My use of the term ‘winemaker’s terroir’ had more to do with discussing how winemaker decisions can either accentuate or minimize unique characteristics (i.e. terroir to most) that would emerge from the vineyard via grapes if given the opportunity.
We can argue about at what stages terroir is ‘altered’ - from the trellising used to plant the vines in the first place to picking decisions, etc - but to me, it is clear that the use of oak masks uniqueness and varietal character too often these days, and not just in new world growing areas.
Therefore, to me, the winemaker is using their ‘power’ to alter terroir . . .
That depends on what you mean by accentuate. Certainly I will agree that oak can mask or obscure a wine’s site-specific characteristics. I am less certain that it can accentuate those characteristics. I’m more inclined to suspect that oak can tame or mask or improve other competing characteristics, such as aggressive grape tannin, thus allowing for a more harmonious whole. That is based on what I’ve heard winemaker say about oak treatment relative to particular vineyard blocks and grapes as much as anything else. So if you mean accentuate in a gestalt sense, maybe. If you mean that oak can amplify or clarify a wine’s unique, site-derived characteristics, then I’d be more skeptical.
But again, accentuating or obscuring site-specific characteristics is not terroir, it is merely using winemaking to either accentuate or obscure terroir. It’s manipulation, which is the yin to terroir’s yang. Without making any value judgment as to good or bad, together they combine to make the wine we ultimately consume.
Winemakers can, of course, alter the affect of the terroir on their wines. They could even actually alter the terroir, let’s say by salting the earth. Neither of these possibilities makes the term “winemaker’s terroir” a useful one.
I will go back to what Michael Powers and I have been saying. Terroir is a meaningful concept, despite Mel Knox’s attempts to ambiguate it. A usage like yours would genuinely ambiguate it and, as far as I can see, to no useful end.
I once sat next to a well known winemaker in Bordeaux when the issue Bordeaux vs. Napa came on the table. The winemaker mentioned that Bordeaux of the 60th, 70th, 80th and early 90th last century often had more or less Brett while the Napa wines had been always “cleaner”. Since most big Bordeaux Chateaux do care for cleanness during the winemaking process this aspect is gone. The winemaker said that some clients complain Bordeaux is more and more like Napa. So he suggested ironically: Maybe we should add some Brett again so people think “ah finally some typical Bordeaux terroir”.
I’d phrase it as - Different oak usage can disguise differences between sites. Along with differences in viticulture, harvest date, winemaking etc. etc. but let’s put those other factors to one side for now.
So,
If everyone vinifies / matures in stainless steel, there will be differences in site coming through.
If everyone vinifies in concrete and matures in 100% new barriques from the same source and toasted to the same level, we should still see differences in site coming through.
However any additional ‘flavouring/structure’ is *likely to mask the differences. The more additional flavour, the higher the masking.
So if terroir is everything, then winemaking / maturing should be as neutral as possible (so steel or glass ageing I suppose). However for most red wines, almost all winemakers clearly believe this doesn’t produce the most appealing or ageworthy wines, hence an acceptance that oak has a role to play,
regards
Ian
a simple theory, and it might make an interesting experiment. The counter argument would be that oak seasoning is like seasoning in food, potentially exaggerating the differences. Any thoughts?
Robert Joseph, an English wine writer, once told me a story about visiting a chateau in the Graves. The owner had earth moving equipment doing its destiny, reshaping and re arranging the land where a vineyard was going to be planted. Finally Robert looks at the guy and says, Well, so much for natural terroir!
I am looking at a book, Le Dictionnaire Universel du vin de Bourgone, 2010, by Jean-Francois Bazin, a lawyer, politician, and journalist who has covered Burgundy for decades. He writes, and I translate badly,“Terroir… A word used a lot but hard to define…The concept of terroir is defined by the soil, the deep soil, its microbiology, geology, climatic influences, the grape variety, …human history etc etc.”…Yikes!! Maybe things have changed since 1969.
It has always seemed to me that if the winemaker can influence the terroir, then the concept gets more and more elusive. Of course the winemaker influences the results with decision about grape variety, spacing, trellising, and on and on…
I’ve also heard of stones (galets) being deposited in a vineyard in much the same manner. I suppose we should not ignore that terroir can be change by nature and by humans. The mere act of planting vines has an effect.
Here is what Anthony Hanson said about the concept of terroir in Burgundy:
In Burgundy they love the word terroir, and have virtually turned it into a religion. Indeed, if one accepts Erich Fromm’s definition of religion as ‘any group shared system of thought and action that offers the individual a frame of orientation and an object of devotion’ then terroir in Burgundy is definitely a religion, sort of harking back to the pagan veneration of trees, plants, hills and springs.
That’s cute, but all you’ve done is made an analogy between something simple and something complex in an attempt to mystify the simple. Terroir is not “a shared system of thought and action.” In fact, it’s none of (a) a shared system; (b) thought; or (c) action. You’re doing a good job of trying to make it seem complex though. I mean, the arguments aren’t sound but you’re not letting that get in the way, which is important.
My point is that the definition of terroir has changed over the past thirty plus years and I think I have made that point. When I got into the wine biz forty years ago terroir was all about the dirt, limestone soil, etc.
Michael, do you own or have access to books from 1969 that say terroir is a concept that embraces climate, geology, and human influence?? I would then stand corrected.
If anybody has access to Andrew Barr’s book on Pinot Noir, he has great stories on this issue. In one episode he tells Lalou that one wine of hers he tasted was more tannic than the other. No, she says, you were tasting terroir.
Most winemakers I talk to mean by terroir, soil and microclimate and not much more. The dictionary definition includes elements of culture and history because these long durée human constructions become so commonly held as to seem part of the soil. For instance, there are winemakers in the Southern Rhone who consider plantings of say merlot and cabernet sauvignon, as not proper to the terroir, though of course the soil does not really determine what gets planted in it. AOC regulations about allowable cepages, for the most part–and sometimes too fetishitically–codify long held practices that they would think to be part of the terroir. Most of what Mel says has nothing to do with this. Anyone who thinks that clearing the earth and plowing it to grow vines is somehow changing to terroir instead of just preparing it so that it can be used as such, is just playing word games. I have no doubt, you can find ten winemakers who will make ten semi-obscurantist statements. But dictionaries, and usual usages are still there and still meaningful. It is true that books on wine from the 60s, just like winemakers today, will almost instinctively limit terroir to soil and microclimate, but they mostly unconsciously include sets of practices that just seem to go with that soil and microclimate. The definition hasn’t changed. It’s just that there’s always a distinction between what people will say off the cuff and what writers in one field will say and what meanings dictionaries will codify.
Even if we stipulate what Mel seems finally to want to say, that terroir now includes an element of cultural practices that it did not once used to (and I don’t think he’s shown that precisely to be true), it remains the case that no one really thinks that cellalr practices such as oaking, or even not as controversial ones, such as destemming, can be meaningfully described as winemaker’s terroir.
So would I and so would most winemakers then and now. But when, for instance, as I noted earlier, someone speaks of the language of Pagnol’s characters that it is redolent of the terroir, it would be hard to know what that means unless one made the mistake of thinking that the statement was a metaphor. And if one simply separated the two meanings from each other arbitrarily, it would be hard to see why winemakers talk of terroir with veneration, in a way that wheat farmers, I expect, do not speak of good earth for wheat. Like most concepts in most languages, the term carries shades of meanings within it that frequently combine to determine usage.
I thought that demonstrating that a book on wine from 1969 considered terroir to be all about the soil whereas one from 2010 included not only climate, soil and microbiology but also human history as part of the definition of terroir would be enough here.
My personal memory includes a New Years Eve party in SF where Jacques Seysses said that only Josh Jensen, with his limestone soil, could make Burgundian Pinot Noir here. Dick Graff, Jacques and Josh obsessed over limestone soil as the key …climate was not brought up until Josh ran out of water and Dick’s group bought into Edna Valley. Limestone soil was a big issue in California pinot noir until the early 80s. Not so much any more.
Once again, does anybody have an old book where climate is part of terroir?? I cannot find one.
Most of us think of terroir as soil + climate + exact location…exposure to the sun, wind, rain etc…who brought cultural anthropology into the story?? Probably somebody who couldn t finish his dissertation.
Sadly, I rarely get to drink those wines, if ever. Maybe if I was drinking nicely aged versions of those more routinely, I’d change my opinion
I agree that just putting a number on the oak percentage isn’t enough, there is more that goes into it, such as the origin, aging, toast of the wood as you point out. What I’m saying is that, for my tastes and experience, it’s rare that I think a wine that saw more than, say, 50% new oak wouldn’t have been better with less. And it depends on the variety, of course. For me, Syrah, Pinot and Chardonnay suffer more from new oak (Syrah and Chard in particular), while Bordeaux wines can take a bit more. My preference is for no new oak on Syrah (such as Clape, Allemand, etc).
When the UGC Bordeaux tasting came through San Francisco this year, I made a point of asking about oak to a number of producers. There was a pretty good correlation of wines I preferred, and a lower use of oak (i.e., on the order of 50%). A number of producers that have used 100% in years past have cut back to 80%, 70, and even 60%, so they must be seeing how their wines respond as well.
the question is if the oak will become integrated with time. About 15 years is the rule – when we talk about top Bordeaux or Burgundy even longer. Tasting young wine and making a proper prediction what will happen in bottle is very challenging and needs tons of experience. In most of the cases the oak will be dissipated when the wine is really ready for consumption. A major problem is that way too many wines are drunk way too early these days. The best time to open a top Bordeaux or Burgundy from a good vintage is north of it´s 25th birthday. Oak will no longer be an issue then. I know that many Chateaux realize the problem of the modern days – no cellars in the houses any more and less patience. Therefore many try to make their wines for earlier consumption. But not all. And btw: While some applaud the Chateaux for their adaption of modern times others criticize the very same thing. You can´t please everybody.
And therein lies the paradox of modern Bordeaux. Many of the so-called modern houses (notably from St. Emilion), that seek a more plush, approachable wine, use 100% new oak. If it takes 15-25+ years to integrate, why the heck would these modern houses use so much new oak on a wine that they want to be more approachable at an early age?
I seem to recall years back the Fleur Morange released early a fun, drinkable but modern wine called “Mathilde”. My recollection is that it was matured in large oak foudres and saw no new oak. Leve’s site suggests it is now using 50% new oak but only like 8 months. Does anyone recall the original oak regime, Leve???
