Social media is a-flutter

Who would have thought that Michael Jackson’s sudden death would have been the catalyst for me to finally broach the subject of social media and the wine world?

I’ve been brought into the social media conversation by two incidents: a posting on a Web site for writers on which I am a member (link below), and a posting by my compatriot in philosophical thought, Arthur, of wine sooth (link below).

As I commented on Arthur’s blog, as a salesman I learned that the weakest argument to sell a product is to knock the competition, so my intent is not to knock so-called social media or so-called mainstream media; I merely want to make a few points.

I refer to each type of media as ‘so-called’ because I’m not sure what either moniker really means.

On the writer’s forum, someone posted with glee how Twitter became the first media outlet to flutter around the report on Michael Jackson’s death, and how seemingly important that makes social media. Another poster reminded people that the original 'tweet' probably was written after its writer learned of the death through the mainstream media. Still another pointed out that Twitter was the source of other flutterings concerning the deaths of Harrison Ford and Jeff Goldblum, neither of whom had in fact died.

Arthur’s blog entry took a swipe at the mainstream media but from a different perspective. He wondered if CNN knew sooner than it let on about Jackson’s death, preferring instead to keep up the tension with stories about a coma so that the mainstream media could hold the attention of viewers. He ended his blog entry with a reference to something if not nefarious at least stinky.

What exactly is what we call social media, and does it have its own stink?

When a company wants to practice with an idea or get feedback on a product it may hire a PR firm to organize a focus group. The focus group is made up of sample consumers or potential consumers of the idea or product, and they are often paid a small fee for participating.

The group gets together for a face-to-face with either the PR firm reps or the product company reps, or both, who put forth a series of situations and questions and get feedback from the participants.

A focus group is like a survey but in the flesh rather than on paper. The key is that those involved know that they are engaged in a focus group and that they may be helping the company with its image, message, product direction, whatever.

Social media is often used commercially to create a focus group. In itself, that isn’t a problem. But it is a problem with me if the social networking people aren’t aware that they are being used as an unpaid focus group for commercial purposes. I fear that more of this activity may be going on under the guise of social media than meets the screen.

As a wine writer, not a week goes by these days when I either haven’t been directed to read at least one article about the benefit to wineries inherent in the social media revolution or received a few press releases or solicitations from social media consultants selling their wine consumer tracking capabilities online. If I were a cynic, I might be suspicious concerning who starts a social networking conversation about particular wines, and that would make me equally circumspect on a social network site.

Is this where the new information age is taking us?

When television came on the scene some sixty years ago vaudevillians like Milton Berle shared space with newspeople like Edward R. Murrow. Berle’s intent was always to entertain through non-intellectual comedy; Murrow’s was to inform through intelligent investigation. In the latter’s case, he believed that television represented the future information age (sound familiar?).

Today, it’s hard to see how Murrow’s vision holds up, but not so hard to see Berle’s. In fact, myriad television channels do justice to Berle’s non-intellectualism and, aside from a few history-lite channels, information is mainly passed along as snark on late night television. So much for the promise of television and the first information age!

I am afraid that social networking may be just another huckster’s phrase for commercializing our every thought. I’m afraid that, while there may be real benefits lurking inside my computer, they will be dwarfed by the commercial opportunities that lurk in cyber space—do we still use that phrase?

Like everything else in life, from waking in the morning, to crossing the street, to selecting a wine based on someone else’s rating, there’s always pluses and minuses connected to the activity.

The pluses of social media are evident: quick turn around time for gathering information, bringing the world closer, ease of access to potential customers, and more. It’s also a step up from the single-issue forum wine sites that instead of social networking often seem like sociopath networking.

The minuses of social media may not be so evident.

Mainly, I want to know for what purpose I am asked to socialize, and I also want to find out who is behind the curtain. The biggest minus I can imagine is that instead of merely social networking, those of us who engage in social media may be actively but unknowingly helping to develop a commercial form of computer-generated social engineering.

My feeling about the matter can change, but for that to happen social media will have to prove itself to be something much more than a commercial tool. The word ‘friend’ has a much more powerful meaning to me than merely someone with whom to network. Besides, even the seeming non-commercial social networking sites may be used by commercial interests to gather information.

winesooth
freelancewriters

If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
June 2009. All rights reserved.

Is wine judging a pleasure?

I’m sure that after years of wondering, you will be pleased to know that wine critics and wine judges are human.

How do I know, and why do I bring it up?

I’ve spent far too much time tracking the meltdown on the Squires/eBob wine forum (lurking, really as I have not a word to add to what has been said there over, and over).

That situation proves beyond a doubt that wine critics face all the pitfalls of being human, and they succumb to a few of them, too: power, self absorption, tone deafness, and of course, arrogance. In addition, they make mistakes just like the rest of us…

Wine judges probably aren’t much different, but since most who serve in that far from lofty position do it gratis (that’s without pay), the major flaw where we are concerned may be self-absorption.

Now I ask you, who isn’t self absorbed when seeking pleasure?

There’s the rub.

When judging wine, should we be seeking pleasure?

Before I attempt to answer that question, let me digress.

I just finished judging three separate competitions over the past three months. In each of the competitions, the panel I was on faced wines that never should have been sent to compete—some never should have been bottled.

It makes me wonder what those wineries think they are doing. Or do they think most wine judges don’t know what we are doing?

Hmm. Never thought of it that way.

In most competitions, judges are instructed to evaluate the wine in front of us—not what it can be someday but what it is on that day. This becomes a problem with wines that were bottled recently and then sent to the competition. Many of these wines simply don’t show well, but they may be perfectly wonderful products.

This situation also makes me wonder what wineries are thinking. Why do they enter wines that were bottled only a few days before the competition?

To my question about pleasure: I don’t think that as a wine judge my job is to seek pleasure. But that might have to do with my background.

It’s pretty well known in the wine business that many of us who made or still make wine have a habit of first seeking what’s at fault when we evaluate wine before seeking what is not.

Other wine judges who have no technical training but have undergone sensory training often seek what is not at fault before seeking what is.

A third group of judges, those on the retail or restaurant level probably have a habit of seeking in a wine what about it will sell or pair with a meal.

Finally, wine writers might be the ones who rabidly seek what it is about the wine that gives them pleasure; after all, this is part of their job.

Put all these judges together to evaluate wine and you get a balanced consensus—at least that’s the theory behind most wine competitions these days.

The panels at competitions comprise people from the various types of judges that I describe above. It’s not as often as one might think, but it is often enough that the individual panels of judges have a wide swing in scores to warrant an intense discussion and horse-trading before arriving at a consensus score for some wines.

(In my experience, the majority of scores among the judges are not so far off that a consensus can’t be reached without lengthy discussion.)

The astute wine judge will learn a few things during consensus-building debates. But there’s always a judge or two who simply resists—cannot allow that his or her impression may be too personal, too bent on subjective pleasure, to let the wine have its just reward.

Some judges don’t like certain styles or types of wine and have a hard time accepting that because a wine is not the type that they like, that doesn’t mean it is to be summarily dismissed—it can still be a well-produced wine that is worthy of accolade. Admittedly, this is the most difficult of all wine judging decisions, but it is a decision that can be made fairly, provided the judge stops looking for pleasure.

All of this verbal perambulation about judging wine leads me to offer one piece of not-so-new advice:

Don’t believe everything you read about awards and ratings. The concept of wine evaluation has its own built-in flaws.

Of course, you can take my advice with a grain of salt, as I am in the group that seeks the flaws first. But living by that rule has allowed me to enjoy a lot more wine than I would have been able to enjoy had I been chasing what others consider the cream of the crop.

Did I just make a blog entry that shoots myself in the foot? Will I ever be invited back as a wine judge?

Stay tuned.

NYStateFair results

If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
June 2009. All rights reserved.

Aging Riesling

The aging potential of Riesling is a discussion that seems to come up over and over on the Internet, even though German Riesling producers proved a long, long time ago that Riesling is not only a noble grape variety, the wine has as much staying power and elegance as many of the best red wine grapes.

Newbie wine critic/bloggers must be forgiven for not knowing the aging potential of Riesling; many of them simply haven’t been around the wine world long enough. But it is heartening to know that bloggers are asking the question. On one New York-centric blog (see link below) the question wasn’t only asked, it was explored over the past few weeks, with bloggers attending Finger Lakes wineries and other venues for a taste of older Rieslings that were cordially drawn from the winery libraries.

My good fortune found me along with a blogger visiting with Fred Frank at Dr. Frank’s Vinifera Wine Cellars (VWC) on Keuka Lake—just a grape’s throw from my home.

Fred lined up ten Rieslings representing a 24-year period. It was quite an experience.

We started with the unreleased 2008 Dry Riesling, as a benchmark new wine that could help us follow wines as they age. Because of its youth, the wine is still austere yet it is beautifully balanced between acidity and fruit, it’s clean and fresh, and its middle structure is held together with a mineral streak common to Keuka Rieslings.

We followed with the 2007 Dry Riesling. Let me stop here and say something both particular and general about Riesling.

Most avid Riesling consumers know of the wine’s capacity to take on a definite petroleum-like aroma as it ages. An Australian, Jonathon Luestner, is working and studying at VWC this year. He finds that Keuka Lake Rieslings don’t seem to take on as powerful a petroleum aroma as their Australian counterparts. When asked why he thinks that is so, Luestner shrugged and replied rhetorically. “Different phenolic structure?”

In any case, the VWC 2007 Dry Riesling gave a hint of petroleum in the aroma. But more pronounced was the smell of lemons. The taste was incredibly full and creamy and underneath it all lay that mineral-like streak connected to Keuka Rieslings. Still, the wine is young.

Things started to get interesting with the 2005 Dry Riesling. It was similar in many ways to the 2007 version, especially its lemony quality and creamy-mineral structure. But I detected no hint of petroleum in the aroma, perhaps giving strength to our Australian friend’s comment.

The bone dry 2001 Reserve Riesling showed a definite change in style, and that was attributed to it having been produced by a different winemaker than the ones producing the more recent VWC wines—in the past few years, the winery has shifted from a one-person winemaking responsibility to a consensus style that assigns one winemaker to oversee an assigned grouping of wines or styles and then a team discusses each wine before it is finished.

With a hint of petroleum aroma, the 2001 Riesling was lean with forward acidity, and a finish with a bite or grip. This wine still needs aging to calm down.

The 1991 Dry Riesling was without doubt the most interesting in the bunch. It wasn’t dominated by petroleum, but it was aromatic, in a butterscotch way. In fact, in the taste its lush, thick body came in layers of butterscotch, minerality, and fruitiness. The winemaker for the 2001 did not produce this wine.

The 1988 Dry Riesling was aromatically subdued, and its structure was more single dimensional, but at 21 years old, the wine was still very much alive. The 1987 Dry showed signs of fading in the slightly oxidized aroma, but its taste was lush and full, with a short finish. Unfortunately, the 1985 Dry was done in by a slightly shriveled cork that allowed leakage, which allowed oxygen to nearly kill the wine; these three vintages were produced by yet another winemaker.

The 2007 Semi-Dry Riesling is a lovely wine, with an herbal lemon balm aroma and a creamy, lush structure. The 1995 Semi-Dry, produced by the same winemaker who gave us the 1991 Dry, had an almost caramel aroma untypical of Riesling, but its creamy structure and trace of mineral in its spine was ever so enjoyable.

It was too bad about the leakage and oxidation of the 1985 Riesling. I’m old enough to remember that vintage—it was my first in the Finger Lakes—and I know it was a good year. Still, tasting these wines proves once more that Riesling can age well when the wine is made well, and that truth holds for the Finger Lakes region just as it holds for Germany.

NYwineBlog

If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
June 2009. All rights reserved.

Lameness and Locked Out

Wine consumers who either haven’t been awake or don’t follow Robert Parker should count themselves lucky. The rest of us probably know all about the latest problem that the famous wine critic has had thrust upon him, thanks to a couple of critics whose words appear in Parker’s Wine Advocate.

For over a month now, these wine critics have been connected to a story of potential impropriety that has circulated throughout the Internet. I don’t call the critics involved employees because much has been made by their boss of their independent contract status—not a good excuse if they engaged in impropriety, but one that is used by the boss anyway to illustrate why his code of ethics and standards may not fully apply to them.

Until now, finding it rather gossipy and sometimes filled with vindictiveness, I didn’t care to say much at all about this issue. Then, I read a couple of posts on the wine forum site that is operated by one of the critics.

The issue was first raised in a blog named Dr. Vino, and it concerned one critic. Then, it was brought directly to the Parker-centric wine forum that is controlled, and I don’t use that word loosely in this case, by a fellow named Mark Squires. It was there that his name was brought into the mess that Robert Parker has on his hands.

In any case, from a posting on the Squires site, to postings on other wine forum sites the problem rolled. Finally, with all too common vitriol, Mr. Parker shot out not against the potential impropriety of his independent contractor/s but against wine bloggers instead. His was interesting pot-shots, as he accused wine bloggers of being nothing short of know-nothings with a keyboard, and worse. It’s a particularly fitting comment, as Mr. Parker admitted only yesterday that he started out as a wine critic with a pen, a wine passion, and a Jones for Ralph Nader-like crusades. He said nothing about training his palate to evaluate wine.

Anyway, the story had legs and then it developed extra limbs when the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) ran a story about the issue. In that story, I believe the journalist claimed that he tried to get Mr. Parker’s side of the story but the man would not speak to him. That’s also interesting, as in one of his earlier railings, Mr. Parker accused journalists of printing stories about him that they are told by others rather than asking him questions directly. Unfortunately, when the attempt was made to ask him directly, Mr. Parker responded to the WSJ in what has become an all too usual way for him to respond to—God forbid—criticism: he attacked.

As an aside, responses like that make me wonder about the training people receive before gaining a lofty law degree (before becoming a wine critic, Mr. Parker was a lawyer).

Speaking of law, I have a feeling that the reference to independent contractors is meant to legally separate the boss from the underlings—if they are not employees then there are no employee withholding taxes, and possibly no liability for what they do or say. But there may also be a moral component to the reference. The boss cannot control what these people do with themselves on or off assignment so he seemingly isn’t able to apply the same ethical standards concerning how his critics should act. As I’ve already said, that excuse is lame and I think Mr. Parker now realizes its lameness—he has issued a new set of guidelines for the independent contractors.

More important, however, at least to me, is how some things that have little or no direct bearing on the issue, still manage to illuminate. Like the following:

In one of his rebuttal responses to the throngs screaming for an answer, Mr. Parker stated—and not for the first time—that the ratings of a wine critic are merely the expression of subjective tastes. True enough, but sharing the same space with that insight was the claim that none of his minions show any bias.

Even a lawyer should know that subjective tastes are inherently biased—which is exactly why I have a less than god-like regard for wine criticism.

To bolster his point of subjectivity, and as example, Mr. Parker mentioned how he will ‘never’ appreciate certain characteristics connected to certain wines. Fine. I hope he doesn’t attempt to pass judgment on those kinds of wine. But whenever he issues such statements, and he has done so quite often online, they have in them an air of self-assuredness and righteousness that makes me cringe. The arrogance behind such comments is sure to attract a missile, and rightly so.

I didn’t reach my ripe age without having learned at least something about this world. One thing I know: money and favors buy influence, even when the person being influenced has good intentions. That is neither a criticism nor a subjective observation. It’s a fact, man; it’s a fact.

The best way for a businessperson to guard against establishing bias through influence is to maintain a code of ethics and standards and to ensure that everyone connected with the organization lives by the code. Making excuses for those who do not live by the code or for not imposing the code on them is—quite simply—to have no code at all. Attacking those who call you out on the failing reflects a thin skin, and it's lame. Am I repeating myself?

Check this thread, but it's now locked

If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
May 2009. All rights reserved.

AVAppellation

On April 29, 2009, the Carolina Newswire Online posted the following: “…the Haw River Valley American Viticultural Area (AVA) will officially become the third federally granted appellation in North Carolina...”

The story seems to say that an ‘appellation’ and an ‘AVA’ are the same thing. They are—and they aren’t. In fact, a designated appellation does not necessarily have to be a designated AVA, but a designated AVA is always a designated appellation.

The real question is: how does an appellation or an AVA designation benefit the wine consumer?

Under U.S. Trade and Tobacco Bureau (TTB) regulations an appellation of origin is either:

A country

A U.S. county or state, or the foreign equivalent

For U.S. wine, a listing of up to 3 states or 3 counties (multi- appellation)

A U.S. or foreign government recognized delimited grape-growing area (an AVA, under U.S. regulations)

Also under TTB rules, a wine labeled with a vintage date must state an appellation on the label.

More important, wine labeled as ‘Estate Bottled’ must come from grapes grown, fermented, produced and bottled under one licensed producer and within a recognized AVA.

So, what exactly is an AVA?

TTB regulations define a viticultural area for American wine as
“A delimited grape-growing region distinguishable by geographical
features.” These features include the area’s topography and climate.

According to the regulations, AVA designations “allow vintners and consumers to attribute a given quality, reputation, or other characteristic of a wine made from grapes grown in an area to its geographical origin.”

The TTB also says that, “Establishment of a viticultural area is neither an approval nor an endorsement by TTB of the wine produced in that area.”

Therein lies my problem with the AVA designation: Other than where they come from, the AVA tells us nothing about the wines in the bottles. It isn’t about wine; it’s about marketing. You can see that clearly by following a recent fuss over applications for AVA status in certain areas on the West Coast (link below).

As far as TTB is concerned, if grapes grow somewhere and the place has a climate, it’s possible for that place to be designated an AVA. The designation is often the result of a convergence of perseverance on the part of the applicant meeting public apathy.

Back in the days when delimiting wine regions was a young concept in Europe, it was brought about because wine producers needed to establish and maintain their separate identities for a certain quality level (fraud was rampant) and both producers and governments knew the value to the economy of protecting their wine industries.

Those reasons for regulations to delimit areas hold true today.

In the U.S., we have the economic benefit covered, but does TTB really concern itself with ‘quality’ and ‘identity?’

I don’t think so.

Using the present Italian system as a guide, the important delimited representations used to identify a wine’s pedigree are: Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita (DOCG), which is like an AVA to the Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC), which is the wider appellation. But the similarity between us and them ends right there.

Like its European counterparts, Italian DOC status demands a certain level of production and quality standards; DOCG status demands even tighter, more stringent standards. These standards cover the types of grapes that go into producing wines within a DOCG, their production methods, and in some cases, their aging parameters. A DOC wine might have been produced from the same grape varieties allowed for that area as for a DOCG wine, but the latter will be forced to follow production rules from which the former are exempted. And the wines are subject to inspection and validation by a local governing body.

In the U.S., after topography and climate, no grape growing, production, aging or other standards apply to a TTB designation either for an appellation or for AVA status. There are no officially-established standards or parameters for wine quality and therefore no officially-established panels of tasters to review the wines. Wine producers can grow whichever grapes they want to grow, a fact that might just negate the TTB focus on climate, and producers can do whatever they want to their wines, a fact that can obliterate the so-called 'given quality' or 'characteristics' of AVA wine.

After reading through the regualtions and after tasting American wines for many years, I still haven't found an answer to the question: how does an appellation or an AVA designation benefit the wine consumer?

Appellation explanation

AVA explanation

Recent AVA flap

Italian DOC/G


If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
May 2009. All rights reserved.

Algorithm rules the blogging world

Well, we’ve made it. Wine bloggers now have our own horse race statistics, so we must be important to the universe.

Like all other horse races, there are winners and there are losers. The horse (and the jockey) determines who wins by being the first to step over the finish line. The horses that follow are assigned the number in which they arrive. Can’t be much simpler or more objective than that.

Bloggers are rated based on the traffic to their sites, which says something about the number of readers but says absolutely nothing about the blogger’s PR, connections, skill, or influence.

Note: you can look at a horse and tell its gender. Not always so with a blogger’s name.

To be serious for a minute—it’s hard to be serious about any rating system—I wasn’t shocked to learn of a Web site devoted to presenting us with an updated top 100 wine blog listing. But I flipped over the top when I discovered that there are more than 500 wine blogs on the Internet. 500!

I know there are thousands of wines to talk about on any given day, but really, how much wine information do we need? Or better still, how much duplication of effort is built into that 500-plus wine blog number? And how will I ever get to the top of that heap?

When I started Vinofictions my aim was to make a stab at dispelling the many myths connected to wine. I quickly learned that such a thing as trying to dethrone hype and mythology can create a following of enemies as well as readers.

I’ve never met some of my Internet enemies. In fact, I’ve never actively cultivated enemies so I am sure I could get along with a few of them had we the chance to sip a glass of wine together.

A few unseen enemies send me direct email, others sneak around the Internet looking to catch me say something stupid (which I’m sure is an easy task) and then they “out” me on some other wine forum, still others simply disregard what I write because they don’t think that I matter.

That last group probably has it right. How the hell could I matter? Vinofictions didn’t make the top 100 blogs! In fact, Vinofictions hasn’t won anything, not even Tom Wark’s annual blog competition, although some poor soul nominated me two years ago.

I haven’t read all 500-plus wine blogs—and don’t intend to. Yet, the ones that I have read shake out into three distinct categories: well written; funny; largely self-promotional.

Within the three above categories are many subcategories; these are some of them.

The blogger with a point;
the blogger without a point;
the blogger with knowledge;
the blogger with little knowledge;
the blogger who gets paid to write the blog;
the blogger that is in it for love, and probably for insanity;
the blogger who has a day job that may or may not be connected to wine;
the blogger whose day job is wine writing, and blogging is an extension of that job;
the blogger who just loves wine and wants to talk about it with us;
the blogger who loves wine and wants to educate us;
the blogger who can’t stop talking, even when nothing of importance is coming out;
the blogger who needs no introduction;
the blogger who couldn’t get arrested, let alone an introduction;
the blogger with connections;
the blogger without connections;
the blogger who accepts free wine, and maybe blogs just for that reason;
the blogger who accepts free wine because there’s no pay behind the job of blogging;
the blogger who accepts free wine with all the good intentions of a wine critic;
the blogger who prays for free wine but doesn’t get any;
the blogger who accepts no free wine;
the blogger who accepts gifts of any kind, including junkets;
the blogger who dreams of receiving gifts and junkets;
the blogger who is a self-appointed wine critic;
the blogger with wine training;
the blogger who claims to have a ‘good palate’ but wasn’t trained;
the blogger who regularly misspells the word ‘palate’ and also misuses the word ‘varietal;’
the blogger with enemies;
the blogger with friends;
the blogger who engenders indifference;
the blogger who doesn’t appear on everyone’s blog roll;
the many, many more blogger subcategories that I cannot come up with right now.

Now I ask you: with all the subcategories of bloggers, what is a rating firm to do?

Algorithms—that’s the answer.

Why use cognizant thought to evaluate the critics when algorithm does it for you? After all, isn’t that what the information age is all about?

Maybe we can devise an algorithm to evaluate wine. Then, we won’t need no stinkin’ bloggers.

Vinofictions is not on this list

You might find references to Vinofictions here, if you're lucky

If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
May 2009. All rights reserved.

Ineffable

If you are ever in Idaho, or if you have the good fortune to find Idaho wine in your state, which won’t be easy, I recommend that you look for names like Koenig Vineyards, Davis Creek Cellars, Sawtooth Winery, and 3 Horse Ranch. These wineries truly showed some wonderful wines, from Malbec to Viognier to Pinot Gris, in the wine competition that I judged in Boise last month.

A few of the wineries use the same consulting winemaker, but right now, I don’t know which use him. I believe, however, that he is part of the Koenig Vineyards operation.

I had a few problems with some of the medals awarded because the wines that won them seemed to me (and to another judge) to have obvious technical flaws. Oh well, I’ll save that discussion for a later blog entry.

In all, the trip out West was an eye-opener, especially while walking the vineyards and comparing them to home.

“It’s only May, you know.”

That comment came to me this morning from a Finger Lakes grape grower, Walter Volz, after I mentioned the difference between the development of his vines this month as compared to the development of Idaho and Sonoma vines last month.

April in Idaho saw vine shoots that were quite long; in Sonoma, the vines already had clusters on them making ready to flower. In the Finger Lakes, the May vines have just about started to pop their buds.

In his comment about May, Walter was referencing the fact that we can still suffer a nasty frost in the Finger Lakes. In fact, it’s almost a given that at least one night this month, Walter will have to light up some bales of hay so that the overnight smoke that wafts over his tender shoots will keep them warm enough to survive the frost.

It is amazing how hard people work to grow grapes and to produce wine in marginal regions with long winters and short growing seasons. When you get to know their labor, or become a part of it, it’s not difficult to understand why some of us wine writers choose not to become wine critics. It’s all so easy to condemn a product that doesn’t meet with your aesthetics, much easier than trying to create that product.

I’ve complained about magazines and critics that only print ratings for wines that meet the upper criteria of their aesthetic demands. But on reflection, I’ve come to understand that this may be a good thing, especially if the critic’s aesthetics include massively extracted wines with enough alcohol and power to run an economy.

You can’t get that kind of wine from a cool and marginal region, and so the region will either be trashed or ignored by the critic--best that it is ignored.

The ineffable must drive nuts wine critics engaged in pounding out adjectives and numbers on their keyboard.

What you can get from cool regions are lean and racy wines often with subtle and elegant finesse. They are hardly the proper aesthetic qualities for masculine adjectives.

Me, I revel in the indescribable. A few of the Idaho wines met that criteria, and it happens almost every time I taste a Finger Lakes Riesling, especially from a vintage that started the season with both a flowering and a frost in May.

If you are reading this entry anywhere other than on the vinofictions blog, be aware that it has been lifted without my permission (and without recompense), and that’s a copyright infringement, no matter that the copyright information appears with it.

Copyright Thomas Pellechia
May 2009. All rights reserved.