Category Archives: Philosophy of Food and Wine

Do You Really Want a Wine that Smells like Blood or Asparagus?

10 Monday Dec 2018

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bloody meatThe hot buzz word in the wine world over the past few years is “authenticity”, which Jamie Goode and Sam Harrop define as wine with a sense of place, wine that exudes characteristics that come from the vineyard, region or vintage in which the grapes were grown. Authentic wines have been gently handled in the winery so that the unique character of the terroir is not covered up or destroyed.

Making and drinking authentic wines requires a willingness to accept what the location or vintage is giving you even if it isn’t ideal.

I don’t have empirical data to support this assumption but I would guess far more people favor fruit flavors such as blackberry or strawberry over flavors such as cat’s pee, asparagus, or diesel fuel. Does anyone actually prefer bloody meat to lemon zest? (I do, but more on that in a minute). Yet, if we prefer authentic wines we must develop a sensibility that welcomes these less highly regarded flavor notes. Because sometimes and in some places, these less favored flavors are the more authentic—they are what the vintage or region is giving you.

Thus, someone who professes a preference for authentic wines assumes a certain burden—the task of learning to appreciate aroma profiles and taste sensations that are off the beaten track, assuming off course that they are in balance. This is especially true of emerging wine regions. Encouraging them to make wines that taste like Napa or Bordeaux robs them of that authenticity that so many wine lovers today endorse.

You really can’t have it both ways, demanding authenticity but only when it conforms to a conventional standard. The point of valuing authenticity is that the outcome is not just conformity to an ideal or standard but represents something distinctive or original.

As to my preference for bloody meat over lemon zest,  I almost always prefer the quirky to the predictable. The fact that fermented grape juice can smell like bacon, sweaty saddles or tar is a source of endless fascination. Lemon zest is lovely but doesn’t scream originality.

For more on the philosophy of wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

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Why Wine Styles Change: The High Alcohol Revolution

29 Thursday Nov 2018

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napa vineyardsI’ve been thinking about what drives changes in wine styles—consumer demand, winemaker experimentation, the influence of critics and writers, some combination of these?

Take for instance the popularity of high-alcohol Napa Cabernet and Chardonnay beginning in the mid 1980’s. In the 1970’s the best producers in Napa seemed intent on emulating French wine styles. Alcohol levels were typically around 12.5% and apparently Napa wines tasted similar to French wine. In the famous Judgment of Paris tasting in 1976, many of the judges mistakenly identified the California wines as French. Yet, by the late 1980’s, Napa wines were exhibiting increasing alcohol and fruit ripeness.

What is the explanation of the change? Global warming likely doesn’t explain the dramatic explosion in fruit ripeness over the course of just a few years.

One explanation might be that consumers wanted these riper styles. The mid-1980’s saw a substantial increase in wine consumption in the U.S. including many novice drinkers who tend to prefer the sweeter, smoother wines made from riper grapes. But I doubt these novice drinkers were drinking premium Cabernet or Chardonnay. Low priced budget wines would not have had high alcohol since wines above 14% would have been taxed at a higher rate and technology for removing alcohol did not yet exist. In general, I think consumers respond to and reinforce trends; they don’t create them.

Of course, on this issue of ripeness and high alcohol, the influence of the wine critic Robert Parker is relevant. Parker famously preferred rich, ripe wines and criticized the complacent, old-school winemaking that he thought still had too much influence in France. Parker started his newsletter in 1978. But he was not particularly well known until 1982 when he attracted attention as the only critic proclaiming the substantial virtues of that vintage in France. As consumers embraced his 100 pt. scoring system, winemakers began to make wines aimed at garnering high scores leading to rich, sumptuous, powerful wines that would dominate the market for decades.

But many of the wine making reforms advocated by Parker—riper fruit, lower yields, better sorting, and more new French oak—had already been advocated by Emile Peynaud, the influential French oenologist who used his position at the University of Bordeaux to promote what came to be known as the International Style, essentially wines with the qualities endorsed by Parker. The impetus toward riper fruit was already in the works before Parker came on the scene.

Also during the late 1980’s, phylloxera was discovered in Napa, and many wineries replanted with new rootstock and clones that produced sugar more easily. New trellising systems were put in place that brought more sunlight to the grapes and modern yeasts were developed that were more efficient at converting sugar to alcohol.

There is a certain logic to ripeness especially for California that in the end might explain this massive shift in wine styles. If California could compete with Bordeaux and Burgundy by producing ripe fruit more consistently, why not go even further with what California does well? Unlike Bordeaux and Burgundy, Napa has lots of sun in summer extending well into the fall. Sun is California’s competitive advantage. Why not make it their signature? In other words, if you’re looking to capture a variation that sets you apart from your competition, for California, ripeness is the path of least resistance.

No doubt Parker had a great deal of influence, but I think a larger factor was a natural evolution, a tendency built into wine grape growing in California that winemakers captured and advanced.

For more on the philosophy of wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

Tension is the Key to Great Wines

26 Monday Nov 2018

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tension in artIn my Three Quarks column this month I argue that it is tension and contrast, not harmony, that makes great wine.

Here is an except:

Especially as wines age, the dominant fruit, floral and herbal scents are surrounded by aromas that remind us of gravel, tar, barnyard, cat pee, petroleum, musk, sweaty saddle, smoke, gunflint, and bacon fat, not to mention the less prized aromas such as band aid, nail polish remover, and rotten egg. These are not pretty and introduce elements in the wine that are disruptive, deviant, and in themselves often ugly.  If we think of wine as exhibiting flavor themes, these divergent aromas are clearly in tension with the dominant fruit and herbal themes. A pretty peach-and-apple-inflected Riesling from Germany’s Mosel region that begins to develop diesel fuel aromas in the bottle is acquiring tension and conflict that adds to the impression of depth.

If the Wine Review is Dead, so is the Wine Community

19 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by in Philosophy of Food and Wine, Wine Culture

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tasting panel magJeff Siegel, aka The Wine Curmudgeon, was rather curmudgeon-like in his post last week arguing that wine criticism was no longer relevant or effective. Asking the question “Have we reached the end of wine criticism?” he writes,

The answer, to listen to the surveys and the polls, is yes. One recent study found that just nine percent of wine drinkers relied on critics, while almost half of those surveyed said wine descriptions were pompous. This is far from the only such study – wine drinkers have rated wine criticism this poorly for years. Increasingly, it seems, they could care less about what people like the Wine Curmudgeon have to say.

His argument is that “winespeak”, with its fruit basket descriptors and numerical scores, is unintelligible to ordinary wine drinkers who are clamoring for a different, more informative kind of review. But, he argues, there is no incentive for wine writers to change since the delusional wine industry is happy with the system that uses critics’ inflated, meaningless, numerical scores to market their wines.

Tom Wark pushed back against Jeff’s dismay by pointing out that wine reviews are not really for the ordinary wine drinker but are aimed at connoisseurs who are willing to spend considerably more for a bottle and want some assurance that the wine is of quality before buying.

So, Jeff, wine criticism isn’t dead. However, the audience of drinkers you write for, those who buy less expensive wines, don’t care much about scores. They care that the wine is in liquid form, a little sweet, isn’t too rough around the edges, has a tasty character and possesses alcohol. I don’t need a Wine Advocate handbook by my side to find one of those when I’m staring at an end stack of wine at a Lucky Supermarket.

Both Jeff and Tom make compelling points but I have a somewhat different take on this issue.

1. “Winespeak” is unintelligible to ordinary wine consumers because they lack the training and/or experience to grasp it. Wine is a vague object and difficult to describe and it takes years of disciplined study before it makes sense. No doubt “winespeak” sounds pompous to those who haven’t studied it. So does “physics speak” or discussions of formalist art criticism. These are technical vocabularies for specialists. (Which does not of course mean that their aren’t some really poorly conceived reviews out there.) I know this sounds “elitist” but that’s the way it is. We should be careful about treating wine as if it were orange juice. There is therefore an important question about how to talk to novices so they learn and are not put off. But that problem exists with all technical vocabularies and is not unique to wine.

2. “Winespeak” when used to describe most inexpensive, everyday wines is fundamentally deceptive. Most of these wines do not deserve the florid descriptions they are often saddled with. (There are exceptions to this, which is why its worthwhile reviewing these wines) And on a related note there is nothing more inaccurate than a winery’s description of their wines  which they put on the label. That is marketing, not criticism.

3. Thus, Tom is right to argue that the audience for wine reviews is not the ordinary consumer buying wine at the supermarket. They don’t care about wine reviews nor should they. The audience for reviews are people who have expertise or aspire to gain it

4. Jeff is right that a list of fruit aromas tells a reader nothing about whether they will like a wine or not. Fruit notes are part of a description of the features of a wine, not an assessment of its aesthetic value. Reviews that don’t address aesthetic value are useless. Jeff’s reviews address aesthetic value because he focuses on whether the wine is authentic and typical of its region or varietal.

5.  Jeff is also right that the wine business is cynical about this issue. They view wine writers as extensions of their marketing departments and care little for accurate descriptions of their wines.

But it the end I would want to question the underlying assumption of this whole debate. I doubt that the constitutive aim of wine criticism is helping people to make purchasing decisions. After all a significant number of wine reviews are written for wines that are unavailable for purchase. I devoted a good deal of attention to this issue in a recent Three Quarks column.

Essentially my argument is that wine criticism serves a larger function for the wine community. We need to know the meaning and significance of a wine, the kinds of experiences we can expect from drinking it and whether it represents a new trend, a typical flavor profile or a departure from accepted norms. The wine community is an aesthetic community that can sustain itself only if we can communicate about the shared object of our passion. It’s only through such communication that norms and standards are set. The wine review is the main vehicle for that. If the wine review is dead, so is the wine community.

For more on the philosophy of wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

When a Chef Becomes an Artist

15 Thursday Nov 2018

Posted by in Art and Food, Contemporary Food Culture, Philosophy of Food and Wine

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imageJust as Van Gogh revealed the secrets of the landscapes near Arles in his paintings of Southern France, culinary artists reveal hidden dimensions of ingredients and dishes, dimensions that previous cooks overlooked that create a new way for that dish or ingredient to be. The idea is not merely to create a fantastic concoction or to add a new flavor note to a dish. It is to capture the essence of something that has hitherto gone unnoticed and to impress upon the diner that there is something here to be explored and understood. Unlike craftwork, art works reveal some new treasure that solicits our attention and demands the kind of studied focus we give to the visual arts or music. A chef who has mastered the craft of cooking will prepare food that squeezes every bit of flavor from her ingredients. The chef who is an artist will challenge a diner and provoke a revelation that will be arresting, illuminating—and ultimately pleasurable.

salmon-and-rhubarb-editWorks of culinary art, it should go without saying, must be pleasurable as well as revelatory. Pleasure is the seducer that makes knowing the secret worth our efforts. But the chef’s intense focus on giving pleasure is not peculiar to the edible arts. Music or painting that is flat and inexpressive will fail as art as surely as a watery, under-seasoned bisque. We would not be discussing Van Gogh today were it not for his voluptuous brush work and color palette.

Thus genuine culinary art creates something in addition to pleasure—a revelation that not only tastes good but is arresting and illuminating.

Even relatively simple dishes can be revelatory such as Rod Butters’ Grilled & Smoked Pacific Salmon with rhubarb broth, and rhubarb jam from Raudz in Kelowna BC that revealed rhubarb’s affinity for smoke, or Chef Massimiliano Alajmo’s Risotto with Saffron and Sorbet of licorice and rosemary from Le Calandre near Padua, Italy  that brought out the licorice note in the saffron.

saffron-risotto-with-licorice editFor more on the philosophy of food and wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

Wine Tasting, Subjectivism and Nonsense

14 Wednesday Nov 2018

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wine evaluation 2Philosopher Barry Smith’s recent article in World of Fine Wine magazine hits all the right points about the rampant, mistaken view that wine tasting is thoroughly subjective. I highly recommend the whole article.

The heart of his argument for a modest objectivity in wine tasting is that even when disagreeing about a wine, we’re nevertheless responding to something in the wine:

Much of the trouble here is the flawed idea that the taste of a wine is purely subjective: wholly a matter of the sensations we undergo when tasting. The idea of taste as sensation has it that what we taste is just a private experience, in which everything is given to us immediately. It allows for no gap between what I am tasting and my experience of it. And yet, as experienced tasters know, a wine does not give up its secrets all at once, or to just anyone. It takes time, knowledge, and experience to figure out what is going on in it….

The experience of flavor depends on inputs that may vary from taster to taster depending on whether one has the tongue of a supertaster, a taster, or a non-taster. Each of us is likely to have a specific anosmia, meaning that we are “blind” to particular odors. (I know of two food and wine scientists who are insensitive to TCA, or cork taint.) It is little wonder, then, that tasting judgments diverge. But this doesn’t mean they are idiosyncractic or inexplicable, nor that they are subjective and independent of the flavors in the wine. Were one to take the line that tastes just were just the sensations of an individual—based on ignorance of the science of the taster—one would readily understand why judgments of taste would seem like mere opinions, answerable to nothing but an individual’s socially mediated responses. But that’s not how things are.

This is exactly right. In fact no one in the business of making or studying wine really believes it’s subjective. If they did they wouldn’t bother doing what they do.

In philosophy we have a concept called a “performative contradiction” which helps explain the problem with the claim that wine tasting is thoroughly subjective. Essentially the idea is that actions taken by an individual would make no sense if that individual’s statements were true. For instance, if I were to say “I am no longer capable of forming a coherent sentence”, that would be a performative contradiction since my uttering the coherent sentence contradicts the meaning of my statement.

Similarly, when winemakers or sommeliers say wine tasting is subjective they are guilty of a performative contradiction.

When winegrowers make adjustments to their canopy in order to  enhance ripening they don’t believe wine appreciation is subjective. They believe there is a standard for ripeness in grapes that, if not met, will harm the wine. When winemakers choose to punch down three times a day rather than two, it’s because they believe doing so will improve the wine. There is a level of extraction they seek which can be met or not and not doing so will be a mistake. When sommeliers studying for their exams strive to discern the identifying characteristics of a Barolo from Serralunga they do so because there is a standard they’re trying to achieve, and they can fail to achieve it or succeed.

In each case they are responsive to a standard that is independent of their beliefs about it. These standards are not arbitrary, subjective, or entirely personal. If they were there would be no consequences to not meeting these standards. You could choose any standard you wanted and if you fail to meet it choose a different standard. That just isn’t how we operate.

To believe that wine tasting is subjective is to believe that there is no expertise in winemaking or wine tasting because there is nothing to get right or wrong.

As Smith says, “But that’s not how things are.”

For more on the philosophy of wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

It’s Tension Not Harmony that Makes Great Wine

12 Monday Nov 2018

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tense skyGreat wines have dominant flavor and aroma notes that have clarity and focus and exhibit harmony in that they have a sense of cohesion, with each element working together in an overall pattern. But these dominant aromas stand out against a background of hints and nuances, aromas that can be only dimly perceived yet give the wine a sense of depth. Such wines are described as complex because they seem to have many dimensions that persist as a penumbra around the central aromas as our attention shifts back and forth from foreground to background. This is why tasting notes often contain a seemingly endless list of aroma descriptors which can baffle less practiced tasters. The aromas can be so faint they are open to multiple interpretations and are susceptible to perceptual threshold variations among tasters. Yet, even when they cannot be clearly discerned and identified, they contribute to the depth and richness of the wine, functioning much as a mirepoix does in a sauce. The carrots, celery and onion cannot be picked out as distinct flavor notes yet they add richness to the sauce.

These background aromas often develop a character that is in tension with the foreground aromas. Especially as wines age, the dominant fruit, floral and herbal scents are surrounded by aromas that remind us of gravel, tar, barnyard, cat pee, petroleum, musk, sweaty saddle, smoke, gunflint, and bacon fat, not to mention the less prized aromas such as band aid, nail polish remover, and rotten egg. These are not pretty and introduce elements in the wine that are disruptive, deviant, in themselves often ugly.

If we think of wine as exhibiting flavor themes, these deviant aromas are clearly in tension with the dominant fruit and herbal themes. A pretty peach-and-apple-inflected Riesling from Germany’s Mosel region that begins to develop diesel fuel aromas in the bottle is acquiring tension and conflict that adds to the impression of depth. When sufficiently reticent so they don’t overwhelm the dominant fruit aromas most professional wine tasters would argue that the wine exhibits harmony. But there is an important aesthetic difference between a harmony of similar qualities vs. a harmony achieved through balanced tension with qualities that are from a different flavor world.

Beauty is at its highest intensity when there is contrast between the components that make up the experience, when the background elements of an experience are brought into the foreground. For this purpose, contrast is vital.

As the early 20th Century American philosophy Alfred North Whitehead argued:

“Contrast elicits depth, and only shallow experience is possible when there is a lack of patterned contrast.” (Adventures in Ideas, 268)

I’m not sure “harmony” is the best way to describe wines that depend on contrast for their beauty. Great wines are so much more than harmonious.

For more on the philosophy of wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

Le Calandre and the Challenge of Fine Dining

08 Thursday Nov 2018

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crudo-w-trufflesedit2For me, the biggest challenge in fully appreciating tasting menus is the pace, even in dining rooms where the wait staff and kitchen are sensitive about the timing of the meal. It is difficult to taste each dish carefully, to understand how all the ingredients interact, to reflect on the emotional expression of the dish and how it exemplifies the chef’s style, and to write all that down for future reference all in the few minutes in which the dish is in front of you (and still hot if it’s a cooked dish). Add to that an appreciation of how the wine pairings are working while carrying on conversation with dinner companions and leaving time for pure enjoyment– it feels like a hectic day at work instead of a consummate aesthetic experience. This is why restaurant reviews are usually just lists of ingredients with an adjective or two.  Perhaps each dish should come with an information card with detailed accounts of the chef’s intention as an entrée into the meaning of the dish.

Le Calandre is a 3-star Michelin restaurant just outside of Padua, Italy, on some lists among the top 40 restaurants in the world. I was fortunate to get reservations there last summer and was, as usual, faced with this dilemma about how to fully appreciate the meal. This time I was rescued by a mighty tome written by Chef Massimiliano Alajmo available for purchase at the restaurant. It included not just recipes but conceptualizations of many of the dishes we were served that evening, along with a dialogue that goes into some detail about how he thinks about his compositions. Of course, I didn’t spend the evening reading a book. The meal was delicious and interesting, and thanks to photos, a few notes and a subsequent reading of the book I’m still “tasting” the meal.

The most telling quote from the book is this. Speaking of his signature dish, cuttlefish in black cappuccino (see below), he writes:

It was clear from the beginning that coffee wasn’t the motive. The motive as an attempt to enter into contact, or even better to communicate with the intimate part of the ingredient because nobility is intrinsic in all true and genuine elements. In them we have two components: the essential and formal parts. The essential is interior and animated. The formal is exterior and obvious, and is passive in comparison. In other words, the ingredient is the way we view it but an in-depth study is the way we communicate with it. We elevate each element through understanding with comprehensive examination not limited to the exterior….Above all, to penetrate an ingredient means to go beyond the sensorial level (sight, touch, taste…) unleashing a metaphorical charge. The symbols bound to the elements also stimulate us to search within ourselves. This is how one grows, and learns, for example, not to be limited by the palate’s simple pleasures because more profound and superior gratifications exist.

al-aimo-editedThere is a lot going on in this paragraph but I think it’s essentially right. To understand anything, including ingredients in a dish, we must understand the underlying forces at work, some of which are barely perceptible and some of which can only be accessed via feeling states. It’s the chef’s job to uncover them and make them perceptible. Some of these themes are exemplified in the tasting menu below.

Italian food is noted for its simplicity. Although these recipes are not simple to prepare, they leave an impression of simplicity on the diner. The emphasis is on trying to pull out just a few intensely bright flavors in each dish. As far as I could tell there were few if any molecular techniques employed.

Here are the courses with a few comments:

Al aimo

This is a dish of red tomato tartar, green tomato tartar, fava bean tartar, fava bean, green bean and basil salad, ricotta sauce and Sardinian flatbread. The dish exemplifies the concept of weaving with the three tartars exemplifying overlapping yet distinctive flavors. The colors also represent Italy’s tri-color flag, itself a weaving of the separate regions that formed the nation of Italy in the 19th Century.

Cuttlefish in black cappuccino cuttlefish-cappucinoedit

This dish consists of small cubes of squid and drops of squid ink in a potato cream served in layers in a vertical glass cup. A play on tiramasu and cappuccino, it comes with instructions to plunge the spoon straight down so the fusion of the layers occurs in the mouth. A simple, comforting, enveloping dish that exemplifies layering. Indeed the layers persist in the mouth even as the ingredients are fused.

Sicilian raw shrimp with tomato cream and basil

A variety of interpretations on fresh, especially the raw shrimp which was exceptionally fatty and vibrant. It came together with the wine, a St. Clair Sauvignon Blanc from Marlborough, which cut the fat of the shrimp. As with all the dishes that included cream, it was light almost weightless.

Crispy ricotta and buffalo mozzarella cannelloni with tomato sauce

The chef calls this an anomalous calzone which represents tactility. Crispy cylinders and creamy flavors, it’s clearly a dish meant to evoke childhood memories of pizza, all the senses working overtime. Of course the tomato sauce was glowing.

shrimpcanneloni

Smoked tagliolini with carbonara, dried fruit, and gelatin of meat broth

Very aromatic, the fresh pasta freshly smoked and paired with a unique, Sicilian dry Moscato with a distinct smoke note as well. Despite all the smoke, the dish was light and multi-dimensional, a very deft hand with an ingredient that can overpower.

saffron-risotto-with-licoriRisotto with saffron and sorbet of licorice and rosemary

The saffron and licorice represents the extreme parts of a plant, root and flower, a dialogue between opposites. This dish is often served with licorice powder but in this case the licorice sorbet was brilliant, a thrilling contrast between hot and cold. Saffron and fennel, with its anise aromas, are a classic flavor pairing. This dish takes that concept in a new direction.

Beef tartare with black truffle, egg, cream, and star anise aroma [pictured above]

Velvety, hand chopped beef . Another dish of very fresh tasting fat with a wonderful fusion of truffle and anise aroma.

Roasted beet with burnt herbs.

The only dish that didn’t quite work for me. It was basically a well-roasted beet. Nice, attractively presented, but not intriguing.

Crisp, suckling pig  with olive sorbet, grean beans, and pea puree.

Once again the hot/cold contrast was a theme that amps up the intensity of the dish. Served with a bright, fresh, slightly bitter Amarone.suckling-pigedit

For dessert #1, an apparently empty dinner bowl was place in front of us. I just sat there waiting for the food to show up. But at the behest of the waiter, I finally flipped it over to reveal a creme brûlée in the bottom of the plate covered with a layer of gold leaf.

And finally a chocolate and hazelnut cannellone with hot chocolate foam finished the meal.

A delicious meal made more memorable by the chef’s attempt to put in words flavors too easily forgotten.

random-dineeditr

Of course I was accompanied in this culinary adventure by legal counsel. My accountant, however, had fallen ill and could not attend.

Wine Quality is Partly Intrinsic

07 Wednesday Nov 2018

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rose drinkerIs wine quality an intrinsic property of the wine or is it an extrinsic property? In other words, is the quality of a wine in the wine itself or is it conferred on the wine by some set of outside factors. Jamie Goode recently addressed this topic. He argued:

The most useful definition of quality is fitness for purpose. We can no more ask someone what the best wine is than we can ask a carpenter what the best tool is: if a nail needs to be knocked in, a hammer is better than a screwdriver.

So in terms of a wine, whether or not it is high quality depends on the context of drinking, the winemaker intention, the person consuming the wine, and the way the wine is served. Wine quality is to large part extrinsic not intrinsic.

I disagree with Jamie’s conclusion although I think his premises are sound.

First of all, I have no problem defining “quality” as fitness for purpose, although I think you could argue that some purposes are closer to the intrinsic nature of wine than others. For instance, using a quality wine purely as an alcohol delivery system ignores much of what that wine is about.

Using the above definition, Jamie argues that the context in which a wine is consumed is essential to determining quality. A crisp rosé on a hot summer’s night will be of higher quality in that context than a full bodied, young, Bordeaux-style wine independently of how well made the red blend is.

How the wine is served, individual differences among drinkers regarding sensitivities to compounds in the wine, and the winemaker’s intention when making the wine all influence perceptions of wine quality.

I agree with all of that but the conclusion of his argument should not be that quality is  largely extrinsic.

If a good rosé is more satisfying on a hot summer’s night than a big Cabernet, it’s in part because features of the rosé make it so. Such a rosé will be light bodied, with high acidity, and with floral and red fruit qualities that we tend to like on hot summer nights. Those properties are  properties of the wine. If no one were tasting the wine, the wine would still have those properties.

Of course our perception of quality also depends on our ability to appreciate those qualities that are in the wine. Yet without the wine and its intrinsic qualities there would be nothing to appreciate. To suggest that those qualities are not in the wine seems to entail that when the bottle is in the fridge and not being tasted those qualities disappear—that is bizarre.

On that hot summer’s night, a big Cabernet also has certain intrinsic qualities. The qualities that make it good on a cool autumn evening are still in the wine during the summer. It’s just that we can’t appreciate them under those conditions. The qualities of a Cabernet are not manifest when the temperatures are too high.

The best way to think about this issue is in terms of dispositions. Just as a glass is fragile even when sitting safely on your table, a quality Cabernet has the qualities it has even when we can’t appreciate them at the moment. Fragility is a dispositional property—the glass is disposed to break if it falls on the floor. The Cabernet has a variety of dispositional properties—it’s full bodied, with warm spice aromas and a long finish generated by drying tannins—which dispose it to being appreciated by wine drinkers when the weather turns cool.

These dispositional properties are intrinsic to the wine. They are in the wine even when they cannot be appreciated at the moment and show themselves only under certain conditions.

Jamie’s right that extrinsic factors are important in determining wine quality. But the intrinsic factors are just as important. Without both intrinsic and extrinsic qualities we would be unable to appreciate the wine. Wine quality is a product of both the dispositional properties of the wine and the dispositional properties of the people who drink it.

For more on the philosophy of wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily

A Bad Argument for Why Food Cannot Be Art

01 Thursday Nov 2018

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line cookThere are some serious although mistaken arguments for why some food preparations cannot be works of art. Then there are some really bad arguments for the same conclusion. Here is a really bad one by John Mariani which I rediscovered while going through some notes.

Thus, imagination and creativity go into cooking, often at a very high level, at which point it is called haute cuisine. But there is nothing that rises to the level of true art in a craft whose very existence depends on the constant replication of a dish, night after night, week after week. The replication of a series of stencils, even if originally designed by Raphael, does not constitute art, and I’m sure Andy Warhol was mumbling all the way to the bank when his work went from reproducing Brillo boxes to having assistants mimic his own work.

The claim that individual dishes are reproductions and thus cannot be original works is simple nonsense. Mariani apparently has never heard of a recipe. He is right about paintings.  Copies of paintings are indeed mere reproductions, not original works. A print of the Mona Lisa is not a work of art because painting is what we call in aesthetics  an autographic art—only the painter can directly cause the work to exist, and there can be only one legitimate instance of it.  Passing off a copy as an original is forgery.

But many arts are not autographic but are instead allographic. An allographic work has a master recording, score or some other form of notation from which individual works are derived. Thus, for allographic works, copies of an original are genuine instances of the original. My copy of Hamlet is a work of art even though it is a duplication of the original. The bookstore is not routinely guilty of selling forgeries. A streaming version of a Springsteen tune or live performances of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony are genuine instances of works of art despite the fact they are reproductions.

Cooking is similarly allographic. Individual dishes are instances of a recipe just as a performance of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony is an instance of its score. So the fact that line cooks churn out 25 copies of a dish in no way shows that cooking is not an art–unless Mariani is prepared to claim Beethoven and Shakespeare are mere craftsmen.

For more on the philosophy of food and wine visit my Monday Column archives on Three Quarks Daily