Is this s--- for real: great moments in uninteded self-parody

Is this for real? Sadly, the answer is yes. For every genuine enthusiast (who also runs a huge wine shop) like Gary Vaynerchuck or analytical scientist like Jamie Goode, there are about a dozen of the type of people in the wine world who I'll be bashing in the rest of this post.

Probably one of the top bullshit artists in the world of wine right now is James Suckling. Pretension in fine wine is unavoidable on some level. But Suckling oozes pretension. If he was a slug, that sticky trail he leaves behind would be pretension distillate. Watch and learn in these two videos as Suckling gives a master class in egotism, stuffiness and, yes, unbearable pretentiousness:

I'm 99 points on not wanting to hear another damn over-enunciated word out of Suckling's mouth ever again.

Of course, making obnoxious videos is not the only way to ruin wine for the general public. You can always write a note with so many descriptors it ceases to have meaning. Now, I like to both read and write thorough notes. But they have to actually contain, you know, information. Words describing body, acidity, tannin, flavor intensity, style--primarily structural descriptors--are very useful. A few specific flavors can be of help, but at a certain point it is not telling you anything other than the author is full of shit. Take this example from a person who calls himself the Sonoma Sommelier:

Anaba 2007 “Coriol” Red Rhone Blend: "a wine that delivers . . . . flavors of acai berries, black currant liqueur, fig bar, tamarind, raspberry bramble, red plum, balsamic strawberries, clove, rose water, cigar box, barnyard, teriyaki, stone, apricot, coriander, butterscotch, hazelnut chocolates, brown leather and Columbian coffee beans."

The enological diarrhea is even more exaggerated in this example:

VJB 2007 Estate Aglianico: "It has both Sonoma Valley and Italian flavors of wild red currants, red licorice twist, raspberry Pimms Cup, red apple skins, barnyard game, suede leather, rhubarb pie, baked red plum, star anise, sage, rosemary brush, guava candies, roasted portobello mushrooms, hibiscus flower, passion fruit puree, lavender, tomatoes on the vine, paprika, horehound candy, sea salt, nori sheets, cappuccino froth, molasses, nutmeg and Connecticut cigar wrapper."

Stop, just please stop, Sonoma Somm!

To his credit, the first sentence or two in both reviews I linked does tell you much of what you'd want to know structurally about the wines, albeit in an annoyingly literary style. But after that, it's just self indulgent garbage. If you tried these wines, you'd never find that many flavors in a single taste. You know why? Because humans can only differentiate a few aromas at a time, and most of what we perceive as taste is really retronasal olfaction.

How this sort of criticism became the norm, I do not know. No, actually, I do know. This variety of sewer feces appeals to people with lots of money but no common sense or knowledge of wine. Why learn about where the wine comes from and how it's made when you can just hear a point score and a bunch of fancy sounding adjectives? It's the easy way out--instant validation.

The Price of Miniscule Production

I was recently looking at a small production Napa Cabernet Sauvignon from a single vineyard and was struck by how tiny the production was on a year to year basis. Looking at recent vintages, production has varied consistently from 100 to 160 cases. This means this producer is making about 4 to 6 barrels of wine per vintage. The cost per 750 mL bottle: $75 for new releases.

The point here is not to pick on the producer, thus I'm not naming names. Rather, the idea is to treat this producer as a quick, crude case study. This Cabernet is the only wine this producer makes; it's really all or nothing with this cuvée. While bigger Napa producers sell Cabs in this price range that may have 5k or 10k case production, this producer needs to stay afloat on just a small fraction of that quantity.

Unfortunately, 100-160 cases is really the opposite of an economy of scale. Undoubtedly farming of a small vineyard costs more per acre than a large one since simply getting workers and equipment there at the right time is half the battle. Meanwhile, a producer like this usually needs to hire a winemaker and pay to utilize resources at a custom winemaking facility.

For a boutique producer, even several thousands cases is considered a small production, though this quantity is often spread over multiple wines. If the above Napa producer is selling through and making a sustainable profit by selling a top notch wine at the $75 asking price, there's really no critique to be made of this business model. But from a consumer perspective, I see winemakers who have built from the ground up to run a winery making and selling significantly more wine at one half or one third the price per bottle. I can't help but think micro-production wineries like the above example are saddling consumers with both their large production costs and a rather high per bottle margin simply because they aren't doing as much work as others.

Who knows, perhaps 4-6 barrels of $75 Napa Cab is simply a hobby. It certainly sounds like a quantity of wine a hobbyist could store in a garage. But I really wonder what the producer is doing to earn that price when other boutiques are doing 10 or 20 or 50 times as much work to hit a significantly lower price point. I don't believe this is the only producer pursuing this approach, and I think it will be increasingly hard for micro-production wineries to capture a share of this small market segment with consumers being more careful in their spending.

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.

TN: The Paring and Jonata Wines

Local wine shop East Beach Wine held a tasting of The Paring and Jonata, a Santa Ynez producer owned by the same people behind ultra cult wine Screaming Eagle. I was definitely a bit skeptical given the prices--up to $125 per bottle--and the Parker hype--90 to 96 points depending on the cuvee. But the second label, The Paring, is more sensibly priced for a new producer in the $20 to $25 range. Moreover, their Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are sourced from such vineyards as Sanford & Benedict, Bien Nacido and Solomon Hills, while their estate vineyard sits in Ballard Canyon. Ballard Canyon is not all that well known at this point, but there are some serious producers like Stolpman and Rusack sharing the canyon and there's good reason to think this location has the right soils and micro-climate to produce high quality Bordeaux varietals.

As for the tasting, I'm not 100% sold, but there are a few caveats I'll mention below.

The Paring 2007 White Wine - $20. Mostly Sauvignon Blanc with about 20% Semillon. Honeysuckle, orange blossom, toast, citrus and herbaceous aromas. Acidic, but full bodied. Hot finish that's not very pleasant.

The Paring 2008 Chardonnay "The Hilt" - $24. Cream, toasted nuts, citrus. Crisp and acidic, full body, fresh. Good finish. 1/3 new oak used.

The Paring 2008 Pinot Noir - $25. Smoke dominates nose. Earth and chocolate on palate. Good weight in mouth, medium-low acid.

The Paring 2006 Red Wine - $24. Intense borderline jammy cherry-berry aromas typical of region with mild herbs. Full body, dry finish with earthy/herby flavors. 52% Cab S, 42% Merlot, 6% Petite Verdot.

Jonata 2007 La Poesia Pinot Noir - $85. Bottle just opened. Very tight, no nose other than hint of caramel. Good weight and flavor, medium acidity. Fine, but not showing much.

Jonata 2006 La Alma Cabernet Franc - $125. Tight, bottle just opened. More accessible than previous wine. Shows almost jammy cherry and berry with great jalapeno accent. Fine tannins show on mid-palate. Dark chocolate and herbs on long finish. Structured and needs time or air.

I was a bit disappointed to catch the last two wines on freshly opened bottles. Robert Parker rated the Cab Franc a 95 and called it the best Cab Franc in California. Is it the Screaming Eagle of Cabernet Franc? Perhaps. It wasn't showing great today, but the ripeness and structure seem spot on as it's a bit green and a bit jammy yet neither herbaceous or flabby. I'd probably buy 3 or 4 bottles of Longoria Blues Cuvee or Evidence, which are also Cab Franc based with similar flavor and structural profiles, for about the same cost. On the flip side, The Paring Red Wine was a solid value that competes on both price and quality with its peers in Santa Barbara.

An interesting side note is that the 'heavy hitters' in the tasting lineup weren't as expressive as the less expensive wines. While part of this is the structure of the wines (Jonata is built to last, The Paring is built to drink now), I can't help but think much of this has to do with the wines be treated on equal footing. All were popped and poured. There was no special glassware, decanting or ceremony for the more expensive wines. If you take away the ceremony (and, even better, the labels), the perceived differences between wines in different price ranges tends to vanish. That said, I'd still like to see what the Jonata wines would do with a proper decanting as that's how I'd drink any wine costing more than $15!

Winemaker Matt Dees made sure to point out The Paring wines are designed as food wines, while the Jonata wines are "California style," which I take to mean big, ripe and structured. Dees seems like the quintessential nerdy sort of winemaker. I mean this in a good way. He's not full of hot air, and seems like he's more of a technical sort of winemaker. There may be plenty of bluster behind the brand, but it looks like there's the right sort of guy handling the nuts and bolts of it.

Bottom line, I didn't really care for the whites on both stylistic and quality grounds. The reds were good top to bottom, though the Paring Pinot seemed pretty monolithic in its toasty, smokey aromas and flavors. The Cab Franc in particular has plenty of substance and is both true to its region and varietal, though the structure was too imposing to say much more than it's well-made with plenty of potential.

The Greatest Cult Wine Ever?

The man on the left is a genius. Not because he can smoke a cigar, fire a shotgun and chug a glass of wine while jumping up and down on a vintage race car. Anyone named Vin Diesel or Chuck Norris can do that. No, this man is a genius because he figured out how to sell a bottle of wine for several thousand dollars.

The amusing part is that, at least initially, Todd Anderson's Ghost Horse wines appear to have begun as a parody of highly priced, extremely limited production wines. The image on the left was apparently prominently displayed on the Ghost Horse World website before it was redesigned. Even now, the website has a little footnote at the bottom reading "The Occult Wine Experience" and shows images of the winemaker living his fantastic lifestyle. This still looks much like an elaborate goof.

Now, since I'm not a journalist, I'm not going to follow up on this beyond what's available on the Web. But there is a very lengthy discussion on a message board that suggests this is for real. If you have a crap-load of expendable income, you can indeed purchase a bottle of this wine. Winemaker Todd Anderson posts repeatedly to discuss his special project, though at times he also writes in character like one might expect his shotgun firing, car jumping alter-ego would.

Whatever Anderson's intentions were initially--an Andy Kauffman or Borat-like put on or a serious high end winemaking venture--it's clear he's homing in on a curious niche. Much wine is marketed as a lifestyle product, but Ghost Horse World sells the lifestyle along with the wine. The wine club link says it all: it simply titled "Belong." Members of the wine club purchase a barrel of wine for about $5k per bottle, and in return, they receive benefits such as travelling with Todd Anderson, staying at the winery for several weeks per year, and access to Anderson's vacation properties. If you can only afford a case of wine for $15k or $27k, Anderson will hand deliver the case and spend dinner with you to discuss his wine. The merely wealthy, however, can apparently buy a bottle of his entry level Cabernet for a paltry $500 per bottle at the winery. $500 doesn't get you very far in terms of buying a lifestyle, it seems.

Based on its contents and the price of production alone, no wine is really worth more than about $50. But scarcity, demand and image apparently can account for an order of magnitude if not two increase in the purchase price. As much as this seems like a clever hoax in the vein of Andy Kauffman claiming the inter-gender wrestling title, I think this is for real. If you know a serious wine snob who can't get enough of $100+ bottles of wine, tell him he hasn't had a Ghost Horse yet. It's so damn expensive, it must be the greatest thing since diamond encrusted sliced bread covered in truffles and caviar!