Confessions of a Wino

When one person loves a wine and another hates it, who is right? Is Marmite heavenly or the finest work of Beelzebub?

According to Robert Joseph and Tim Hanni, that depends on your taste. Hanni has developed a vinotype classification that suggests than different people will like different wines based on their unique, personal combination of sensitivities and values.

A DWCC14 workshop presented attendees with 4 separate flights of wines, tasted blind, with tasters simply asked to choose a number of adjectives from a list and then choose their preferred wine from each flight. The wines in each flight were all similar and comprised still, dry white and red wines.

I tested as “sensitive” on the Vinotype scale, the other three options being Sweet, Hypersensitive, and Tolerant. Basically I am Mr Average, down the middle of the line.

Not surprisingly, there were a few games being played. Flight one contained two glasses of exactly the same wine but the second having had about twice the oxygen in the bottle. I preferred the latter, it felt much smoother and rounder to me,  and I didn’t spot the wines were identical. About 70% preferred the first wine. Each to their own!

Flight two experimented with sugar levels, most of the room disliking sample 3, the extra residual sugar affects ones interpretation of the other flavours. As the sugar levels rose, I found this doctored red Bordeaux got mustier and staler.

Flight three tested exposure to Brettanomyces – I am one of those that doesn’t mind a bit of Brett.

The final flight injected TCA into a dry white Bordeaux. I left the wines of this flight in the glass and tried them again at the end – wine three was rank. Psychology, knowledge after the event, or the effect of another 30 minutes of air? Who knows.

We are left looking for a conclusion and it inevitably leads towards Tim Hanni’s thesis that wine is an intensely individual affair and you should probably ignore all the techno-babble and drink wines that you like.

Are you sick of people who write about wine, especially on the internet, harping on about ethics? The last thing I really want to do is add to, or inflame, the debate still further. But I was on a panel at the DWCC in October 2013 talking about public relations, and this got me thinking about my position in respect of wine. What really matters?

Firstly, samples. One of the key fundamentals of business since Adam Smith was in shorts, is that you need to get people to try your product before they will trust and buy. This means incentives. Maybe samples to journalists/writers, maybe free product directly to your customers. So, bloggers who put a “disclaimer” on their reviews, please get over yourselves. Everyone expects you to receive samples, everyone expects you to deal with this and express your opinion honestly for good or for bad.

Secondly, bribes. In my country (the UK) there is a law about this. You can go to prison for bribing people to do business with you. This includes implicit promises that are delivered after the sale. For example, you sign a $1m deal and then take your customer on a $100,000 excursion. Clearly disproportionate. You take them out for a $200 meal to celebrate. Fine. So, proportionality is the issue.

What is proportionate for a bottle of wine? I think a sample is just fine – even a bottle, if that is for review by a journo who is going to spread the information widely, or a potentially loyal customer who will buy many cases from you in the future. I think an invite to the Opera to enjoy dinner and sample your latest release is bribery. A vertical tasting, with lunch, at a winery is an enthusiast welcoming a guest. Having the winery pay your travel and accommodation fees is bribery.

I can already hear the poor journos weeping. How do we make money out of writing these days? This is an interesting point but, nothing to do with the wine industry. I have a cousin who writes for the Financial Times who faces exactly the same issue. Her vision of the future of journalism is grim and she doesn’t expect the industry to survive her career. I try to talk her up by offering suggestions from the modern music industry, for example, where bands pretty much issue their music on a digital platform for nothing  and cream the money in by charging fans $200 a pop to come to their concerts. It is hard to replicate a live experience on the internet. There is nothing like being there. Turns out my cousin is making about half her income these days from speaking at conferences and moderating panels. So, maybe there is some hope.

All I know is that when truly independent, quality, journalism disappears, I won’t be the only one who is sorry. I don’t want all my information to come from bloggers like me, with uncertain agenda and limited access to knowledge. I might enjoy reading their stuff but I trust the Financial Times because it has been doing it since 1884 and has proven its ethical standards time and again. And I am more than happy to pay for that.

What can the home of cuckoo clocks, chocolate and jazz festivals teach us about wine? Quite a lot actually, as long as you are registered and currently attending the Digital Wine Communications Conference in Montreux.

Currently Greg Lambrecht, founder of Coravin, is reminding everyone that the wine industry is a business. There needs to be an unmet need for new inventions. Greg’s story started in the world of medicine which gave him a different take on wine. His entrepreneurial drive got him through tough events and he did it by focussing on the customer. Coravin is now a very successful company and a pretty natty device.

In a mid budget hotel in central Manchester, the CEO of a small software company took the stage to address his staff. It was the day after his 50th birthday, business was going well, but a plot had been hatched. There were no traitors at the gate on this occasion. We are not Nabisco. Merely the pleasant surprise of a presentation of a birthday gift, a certain, and very generous, bottle of wine.

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I told the guy in Latitude, Leeds, that I love white Bordeaux, and had a party coming up, but I didn’t want to break the bank and spoil the neighbours. He recommended this Semillon Sauvignon Blanc from Margaret River, Australia.

It’s crisp, yet smooth, rich and creamy, like an apple tart with custard and a dribble of honey. Latitude sold me this for £11.25 and, for that dosh, it beats most Bordeaux I’ve tried at the price point. Highly recommended. Remember WART rules and serve at the temperature of an oaked Chardonnay – about 10-12ºC (at least half an hour out of the fridge).

And for any of my lovely neighbours reading this, I was only joking. I’ve just received a shipment of Echo Falls for you. I’ll be keeping the Pitchfork for myself.

Spending so much time in North America is forcing me to learn new words like Diaper, Vacation, and Soccer, in order to be understood. The upside is the opportunity to learn about new wines, often unavailable in the UK.

Take this Merlot from British Columbia for example. Following the path trodden by many South American wineries of recruiting a little friendly advice from the old world, this Osoyoos was made with consultation (and, no doubt, a financial interest) from the owners of Saint-Julian stalwart, Gruaud-Larose.

And it shows. To me it was indistinguishable from a Bordeaux, probably right bank. Fruity, deep and lovable and not at all chewy. I wonder if they’ll export it any time soon.

If not, you can copy me and buy it from SAQ in Tremblant Resort for CAN$44.50, which equates to about US$39, or £24. That sounds expensive but Canadian sales taxes are fierce and this price even includes a 3% “resort association levy”. NYC taxes are more reasonable. I never thought I’d say that about anywhere.

New World Pinot Noir is never going to age like a Burgundy. If this bottle is anything to judge by, some are more likely to age like a Médoc. Witness the tawny Cabernet glow, the rich vanilla flavours, and the dark fruits from a wine that sounds more like a middle distance runner’s dog.

No evidence of any barnyard or chicken run. Nor anything thin. But if you want a full flavoured fruity Pinot that sits between Burgundy and New Zealand (depending on how you circumnavigate the globe), nip down to Epicure on Alton Road, South Beach and they will be delighted to lighten your wallet to the tune of five $10 bills. There must be somewhere cheaper to buy it – can you help?

The best recommendations for a wine do not come from journos, PR samples or special offers. For me, they come from genuine wine enthusiasts who trouble their pockets to retrieve a cherished bottle from their cellar to share with you. Either in person or in absentia.

This bottle was given to be at a board meeting by one of my colleagues who has travelled extensively around South America and hearing my mild enthusiasm for Chilean Carmenère, passed a Cuvée Alexandre into my dirty paws one rainy Tuesday morning in Newton le Willows.

This grape, widely planted in Chile but d’origine Bordeaux often reminds me of real wood fires on cold winter days. Rich and herby, yet smooth and oaky, this example is full on, but refined and very moreish, albeit bound to give me a headache in the morning.

I daren’t look up the price, because the quid pro quo is that I need to return the favour. But, knowing Chris, this is not a cheapy £5 bottle of wine. I think I’ll be reaching into my Eurocave for a decent Bordeaux or Argie blockbuster, maybe not quite stretching to a Catena Zapata or Cheval des Andes.

If you want to buy some, try your local independent.

I’ve written many times of my quest to find the perfect wine to accompany beans on toast. But, what about that other saccharine Heinz staple, Tomato Soup?

Everybody tells me that Italian reds are powerful, tannic and rich – like sucking a teabag that has been left in the pot overnight. So that won’t work then, will it?

Well, yes actually. This wine is soft like a fresh raspberry teabag (should you wish to to commit brewed beverage bastardisation) with just a smoky hint of genuine tea (Earl Grey), and there is a slight sweetness that really brings out the flavour of the kids’ teatime favourite.

And as I write, England qualify for the 2014 FIFA World Cup finals! Great goal by Gerrard. Let’s hope we don’t face Italy first up in the competition. Like their wines, they are tough early on, and soften up over time.

Mine cost me £32 from the Sunday Times Wine Club and the 2007 is STILL AVAILABLE. But, not cheap, so maybe better to buy the 2008 and save it to drink when England win in Brazil?

Beef friendly, delicious, easy drinking, and easy on the wallet. Not something you see every day on the carte des vins of a top end London Steakhouse. But I found Chateau (sic) Ste (sic) Michelle (sic) at Goodman‘s Mayfair branch. Served by the glass at one point, it disappeared and then they told me that had trouble sourcing enough to keep it on the list.

I am not really surprised. It must have been flying out of the Eurocave faster than a Batmobile powered by used rape seed oil.

Here’s the secret. I’ve found a plentiful supply and at a mad price of only around 10 quid a bottle (which, if I remember rightly, is less than Goodman used to charge for a glass). If you want to stock up, simply visit Bacchus Liquors. Not much use to Londoners I admit, but if, like me, you are stationed in South Beach for a while, a must-visit-venue. Ch. Ste Michelle is about $16 from this excellent and well stacked store at 1445 Alton Road, Miami Beach, FL 33139.  Massive collection of worldwide wines right on the premise, and literally just round the corner from my temporary home.