Category Archives: Wine Culture

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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Myths of the Wine World #4: Most Red Wines are Aged in Oak Barrels

06 Thursday Dec 2018

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oak barrels in storagePart of the romance of wine, especially red wine, is that it is lovingly stored in oak barrels for months or years while it slowly develops the flavors and textures that make it worth drinking. Look at the label of most red wines and a few whites and you are likely to find some reference to oak. But alas, read more carefully, because for wines under $20 (which is about 90% of wine sold in the U.S) you will seldom see a reference to “barrels”. This is because most wines under $20 get their oak flavors from oak adjuncts—staves, chips, or segments—and never see the inside of an oak barrel. (There are exceptions. Some European appellations mandate the use of oak. This is especially true in Spain where even relatively inexpensive wine at the Crianza level must be aged in barrel.)

The reason has to do with both cost and efficiency. A new, 60 gallon American oak barrel can cost $400 dollars or more and French oak is over $1000 per barrel, and sometimes quite a bit more, depending on type and quality. Most wineries cannot afford to sell wine for under $20 if they must purchase new oak barrels. Aging in oak barrels also takes time, lots of space for storing the wine, and the barrels are difficult to move creating logistical problems and requiring more labor in the winery, all of which increases the cost of production.

By using oak adjuncts, the oak flavors can be extracted more quickly, the level and type of oak flavor can be precisely adjusted (at least for winemakers experienced at using them), and the wine can be stored more efficiently until ready to be bottled.

Should you care whether your budget wine is oaked in an actual barrel? Probably not. Unlike the early days when they were first introduced, oak adjuncts are now a quality product made in many different styles allowing winemakers to precisely calibrate their oak program to the aesthetic style they seek. Furthermore, there is some evidence suggesting that few people can detect the difference between the effects of oak barrels vs. skillfully employed oak adjuncts. Most winemakers making premium, fine wine still prefer oak barrels because the slow rate at which oxygen is transferred softens the wine and improves mouthfeel. But this slow-transfer effect can by mimicked by micro-oxidation technology that most large wineries employ. In fact some very fine, expensive wines are made using micro-oxidation and oak adjuncts with no apparent loss of quality. (Many fine winemakers use oak adjuncts in the fermentation stage of production to provide color stability as well)

No doubt, traditional barrel aging is still the preferred method for aging fine wine in part because it isn’t yet clear that micro-oxidation is an adequate substitute for traditional methods. Many winemakers who have tried both return to barrels because they prefer the result.

But for less expensive wines, well, they wouldn’t be less expensive if it were not for oak adjuncts.

As to whether we should be OK with the wine industry’s lack of transparency regarding their use of adjuncts, that’s another question. Marketing materials almost invariably leave the impression that even cheap wines are aged in barrels by mentioning oak or oak aging leaving us to infer actual barrels were used. If they were to explicitly mention barrels they would run afoul of labeling laws forbidding the use of false or misleading statements on the label, although I have no idea how strictly enforced this rule is with regard to oak programs.

In general I prefer more information about methods and processes used in making a wine including how it was oaked. But the movement toward more transparency doesn’t appear to be making much headway and I suspect that most budget wine drinkers don’t care.

Myth #1 is here.

Myth #2 is here

Myth #3 is here.

Winemaking and Regulation

05 Wednesday Dec 2018

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mega purpleMany European appellations have very detailed regulations about what grape varietals can be used in their wines, and in many cases they dictate specific wine production practices that must be used in order to use the appellation designation on the bottle. By contrast, U.S. appellations have much less restrictive regulations giving winemakers a lot more freedom to make the wines they want to make.

As wine writer Katherine Cole points out, there are some proposals in the U.S, especially in Oregon’s Willamette Valley,  to tighten up regulations about what percentage of a region’s grapes and stated variety must be in the blend. She goes on to describe recent controversies over labeling regulations in the U.S. and then wonders whether we’re drifting toward a more European model, going so far as to speculate about a European style crus system where certain vineyards are designated as superior. Esther Mobley, wine columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle, puts the question directly:

“Will this emulation of Europe at some point endanger our distinctively American spirit of experimentation when it comes to planting vineyards?”

Tom Wark weighs in emphatically:

No. There is absolutely no chance that American labelling laws will move toward a European model and require wines that have a specific appellation on the bottle also be produced with specific grape varieties or be made with specific winemaking techniques. It’s not even a possibility. Nor is it possible that an official vineyard hierarchy will emerge in any winemaking region in America.

I found myself agreeing with Tom. It’s a very large leap from demanding Willamette Valley wines be made from 100% Willamette Valley fruit to specifying allowable varietals, vineyard yields, pick dates, or oak regimes. But then I read a comment on Tom’s blog that shifts the debate to a slightly different register.  Commenter Tom Elliot writes:

Jim Bernau from Willamette Valley Vineyards points out that “it is illegal in Oregon-labeled wine to use additives commonly used to make mass-produced Pinot Noir in California… (such as c)olor and mouthfeel concentrates, called Mega Purple, Ultra Red, Purple 8000 and Red 8000…”. It is not difficult to imagine other states adopting similar laws or regulations. Furthermore, questions have been raised as to whether Copper Cane has used any of these additives in their Oregon Pinot Noirs that were vinted in California, as it’s speculated they did in Meiomi (formerly owned by Joe Wagner of Copper Cane and now owned by Constellation, the manufacturers of Mega Purple). Currently, there’s a call for a Federal investigation into this. If that happens and it turns out to be true than it is not legal for those Copper Cane wines to carry an Oregon appellation.

I found this comment interesting. Part of the value of the “American Spirit of experimentation” is that winemakers can experiment to create more interesting, more differentiated wines. Differences are, after all, what makes wine interesting. While the European model creates sharp differences between regions, it tends to homogenize differences within regions.

But is the freedom to add color and mouthfeel concentrates really in that “spirit of experimentation” that produces differentiation? Color and mouthfeel concentrates make wines look richer and feel smoother. They tend to make wines taste the same by cancelling vintage variation and textural differences. This is fine for consumers who want homogeneous “supermarket” wines. But if you’re a wine region trying to differentiate yourself from competitors, you may not want winemakers using additives that will make your wines taste like industrial plonk.

For regions, unlike California, that don’t have a stake in mass produced wine it is not out of the question that they might regulate some winemaking practices if it gives them a competitive advantage.

We Are Getting Closer to a World in Which Consumers Can Buy the Wine They Want

03 Monday Dec 2018

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libdibAs the wine world waits for the Supreme Court to, hopefully, put another nail in the coffin of the 3 tier distribution system, wine retailers and small wineries will benefit from another development—LibDib (Liberation Distribution) and Republic National Distributing Company, the second largest alcohol distributer in the U.S., are teeming up to expand LibDib’s online distribution model to 22 additional states.

Here is why this is an important development.

In the three-tier distribution system, which was deliberately designed after prohibition to be an inefficient market , with the exception of purchases made directly from the winery, a consumer can buy wine only from a retailer or restaurant. And a restaurant or wine shop can buy only from a distributor. If a retailer wants to offer its customers a boutique wine and their distributor doesn’t carry it, they are out of luck. (California is an exception allowing wineries to sell directly to restaurants and other retailers). Because of industry consolidation, most wine is sold by large distributors who want to deal only with large producers. Because they can buy large quantities from a large producer they get better prices, have fewer shipping hassles because they deal with only a few companies, and by working only with large producers they don’t have to worry about running out of a particular wine.  If you’re a small winery these large distributors are simply not interested in promoting and selling your wines.

The result is that it’s impossible for retailers to get their hands on wines from small wineries who lack distribution.

LibDib (aka Liberation Distribution), a San Jose California company, was invented to solve this problem for retailers. It is an Internet distribution platform that levels the playing field for small producers by efficiently connecting producers with retailers and eliminating many of the pricing and marketing practices of the big distributors. Because it is a wholly online platform, LibDib doesn’t needs a large sales staff or warehouse space thus bringing down the cost of distribution. There is no minimum purchase and any winery regardless of size can have their product distributed through LibDib. The problem has been that, until this deal with Republic, LibDib operated only in California and New York.

By teaming with Republic, LibDib will have access to the 22 states in which Republic operates, and Republic benefits from the sophisticated web operation developed by LibDib.

As a practical matter, this means that if you’re a sommelier buying wine for a restaurant in, for instance, Colorado, and you taste a lovely Tempranillo on a visit to Texas, you can order it through LibDib if the winery has signed on to work with LibDib.

It is one of the greatest of ironies, that in a country so dedicated to “free markets”, when it comes to alcohol we let oligarchs supported by government policy dictate our choices.

Jamie Goode On Fire

28 Wednesday Nov 2018

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29520781-a-cartoon-man-with-his-hair-on-fireIn all the activity surrounding Thanksgiving last week, I fear Jamie Goode’s insightful post about faux “champions” of the wine consumer might have gotten buried. So I’ll take this opportunity to reinforce his main point. Wine is inherently complex and if we over-simplify it we risk destroying the qualities that make wine compelling.

So in this new narrative of wine the cast and plot are simple.

On the one side we have the baddies. This shady crowd consists of the wine trade at large, and anyone who has wine expertise, or who finds wine interesting, and enjoys the culture of wine, fine wine, natural wine, sharing interesting bottles with geeky friends, small production wines, wine books and wine education.

On the other side we have goodies: the consumers. These are people who don’t know much about wine, don’t want to spend much on it, but really enjoy their wines and get a lot of pleasure out of them, who drink with friends, who are happy most of the time. They are simple, joyful folk.

It’s clear which side any right thinking person would be on, right?

….

‘We’re not like the rest of the wine trade,’ they say. ‘We get you. We are on your side. All this wine complexity? It’s nonsense. There’s nothing to see. Just enjoy the wines you are already drinking. They are great!’

….

The solution? Strip wine of its complexity. Get rid of all the experts with their annoying expertise. Make wine taste nice again. Sweetness is helpful here, because young people have simple tastes and want things to be sweet and easy. Young people are scared away by wine, and would rather drink sodas, alcopops, mixed spirits, fruit ciders and beer.

Needless to say, I agree with Jamie’s jeremiad against these faux populists. The quickest route to getting people to ditch wine for mixed drinks, beer, and soda is to make wine as easy to drink as mixed drinks, beer, and soda. Why drop serious coin on a bottle of wine if it offers the same level of quality and distinctiveness as soda? People are attracted to wine because of its endless and often quite mysterious differences.  The premium wine business is kept afloat by people attracted to wines’ complexity.

I continue to be gobsmacked by people in the wine business who don’t understand this.

Of course, therein lies the problem. If you’re going to be fascinated by wines’ mysterious differences you have to learn to detect them and understand their significance. That requires  a modest commitment albeit a commitment that is inherently pleasurable. I suppose if someone wants satisfaction without commitment then wine isn’t for them. But it’s not like these folks are deprived. There is plenty of simple, sweet wine with cute labels on the bottom shelf at any supermarket. They are deprived of our respect for their choices, but then they haven’t earned it.

I do think Jamie is bit too generous toward “the wine trade at large”. That covers a host of cynical charlatans who sell crap with the same language used to describe wines of genuine quality. We need to remember what the word “pretentious” means. Pretense is a form of pretending. Using extravagant or intricate language to describe extravagant or intricate wines is accuracy. Using that same language to describe ordinary, simple wines is pretense.

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

On Thanksgiving Wine Pairings

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

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thanksgiving wine pairingMy best advice? Don’t bother. Two principles should regulate any discussion of Thanksgiving wine:

1. No single wine will pair well with all the dishes at a typical Thanksgiving meal, and;

2. No single wine will please everyone at your table.

The cardinal sin in food and wine pairing is to serve a dry wine with sweet food. Sweet dishes will inevitably make a dry wine taste thin and sour. Since many Thanksgiving dishes have some sweetness, your dry wines will suffer. White turkey meat requires a light, delicate wine. Dark meat and mushroom stuffing requires a dry, bold, earthy wine. Most vegetables will need a wine that won’t amplify bitterness. No single wine can do all this work.

In light of those two principles, the best thing to do is open a variety of affordable wines and let people choose what they want to drink. However, if that sounds too spiritless and half-assed for your guests (or for your ego) you might try the following approaches:

— Serve a good, modestly priced sparkling wine like Toques et Clochers Crémant de Limoux. No one ever complains about being served sparkling wine even if it doesn’t pair perfectly with your dishes.

–Serve two wines: an off-dry Riesling from Germany’s Mosel region and an elegant Pinot Noir from Santa Barbara. Neither will work with all the dishes but both will be a good compromise.

–or serve a quality apple cider such as Eric Bordelet’s Brut Tendre. This is an off dry cider with autumnal flavors that comes closer than anything I’ve tried to a perfect Thanksgiving beverage.

And most of all remember, Thanksgiving embodies more important ideals than getting the wine and food pairing right.

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

19 Monday Nov 2018

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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

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

Is Chardonnay Really the Drink of Self-Hating Riesling Fans?

31 Wednesday Oct 2018

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butterWine makes it to the pages of New York Magazine by posing a question parading as a paradox. “Why Is Chardonnay Still America’s Best-selling Wine?

It’s the Mayonnaise of Wines: The Blockbuster Beverage You Won’t Admit You Love.”

Author Josh Barro goes on to explain:

Fashionable in the 1980s, Chardonnay has been the butt of jokes for two and a half decades. It has developed a reputation for having strong and unsubtle flavors of oak and butter; a reputation for pairing poorly with food; a reputation for being the sort of thing your mom drinks.

As he points out, the “anything but Chardonnay movement” got started in the mid 1990’s and it’s still going strong.

Yet, about 25 years after Chardonnay became “unfashionable,” Americans still drink more of it than any other kind of wine. IRI, the Chicago-based market research firm, says Chardonnay accounted for about one-fifth of table wine sold through retail channels in the U.S. during the 52 weeks that ended October 7, making it twice as popular as the next-biggest white wine grape (Pinot Grigio).

Barro points out, rightfully, that there are many different styles of Chardonnay; they are not all butter bombs. Yet the suggestion of the headline and the article is that Chardonnay is some sort of guilty pleasure that we all crave but won’t fess up to.

But there is no paradox here if you understand the wine industry. There are really two wine industries. Wine industry #1 consists of mammoth, industrial wine producers who sell mostly affordable wines at the supermarket and big box stores such as BevMo. They are still making big, buttery Chardonnays because their customers want them. Their customers, for the most part, have never heard of the  “anything but Chardonnay” movement, don’t read the wine press or take wine education classes, and could care less about what some fancy sommelier wants them to drink.

Then there is wine industry #2, thousands of smaller wineries, too small to get their product on a supermarket shelf, who sell to wine shops, wine bars, restaurants and do a whole lot of direct-to-consumer sales out of their tasting rooms. Their customers are generally more knowledgeable and discriminating about wine, are open to trying a variety of different styles, and have a wide range of preferences. Some of these folks like Chardonnay as well. But you better have at least one less oaky, more restrained style on the menu if you want to avoid too many people turning up their nose.

Chardonnay’s big sales numbers are explained by the fact that about 90% of the domestic wines sold in the United States are made by the top 30 big producers—industry #1. Their customers, who want a familiar, convenient alcohol delivery system, are a massive constituency that makes up the “nothing but Chardonnay” crowd.

I seriously doubt that there is a large group of self-hating Riesling “fans” filling their cellars with cases of Chardonnay when no one is watching.

This is just one more nonsense article on wine appearing in the mainstream press based on half truths.

Wine Critics in Search of Difference

29 Monday Oct 2018

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seeking new winesMy Three Quarks column this month is, for the most part, a compilation of recent posts published here on Edible Arts on the aims of wine criticism. But I added an important new dimension to the argument for the Three Quarks column.

In earlier posts I argued that the purpose of wine criticism is appreciation, not necessarily evaluation or to guide purchasing decisions. In appreciation we savor what is there in the wine and seek to discover the various kinds of experiences available to someone who is fully attuned to it. This includes knowing the meaning and significance of the wine as well as savoring its sensory properties. Appreciation is open to all the properties of an object even if they have little to do with quality.

The goal of the wine critic then is to aid in the appreciation of a wine by revealing what is there to be appreciated. But wine reviews and other sorts of wine writing are often read by people who don’t have the wine in front of them, may not be able to acquire it, and thus will not be in a position to appreciate it. Why would wine writing and criticism be important for them?

Here is the argument I added to what had been previously published.

“For the wine community, knowing the meaning and significance of a wine, the kinds of experiences available when drinking it, and especially whether it represents a new trend or flavor experience is important information independently of one’s ability to experience the wine. The wine community is an aesthetic community held together by norms, standards of excellence, and especially a shared search for differences, flavor experiences that stand out for their uniqueness or originality. Thus, the job of the critic is in part discovery, a search for gems that deserve recognition. As an aesthetic system, wine appreciation thrives on differentiation. It’s the critic’s job to support that system by giving recognition to those meaningful differences. This is why it is essential to have critics with different palates who can expand the community’s capacity to discover difference and supply it with meaning. That reviews can be used for members of the community to decide what to experience is a useful service compatible with the larger aim to enhance appreciation.”

The fact that critics disagree about wine is a feature not a bug. Only a collection of  critics with different tastes and preferences will be likely to discover the full range of wines that exhibit interesting differences. The day critics all agree is the day wine loses much of its appeal.