What's wrong with sweet wines?

What's wrong with sweet wines? Nothing, according to Master of Wine Tim Hanni. Hanni and Virginia Utermohlen recently published a report titled Beverage Preferences, Attitudes, & Behavior of ‘Sweet’ vs. 'Tolerant’ Wine Consumers (a PDF version of the report with their conclusions is available in this link) based upon the results of an online survey. In this report respondents are separated into four distinct taste preference groups: sweet, sensitive, hyper-sensitive, and tolerant. These classifications bear more than a passing resemblance to the concept of super-tasters and the separation of individuals into super-tasters, tasters, and non-tasters.

Most of the focus of the study is on the dichotomy between "sweet" and "tolerant" consumers. "Sweet" tasters prefer fruitier wines with residual sugar, and tend to be younger and female. "Tolerant" tasters prefer powerful if not bitter, astringent wines, and tend to be older and male. In fact, the description of the "tolerant" taster seems to match the stereotype of an older guy who's a wine snob and shops by point ratings. According to Hanni and Utermohlen's conclusions, "sweet" tasters are very sensitive to non-sweet flavors like bitterness thus need residual sugar to offset these flavors, while "tolerant" tasters have a high sensitivity threshold for bitterness, astringency and the burn of high alcohol.

I can certainly identify with the issues related to "tolerant" tasters dominating the world of fine wine criticism. Older male critics like Parker and Miller seemingly will tolerate any level of extraction and oak, and favor raw intensity and power over other more delicate expressions. It is clear the "tolerant" taster is understood to have learned some of his preferences given that it is stated the language for marketing wines to him is "point ratings, complex, bold, intense." Knowledge of point ratings implies the "tolerant" taster reads or follows some critics like Parker or magazines like Wine Spectator. Thus, this group clearly is not basing its interests solely upon intrinsic tastes, but upon learned preferences as well.

Yet the "sweet" taster is defined in such a manner that it appears he buys wine based solely upon his own taste with little regard to external influence. The "sweet" taster seems to have less education about wine, which undoubtedly influences taste preference. At the same time, though, cultural influence from the prevalence of highly sweetened processed foods and soft drinks in the US is not discussed in the report. My hypothesis is that much of the preference for very sweet foods and beverages results from conditioning. While individuals are less or more sensitive to bitterness according to the results in this report, it is also likely they may be less or more sensitive to sweetness. Hanni and Utermohlen argue "sweet" tasters are more sensitive to bitterness, acidity and astringency, but I suspect that it's just as prevalent that they are less sensitive to sweetness.

The report ultimately seems focused on how to sell wine to "sweet" tasters in the most expedient fashion. It even suggests that "sweet" tasters are under-served by the wine industry. I disagree with this conclusion. Walk into a grocery store and pick a random wine off the shelf. Typically you will find a fruity, slightly sweet, often vanillified wine with low acidity and very little tannin. This is precisely the type of wine that appeals to the "sweet" drinker based on Hanni and Utermohlen's definition of this classification. In fact, by volume most of the wine produced in the US seems to be targeted towards the "sweet" consumer.

Moreover, I disagree that "sweet" consumers cannot or should not expand their horizons as wine drinkers (not to mention food eaters). In some sense "tolerant" tasters are over-educated, while "sweet" tasters are under-educated. While individuals should ultimately buy what they like, it's important to understand that a Nebbiolo by nature tends to be tannic and Sangiovese by nature tends to be acidic, for example, and wine that isn't manufactured as a processed food varies from vintage to vintage. Wine appreciation is a synthesis of both personal preference and understanding of regional, varietal and vintage expression. I personally love sweet foods like fresh fruit, candy and chocolates, but also understand that these flavors don't necessarily belong in every wine.

Returning to the original question, I agree with Tim Hanni that there is nothing wrong with sweet wines or "sweet" tasters. In fact, many sweet wines like Sauternes, Port, demi-sec Vouvray and late harvest Riesling are considered among the most noble, long-lived and great wines in the world. The key here is to educate "sweet" wine consumers that these are unique wines because of their production methods, aging capacity and complexity. While there is a certain stigma attached to a preference for sweet wine, the generic White Zinfandels and sweet Muscats that sweet wine drinkers regularly purchase are treated quite justifiably as ordinary wines. They're the vinous analog to McDonald's: rich in certain pleasing flavors, be it sugar or fat, but otherwise simple manufactured consumables.

I was once there, too. Some years ago I liked something called Mattie's Perch Shiraz purely because it "went down smooth." I haven't tried it recently, but my guess is that it would be mild in acid and tannins, fruity and a bit sweet in the terms I'd use now. To look at this from a slightly different angle, I'd argue wine is about both hedonic and aesthetic appreciation. We all understand and seek hedonic enjoyment from birth, but aesthetic context must be developed. This is no different than learning about any craft, from film, to music, to sculpture, to architecture. In the social media saturated world once can click the "I like this" next to anything. Mattie's Perch was worthy of an "I like" back in the aughts. But that preference was quite separate from understanding context and this brand's place in the big picture.

Vinography: Where Self Awareness Goes to Die

Alder Yarrow is a talented guy, no question about it. But self awareness is not his strong suit. He's published another blog entry on Vinography decrying the tragedy of wine being treated purely as a investment or trophy. In principle, the post says all the right things. He tells these cynical wine speculators and hoarders essentially to take a shit or get off the pot. Drink the wine, because that's what it's there for.

But the same sentiment can be directed to Vinography: take a shit or get off the pot. A blog that breathlessly glorifies ultra-expensive cult (or at least aspiring cult) producers like Kapcsándy, Blackbird, Sea Smoke, Bond, and Giacomo Conterno is not exactly the spokesblog for the common man. In fact, it's perpetuating the same class divide that Yarrow criticizes. Yarrow simply doesn't get that one can't lionize $100+ Napa cult Cabs one day, then criticize luxury wine collectors the next for hoarding them.

Yarrow wants to end what he calls "the travesty of wine and social class." You know what else is a travesty? Hypocrisy. Yarrow does an excellent job covering a variety of wines, and has a special ability for illustrating what makes high end wineries tick. But if you're covering a luxury good--and that's what wine is, even down to the $15 or $20 Mondavi Napa Merlot at Von's--there's no getting around it. Vinography is about luxury goods, pure and simple. There's just no sense in criticizing the same market that Vinography covers.

I'm not begrudging anyone for enjoying or writing about expensive wine. Heck, I've done the same thing myself! But let's drop the pretense. Writing up all the minutiae related to a bottle of fermented grapes is not dispelling the notion of wine is a luxury. Instead it feeds into the same mythology that it is complicated, expensive and snobby. We can't have it both ways.

When Demystifying Terroir Turns into Bad Science

Wine Peeps, a Washington-centric wine blog, posted, at first glance, a compelling article documenting formal chemical analysis of a Syrah from the producer Cayuse. This is essentially a "cult wine" producer who critics have consistently lauded. The gist of the article is that the wine showed some seriously funky characteristics consistent with high levels of mercaptans or volatile sulfides. So the authors paid to have a sample of the wine tested by ETS in Napa to determine if the compounds were present in abnormally high concentrations. The results were compelling:

Within two days, we had the results, posted online and emailed to us. Then we had a follow-up call with a representative at ETS to discuss the results. The evidence was clear. The Cayuse was a flawed wine. It had volatile acidity slightly above the normal sensory threshold but at a level a massive Syrah can support, but the worst result from the chemistry panel was that it had a high pH level, which made it more susceptible to bacterial attack. The most damning result, however, came from the sulfides panel. Published literature and ETS studies say that low levels of dimethyl sulfide can contribute roundness, fruitiness, or complexity; however, at levels greater than 50 ug/L, it may contribute vegetative, cooked cabbage, or sulfide smells to wines. According to the ETS representative, this wine had the highest dimethyl sulfide level he had ever seen (312 ug/L), more than 10 times the normal sensory threshold (17-25 ug/L), which accounts for the canned corn, rotten vegetables, and decomposed greens flavors. And, those dimethyl sulfide levels and resulting unpleasant sensory characteristics will only increase with wine age, according to ETS.

What was apparently attributed to terroir is apparently an extremely high level of dimethyl sulfide. (Just as a cross-reference, Jamie Goode confirms that various sulfides can bring some serious funk.) Perhaps the terroir does indirectly contribute to this character by producing fruit that naturally ferments in a manner that generates high quantities of volatile sulfides. Or perhaps it's mostly the "house style" that shows, especially if fermentation technique is reductive. Maybe a high pH allowed some in-bottle microbial development. In any case, though, it's clear those attributing the sulfide-heavy character directly to terroir are not on firm footing. Many factors can contribute to production of sulfides.

The Wine Peeps, however, go awry arguing that this is some sort of objective, absolute and unequivocal flaw, especially in the comments that follow. I love science more than most people, and data indicating the presence of stinky compounds is priceless in my book. But when it comes to personal taste, objectivity simply doesn't exist. The most one can do is indicate that sulfides have a large sensory impact.

I recently wrote about a Merlot that had an intense briny, seaweed characteristic, which may well be related to volatile sulfides. In any case, it is quite likely some less than commercially acceptable sulfur-based compound was present in a high concentration. Yet I really liked this "flawed" wine. The seaweed aroma made it unique and interesting. For a mass market wine this would not be desirable because it may well displease a large segment of consumers. But for smaller production wines the real art is in differentiation if not a tension between easy to like flavors and more challenging ones.

Ultimately it comes down to taste. One man's flaw is another man's intriguing characteristic. Some folks like fruity, oaky wines. Others like stinky, dirty wines. Who's right? Is excessive fruit a flaw? What about high alcohol? No, it's about taste. Many technically "flawless" grocery store wines I try have a vanilla if not tapioca or yogurt flavor most likely due to spoofy oak treatment. This is way above my sensory threshold. But is it a flaw? No. I just don't like this flavor. Others do, and that's fine.

Micro Oxygenation

Anyone who has watched Jonathan Nossiter's polemic Mondovino is familiar with micro-oxygenation. Thanks to some clever editing, uber-consultant Michel Rolland seemed to recommend micro-ox to his clients in every 3rd sentence. I have little doubt this technique is abused, but I came across an interesting video entry on Bedrock Wine Co.'s blog recently where Michael Havens offers a candid interview on the technique:

There are several points that really stand out to me:

1. Around 0:30 Havens begins to explain that modern winemaking tends to be chemically reductive in the sense that oxygen is excluded throughout fermentation and elevage due to tools such as stainless steel fermenters. Thus, micro-ox is a technology that perhaps mimics the effects of winemaking in a previous era by introducing oxygen to the wine early in the winemaking process where the wine can buffer against it.
   
2. At 4:30 he discusses racking, a process of removing sediment and transfering wine from one barrel to another. This introduces oxygen to the wine, but is also physically demanding and often leads to losing some volume of wine. Micro-ox can introduce oxygen in a safer, more controlled fashion than racking.
3. At 8:20 Havens discusses the different tannin structures that one may achieve. It's clear that micro-ox can be used to produce 'melted' tannins in a young wine where ordinarily this type of structure is only present in aged wines. However, it does give a winemaker a stylistic and developmental choice.
   

Certainly the last point gives me reason for concern about the use of this technique. It's not uncommon to encounter California wines that are highly extracted, but incredibly soft. They're essentially texture-driven wines, and I suspect micro-ox plays a role in many of these manipulated wines. Havens also mentions that micro-ox can be used to oxidize pyrazines, which produce herbaceous aromas and flavors in wines. I consider these part of the wine, and one can virtually eliminate vintage variation by managing both the pyrazine content and tannin structure. This is a tool that can be used to manipulate wines.

However, this interview provides some much needed balance to the discussion. Half a century ago, temperature control, stainless steel tanks and even knowledge of the various microbes involved in fermentation were essential unknown. As knowledge and technology develop, tools that provide precise control are needed. Micro-ox appears to be one such tool. In my mind, where bacterial spoilage was a likely failure mode in the past, now over-manipulation is the more likely culprit for a mediocre wine. But in this case the choice is conscious. As much as I like some herbaceous quality in wine, some wines can be overwhelming vegetal. If micro-ox can help to bring a wine into balance, then it's a tool worth considering.

Maybe most of all I appreciate the honesty of this video. Most vintners create a facade to hide behind. They build their PR around terroir and lifestyle, but ultimately manufacture a wine they think will please the widest audience. Havens strikes me as a vintner who has a house style, but isn't trying to be everything to everyone. He seems to know his tools, and uses them in an educated fashion. That's admirable.

A new Jay Miller controversy?

Three months ago, Dr. Vino broke a story questioning the impartiality of Jay Miller's reviews published by Robert Parker's Wine Advocate. The issue was centered upon the appropriateness of Miller accepting hospitality from importers and producers when reviewing their wines, particularly when Parker's own policy is to pay his own way. Miller's tendency to rate a surprising quantity of wines highly no doubt added fuel to the fire. Whether or not Miller actually accepted gifts in return for positive reviews, there was still an appearance of impropriety.

Fresh on the heels of this public black eye, Miller is now caught up in an ugly incident where it appears a producer pulled a bait and switch with a wine he rated at 96 points, the 2005 Sierra Carche. Message boards here, here and here are discussing the likelihood that the wine Miller reviewed was substantially different than the wine imported into the US. While it seems unlikely Miller was involved beyond tasting the wine, his tendency to taste under conditions determined by importers certainly exposes him to ugly situations like this one. He certainly didn't help himself by sitting on a bottle of this wine a collector asked him to re-taste for nearly a year.

The emerging story seems to be that the producer bottled multiple lots, with one of the later runs being vastly inferior to the original wine Miller tasted. Adding to the intrigue, apparently there are bottles numbered XXXX out of 20,000 and XXXX out of 16,000, while the importer claims 20,000 bottles produced. Something certainly seems fishy here, though perhaps there's a sensible explanation for the bad bottles and non-standard math.

The moral of the story: don't buy on points! The wine in question here seems to be a blend cooked up by a marketing group in partnership with a Spanish producer. In all likelihood, the label/brand was made first, then Parkerized (or perhaps Millerized?) wine was contracted to fill the bottles. If there's no vineyard source known and the producer has no history or a reputation to uphold, how do you know what's actually going into the bottles that aren't presented directly to a critic over a nice business dinner?