiolo. Generally, the latter will have higher levels of acidity, tannin, and alcohol. Nebbiolo usually displays more floral and high-toned aromatics than Sangiovese.

Tempranillo: too much tannin and acidity in Nebbiolo to be confused for Tempranillo. American Oak in the former also makes it easy to differentiate from Nebbiolo.

Grenache: Nebbiolo offers higher levels of acidity and tannin than Grenache as well as more floral and high-toned aromatics.

Summer 1976 and the Paris Tasting. The repeal of prohibition was just 43 years before. Dry table wines had only been outselling fortified sweet jug wines in the U.S. since 1968. For most Americans, fine wine—and fine dining for that matter--was about as remote as the Dog Star. The very thought that California wines could ever share the stage with top French bottlings seemed to be fantasy. The tasting changed everything, with California wines judged superior to Grand Cru Burgundy and classified growth Bordeaux by a panel of French judges. The results sent shock waves through the industry--and far beyond.

I was an undergrad studying music at the University of New Mexico at the time. I clearly remember the tasting making national news (all four channels!) as well as the cover of Time Magazine. Even then I knew that for whatever reason, it was a huge deal.

At this seminal moment, writer Robert Benson wanted to find out more about the state of the California wine industry post-Paris tasting. From 1976 to early 1977 he interviewed several dozens of the state’s top winemakers. The result was his book, Great Winemakers of California. Published in the fall of 1977, Great Winemakers is the most accurate snapshot of the California industry in the ‘70’s I’ve ever found. Benson’s interviewees were essentially a list of the who’s who of California wine at the time: Andre Tchelistcheff, Paul Draper, Joe Heitz, Robert Mondavi, the legendary Martin Ray just months before his passing, and over 30 more.

Benson’s book is delightfully informative. He conducted all the interviews in person and later transcribed them. Interview questions ranged from general industry topics to the nuts and bolts of winemaking including brix levels, fermentation regimens, fining and filtration techniques, and laws concerning place names and varietal labeling.

In reading the interviews, I was struck by how distinct each individual was—not to mention their wines. Many came to the industry from completely unrelated fields and were amateurs learning on the job. Others, and Joe Heitz of Heitz Wine Cellars immediately comes to mind, had enology degrees, extensive training, and experience at multiple wineries. Regardless, all possessed what can only be called a pioneer-like spirit and the drive to make their respective wines the very best, while trying to establish the reputation of the California industry as world class. Here are some of the most notable topics from the interviews as well as memorable quotes. I hope you find them as fascinating as I did.

Climate vs. soil: many interviewed said that climate played a far more important role in quality wine than soil or location. However, one notable outlier was Dick Graff of Chalone, who said, “The whole idea of soil vs. climate in California was decided in favor of climate many years ago by professors Amerine and Winkler (U.C. Davis) for the simple reason that the factor of climate produces differences in grapes which are measurable in the laboratory. Now when you go to Europe, it’s universally agreed, from centuries of experience, that soil is very important and ours is about the only limestone deposit in a place that’s arable and has the right climate for grapes.”

Big vs small wineries and quality: depending on who was being asked, both small and large wineries had the potential to make top quality wine. Rick Forman, then winemaker at Sterling Vineyards, was convinced that smaller was better saying, “Some very good wines can be made in quantity. But wines of style, of breed and character, can only be made by hand in small batches.” However, the venerable Robert Mondavi believed just the opposite. Ever the politician, Mondavi was quoted, “I’d say that 95% of the time the finest wines are made by the smaller wineries. But there are exceptions to the rules. I’ve concluded you can produce wines in reasonable quantities that are equal to those of the smallest producer. If you have climate, soil, grape varieties grown in the proper location, and you add dedication, desire, the will to train your people, and the proper facilities, you can duplicate what the smallest producers can do.”

Varietal percentage law: at the time of the book’s release, federal law required that varietal wines only contain a minimum of 51% of the grape stated on the bottle. Shocking, but true. The rest could be anything else available. Some thought the law fine as it was. Others wanted the minimum percentage raised to at least 60%, if not 75% percent. Martin Ray’s wines were 100% varietal. No surprise that he was quick to say, “I think it should be thrown out, for god’s sake!” Karl Wente of Wente Vineyards was a little more forgiving saying, “I’d like to see it go to 60%. I like the opportunity for a little blending with the Grey Riesling, Pinot Noir, and sometimes the Petite Sirah.” If not familiar, Wente’s Grey Riesling (Trousseau Gris) was one of the most popular white wines in the U.S. at the time.

Vintage dating and Christian Brothers. One of the interviewees was Brother Timothy of Christian Brothers, who had been working at the winery since 1928—almost 50 years at the time of the book’s release. With multiple winemaking facilities in Napa and beyond, Christian Brothers was easily the largest winery of any included in the book at well over a million cases per annual production. Brother Timothy strongly believed that quality wine could be made on a mass scale. Also—and this is striking—that blending vintages to achieve a consistent “product” as he called it, was far superior to vintage-dated wines.

Use of centrifuge: proved to be a controversial topic. Those that could afford them used them, and proclaimed their superiority in clarifying must before fermentation or the wine before bottling. Richard Arrowood of Chateau St. Jean in Sonoma said, “Let me tell you the reason most people don’t have centrifuges: they are terribly expensive. But the improved quality of the finished product justifies the expense for us.” On the flip side, smaller wineries without the capital or space were against their use, citing that they stripped the must/wine of important solids and character. To point, when asked if he used centrifuges in the winery, Warren Winiarski of Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars said, “No. I don’t know if I’d use one either. I’m not sufficiently impressed that it improves white wines.”

Cultured yeast only: cultured yeast was universally used. Natural ferments were viewed somewhere between mysterious and an anathema to be avoided at all costs.

Use of European place names: a topic of great controversy. Practically every winery included in the book had a lower tier cash-flow line of wines labeled Chablis, Burgundy, Claret, or the like. Most accepted it as the norm. Joe Heitz of Heitz Wine Cellars strongly defended the practice of using place names saying: “The American Indians didn’t start bottling Burgundy. It was Frenchmen, Spaniards, and Germans who came to this country. They brought their cuttings from home, and said, ‘Ah, we’re in California now, this is California Burgundy, or this is Rhine wine.’ It was a natural transition; we didn’t suddenly become a civilized nation and decide to go into the wine business by stealing European place names.” Others condemned the practice of using European names including Andre Tchelistcheff of Beaulieu Vineyards who said, “It is very false for us to steal the appellations of Europe. I accepted it with the bleeding of my heart, but it was a necessity, a compromise I accepted with tears.”

Hand vs. mechanical harvesting: at the time of the book’s release, mechanical harvesting was anything but common practice. And the quality of the machines was definitely not what it is today. However, Donald Alexander of Mirassou Vineyards was convinced of their use saying, “Mechanical harvesting has to be better than picking by hand. We capture the flavor by crushing right in the field.” Martin Ray completely disagreed saying, "Unless your land is level, there is no equipment to take care of it. Anyway, you can't ever get satisfactory results with mechanical picking of the grapes." 

Variety of grapes planted: one of things that becomes quickly apparent in Benson’s book is the number and variety of grapes planted. Varietal bottlings of Colombard, Grey Riesling, Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Pinot Blanc, Pinot St. George, Barbera, and Alicante Bouchet were regularly available in tasting rooms—in Napa Valley. Phylloxera would soon change that. More on that below.

The Paris Tasting: without exception, everyone expressed excitement about the results of the tasting. Benson’s final question in every interview asked if California wines were better than their European counterparts. Most said an emphatic “yes” with the few outliers—citing Burgundian varieties like Chardonnay and Pinot Noir—saying, “close but not yet.”

​The diminutive giant: though many of Benson’s questions were topics of debate, no one argued the monumental importance of Andre Tchelistcheff. Many of those who contributed to the book either worked directly with him or used him as a consultant not to mention as a source of knowledge and experience. Everyone, without exception, praised him to the heavens. No mystery that Tchelistcheff’s interview is by far my favorite in the book. Andre’s depth of knowledge about Napa Valley was remarkable—far beyond anyone else at the time. When asked a simple question about planting appropriate varieties in specific places in the valley, he responded with a lengthy tutorial on the Napa Valley’s micro climates and soil types, citing the most appropriate rootstocks and grape varieties for each. His knowledge of winemaking techniques for various styles of wine was also unmatched.

Quick story: I once had a chance to meet Andre—but didn’t. In 1988 I was at a trade tasting at the Mark Hopkins Hotel in the city. I saw the diminutive Tchelistcheff (not much over five feet tall) with a group of people and felt the urge to go over, say hi, and introduce myself. But I was a mere bartender at the time and let the moment pass. I’ve always regretted it.

The World Changed

My first trip to Napa Valley was in the summer of 1983, about six months before Carla and I moved to California. Highway 29 was lined with wineries whose labels I’d seen on wine lists the previous two years while working in restaurants in Ann Arbor during grad school. The valley and its wines seemed brimming with life, potential, and possibility. Then came phylloxera and everything changed. In the span of a decade most of the vineyards in Northern California were decimated and had to be replanted to the cost of $20,000 or more an acre. Many smaller vineyard and winery owners simply couldn’t afford to replant and quietly sold their properties and faded into oblivion.

Replanting also changed varietal demographics and overall wine character of the valley dramatically—forever. The combination of high cost of land (yes, even then) and expense of replanting practically forced most owners to choose grapes that were not only in high market demand, but would also would fetch the highest possible tonnage prices. In other words, Chardonnay, Cabernet, and Merlot. But perhaps the greatest impact of this mass replanting--and something rarely spoken or written about--was that the plant material completely changed. New low vigor native rootstocks and different clones replaced what had come before, most notably the move away from using the AXR1 rootstock that had been so susceptible to phylloxera. The new rootstock-clone combinations required longer hang time for the fruit to reach physiological maturity, and longer hang time made for higher sugar content in the grapes and ultimately higher alcohol levels in the finished wines. Gone forever were the sub-13% Cabernet Sauvignons of the ‘60’s, ‘70’s, and early ‘80’s, with the new wines weighing in at 14-14.5% alcohol by volume and beyond. The new style of wines was debated by press and consumers alike, with critics and the use of numerical scores blamed for the new higher alcohol trend. But in the end, it was the different plant material that was responsible for the change in wine style. As always, nature bats last.

Final Thoughts

With the passing of time it’s all too easy to forget where we come from. There is so much about California wine that we take for granted simply because it’s been around for decades and become an almost unseen part of the fabric of our professional lives. One of the most important take-aways from Benson’s book for me is the need to keep California wine history on our radar. Further, to maintain an intense curiosity about where the industry came from, and to laud--and never forget--the first generations who put California on the world wine map. Our industry would not exist without the likes of Martin Ray, Andre Tchelistcheff, Robert Mondavi, Paul Draper, Joe Heitz, Warren Winiarsky, Dick Peterson and many more. They are the reason why the California wines of today are considered among the greatest anywhere.  

*A sad footnote: just yesterday I learned of the passing of long time Simi winemaker Mary Ann Graff. She was the only woman interviewed in Benson’s book. Graff was the first woman to earn a degree in Enology at UC Davis, the first woman winemaker of the modern era in California, and the first woman on the Board of Directors of the American Society for Enology and Viticulture. I met her several times over the years and always appreciated her deftly balanced wines, her wit, and her passion for the industry. She will be greatly missed.

The holiday season is upon us. It’s time to navigate the perilous waters of office parties, dysfunctional family gatherings, and general seasonal mayhem. But fear not. As in years past, I've put together a list of gift ideas including medicinal beverages for those on your shopping list—and for yourself. Remember that it’s imperative that you give yourself a seasonal gift. After all, how can you possibly expect anyone else to know what you really want? My gift to myself for this year is listed below. Read on and enjoy. And Happy Holidays!

Glassware

Riedel Veritas Champagne Glass

There’s been a debate of sorts over the last few years in the sommelier community on whether or not to abandon the traditional Champagne flute for a white wine glass. To point, I remember a dinner at a well-known bistro in Washington D.C. where the sommelier poured non-vintage Gaston Chicquet Cuvée Tradition Brut out of magnum for me in a Riedel Vinum Bordeaux glass. I raised an eyebrow until he generously poured at least eight ounces of the delicious Champagne. Was using a Bordeaux glass taking the argument a bit too far? Perhaps. Regardless, Riedel’s Veritas Champagne glass is a perfect détente for the Champagne flute debate with its elegant profile, exaggerated bowl, and slightly wider opening. It’s also an excellent glass for lighter white wines. 

Schott Zwiesel 1872 Enoteca Collection Bordeaux Glass
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I first experienced the Schott Zwiesel Enoteca Bordeaux glasses at a dinner several years ago hosted by good friend Keith Goldston, MS. He chose these very tall Bordeaux stems for the 2009 Bartolo Mascarello Barolo. The combination was magical. I’ve been a fan ever since and wouldn’t hesitate to recommend them. That said, be aware that these glasses are fragile and require hand washing and polishing--which should always be done the next day when you’re sober. 

The Holiday Book Bag

Space Odyssey: Stanley Kubrick, Arthur C. Clarke, and the Making of a Masterpiece, by Michael Benson

I first saw 2001: A Space Odyssey with a friend when it was released in the summer of 1968. The combination of astonishing visuals and soundtrack of beautiful classical music was the most incredible cinematic experience of my short life. I saw the movie again at an IMAX theater this past summer for its 50th anniversary and it didn’t disappoint. No surprise that 2001 remains one of my top three favorite movies. Michael Benson’s recent book captures the making of the landmark movie in detail, from the first discussions between writer Arthur C. Clarke and legendary director Stanley Kubrick to the movie’s premier and after. One of my favorite books of the year. 

Flavor: The Science of Our Most Neglected Sense, by Bob Holmes

Bob Holmes has a PhD in evolutionary biology and has been a correspondent for New Science Magazine for over 20 years. His book, Flavor, is engagingly written and filled with delightful facts. It’s by far one of the best books I’ve ever read on the science behind smell and taste. I think it's a must read for anyone in the wine industry. 

Calypso, by David Sedaris

Nobody does family dysfunction in non-fiction better—or funnier-- than David Sedaris. His prose is razor sharp, witty, and filled with bittersweet reflection. Calypso chronicles his family, relationship, and obsession with using his Fitbit while collecting garbage on the rural lanes and byways of England. 

When Women Ruled the World, by Kara Cooney

Dr. Kara Cooney is an Egyptologist, archaeologist, and associate professor of Egyptian Art and Architecture at UCLA. Her most recent book explores the lives of six women who ruled as king in ancient Egypt. Cooney details the complexities that defined life for the Egyptian noble class, particularly the women who came to rule in a patriarchal society. Throughout the book she deftly connects the challenges that this remarkable group of women faced in ancient times to those that women leaders face today. When Women Ruled the World is a superbly written and timely book. 

Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Neil Gaiman is one of the great storytellers of our time. Over 20 years ago, he teamed up with the late Terry Pratchett to write an “end of the world” book. In Good Omens, they take the reader on a wild ride leading up to the apocalypse. The protagonist is a teenage boy, literally the antichrist, who was somehow switched at birth and raised in a normal middle class family. As always, Gaiman, here with the help of Pratchett, assembles a cast of the oddest possible characters whose inevitable meeting/collision at the books’ end is the stuff of legend. A great read. 

Hilma af Klint: Paintings for the Future, by Trace Bashkoff

At the time of her death in 1944 at the age of 81, Swedish Artist Hilma af Klint left behind over a thousand paintings and volumes of hand written text, most of which had been kept private during her lifetime. Convinced the world wasn’t ready for her art, she left instructions that her work not be seen for 20 years after her death. Thus, it’s only within the last few decades that the world has had the opportunity to see af Klint’s stunning abstract paintings. Many of them are large-scaled, and all are filled with striking geometric shapes and bold colors. Her work attempts to portray the unseen spiritual world through form and symbolism. Because her work predates the paintings of Vassily Kandinsky and his other contemporaries, art historians have had to rethink the history of abstract art. af Klint is currently the subject of a major exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum in New York. Trace Bashkoff’s book, also published by the Guggenheim, is a wonderful introduction to the artist and her work. 

The Order of Time, by Carlo Rovelli

In the first part of his book, The Order of Time, Italian physicist Carlo Rovelli completely unravels our concept of time using the principles of quantum physics. In the second part, he gracefully weaves it back together. The Order of Time is the third book by Rovelli to make one of my recommended reading lists. As with his previous efforts, his prose is beautiful, lilting, and borders on poetry. 

Honey from a Weed, by Patience Gray

Patience Gray was a UK-based food writer. Her partner, Norman Mommens, was a sculptor. For the better part of four decades they “followed the marble,” living in rural Catalonia, Naxos, Apulia, and Tuscany. Gray’s Honey from a Weed is an autobiographical cookbook of sorts, and offers the reader a window into the cuisines and traditions from these regions, some of which were already vanishing at the time of the book’s release. When Honey from a Weed was first published in 1986, it was instantly hailed as a classic and one of the great books on food and cooking of the 20th century. It belongs on your bookshelf. 

​Recordings - All Bach All the Time

My morning routine consists of reading and writing in a daily journal. The soundtrack for the morning routine is important. In the last couple of years, it’s consisted primarily of the keyboard music of J.S. Bach. I think Bach’s music combines beauty with symmetry and mathematical genius. I can’t think of better music to listen to when starting one’s day​. Here are three of my favorite Bach recordings, two for keyboard and one for ensemble.

Bach: French Suites, Murray Perahia

Perahia is one of the greatest pianists of our time. His recent recording of the French Suites on the Deutsche Grammophon label is otherworldly. If you need a starting point for Bach’s music, this is definitely it. 

Bach: Complete Recordings, Angela Hewitt

Canadian pianist Angela Hewitt began piano studies with her mother at age three. She gave her first recital at age nine, and has enjoyed an international career since. Hewitt is especially known for her cycle of Bach recordings begun in 1994 and finished in 2005. I find her Bach performances ethereal and simply gorgeous. This box set includes 15 CDs and over 17 hours of music. You might think it’s a bit over the top, but remember, it’s Bach. BTW–this set was my holiday gift to myself. 

Bach: Brandenburg Concertos, Claudio Abbado and Orchestra Mozart

The Brandenburg Concerti are a collection of six instrumental works presented by Bach to Christian Ludwig, Margrave of Brandenburg-Schwedt in 1721. They are widely considered the finest instrumental works of the Baroque. In particular, the second concerto is the bane of many a trumpet player. It’s considered the most difficult piece there is for the instrument in the entire literature. The part is written for clarino (piccolo) trumpet and the tessitura—range—is so high that in the day I could never play it. I have over a dozen recordings of the Brandenburgs at last count between vinyl and CD. Claudio Abbado’s rendition with the Orchestra Mozart is beautifully played and my current favorite recording on modern instruments. 

Beyond Bach

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 5, Manfred Honeck and the Pittsburgh Symphony

Conductor Manfred Honek’s recording of Shostakovich 5 won the Grammy Award this year for best classical recording. A few minutes into the first movement and you’ll know why. The performance is live and the recording quality is as good as it gets. The symphony itself is heart wrenching, dramatic, and a tour de force of orchestral music. The album also includes Samuel Barber's beautiful Adagio for Strings. This is an outstanding recording in every way. 

Beethoven: Symphony No. 9; Christoph von Dohnányi and the Cleveland Orchestra

As with the Bach Brandenburgs, I own more than a dozen recordings on vinyl and CD of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, some dating back to the 1940’s. The Telarc recording of the Cleveland Orchestra conducted by Christoph von Dohnányi is my overall favorite in terms of performance and recording quality. Note that Telarc was the first to make high quality digital classical recordings in the U.S. Their first recording dates back to 1978 with the last in 2009 when the company was “acquired” by the Concord Music Group and basically unplugged.
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The Telarc Beethoven 9 was released in the early 1990’s as part of a cycle of the complete symphonies. I can’t think of a recording that more accurately captures what a major orchestra sounds like in a great concert hall--in this case, Severance Hall in Cleveland. The sound stage is huge and utterly life-like with the instruments positioned in space where they actually are in live performance. And the sound created by a chorus of over 100 singers has to be heard to be believed. Add Dohnányi’s interpretation and you have something special. Highly recommended.

Get Your ‘70’s Groove On

There was a lot of utter crap music in the 1970’s, some of it imminently regrettable. But there was a lot of great music as well. Here are two favorites, both of which I heard live in concert in the day.

Manchild, Herbie Hancock

Herbie Hancock is one of the jazz greats over the last 50 years. His Manchild album defines the electric funk-jazz fusion of its time. 

Wired, Jeff Beck

Jeff Beck is one of the top guitarists of his generation. Beck’s career spans back to the ‘60’s with groups including the Yardbirds. Released in 1976, his album Wired is in the jazz/rock fusion vein. George Martin, as in the late Sir George Martin of Beatles fame, produced the album.

Hooch

I would list holiday wine recommendations here—but I already did that in the last post. Besides, the madness of the holidays often calls for much stronger water. Allow me to assist.

Lustau Solera Gran Reserva Finest Selection Sherry Brandy

Sherry Brandy is one of the spirits world’s great secrets and Lustau one of the top Sherry bodegas. Their Solera Gran Reserva Finest Selection Brandy is aged over 15 years in a mix of Amontillado, Oloroso, and Pedro Ximénez casks. Delightfully spicy and rich with a touch of sweetness. 

Rhum Barbancourt 15 Year Estate Reserve

Rhum Barbancourt is made by the Société du Rhum Barbancourt in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Their 15 Year Estate Reserve is a true agricole rum produced entirely from free run sugar cane juice. It’s double distilled in copper pot stills and aged in French Limousin barrels. Sip and savor in a fine brandy snifter. 

Ardbeg Uigeadail Malt Whisky

Ardbeg has long been a favorite malt whisky. The distillery is located on the Kildalton Coast on the isle of Islay. The Uigeadail (pronounced Oog-a-dal) is named after a nearby loch that provides fresh water to the distillery. Think of the Uigeadail as a kinder, gentler Laphroaig. There’s still more than enough peatiness to go around but balanced by a gentle sweetness from aging in old Sherry casks. It’s a perfect whisky to sip while the yule log burns bright.

Del Maguey Tobola Mezcal
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Del Maguey’s single village Mezcals are incredibly complex spirits. My favorite is the Tobola, made from a single species of Agave grown at high elevation in volcanic soils. It’s transparent, layered, and mineral driven. I call it the Mosel Riesling of Mezcal. 

Braulio Amaro
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Braulio is a quintessential alpine amaro with mountain flowers, herbs, and a perfect balance of bitter and sweet on the palate. Reach for it when you need a digestif but don’t want to brave the deep end of the pool—as in Fernet Branca.

I've written this blog for almost seven years and never dedicated a post to wine recommendations for a specific occasion. I think the other eight zillion wine blogs out there more than cover that topic. However, the holidays are almost here so why not make an exception. Before getting started, a few thoughts:

First: this post is primarily for all the non-industry readers out there in cyber land. I’m grateful that you keep reading my misguided missives. In this entry, you’ll find a veritable plethora of great bottles. Most are priced under $50 and all guaranteed to more than do justice to your holiday table. I promise.

Second: my colleagues will probably look at the title of the post, respond with a not-so-subtle eye roll, and think something along the lines of, “So tell me something new.” I get it. However, read on as there might be a vinous gem you’ve somehow missed.

Third: pairing wine with the traditional holiday meal is not rocket science. The sweet-savory-earthy combination of flavors of the holiday meal make it ideal—even forgiving--for practically any style of wine, with few exceptions. Those exceptions are monumentally over-oaked Chardonnay or astringently tannic red wines like Cabernet Sauvignon. Remember that oak and tannin are the least flexible elements in wine when it comes to pairing with food. Having said that, I must also remind you that the X-factor in any wine experience is one’s personal preference. So if oaky Chardonnay or tannic Cabernet is your thing, by all means go for it.

What wines work best with the holiday meal? Practically any other style than those just mentioned. Look for unoaked, higher acid white wines, and medium-to-full bodied reds that aren’t too oaky or tannic. Piece of cake. No, make that pie. One last morsel of wisdom: residual sugar in white wine is extra primo good with the holiday meal because so many of the dishes also have a sweet element in them. Remember, sweet needs sweet when it comes to food and wine pairing. Now it’s time to read on and assemble your holiday vino-shopping list. As Edna Mode said in Pixar’s The Incredibles, “Go, confront the problem. Fight! Win!”

Sparkling

With the world careening into utter madness, it’s comforting to know that good bubbly is still more than affordable. We all need to drink more of it regularly.

NV Sorelle Bronca "Particella 68," Prosecco Superiore Brut: this is not the same cheap-ass Prosecco case-stacked to the rafters at Trader Joe’s. It’s the real deal, as in Prosecco Superiore DOCG (vs. simple Prosecco DOC wines). Sorrella is a small family owned estate in the town of Valdobiaddene. The Particella 68 Brut is produced in small quantities from a single vineyard planted on an impossibly steep hillside. Prosecco like this is the essence of Vivaldi in a bottle.

NV Ca' del Bosco Cuvée Prestige Brut, Franciacorta: gets my vote for best overall value in sparkling wine from anywhere. The wine is vibrant, earthy, and delicious. The package is simply gorgeous and the price is right. What’s not to love?

NV Pierre Peters Cuvée de Reserve, Blanc de Blancs: one of the first grower-producer Champagnes I tasted over 20 years ago—and still one of my favorites. The Pierre Peters is a true blanc de blancs from 100% Chardonnay. Racy, steely, and laser-like on the palate. In short, quintessential aperitif Champagne.
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NV Alfred Gratien Rosé Brut: like Krug and Bollinger, Alfred Gratien uses wood for primary fermentation to lend a rounded texture to the finished wine. That aside, there is no better value for rosé Champagne than the non-vintage Gratien. Period. I’m flummoxed why it’s not better known and appreciated.

White

My list of holiday whites follows the theme of high acid, non-oaked wines from semi-aromatic grapes. There’s also a Chardonnay recommendation, plenty of Riesling, and an otherworldly Gewürztraminer.

Clelia Romano Fiano di Avellino, Colli di Lapio: I first bought Clelia Romano’s Fiano while a buyer at Virtual Vineyards over 20 years ago at the dawn of online time and retail cyber space. It remains one of my very favorite Italian whites with its lovely white floral, pear/quince, and tart citrus notes framed by intense minerality.

Cantina Terlano Pinot Bianco Riserva, "Vorberg," Alto Adige: Pinot Bianco, aka Pinot Blanc, practically always underachieves in a major way. Not so here. Terlano gets my vote for best white wine producer in Italy and their Vorberg is easily one of the greatest wines made from the grape. The vineyard is located on a steep alpine slope with sandy, porphyry-gravel soils. The wine is dense (dry extract) and concentrated with lots of acid lift.

Domaine Sigalas Assyrtiko, Santorini: do you really need another reason to visit the magnificent island of Santorini? The Sigalas Assyrtiko is one of my favorite whites from anywhere. Rich and opulent but with racy acidity and insane volcanic minerality.

Domaine Huet Vouvray, Le Mont Sec: Huet’s Le Mont Sec could be the perfect white wine for turkey and all the trimmings. It’s also my favorite Vouvray by far; opulent, layered, and mineral-driven. If you haven’t tried it, you must.

Yalumba Viognier "The Virgilius," Eden Valley: a lot of New World Viognier is reminiscent of the Fat Elvis phase—as in awkward and a bit trashy. Not so here. Winemaker Louisa Rose of Yalumba is a master of Viognier. She makes three different bottlings from the grape and the top cuvée is called The Virgilius. It’s shimmering, perfumed, and elegant.

Domaine Weinbach Gewurztraminer, Cuvée Théo: Domaine Weinbach is one of the top estates in Alsace. Their Cuvée Théo is sourced from the oldest vines in the Clos du Capuchins vineyard. A quick whiff of the glass reveals an astonishing array of floral, lychee, spicy exotic fruit, and truffle-earth. In short, it’s a wow. 

Emmerich Knoll Grüner Veltliner Smaragd Loibenberg: I’m going full-on geek here. Emmerich Knoll is one of the Austria’s top winemakers. Grüner Veltliner is the country’s premier white grape, and Smaragd its richest version—a classification only used in the Wachau, the country’s smallest quality wine region. Smaragd wines are completely decadent with honey, ginger, and saffron from botrytis combined with the pepper, daikon, and botanical notes that make Grüner Veltliner so unique. Knoll’s Smaragd Loibenberg is not exactly easy to find and it’s not inexpensive. But try it you must.  

Mount Eden Estate Chardonnay: a Chardonnay recommendation before all the Rieslings. Mount Eden’s Estate has always been my favorite California Chardonnay. Steep Santa Cruz Mountains hillside vineyards planted with Burgundian clones make for one of the most unique places for the grape in the New World. Winemaker Jeffrey Patterson always keeps balance in mind so the use of oak is never excessive. His wines are also among the few California Chardonnays capable of long-term aging. I’ve tasted 25-year-old bottles that were mature and yet fresh.

Riesling

Half my cellar (which sadly is a thousand miles away in Oakland, CA, at the moment), is German Riesling. Most of that is Spätlese-level (late harvest) as in slightly sweet. Why? Because Spätlese Riesling is the most versatile and delicious food white wine there is. I can’t think of a better white for the holiday table. Following is a short list of some of my favorite producers and vineyards with Spätlese specifically in mind.

Egon Müller Scharzhofberg: weightless, shimmering elegance, and filigree. It’s expensive (and should be).

Dönnhoff Niederhäuser Hermannshöhle: many believe Helmut Dönnhoff and his son Cornelius to be Germany’s top winemakers. I find it hard to disagree. The Hermannshöhle makes for sumptuous, layered, fruity wines as well as brilliant dry Grosse Lage bottlings. Not easy to find, but can be temporarily life-changing.

Robert Weil Kiedricher Gräfenberg: one of the Rheingau’s (and Germany’s) top estates—and greatest vineyards. The wines are incredibly focused, concentrated, and weightless. Utterly delectable.

Rheinhold Haart Piesporter Goldtröpchen: Theo Haart’s Rieslings from the great Goldtröpchen vineyard are easily the best in Piesport. The wines are honeyed, sumptuous, and racy. 

J.J. Prüm Wehlener Sonnenuhr: the Prüm wines have a distinct terroir, great precision, and ethereal filigree. The Wehlener Sonnenuhr vineyard has been cultivated without interruption for the better part of the last 2,000 years.
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Gunderloch Nackenheimer Rothenberg: I’m still sad about the passing of owner-winemaker and friend Fritz Hasselbach in the fall of 2016. His Rieslings from the Rothenberg vineyard were always opulent and shamelessly hedonistic. Fritz may be gone, but the family’s outstanding wines from the Rothenberg are still with us.

Pink

Dry rosé is perfect with the holiday dinner, especially roast turkey which a colleague once described as, “chicken with attitude.” Here is a trio of favorite pink wines:

Domaine de Fontsainte Corbières Rosé, Gris de Gris: a delicious Southern French saignée rosé made from a blend of Grenache Gris, Grenache Noir, and Carignan. Saignée, BTW, refers to the traditional method of separating part of the juice from a red wine fermentation and making rosé from it. I’m convinced that we are all better for it.

Robert Sinskey Vin Gris of Pinot Noir: many pink wines are cast-offs or second thoughts intended to generate quick cash flow. Not the Sinskey Vin Gris. The fruit comes from prime Pinot Noir real estate. The grapes are whole cluster pressed and only the free run juice is used. The result is dry, delicate, and delightful.

Tasca d'Almerita Tenuta Regaleali, Le Rose, Rosato: Sicily is one of my favorite places in the wine world. Tenuta Regaleali is a gorgeous estate located in the mountains an hour from Palermo. The estate has been owned by the Tasca d’Almerita family since 1837, and is known for superb wines and an internationally recognized cooking school. This vibrant rosato is made from Nerello Mascalese grapes planted in 1974. It offers tart youthful red fruit with a touch of volcanic minerality.

Red

In choosing reds, I’ve kept in mind the fact that some may opt for lamb, beef, or venison instead of the usual roast turkey. Thus, you’ll find both lighter and richer reds below.

Gary Farrell Pinot Noir, Hallberg Vineyard, Russian River Valley: Pinot Noir is a universal go-to red wine this time of year, and for good reason: its bright fruit and silky tannins make it an ideal mate for Thanksgiving dinner and beyond. Winemaker Theresa Heredia of Gary Farrell is one of my favorites for Russian River Pinot. Her wines always show wonderful depth and spice character.

Roberto Voerzio Barbera d’Alba, "Il Cerreto": Barbera is not exactly a wine that comes to mind with Thanksgiving dinner--but it should. Roberto Voerzio is one of the top producers in Barolo. His Barberas are also legendary. The “Il Cerreto” is crammed with luscious fruit, savory herbal notes, and tart acidity.

La Rioja Alta Viña Ardanza Reserva: La Rioja Alta is one of my favorite old-school producers. Their Viña Ardanza Reserva spends three years in American oak casks, giving the wine an overt Bourbon-spiciness with a supple texture and distinct earthiness.

Yalumba "The Signature," Shiraz-Cabernet Sauvignon: Shiraz-Cabernet blends from Australia are one of the world’s best-kept red wine secrets. Yalumba’s The Signature is a perfect marriage between the spice and savory elements of Shiraz and the structure of Cabernet. It’s one of my favorite reds for the money.

Henschke "Keynetone Euphonium," Shiraz-Cabernet, Eden Valley: a visit some years ago to the Henschke winery in Eden Valley was one of the greatest single producer tastings I’ve ever experienced. The major take away was that no one does red wine texture and tannin management better than Steven Henschke. As expected, the Hill of Grace Shiraz was world-class. But I especially remember the Keynetone Euphonium, a Shiraz-Cabernet blend. It was lush, seamless, and imminently drinkable.
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Storybook Mountain Reserve Zinfandel: Jerry Seps is a founder of ZAP (Zinfandel Advocates and Producers) and one of the patriarchs of the grape. His reserve bottling—a selection of the best barrels in a given vintage--is easily my favorite Zinfandel. It shows the lush—just this side of frat party--fruit we expect from Zin but in the most elegant and stylish expression possible. 

Dessert

There’s only one rule that needs to be followed when pairing dessert wines with holiday desserts: the wine must always be sweeter than the dessert. Here are three very different stickies, all perfect for holiday desserts.

Donnafugata Ben Ryé: made on the windswept volcanic island of Pantelleria from dried Muscat grapes locally called “Zbibbo.” Ben Ryé, which means “song of the wind” in Arabic, manages to be seductive without being cloying. It’s also one of the great values in dessert wines.

Niepoort Colheita Port: more often than not, aged tawny ports show declarations of 10, 20, 30, even 40 years on the label. A Colheita, or vintage Tawny, is a rarity and Niepoort specializes in them. The 1995 vintage I tasted recently is drinking beautifully with notes of toffee, roasted nuts, caramel, and molasses. Pumpkin pie, anyone?

Château Coutet à Barsac: Barsac is a neighbor to the higher rent Sauternes district and also produces botrytis sweet wines. Coutet is one of my favorite chateaux there. The wine always delivers unctuous honey and exotic spice flavors.

Coda

I hope you’ve found some holiday vino ideas from the list. Remember that any of the wines would make a thoughtful holiday gift. In fact, you should pick up several bottles for yourself. Otherwise, steady on through the choppy waters of the next few weeks. If things go south, remember what Hunter S. Thompson once said: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”
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Cheers!

Good friend and fellow MS, Evan Goldstein, once explained to me the difference between a great wine and a great wine experience. The former, he said, is just as implied; a prohibitively expensive, great, or legendary bottle tasted at a trade event or via the cellar of a generous collector. A great wine experience, he went on to say, was something completely different. Where context--as in the people, place, and time--is just as important, if not more so, than the wine itself. In fact, in some cases the actual wine may not even matter.

Recently I’ve given some thought to Evan’s definitions for great wines and great wine experiences. In regards to the former, I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have tasted more than my share of great, even legendary wines over the years: 1971 Egon Müller Scharzhofberg TBA, 1961 Krug Collection, 1945 Chateau Latour, 1985 Romanée Conti, 1961 Chateau Cheval Blanc, 1982 Vega Sicilia Unico, 1974 Heitz Martha’s Vineyard, and 1941 Beaulieu Vineyard Burgundy all come to mind (the last perhaps the greatest California Pinot Noir I’ve ever tasted).

There have been great wine experiences over the years as well. As Evan mentioned, with each there’s a profound emotional connection not just to the wine, but more so to everything else in the memory as far as the people, the time or occasion, and the place. After giving it some thought, here are five of my favorite great wine experiences.

Baby Maria and Pol Roger Rosé

March 1990: my daughter Maria’s baptism at St. Dominic’s Church in Pacific Heights in the city. The wine I chose for the reception at our Fillmore St. apartment was the 1979 Pol Roger Rosé. It showed beautifully that day. I clearly remember holding Maria in one arm with a glass of the delicious rosé in the other. I also remember feeling a muddle of emotions; part proud new dad, part freaked out new dad, and the amazing love you feel for your first child—especially a daughter.

Some months later, I was invited to a Pol Roger trade dinner in the city. As luck would have it, Carla and I were seated next to Christian Pol Roger. At some point during the meal I told him that we had chosen the ’79 Rosé for Maria’s christening. He smiled, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “May your daughter have a long and happy life.”

Trattoria Zaza and the Perfect No-Name Chianti

October 1987: Carla and I were in Europe together for the first time. We started our trek in Paris, then rented a car and drove to Blois spending several days in the Loire before heading to Burgundy. From there, we took the train to Nice, Pisa, and finally Florence.

Florence didn’t disappoint. It was the most remarkable place I’d ever experienced. After spending an afternoon in the Uffizi Gallery (!!!) and shopping in the square, we wandered about looking for a place for dinner. Not far from the cathedral, we stumbled on a joint called Trattoria ZaZa, crammed to the rafters with local students. Once inside we managed to find a table. The noise was near stadium level. The menu was limited to just pasta, pizza, and lighter fare--and the wine selection was even more limited. We opted for a liter of the house Chianti. I watched as the woman serving us drew it directly into a carafe from a huge barrel behind the bar. She immediately delivered it to our table with two clunky glasses that would have been handy in a bar fight.

​The first sip was unforgettable—the essence of Sangiovese and autumn in Tuscany. It was the most delicious red wine I had ever tasted up to that point in time. Looking back, it still is the most delicious Chianti I have ever tasted. How good? Carla and I managed to work our way through the better part of two liters of it with dinner. Enough said.

Paris Sigalas and His Remarkable Assyrtikos

Nothing is better than tasting a wine at its place of origin. The combination often makes for a great wine experience. Such was the case in September 2006 during the legendary MS tour of Greece. Ten days of seeing literally every part of the country that has anything to do with wine. We spent an average of four-plus hours a day in a van driven by a young Greek lad who wore the same synthetic disco shirt the entire trip thereby redefining the concept of terroir. 

The highlight of highlights was visiting the island of Santorini, surely one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. On the drier leeward side of the island Paris Sigalas and his crew tirelessly care for old Assyrtiko vines that are pruned close to the ground into round basket-like shapes called ampellari. I have vivid memories of our group standing in the late afternoon sun with Sigalas and his winemaker. Sigalas repeatedly mentioned the terroir, pointing at the ground which was covered with a proliferation of volcanic rocks of every kind including chunks of whitish pumice that were so light in the hand they were almost weightless.

We headed back to the winery to taste verticals of oaked and un-oaked Assyrtiko. The experience was revelatory. Sigalas’ Assyrtiko is one of a kind due to its great depth and richness with the alcohol level often up to 14.5% balanced by ferociously high natural acidity. But the hallmark of all Sigalas wines is the minerality, which is completely off the charts. There probably isn’t a better example of volcanic minerality in any wine made anywhere.

To this day, Sigalas' Santorini remains one of my very favorite white wines. Whenever I taste it, I’m instantly transported back that late afternoon standing in Sigalas’ vineyard bathed with golden Mediterranean sunlight looking at the arid, windswept vines in their odd basket shapes. The feeling is remarkable.

The Doctor Is In

May 2002: my third trip to the Mosel. It was early evening and the fourth and last winery stop for the day. By now, residual sugar and the insanely high acidity from tasting dozens of Rieslings had managed to fry the palate of everyone in the group, including mine. Since early morning, we’d been tasting wines from the superb 2001 vintage just bottled. But the best of the day was saved for last. Our final appointment was at Weingut Wegeler in Bernkastel with winemaker Norbert Breit as our host. After meeting us at the winery off a narrow cobblestone street in Bernkastel, we drove up the steep and winding road hundreds of feet above the river to the very top of the legendary Doctor vineyard. Breit pulled a newly minted bottle of 2001 Wegeler Doctor Spätlese from his leather bag, opened, and poured. From there he really didn’t need to say anything else.

Wines from the Doctor vineyard, widely considered the best in the Mosel and easily in the top five in all Germany, are known for their remarkable concentration, opulence, and precision. The 2001 didn’t disappoint. It’s one of the greatest young German Rieslings I’ve ever tasted. Standing on shifting dark slate I looked down the perilously steep slope at the tiny village below with the river snaking away in the golden late afternoon sunlight. I reached down to pick up a chunk of dark slate the size of a large paperweight and took another sip of utterly delicious Riesling. It was nectar of the gods.

My First Wine Epiphany

Christmas 1982: my first great wine experience happened on a cold Christmas night in Ann Arbor when I was in graduate school. Carla and I opted not to go home to New Mexico for the holidays that first year. Armando Ghitalla, my trumpet professor, and his wife Pauline, kindly invited us to Christmas dinner. The other dinner guests that night included H. Robert Reynolds, director of bands at the music school, and his wife.

Some weeks before, good friend Bob Reyen (who would go on to be Maria’s godfather) had given Carla and me a bottle of ’76 Silver Oak Alexander Valley Cabernet. I’d never heard of the winery much less tasted the wine, but he assured me that it was outstanding. The bottle became our donation to Christmas dinner.

With the soup course cleared, Mundy—as we liked to call him--and Pauline disappeared into the kitchen to carve the roast beast. I opted to open and pour the bottle of Silver Oak. What happened next is not easy to describe. After serving the wine, I sat down and picked up my glass. Reynolds, who had just been extolling the virtues of the bottles of ’61 Bordeaux in his collection (totally meaningless to me at the time), smelled the Cabernet in his glass and then immediately said a quiet, but very emphatic, “Wow!” Carla said that the room smelled like flowers. I quickly put my nose in the glass only to be assaulted by a tsunami of blackberry jam and spice box. I had never experienced anything remotely like it before with any wine. It was the very first time wine didn’t smell just like wine, it smelled like something—something I recognized. The bright lights shined and the angels sang—the whole enchilada. I finally got it. I finally knew what everyone was talking about. In short, I had my first wine epiphany. From then on whenever I put my nose in a glass wine smelled like “things” instead of just wine. In that moment, everything changed and wine would never be the same. I would never be the same.

Coda

Sometimes I’m asked if one can script a great wine experience, or if it can somehow be predicted. My answer is that I doubt it because part of the recipe seems to be serendipity and being open and receptive to a confluence of elements that make up a great wine experience. However, chasing an elusive great wine experience is always more than worth the effort. In reading this post, memories of both great wines and great wine experiences probably came up for you. I hope many more of both are in your future. Cheers!

It’s a common scenario: an industry person is leading a consumer tasting. During the tasting two people in the crowd have completely different responses when asked about one of the wines. And their descriptions are wildly different compared to that of the industry person--the one who theoretically should have a clue. The crowd then turns to said industry person for answers, wisdom, and guidance. Their response: “It’s OK. Everybody is different. Besides, wine is all subjective.”

I’m calling foul here. Saying wine is “all subjective” is a not only a monumental cop out, it’s simply wrong. It also reinforces widely held urban myths that wine as a subject is impossible to understand and that industry pros like us are making everything up. And while one could argue that the entire wine experience is subjective because it’s based on personal response and interpretation, there is a great deal of it that can be precisely measured.
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Before getting even more carried away, it might be useful to examine the terms objective and subjective as they apply to the tasting experience. To do so I’ll use the Master Sommelier deductive tasting grid--without the conclusion segments--as a guideline to determine which criteria fall under the objective category vs. subjective. There may also be a third category. More on that in a moment.

To start, working definitions of the terms “objective” and “subjective” as they apply to all experience are needed. A quick check on Google, the source of all human knowledge and wisdom, turned up the following:

“Objective experience: of, relating to, or being an object, phenomenon, or condition in the realm of sensible experience independent of individual thought and perceptible by all observers.”

“Subjective experience: refers to the emotional and cognitive impact of a human experience as opposed to an objective experience which are the actual events of the experience. ... For instance, we are all having a subjective experience whenever we are experiencing pain.”

Now let’s map these definitions over to the tasting experience. In wine, certain criteria can be isolated, identified, and quantified through lab analysis. We’ll call these “objective.” Other criteria are described by a taster using their personal and unique life memories. These are "subjective" as they are based on individual interpretation and are different for everyone.
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I want to introduce a third category at this point that combines both objective and subjective experience in regards to tasting. These criteria display extremes (little or none vs. a lot) that can easily be identified and are clearly objective. However, the degrees in between the two extremes are more open to interpretation and therefore subjective. Hence, objective-subjective. 

​The Grid

Following is the deductive grid broken down into objective elements that can be quantified, subjective elements that are always shaped by personal interpretation, and finally those that fall into the third objective-subjective category. 

Sight

Clarity: in wine is the result of filtration and fining—or the lack thereof. The difference between a clear wine placed next to a cloudy or hazy wine is easy to discern and agree on, as is that in between. Objective.

Brightness: the brightness scale in the deductive grid goes from dull to brilliant with several stages in between. While the extremes are easy to identify if placed next to each other, the degrees in between are definitely not. Subjective - objective.

Color: color scales for all major styles of wine have long been established. The actual names for colors may vary, depending on the source. However, anyone in the industry can connect the dots between the color of a wine and a commonly used name. Objective

Secondary colors: observing the presence of green or sliver in a young white wine or garnet highlights in an older red wine is fairly straight forward. Objective

Rim variation: there is always differentiation between the color at the core of a glass of red wine and that at the rim or edge. Objective

Sediment: regardless of tartaric acid crystals or actual sediment from non-filtration or age, sediment can easily be seen and identified. Objective

Tears/legs: here for the first time we’re in the subjective universe. The intent of observing the legs/tears/Marangoni effect in a glass of wine is to gain a first impression of the body/weight of the wine, which is related to the level of alcohol, glycerin, and/or the presence of residual sugar. However, observing legs-tears generates a general impression at best and presupposes multiple things including quality glassware that is cleaned and polished. Subjective

Nose

Faults: while degree of sensitivity to common wine faults is unique to the individual, the presence of TCA (trichloranisole), high levels of VA (volatile acidity), Brettanomyces, or other compounds can be precisely measured in the lab. Objective

Intensity of aroma: intensity of aroma is directly related to fruit ripeness, certain impact compounds, and structural levels, especially alcohol. Given that, one could place a Pinot Grigio from Alto Adige next to a Gewurztraminer from Alsace and the difference in aromatic intensity would be obvious. However, tasting experience would be needed to calibrate the degrees of aromatic intensity between the two extremes. Objective – subjective

Age: oxidative character in wine is due to time spent in barrel or bottle. Again, two extremes are useful in determining age in the context of this discussion: a young vibrant and fresh white wine vs. the same wine, which has been in bottle for a decade or longer, showing dried fruit character as well as secondary and tertiary aromas and flavors. Hence, old vs. young vs. degrees of development. Objective – subjective

Fruit: at heart, describing fruit in wine is really the source of the entire objective-subjective debate. Our response to fruit qualities in wine is always dependent on our unique life memories of said aromas and flavors. Hence, my “kiwi” call on a particular white wine could be your Bartlett pear, which might be someone else’s Fuji apple. In this case, we are all equally correct in our calls. Subjective and thus it will always be…

Fruit quality: back to the objective universe. Tart fruit due to lack of ripeness results less alcohol and higher natural acidity. Ripe, even raisinated fruit qualities are due to … ripe and raisinated fruit, which means higher alcohol and less natural acidity in the wine. Fruit quality can easily be linked to structural elements that can easily be quantified in a lab. I’m calling objective here.

Non-fruit: here a mix of objective-subjective with a strong nod to objective. With subjective, one’s life memories come into play in calling various flowers, herbs, and spices in a wine. Beyond that, the non-fruit category lands squarely in the objective camp in the form of important impact compounds in wine, many of which are chemical in nature. Objective -- subjective

Earth-mineral: while debate and conjecture over earth-mineral has long raged in the industry and beyond, recent use of DNA sequencing technology shows the role bacteria and yeasts in vineyard soil play in fermentation as well as the chemical compounds in the finished wine. However, it’s worth noting that smelling and tasting mineral and earth in wine is something that usually requires experience on the part of the taster. Objective - subjective

Wood: beyond the obvious aromas and flavors from oak aging, putting wine in a barrel adds chemical compounds from the actual wood as well as properties from tasting/caramelizing the inside of the cask. Objective

Palate

Dryness/sweetness: due to the presence (of lack of) residual sugar. Easy call: objective

Body: due to the levels of alcohol, glycerin, and dry extract. All easily measureable and therefore objective

Fruit: confirming what was smelled in the wine. Again, fruit falls squarely into the subjective camp.

Fruit quality: confirming that fruit quality is the result of structural levels as they relate to harvest timing and regional climate. Objective

Non-fruit: as with the nose, bits of subjectivity overshadowed by impact compounds and other elements which can be cultured out in a lab. Objective-subjective

Earth-mineral: ditto the nose. Objective - subjective

Wood: as above, objective

Acidity: while every individual has unique tolerances to each, all the structural elements (levels of acidity, alcohol, and tannin) can easily be quantified in a lab--including acidity. Objective

Alcohol: ditto above. Objective

Tannin: same. Objective

Balance: regardless of definition, defining balance in a wine tends to be a moving target and finding universal agreement far from easy. Subjective

Finish: the length of the finish of any wine is not always agreed on—even by seasoned pros. Subjective

Complexity: many definitions to complexity. We’ll go with the one that says complexity in wine is determined by the number of aromas and flavors combined with how much the wine changes on your palate. If it’s a matter of counting, then an objective vote makes sense. However, how a wine evolves on the palate does not make for universal agreement. Objective-subjective

Scorecard

I used 28 of the 43 total criteria on the deductive grid. My scorecard breaks down as follows:

• Objective: 15 criteria or 53%
• Objective-subjective: 8 criteria or 28%
• Subjective: 5 criteria or 19%

Coda

What can we take away from this less-than-official survey? That tasting is a blend of purely objective and purely subjective experience with a fair amount of the two combined. Perhaps the most important take away is that one cannot generalize tasting as “all subjective” because it’s not true. Further, the more experienced one is as a taster, the more objective the wine experience becomes. The less experienced, the more subjective. To point, Michael Meagher, MS, recently told me, “Once I viewed deductive tasting as not something that I subjectively did, but rather as something that was purely objective and driven by unadulterated data, it became a lot easier to connect the dots.” I couldn’t agree more.
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Ultimately it’s our job as professionals and educators to make absolutely clear to consumers and students alike that tasting is a combination of objective and subjective experience. In doing so we also need to show them how to connect to their innate ability and memories. If we do our job, everyone will avoid massive confusion--especially those just getting into wine. And that’s a very good thing. 

At a recent conference, good friend Peter Granoff, MS, and I drew the task of taking a group through a dozen wines from the Roussillon region during a luncheon. In the pregame conversation over coffee, we were going through tech sheets for each of the wines. At one point Peter chuckled, shook his head, and said, “You’re not going to believe this.” He handed me the sheet for a sweet fortified wine from the Rivesaltes. I read it and had the same reaction. Here’s a verbatim quote from the tech sheet printed from the winery’s website:

“Amber dress, reflections caramel. The nose on the cooked red berries, the pit (core), and the vanilla is a prelude to a molten, elegant palace, skated by the time, when gets involved in aromas of malt, peat, wax, and always cooked fruits, before one finale which lets drill the rancio.”

Immediately images from the “Surrealist Manifesto” by Andre Breton started ping ponging inside my head. Aside from a seriously mangled translation, the description for the wine was somewhere between appalling and nonsense. It was also useless as far as our presentation was concerned despite the fact that the wine turned out to be delicious.

A tech sheet, if not familiar, is a single page document about a specific wine usually written by the winery or in some cases the importer or distributor. The sheet lists all the pertinent technical information about the wine including how and where the fruit was grown, how the wine made and aged, and potentially much more. Tech sheets are important. Anyone in an industry buying position, be it for restaurant or retail, needs well-crafted tech sheets to have the right information to help make sensible purchasing decisions. Unfortunately, six out of ten times (and I’m being generous here), they fall short in providing quality information. Sometimes, as with the wine above, they border on the incomprehensible.

After giving it some thought, I decided to create a template of sorts for tech sheets. I humbly submit the following. Mind you, I wrote it to be as comprehensive as possible knowing full well that the complete template would only apply to a fraction of all wines. But I wanted a blue print that could be used as a starting point.

Tech Sheet Template

​General Information

Complete name of the wine: including vintage, region, appellation, sub-region, even specific vineyard if appropriate

Classification: i.e., the 1855 Classification for Bordeaux or the VDP Grosse Lage Classification in Germany.

Cases produced: in six or 12-bottle cases

Grape variety or blend: if a blend, list percentages for each grape from highest to lowest.  

Viticulture

Harvest dates: give a range if necessary

Ripeness levels at harvest: in brix or other (degrees öechsle, etc.)

Fruit condition: note late-harvest or botrytis-affected fruit as appropriate

Vineyard location: as specifically as possible

Vineyard elevation: in feet or meters

Vineyard size: in acres or hectares

Yields: in tons per acre or hectoliters per hectare

Climate: continental, maritime, etc.

Clonal and rootstock selections: clonal selections are especially important with grapes like Pinot noir. Don’t get carried away; a max of three clones listed does the job. Include the rootstock type if available.

Soil types: important--but keep it brief.

Age of vines: listed by the year the vineyard was planted or simply the age of the vineyard. Don’t bother with the always-abused “old vines” moniker unless the vineyard in question is over 50 years old. Ahem.

Trellising: Guyot, gobelet, etc.

Irrigation: vs. dry farming

Farming practices: organic vs. biodynamic, etc.
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Hand vs. machine harvesting

Winemaking

Pressing: whole cluster vs. destemming

Press type: basket, coquard, bladder, etc.

Yeast type: native vs. cultured (keeping in mind that all yeast is “native”). List specific cultured yeast.

Pre and post-fermentation maceration: length of time for either or both. Also, include temperature for pre-fermentation maceration (cold soak).

Fermentation vessel: stainless steel, oak, or other (concrete tanks, amphora etc.)

Fermentation techniques: punch-down, delestage, whole cluster, carbonic maceration, etc.

Length of primary fermentation: in days or weeks

Malolactic fermentation/conversion: yes/no and if yes, list the percentage of the wine that went through ML

Lees contact: how long and if batonnage is used

Aging

Barrels: size (in liters or gallons), origin (country and/or forest), and times used. If the barrels are a mix of ages, list as appropriate.

Time in wood (or tank): in months or years

Fining: substances used (or unfined)

Filtration: methods used (or unfiltered)

Bottle age: in months or years

SO2: if added during winemaking or at bottling (or not)

Closure type: natural cork, screwcap, Vinolok, plastic, etc.

Technical Data

ABV (alcohol by volume): Be semi-accurate. We can tell.

Residual sugar: in grams per liter

TA (total acidity): in grams per liter

pH: can be listed instead of TA

The Rest

Growing season: provide 75-100 words max about the season including bud break timing, issues such as drought vs. heavy rainfall, and general temperature trends. Compare to a recent similar vintage if appropriate.

Food and wine pairing suggestions: don’t bother here unless you have a clue. There’s more than enough, “works well with pasta, roasted lamb, and sushi,” nonsense on back labels as it is. BTW, the TTB (Trade and Tax Bureau) actually calls the back label the front label and vice versa. I will say no more.

Tasting notes: for the sake of humanity, leave out any romantic and/or pithy suggestions about enjoying the wine such as, “to be savored during candle-lit walks on the beach.” Seriously. Also, avoid comparing your wine to famous wines from other regions (California Chardonnay to Burgundy, for example) unless you are absolutely sure that the comparison is relevant. Finally, any tasting notes included need to be short and devoid of BS or marketing speak.

Coda

While this may seem like a lot of information, it’s actually not. When faced with choosing between three Crozes-Hermitages or a half-dozen Russian River Valley Chardonnays, a good tech sheet can help a buyer choose one wine over the rest. Again, I’m not expecting any producer to adopt my template as is. It’s intended to be a guideline. Hopefully, wineries will give tech sheets more thought and provide buyers with useful and relevant information to help make their day-to-day lives easier. Then the wineries would sell more wine. What a concept.

One can always hope. 

In his recent column, “In Wine and Critics, Populists Find an Easy Target,” New York Times wine critic, Eric Asimov, writes of the recent trend of criticism and mistrust of wine writers, professionals, and critics by the public. Asimov begins the column, “It’s not surprising to see this again, at a time when knowledge and expertise have been dismissed at the highest levels, and when culture and the arts seem to have lost some value in America.” Asimov then asks, “Why is wine so regularly singled out in the United States to be assailed as something of a con game? And what is it about wine critics that invites such gleeful dismissals of their knowledge and judgment?”

I completely agree with Asimov. At this time, expertise on practically any given subject is not only not getting its due--it’s being roundly criticized and even gleefully assaulted. In regards to wine, the answer is a perfect storm of multiple factors:

• The wine culture in the U.S. is still relatively young—35-40 years at most.
• There is a puritanical anti-alcohol sentiment in our culture, the origin of which predates our country’s beginnings.
• A sizeable percentage of the U.S. population never consumes alcoholic beverages due to religious or other reasons. Further, this same demographic seems categorically incapable of separating wine from spirits in regards to context and consumption. All alcohol is considered “evil” to some degree.
• Interest in fine dining, cooking, and eating healthy is still the exception and not the rule. An alarming percentage of Americans routinely consume processed, boxed, canned, frozen, and fast foods. Beverages at table during a meal could be anything from soft drinks, coffee, tea, or energy drinks. The current health and obesity crises? No surprise.
• Olfactory memory is simply not important—or valued--in our culture. Anyone who works in or writes about an industry requiring a high level of olfactory expertise such as wine, beer, spirits, or perfume is always viewed with great suspicion. The fact that someone who is a trained professional with years—even decades—of experience and can smell “things” in a glass of wine, or vial of perfume for that matter, is not taken seriously. The common accusation is that they—as in we--are making it all up.
• Wine has no inherent vocabulary. Over time the industry has begged, borrowed, and stolen terms from other completely unrelated fields. The result is a patchwork of verbiage destined to create confusion and disagreement—just within our industry. Viewed from the outside, wine vocabulary and descriptions are seen as alien language. ​​

In the end, perhaps we in the industry are partly to blame for the dilemma. I say this because we generally have never defined what it is we actually do as professionals, specifically in regards to tasting. Things might improve—no guarantees here—if we define what a professional taster actually does. So with the noble intent of clarifying some very murky waters, I offer the following: a working definition of what wine professionals do, what we don't or can’t do, and finally, yes, how we can be fooled. 

What Do Wine Professional Do? 

We are trained to analyze and assess wine for the following:

• Balance and quality—or the lack thereof—at any level.
• Typicity in classic grapes and wines, and can do so in most cases with a great deal of consistency.
• Recognizing common wine faults—even in trace amounts--and further how and why some of those “faults” are contextual depending on the specific wine.   
• Knowing cause and effect in regards to why a wine looks, smells, and tastes the way it does.
• Recognizing impact compounds—a subset of the most important aromatics and flavors—that are crucial to identifying classic grapes and wines and help with assessing typicity.
• Calibrating structural elements—the levels of alcohol, acidity, and tannin--in a given wine with accuracy and consistency. Further, using structural levels to assess the quality and typicity of a wine.
• Further, we study producers, regions, classifications, and vintages over a duration of time—as in, our entire careers. 
• With experience, the tasting process becomes almost entirely objective. The more experience one has, the more objective tasting becomes--and vice-versa.
• Ultimately, we taste thousands of wines—even tens of thousands—over a long duration of time and know exponentially more about wine on multiple levels than practically any consumer. Period.

Does all the above mean you can hand us a completely random glass of wine on the fly and we’ll know exactly what it is? The answer is a resounding no. There are over 100,000 wines commercially produced every year. The expectation that someone can taste any wine blind and always be able to identify it is somewhere between ludicrous and moronic. However, that doesn't stop Asimov from commenting on blind tasting in the same column:

“The height of understanding wine nowadays seems, in popular culture at least, to be the ability to guess the identity of a wine served blind. It’s essentially a useless skill, a parlor game in the wine trade, yet it contributes to the notion that to understand and enjoy wine requires special powers.”

My response: nothing could be further from the truth. Blind tasting, at least in the context of deductive tasting used in the M.S. curriculum, is a highly disciplined exercise that requires a great deal of experience and skill. Preparation for M.S. tasting exams requires that the student first memorize a tasting grid with over 40 criteria and then master multiple concepts including many listed above; cause and effect, impact compounds, calibrating structural elements, knowing markers for classic grapes and wines, and considerable theory study. A parlor game? Hardly. It’s monumentally difficult. The pass rate for the Master’s tasting exam historically ranges between 8-15%. There’s a reason why. 

We Can Be Fooled

That being said, we as professionals can be fooled. The “instruments” of our trade—as in, our nose and palate—are part of our physical body and thus subject to change every day (even during the course of a day) given how we physically and emotionally feel.

Add to that the fact that context trumps everything. There are three variables in every tasting experience: the wine, the taster, and the context. Anything involved in the tasting including the glassware, the room, the tasting environment, the lighting, extraneous noises and odors, and more is part of the context. Change the context of a tasting and you change the tasting itself—sometimes dramatically.

For example, tell a panel of industry professionals they’ll be tasting a flight of Bordeaux blind and slip a mass-produced Cabernet into the lineup. There is always a possibility that some on the panel might miss the commercial wine. Why? Because the idea of tasting Bordeaux creates such powerful expectations based on previous experience and memory. No surprise that some might taste the mass-produced wine and think, “Wow, this is really terrible Bordeaux.”

It’s like the age-old pointless exercise of asking someone to look at a photograph for several minutes with the instruction to remember all the blue objects in the image—and then asking about red objects after the fact. Change the context in any way and change the experience. For the record, I have no patience with this kind of bullshit. Which brings me to my next point.

Wine is Not Easy

As much as we try to make wine accessible to the public (and we absolutely need keep trying to make wine accessible to the public), wine is anything but easy. There is so much to know about wine on so many different levels that no one human being can possibly keep up with it.

The music-wine comparison might actually be valid here. Consider the range of styles in music. On one side are childhood songs and commercial pop music; a late Beethoven quartet is at the other. What can we take from these two extremes? Both are music. Both are in their own way relevant and have their respective places in the vast musical universe. Both are also about personal preferences and experience. And both are ultimately NOT of the same quality. 

Wine is the same. It ranges from mass-produced commercial product packaged in boxes, jugs, cans, and tetra packs all the way to single-vineyard domain-produced bottlings made in minuscule quantities. Like music, the range of styles is extreme. Once again, both are equally relevant in that they are wine and appeal to different markets. And like music, every wine is definitely not of equal quality--which brings us back to what wine professionals do: we analyze and assess wine for quality regardless of the price point.

One further point about the music-wine comparison. One may choose over time to learn more about music—or wine. In doing so, one’s taste in either will inevitably change. In wine, one’s palate can and will change multiple times over a career arriving at a preferred style completely opposite to one’s first experiences. As Shakespeare wrote in “Twelfth Night,”

“A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.”

Coda

I will end with one last quote from Asimov’s column:

“In the populist vision, the critic is simultaneously fastidious and intimidating, comic and sinister. Wine is the official beverage of the sneering elites, who think they are smarter and better than everybody else, and thus is a natural target for fear and resentment.”
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Asimov leaves us with a challenge: the onus will forever be on us in the industry (including Asimov) to call out “snobbism” and wine errors in the media whenever we can. Collectively we need to keep trying to change the image. It won’t happen overnight, but it is the good fight. 

As a wine professional and classically trained musician, I’ve always wanted to know if wine was important in the lives of the great composers. Did Bach, Mozart, or Beethoven enjoy wine daily? Did they keep a cellar? Did they write about the wines they drank? I’ve never been able to find much about the subject of wine and composers—until now.

Enter friend and colleague Ron Merlino. Ron is owner and manager of MusicVine Performing Arts and Wine Consulting (www.musicvinearts.com). Since 2009, he’s managed a roster of internationally renowned orchestral conductors including Sir Andre Previn, Gerard Schwarz, Andrew Litton, and Keith Lockhart. He also consults on a diverse range of projects for artisanal wineries and arts institutions worldwide. Prior to starting MusicVine, Ron was Vice President at Columbia Artists Management Inc. for more than ten years where he established a reputation as one of the most sought after managers of conductors in the world.
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Ron is also a wine professional, having worked as apprentice with the late Patrick Bize at Domaine Simon Bize in Burgundy, as well as collaborating with winemakers from California, Washington State, Oregon, New York State, Michigan, and Niagara, Canada on music and wine projects. Merlino passed the M.S. Introductory Course and Certified Sommelier Exam, and is currently a WSET Diploma Candidate at the International Wine Center in New York. In the past few years, Ron has undertaken an academic study of the role wine played in the lives of the great composers. His project has led him to libraries and institutes throughout Europe. Not long ago, I spoke with him about the project. Here is our conversation. 

TG: How did your project of researching wine and the role it played in the lives of great composers come about? What was the genesis?

RM: The catalyst for the project was my good friend Matthew VanBiesen, who in 2015 was the CEO of the New York Philharmonic. He came to me and said, “Let’s start a series of pre-concert events for donors and board members where we pour wine in my office. You can talk about the intersections between what they’re going to hear on the concert and the wines you’re going to pour.” I ended up doing that for two years.

Over time I realized that there was lot more information to be collected, organized, and written about just how important wine was in the history of so many of the famous composers. That was the launching pad. From there I began to take the work deeper from a more academic point. I met with people like the director of the Beethoven House in Bonn in Germany, the director of the Handel House in Halle also in Germany, and other such institutions. I was convinced that there was something that might illuminate not only the music, but also the lives of these composers and allow us to build some bridges between the two worlds.

Vivaldi

TG: What are the kinds of things you learned in researching wine and composers that surprised you?

RM: There’s a lot. Going back to when I was doing the events with the New York Philharmonic, I was a bit of at the mercy of the orchestra’s development department as far as being handed a program for a performance and having to build something around it. For example, purely by chance I ended up having to do something on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

TG: What did you learn about wine, Vivaldi, and his Four Seasons?

RM: Initially I wasn’t interested in doing anything on Vivaldi. The Four Seasons has been played a million times. But I was obligated to try and ended up stumbling upon how important the history of music and wine was during Vivaldi’s lifetime. Moreover, how the two intersected in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Vivaldi was living in Venice at the end of the 17th and beginning of the 18th centuries. The ruling Rialto families, who had been in control of the Republic of Venice for hundreds of years, found themselves in a quandary. The viability of their business model of being able to trade wine and other commodities to other parts of Europe was beginning to wane. They were at the mercy of growing success on the part of Bordeaux and other places, and had to find another line of business besides trade. These families settled on the idea of making the city of Venice itself a high-end luxury destination for the elite of Europe. They built hotels, restaurants, and other entertainment venues trying to attract the wealthy elite. It’s much like the Las Vegas of modern times.

As part of that initiative, some 17 new opera houses were built in the city during the last decade of the 17th century. This created a huge demand for commissions for composers to write music for all these new opera houses. In essence, if you were a successful composer in Venice at the time, you made your bread and butter living by churning out operas week after week.
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Inadvertently, the ruling class of wine merchant families suddenly became one of the most important historical groups in the history of Italian Baroque opera. They commissioned tons and tons of music. Today, Vivaldi is known as a composer of instrumental music. In fact, a majority of his output was opera, much of which has unfortunately not survived. So there’s a very direct link between the commerce of wine and the history of Baroque Italian opera, not necessarily something people talk about. 

Bach

TG: What about J.S. Bach? Was wine important to him and his career?

RM: Yes, there’s a lot to talk about with regards to Bach; not necessarily the wines he drank but even more how important wine (and beer and coffee) were to his life, particularly during the later years when he lived in Leipzig.

A focus on Bach and wine could take up an entire lifetime of study by itself. He was incredibly aware, informed, and connected to all the political, commercial, and artistic trends around him, especially in Leipzig. He may not have been a composer that traveled very much, but he was keenly aware of a sense of nationalism like few other composers. Think about the fact that Bach spent the first half of his life in what was the boondocks. Then he got the position at the Collegium Musicum and the St. Thomas church in Leipzig. At that time, Leipzig was an epicenter for international trade. It was a place where merchants were bringing in goods from the Far East, the Middle East, and Southern and Eastern Europe. In this milieu, Bach was around a highly sophisticated culture including wine.

We know more about Bach’s political and public interest in coffee than wine. There was a raging debate about the merits of coffee throughout Europe at that time. It’s not dissimilar to the marijuana debate today, in terms of whether it’s good for you, bad for you, or a morally terrible thing to be associated with. At various points during Bach’s time in Leipzig, coffee was banned, legalized, and then banned again. But Bach was a constant advocate for coffee. We know that he was a real connoisseur and collected lots of coffee equipment and paraphernalia. He also used it as a platform to promote his own musical activities. Instead of holding concerts in churches and other places, he would famously hold his concerts in one of the coffee houses in Leipzig. It was a daring thing for him to do because coffee houses were often equated to red light districts. He would convene all his students at Zimmerman’s, a well-known coffee house, and present his concerts just as a way to be sensational. So Bach was someone who wasn’t afraid to ruffle the feathers of those around him and shake things up a bit. 

We don’t know a lot about the specific wines Bach drank, but we do have record of him asking for contracts to be paid not in currency but in coveted commodities like barrels of wines from the Rhein land in Germany. These wines were hard to come by in Leipzig and expensive. Bach also had a large apartment at the end of his life that was given to him by the Collegium Musicum. It apparently had some 15 rooms. We know from the ledger in 1750 that when he died two of the rooms were dedicated to the storage of beer, wine, and spirits. That’s not inconsiderable!

​Mozart

TG: What about Mozart? 

RM: With Mozart, we know a little bit more--but we still don’t know as much as I’d hoped we would. I think that’s partly a function of the fact that Mozart falls in the period of time where composers almost always lived under the employ of a court or royalty or the church. Only late in his life did Mozart become what we think of as a freelance artist. Most of the information that we know about his daily life only comes from that late period when he had to write letters about more practical business matters. 

Mozart was a person who was very interested in trends. He was a man of the moment, so to speak. Today we would call him something of a dandy. I don’t necessarily think Mozart was a connoisseur of fine wine and food, but he was always interested in being of the fashion of the time. It’s probably not entirely by chance that the few references we get as far as the wine he was drinking was Champagne, which shows him to be a man who was able to access something more rare and prestigious within the wine culture of the time. 

We know from his father Leopold that Mozart was fond of drinking Champagne in the daytime—not at night! I don’t if that’s a show or a display or status or if it gives us an insight into how people actually were using Champagne at that point in time. Leopold tells us specifically that the Champagne would come—and there many bottles of it—at the end of a lunch and not at the beginning. It was served with shellfish and sweets. 

(Since our conversation, Ron wrote, "The Champagne and oyster lunch apparently became fashionable in France during the reign of Louis XV, at the time when Champagne was being actively promoted by the King as a line of commerce. The wealthy elite would usually hunt in the mornings and convene for a shellfish and oyster afternoon lunch - so this may have some relation to the time of day and service of the champagne at Mozart’s home - an emulation of the French 'style'").
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We also know that Mozart often kept bottles of wine on the keyboard at night when he was composing. There are also some reminiscences from a neighbor that lived in the apartment across from him in Vienna. Apparently, in the middle of the night when Mozart was composing and needed more bottles of wine he would simply knock on the wall between the apartments and his neighbor would bring him more bottles so he could continue writing.

​Beethoven

TG: What about Beethoven?

RM: Beethoven is amazing. In regards to this research journey, he continues to inspire and amaze me every day. Every time I look, I discover more. Beethoven was the first composer in history who literally lived as a freelancer, from day one through the end of his life. He never had a job where he was employed under the patronage of someone full time. Every single piece of music he wrote, he wrote on commission. This is significant because it meant that from very early on, at least in his professional life in Vienna, he had to be capable of functioning well in high society, with the political, social, and noble elite. He had to be able to find connections and friendships with the patrons who would basically keep his career alive. This required him to be informed, conversant, adept, and able to slip in and out many different contexts, which meant that he had to be incredibly knowledgeable about things that would appeal to these people.
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Beethoven was therefore very connected to the world of culture and wine. The patrons who stuck with him throughout his lifetime had their own specific lines of business. What almost all of them had in some way, shape, or form, was some aspect that had to do with the business of wine. Through interactions with these patrons, Beethoven became very knowledgeable about a wide array of wines. We know through his letters and the conversation books he used to communicate with people because he was deaf in his later years, just how diverse the array of wine he was drinking but also what specifically he was drinking, from Bordeaux to Champagne to a wide variety of wines he enjoyed in local heurigen and taverns. He tells us what he would drink and what he would eat. He writes about being frustrated with certain kinds of wine. It’s very interesting and quite fascinating how much information is there and how important wine was in his life.

Something also worth noting about Beethoven is that while he sometimes lived in the center of Vienna, he would also take apartments outside the city walls. Frequently, the apartments were in what are now major wine regions. So Beethoven was literally living in and among the vineyards. He was taking walks through the vineyards, up and down the steep hills, and strolling next to the Danube. He was constantly composing while living in the vineyards. There’s a link between his compositional spirit and the actual land, vines, and wine.

In a bigger picture, wine for Beethoven was symbolic. It was a representation of something he wanted to aspire to in his own music. He felt that wine was something artistically more pure and incorruptible that inspired people to communicate in a more immediate way with each other. It was something that would strip away all the barriers and layers of status, and bring everyone around the table to eat and drink and be equals. I think this for Beethoven was so important. It has a lot to do with why wine played such an important role in his daily life and his professional life.

TG: I remember you mentioning a quote in a previous conversation; something Beethoven supposedly said on his deathbed that has been long misinterpreted. What is that quote?

RM: A British biographer in 1827 wrote that Beethoven’s final words before passing were, “Pity, pity, it’s too late.” The biographer and Schindler—Beethoven’s handler at the time—wanted the world to believe that the composer’s last words meant that he was raging at the heavens because of all the amazing music he had in his head that he wouldn’t be able to write. The reality is that in the very last months of his life, Beethoven’s doctors had advised him to stop drinking the kinds of wines he had grown accustomed to. He had terrible digestive issues and was going through a series of medical treatments to alleviate almost constant pain.
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At that point in his life, Beethoven was drinking almost exclusively sweet wines like Tokaji, Rust, and Ausbruch. His doctors recommended that he stop drinking entirely—and if not, drink lighter wines like German Riesling from the Mosel. Beethoven then asked his publisher Schott in Mainz to send him a shipment of Rieslings from the Rheingau. But the wines didn’t come for months and months. Beethoven sent Schott several letters asking about the wines and when they would arrive. Finally, the shipment arrived the day before he died. When his butler told him, he famously sat up in bed and said, “Pity, pity, it’s too late.” The wines he wouldn’t be able to drink. 

Brahms

TG: What about Brahms?

RM: Like Beethoven, Brahms was very connected to the world of the Rheingau. When Brahms was younger and visited Schumann, he literally hiked on foot from Mainz through the Rheingau to Düsseldorf. He kept a small travel book so we know literally every vineyard that he walked through on this long two-month trek. It made such an indelible impact on him that later in life he befriended Rudi and Laura von Beckerath, who were not only musical devotees but also wine merchants and negociants who lived in Rudesheim in the Rheingau. Brahms started to visit them every summer and spent time in the vineyards of the Rheingau. He spent a lot of time composing in there during the summers. The third symphony was written during a time when he was in Rudesheim and Wiesbaden.

Brahms drank many different kinds of wines. He was an avid traveler, visiting Italy nine different times throughout his life - no small accomplishment in those days. He was very fond of sweet wines and drank a lot of Sicilian wine, especially Marsala. We know that at the Red Hedgehog, his favorite tavern in Vienna, he had a standing barrel of Tokaji always at his disposal. And like Beethoven, Brahms’ final words are about wine, in this case also Rudesheim Riesling. On his deathbed, he was given a spoon of Riesling and said something to the effect of, “Ah, this always tastes good.”

Coda

TG: Any closing thoughts about your project?

RM: I look at Beethoven and how he able to communicate directly to the core of humanity with his music. Wine as an art form was something that he could use in his daily life as inspiration to keep going. I think it’s very profound and also important. We may be fascinated in the minutiae of wine, but to me it’s very uplifting to see wine as an art form that meant so much in a very spiritual, moral, and social way to someone as important as Beethoven. I take some comfort and solace in that. For all that we do in our professional tastings and comparisons, there is humanity, personal energy, and creativity imbued in a bottle of wine that can also inspire us to do better.