The Wine Critic and Objectivity

Do wine critics rely on an objective standard for evaluating wines?

The truth is, I don’t think objectivity is a wine critic’s mission. Their job is to unearth what’s beautiful, distinct, or remarkable—inviting readers to reflect on their own preferences and discover something they might have otherwise missed. To achieve this, critics need an aesthetic sensibility, a unique point of view, not a detached, objective stance.

That said, critics must steer clear of biases tied to price, reputation, marketing, or personal connections. And if their preferences veer too far into the eccentric, their reviews may lose relevance for a broader audience. So, it’s fair to wonder: can critics apply objectivity when it’s needed?

Take balance, for example. It’s a core quality of wine, yet judgments about are subjective. Balance is about the interplay between a wine’s components—fruit, acidity, tannin, oak,alcohol—and how seamlessly they come together. Winemakers and drinkers alike may have different ideas of what “balance” means, as it hinges on the wine’s individual character. There’s no universal formula or metric to pin it down; balance is inherently relational, a case-by-case phenomenon.

But balance alone doesn’t define wine quality. Complexity, intensity, length of finish, the presence of flavors on the finish, and liveliness all contribute. Unlike balance, these traits are more one-dimensional and can be measured—at least roughly. Since they deal primarily with magnitude, it’s easier to place them on a scale. While differences in physiology and experience can still spark debate, these elements are more amenable to calibration among trained critics, fostering shared standards of assessment.

Even if I personally dislike high alcohol, over-oaked fruit bombs, I can still evaluate their complexity, concentration, or length of finish—provided I don’t let my biases cloud my judgment.

This brings us to a deeper question: can an attentive, self-aware critic transcend their biases? If a critic recognizes their preference for certain styles, can they analyze how this influences their evaluations and rise above it?

I’m not sure there’s a definitive answer.

Research on cognitive biases, such as Daniel Kahneman’s work, reveals how prone we are to unconscious distortions in our thinking. Consider the “planning fallacy”—our tendency to overestimate benefits, underestimate costs, and dive headlong into risky projects. Yet, knowing this bias exists allows us to counteract it. By relying on hard evidence and cultivating skepticism, we can mitigate its effects.

So, can taste biases be overcome in the same way?

When it comes to judging a wine’s overall enjoyment—the basis for point scores—it’s tough to see how bias can be avoided. Pleasure is personal. You can’t fake enjoyment or calculate how much you should enjoy a wine. Yet wine criticism isn’t solely about hedonic pleasure.

In art, film, and music criticism, it’s not uncommon to praise works that don’t spark personal enjoyment. A theme might be unsettling, a film too long, or a score too opaque—but these works might still be complex, moving, thought-provoking, and full of integrity. Pleasure isn’t the only lens through which we judge creativity, and personal preference doesn’t have to rule every aesthetic decision.

Why should wine criticism be any different?