Once again it’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to sit down and share my thoughts with you; this occasion finds me happily back in the big city (hooray BA!) awaiting the arrival of my dearly beloved big sister. Samara, the cherished middle sibling who infected me with the linguistic bug long ago, is finally on her way to Argentina.

In the 2 weeks between my travels to Chile and here to Buenos Aires I haven’t written much myself, but I have encountered several wine writers, most notably the great Steven Spurrier. Currently he writes for Decanter, the UK’s premier wine publication (and in my opinion the world’s best wine mag); in 1976 it was Mr. Spurrier who put CA on the international wine map when he organized the now famous “Judgment of Paris” tasting. This event is not only the subject of George Taber’s book by the same name but also of the upcoming feature film Bottle Shock - It pitted California wines against those from Bordeaux, and when the Californians won it was a great upset that took the entire wine world by surprise. Except for certain people in northern California.

(Incidentally, George Taber was also recently in Mendoza, and at The Vines.)

While I didn’t really get to spend time with Mr. Spurrier, I did help organize the special tasting that we held to provide fodder for an article he plans to write about the future of Argentine wine. During the exercise of choosing wines for him to sample, I began to ponder as I have many times in the past the art of writing about wine, and the effect that it can have on the consumer market. I’m not talking about my tangential wine-writing here, I’m referring to those who actually rate and review vino. And maybe even get published occasionally.

I’ve always compared rating wine to reviewing art - it involves objectifying what is fundamentally a subjective experience, and can therefore lead to many conflicts. Wine developed all over the world in different styles, just as people’s individual tastes do; yet when critics gain a wide enough audience they can have a broad effect on patterns of consumption, and consequently even on production. There are those like Robert Parker who have such success that they (intentionally or not) create an international wine market based on their personal tastes. It’s not really important to me what people drink (unless they’re sharing a bottle with me), but the diversity of the overall market does matter to me. As we move towards a point of homogeneity so extreme that many producers no longer strive to create something unique, it makes me wonder where we are headed.

As a writer, Steven Spurrier is doing his best to avoid this. He instructed us clearly not to cater to his palate, but to pick wines that we truly believe represent the direction that Argentine winemaking is going. Of course selecting wines in this way is almost as difficult as writing about them objectively - not only did each of us involved in the process have our own personal preferences, but being familiar with Mr. Spurrier’s words and vinous ideals our natural instinct was to try to please him. We kept having to remind ourselves and each other that he didn’t want to be pleased - he wanted to be challenged. Our task was simply to represent the different styles and try to introduce him to wines he may not know, so that he could reach his own conclusions (and hopefully say nice things about us).

As I’ve said so many times before that is also one of my main goals with this blog - not to tell you what’s “good”, but to help you create a frame of reference and learn how to decide for yourself. (My other intention obviously being to babble about what I myself am learning from all of the new oenological experiences I’m having.)

In any case, it sounds like we gave our illustrious guest a great deal to think about, and that the tasting was therefore a success. I can’t wait to read the article and see what he has to say.

(UPDATE: Recently posted on The Vines’ blog - the results of this tasting. Check them out)

February 16th, 2008 | vino | No comments

It’s been a long time since I posted on here, and I hope I haven’t lost all of my readers. For those of you who have bared with me - well, I thank you. I really was on a roll for a while there, and I’ll do my best to get it back. For now this will be short and sweet.

In the three weeks since I’ve written I’ve accomplished many things: I’ve successfully shipped my first container of wine to the US (it’s on the water right now), built the solid foundations of a social life here in Mendoza, and bought myself a lovely guitar that I’m trying to make time to remember how to play.

I also spent this past weekend in Chile, and really that’s what this (brief) post is about. For three days I reveled in the sight of the ocean, the sound of the waves, the taste of seafood, and the novelty of light bodied white wine with maritime influences. Having returned early this morning, I have a belly full of shellfish and and a nose that is still smelling the Sauvignon Blanc which brought a smile to my lips, even though it was far too dry for the tastes of my lovely traveling companion.

I was reminded strongly about two things on this trip: one is simply how much I’ve been spoiled by variety in New York in terms of food and wine, and that even the best beef on the planet will eventually leave me yearning for seafood (and curry). More importantly for the sake of this post, however, what I realized was the strong impact of growing conditions on the wine in your glass. It’s really not just a myth, and as basic as this is for wine appreciation it’s something that can never be brought home deeply enough. While I can be honest and say that I don’t always notice a huge difference in malbecs from Lujan and Maipu (two parts of Mendoza), it is certain that a wine made from grapes grown by the sea will be vastly different from one made thousands of feet up in the shadow of the mountains. I don’t know if it’s the cool air, the altitude, or the simple fact of salts and minerals from the sea that make their way into the soil, but I know that the wines I drank this weekend barely resembled those I’ve been enjoying here in Argentina.

I’ve mentioned “brininess” many times in terms of Albarino (from Galicia in Northern Spain), and the same can sometimes be said for the better Sauvignon Blancs from New Zealand and Chile. Somehow the scent of the sea makes its way into the glass - I don’t know enough about oenology (or viticulture) to explain this, and perhaps I’m just being romantic. But it’s true! And it’s a novelty, for somebody who grew up on the water and is now living several thousand feet up. The grapes may get ripe up here and lead to some delicious, extracted wines, but somehow the word refreshing just doesn’t apply the same way.

I’ve certainly come back home refreshed. If only I’d thought to bring some wine with me - it’s 97 degrees here today.

February 4th, 2008 | vita, vino | 1 comment