Wine
What makes wine great?
It comes down to its particular soil and climate. So, what about sustainability and global warming?
Why does Chardonnay produced from grapes grown in the Hudson Valley taste different from Chardonnay that hails from the Napa Valley, and why does that Chardonnay taste different from a Chardonnay whose home is in Burgundy, France? You can ask the same question about any wine produced anywhere on earth, and the answer will always boil down to two basics: soil and climate.
Sure, any skilled winemaker can elaborate a wine with a bag of tricks: New oak barrels, malolactic fermentation (changing harsh green acids to smooth, creamy ones), controlling alcohol, tannin, and acidity levels in the finished wine — up or down. He or she can use advanced technology, like making oak chips give creamy vanilla flavors to a wine, as if it has been aged in expensive small barrel, or “microxygenate” a red wine before bottling — introduce small amounts of oxygen, which ages wine — so that a young wine tastes like a mature one in three years instead of 10. I could proffer a laundry list of high-tech approaches to winemaking (including computerized robot wineries) that would stun most wine lovers.
But ask anyone who spends his or her life in the wine business and all of them would agree that truly great wine is made in the vineyard, not the winery. Just as in cooking, if you start with near-perfect, in-season, local ingredients and then employ the most basic skills in the kitchen, you are likely to create a delicious meal. If, on the other hand, you start with inferior ingredients — vegetables out of season, fish and meat that are really only borderline-fresh, the most talented chef in the world will produce a mediocre meal. The irony is that when you cook with great ingredients, you have to use restraint in the kitchen to highlight the flavors, textures, aromas, and colors of the food — a kind of non-interventionist cooking. Alternately, when you cook with mediocre ingredients you have to work so hard to mask the flavors that the finished dish, while perhaps a great creative statement, just doesn’t taste that good. The same is true in winemaking.
When it comes to quality wines, the familiar words “winemaker” and “winemaking” are insufficient. In fact, there is no word for “winemaker” in France, Italy, Spain, or Portugal, among other countries. We should think of these artisans as “winegrowers,” whose activity is “winegrowing.”
When you produce great wines, the traditional role of winemaker is tossed out the window. The person who ends up making fine wine spends at least as much time in the vineyards as he or she does in the winery, making sure that the grapes are healthy and picked only under the most ideal conditions. At the same time, the winegrower must respect the soil that gives life to the vine and understands that the climate (or the climates: for instance, the sunnier part of a vineyard has a different microclimate than the shadier) must cooperate each year in order to create a great vintage.
There is no such thing as the best way to grow a grape; those practices will differ based on what the French call “terroir,” a term that is truly ineffable but refers to climate and sun exposure in the vineyard, even to the traditions of the winegrower, but most importantly to the soil. A friend once asked the famous French vigneron (winegrower) Jacques Seysses, proprietor of Domaine Dujac, what were the most important quality issues that allowed him to produce such exquisite red Burgundy wines. He answered that “there are three very important things that make our wines great. They are the soil, the soil, and the soil.”
Jacques Seysses’ comment was perhaps a Zen koan, but he was right. Domaine Dujac, located in the Côte de Nuits region of Burgundy, produces extraordinary Pinot Noir, but so does Domaine Drouhin, located in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. Look at a map: Oregon is on the same latitude as Burgundy; the climate is similar. Keep looking: Long Island is on the same latitude as Bordeaux. Both regions are strongly influenced by the currents and immediate proximity of the Atlantic Ocean, and both produce classic examples of Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Cabernet Sauvignon. Pinot Noir from Burgundy, Pinot Noir from Oregon. Cabernet from Bordeaux, Cabernet from Long Island. Why do these wines taste so extraordinarily different when they’re made from the same grape types? Small differences in climate, but extreme differences in soils.
The irony about the best soils for growing grapes is this: the rockiest soils, the least fertile soils, the soils that cannot support so many other crops are often the best soils for wine. Rocky soils rich in limestone, as in Burgundy, or soils filled with fine gravel (Bordeaux), or soils built from the animal and plant life of receding oceans and alluvial fans (the Napa Valley), or soils comprised largely of glacial deposits (the Hudson Valley), all are near-ideal for growing wine grapes. These soils drain easily, don’t hold water at the roots of the vine, and so the grapes don’t bloat with water, diluting flavors.
On the other hand, the rich, fertile soils of, say, California’s Central Valley are too productive, too rich, too vigorous, and produce too many grapes. Low yields (normally less than three tons of fruit per acre) are required to create truly fine wines. Unlike commodity fruit and vegetable production, perfect wine grapes are all about quality –low yields of small, flavorful berries with a high skin to pulp ratio to create ripe tannins in fine wines — not quantity — high yields of bulbous, heavily irrigated, waterlogged grapes that should end up on our table, not in our glass.
The makeup of the soil also adds other dimensions of flavor and character to a wine. The chalky soils of, for instance, both Champagne, France, and Jerez, Spain, create a complexity of mineral flavors in their wines that separate them from wines made in the same style, from the same grapes, but grown elsewhere. Likewise, the gravel-based soils of Bordeaux (the area called Graves is named for its soil); the limestone of Burgundy; the shale and schist of Germany’s Mosel region; the soils that resemble small boulders in the Rhône Valley; the almost extraterrestial rocks that host the soils of Priorato in Spain; the glacial deposits of the Hudson Valley; the clay and loam of the Napa Valley.
In “The Feynman Lectures on Physics,” Richard Feynman invokes a glass of wine: “a distillation of the earth’s rocks, and in its composition we see the secrets of the universe’s age, and the evolution of stars.” It’s a wonderful passage, and a clear message that the complexity of great wine starts in the complexity of our earth. But soil is a finite resource, and Nature just isn’t making any new earth anytime soon.
In order to preserve our soils, land management has become a global public policy issue. Countries that are members of the European Union must agree to a policy that does not allow the creation of any new vineyards. For example, if a winegrower in Spain wants to plant a vineyard, that vineyard must be planted on ground that is already a vineyard, or was a vineyard in the past. Even in the Napa Valley, a place that has become a monoculture for wine grapes, there is a moratorium on the creation of new wineries (but not yet new vineyards). The current price of vineyard land in Napa — more than $250,000 per planted acre — is probably its own self-regulating mechanism. Today, if someone wanted to plant a new vineyard in the Hudson Valley, that person would be assured of making a small fortune, because he or she would have to start with a large fortune.
But why can’t we just start growing grapes in other parts of the world? The answer is climate, the other main factor of the equation. Grapes can grow in plenty of places, but since the best soils for grapes are those that stress the vines, the best climates are those that are just barely warm enough for them to ripen, and wine growers are keenly attuned to the weather and temperature of their vineyards. Which means, too, that they are on the ground, feeling the effects of global warming and climate change. More on that tomorrow.
Check back tomorrow for Part 2 of this series, on the taste of climate change.
Steven Kolpan is Professor and Chair of Wine Studies at The Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY. He is the author of "WineWise," a consumer-friendly guide to the wines of the world More Steven Kolpan.
Drink your way from one beautiful vista to the next
Slide show: From France to Chile, we look at some of the world's lushest wine trails
While the prospect of travel may inspire your inner Apollonian to fantasize, scheme and dream, once on the ground, there is immense pleasure in letting a well-laid plan play itself out in a hedonistic, Dionysian fashion. A bit ahead of the now-trendy agritourism curve, wine trails developed as rural outposts of flavor and culture, providing travelers with stimulating opportunities for inebriation.
Even if you know little about grapes or abhor the fussy dissection of flavors and terroir — you can learn so much just by exploring the leafy landscape of wine — digging into the dirt, smelling the vines under the beating sun, going underground to contemplate the almost holy ritual of controlled fermentation, and pondering the effects of a cold night, southern exposure, altitude or soil composition on acidity and flavor.
We chose 16 spots that make it easy to drink your way from place to place, sampling different types of wine in intoxicating settings. You can read about many more wine country spots here: http://www.trazzler.com/tags/wine-country
What’s in a wine label?
Many producers market bottles with cuteness, but one actually teaches us about the art of the vintner
These days many enjoy buying wine with labels that feature animals: kangaroos, penguins, fish, lizards, and loons. These “critter labels” don’t just happen by accident — research shows that American wine consumers are 40 percent more likely to buy a wine with a cute animal on the label when compared to a straightforward label that gives the standard information: the name of the producer, the name of the grape, the name of the place where the vineyards are located, and the year in which the grapes were picked.
Continue Reading CloseSteven Kolpan is Professor and Chair of Wine Studies at The Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY. He is the author of "WineWise," a consumer-friendly guide to the wines of the world More Steven Kolpan.
Make a wine pro jealous: Have a tasting at home
Professional tasters have a dirty little secret. They don't have fun doing it, but here's a guide on how you can
A woman tastes red wine in the Millesima cellar in Bordeaux, southwestern France, November 6, 2007. REUTERS/Regis Duvignau (FRANCE)(Credit: © Regis Duvignau / Reuters) As if the majority of the American public didn’t already think that “wine professional” was another term for “buzzkill who can’t get a real job,” I have a dirty little secret about professional tasting that I want to share. When we taste, it is not for pleasure. The job of the professional wine taster is to find the faults with the wine, and it’s a bit like finding all the reasons not to award the Cub Scout his Webelos badge.
As if that wasn’t enough to endear ourselves to humanity, then there are the tasting panels like a recent one for a major wine competition who were unanimous in their opinion of one California Chardonnay over another. The wine they rejected retails for $65; the wine they embraced was Charles Shaw Chardonnay (commonly, and sometimes affectionately, sometimes derisively, called “Two Buck Chuck”) – it sells for $1.99-$2.99 at selected Trader Joe’s. This kind of thing happens more than you might imagine, and far more often than “professional tasters” care to admit. When I hear things like that, what can I do but weather the slings of friends who call my profession a collection of frauds and phonies and do the perp walk of crooked politicians and disgraced corporate executives?
Continue Reading CloseSteven Kolpan is Professor and Chair of Wine Studies at The Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY. He is the author of "WineWise," a consumer-friendly guide to the wines of the world More Steven Kolpan.
Meritage: New world grapes and old world blends
Your guide to some truly great American wines, made in French style
Traditionally, most Old World wines are named for their place: Bordeaux, Champagne, Rioja, etc. But today’s wine market is heavily tilted toward grape names, like Chardonnay or Pinot Noir, and the reason is easy to understand: Buying a 2005 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, for instance, is for most of us a much simpler exercise than buying a 2005 Château Smith-Haut-Lafitte from the Pessac-Leognan subregion of Bordeaux.
Great, we might say. Score one for transparency and straightforwardness! But there’s a lot to a name. Both of the wines in the above example are considered to be Cabernet Sauvignon wines, though they are both blended to some degree with wines made from Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and a few other varietals. In order to preserve the integrity of the Napa Valley Cab name, by law that wine must be a minimum of 75 percent Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, and 85 percent of those grapes had to be harvested from vineyards in the Napa Valley. But the Bordeaux wine, an explicit blend, can contain a varying percentage of Cabernet Sauvignon, depending on the year and the style the house is trying to produce. The 1,200 wine estates in Bordeaux, in fact, will all come up with different blends of grapes in their wines. More Cabernet in some, much more Merlot in others, depending on the customs and vintage conditions in their subregions. The blends will change from year to year, as the winemakers try to coax the best possible wines from their vines. The blending becomes an art in itself, one that stands proudly alongside the growing of the grapes.
Continue Reading CloseSteven Kolpan is Professor and Chair of Wine Studies at The Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY. He is the author of "WineWise," a consumer-friendly guide to the wines of the world More Steven Kolpan.
One of the best white wines in the world comes from … New York?
Konstantin Frank arrived in the U.S. from Ukraine with $40 and a dream to grow Riesling where it couldn't be done
A hundred years ago, Riesling wines from the Mosel and Rhine regions of Germany were the most expensive and sought-after wines in the world, and a great Riesling is honestly hard to stop talking about — fresh, flowery, flinty, and tart, redolent of peaches, apricots and green apples, with a sweet attack and a lengthy, complex, dry finish … I could go on. But while there are still magnificent German Rieslings, let me let you in on a no-longer well-kept secret: some of the finest — and finest value – Rieslings are from New York State, grown along the banks of the Finger Lakes, especially Keuka, Cayuga, and Seneca Lakes.
Continue Reading CloseSteven Kolpan is Professor and Chair of Wine Studies at The Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY. He is the author of "WineWise," a consumer-friendly guide to the wines of the world More Steven Kolpan.
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