Oh I think they are… I think the issue you identify is a real one though - on the one hand, tossing in a lot of adjectives, especially to less known flavors, doesn’t really help most readers. On the other, if the taster and note writer really perceives those aromas and flavors and can put a name to them not doing so results in less comprehensive information being passed on. The hard part is… what’s obscure? I’ve had red burgundy that has a forest floor note to the nose… do people know what that means? what if they’ve never hiked in the forest? Same with ‘baking spices’ - do people get that reference?
We actually make a SB called Goosebury (thanks to the TTB had to change the spelling!)
People ask “Is that the vineyard?” So I explain to them the characteristics of a gooseberry, and how we craft that particular wine to denote that style.
Association is so important with wine. It’s a personal experience. and the taster needs to pull out their past experiences to come up with their own descriptors. Some are good at it…others don’t really care.
I know one buyer who just puts a smiley face next to a wine he’s tasting if he likes it. No long notes…just smiley or no smiley.
Well, Lynch is the fellow who went around all the offbeat regions in France and sold them on taste. He does carry some Burgs, Bdx and N. Rhone, but pretty much everything else must sell on taste or it doesn’t sell. So he does have a vested interest on this POV. Only a really naive wine drinker would bring a Pic St Loup to a non-blind tasting thinking the folks holding the Chateauneuf du Papes would take the wine seriously. Lynch is selling to the people who drink wine instead of turning it into a competitive sport.
But it turns out he is also right. Tasting notes steeped in adjectives and obscure terms are not all that helpful. Many in fact are intellectually dishonest as writers grasp at terms to fluff up their prose. That is not to say all notes are useless, because certain types of notes are useful. Like Roberto says, verbs are very telling. This is similar to the idea of structural descriptors such as acidity, tannin, red fruit, black fruit, roasted fruit, earthy, meaty, vegetal, full body, light body and so on.
A litany of fruits and non-food items that would only excite someone with pica tells you very little about a wine. Pain grille with painfully extracted boysenberry reduction sauce? Come on, just say it smells toasty, it’s full bodied and tastes jammy. No more mystery, and the consumer can take the wine home and decide on his or her terms if it’s a style he likes.
Re verbs and imagery, my favorite tasting note of all time (about Dal Forno Amarone):
“Wow mate…that’s a real dominatrix of a wine: it takes control of your mouth and gives it back to you when it’s done with it!”
Uttered at a consumer tasting by a lovely Aussie lass who had earlier commented thusly on Gravner Sauvignon:
“Jeeeeez, it’s like a Bengal Tiger marked its territory in your glass…more please!”.
A wine can be very floral; I don’t think a tasting note should be very floral.
Bruce
Reductive aromas have nothing to do with jam or concentration or anything like a sauce. They are a variety of aromas coming from a chemical process that results from too little oxygen and, usually, too much SO2. They are often reminiscent of plastic, rubber, and smoke, among other things. I’m pretty sure I use the term correctly. Feel free to look it up and tell me if you think I’m wrong here.
As far as the first point, I also believe, as others have stated, that Lynch is not advocating a “good or bad” system. I believe he’s more saying that a structural description is more helpful than a list of specific aromas. I agree to an extent. I think we’ve touched on this before, but I often prefer descriptions that focus on structure and give more general descriptions of flavor profile. You’ll never see me write a tasting note referring to a specific variety of pear.
To pass time, I started writing articles on wine and food for fun and share it with people who are like minded in their approach to wine and food (whacky but passionate and always willing to share and learn without being critical on each other but critical on topic on hand). Below is a commentary (extract) I made that somewhat reflects my opinion on this topic:-
A sample TN: “…dense plum/purple color is accompanied by an extraordinary perfume of charcoal, creme de cassis, melted licorice, espresso roast, and blackberries. The wine, which hits the palate with a dramatic minerality, comes across like a hypothetical blend of limestone liqueur intermixed with black and red fruits. With massive depth, richness, and body, this tannic 2003 should be forgotten for 4-5 years, then enjoyed over the next four decades. The integration of acidity, tannin, and wood is flawless, and the wine is incredibly pure, rich, and intense. 2010-2050” (98+pts, Apr 2006).
Like most other TNs, the above example has four basic elements.
a) Superlatives
These are the strings of floral-to-mystical-words used to describe the colour, nose and taste of a wine. The higher the score or profile of a wine, the greater the over-expressiveness. When was the last time you thought charcoal was perfume (although some perfume companies are now selling human faeces as a scent) or what on earth is “limestone liqueur”? But a moderate level of descriptions does allow us to appraise the quality of a wine and determine whether it is representative of its ‘stable’ especially when the wine is made from a single grape varietal. For example, you will never describe a REAL Brunello as jammy (not going to the scandal here)…
Footnote - bashing (again) not intended here but when a fish smells like a fish…
I lost a lot of respect for Kermit when he said that.
Effusive and disingenuous pomp is no good, but neither is being a heathen.
Complexity is my favorite part of wine.
Like I said, on this site before: The brain centers that receive sensory input from wine have no clear connections to the language centers. Therefore any connection between olfactory responses and words is a complete mess, like trying to describe a massage with words.
I am preparing to talk on the linguistics of wine tasting, hopefully at DAVOS III. What is obvious is that the word selection (known as the semantic field in the business),
determines and is determined by the agenda of the taster. In other words you can determine what the taster is consciously or unconsciously up to by his choice of semantic fields.
Do you have a working paper or some research you can point me towards? Behavioral economics/finance and these kinds of mental illusions have always fascinated me. Not to state the obvious, but I think your point nails it: language is used as a means to conceptualize and communicate what are abstract events, and the vocabulary used tells as much about the person as it does the object/experience in question.
To answer the OP’s question, I think someone who’s been in the industry as long as Lynch is probably at one of those “shit or get off the pot” moments in his life where either the exhuberance of having to tell everyone about [fill in the blank] has worn off or the maturity/modesty in not having to fall in love with himself every time he opens his mouth has taken hold.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just being philosophical in my mid-afternoon energy lull/post-lunch food hangover. As much as we talk about talented winemakers allowing the fruit to speak for itself, I’m sure a lot of us here could tone down the hubris and allow the moment in which the wine was enjoyed speak for itself and, much like the different components of vinification, realize the wine is there to merely enhance, not dominate. Otherwise you’re just chasing a superlative, a fantastical one at that.
Brian,
a good place to start is:
Lehrer: Wine and Conversation
and
Smith: Questions of Taste- certain chapters olny
After reading this thread I had to go watch the interview. Jesus, it’s like watching George Will being interviewed by the Cookie Monster.