Wasnt exactly disagreeing , just pointing out that ocean breeze is different in different areas. In the north coast of PR, for example, where the surf is constantly pounding, the air smells of seashells, salt, etc. In particularly rough sea days, salt and minerals will actually coat everything, and things like stereos have a very short like expectancy because of rust. There you can taste the salt in the air and thats what I associate with a wine that reminds me of the ocean. A different smell than say, the Jersey shore.
PS that is different to me than a wine tasting salty which happens way more often.
Ozone and seaweed. I avoid beaches with dead fish, or dead anything.
I cannot wait to have an occasion to write that a wine smells like seaweed sex. 
As for masculine (more powerful) and feminine (more elegant, with more perfume), does it really matter whether the average Joe on the street understands the definition. I try to write on this board for the people on this board. Does anyone here really disagree with my definitions of these two terms.
One term I find interesting in how it is used by people on this board is complex. I use the term for a wine with nuance, with interesting secondary and tertiary flavors. But, I sense that a lot of people think of big powerful wines as being complex because of their massive amount of fruit. This is not at all what I think of as a complex wine
Worse than meaningless, some usages are contradictory.
I’ve always thought trying to analyse the taste of a wine is fraught with danger, better to focus on basics like basic flavour profile, weight and structure.
More when I’ve caught up on the whole thread but I wonder if graphite is getting mixed up with gun flint. Some of the graphite notes cited also cite smoke.
I wish this were two threads, other than linguistic fatuity these terms don’t have much in common. Or we add minerality for the holy trinity.
Gun flint? Now we’re really getting somewhere.
I haven’t been to many Civil War re-enactments, so it’s hard for me to say … 
An astute observation. They are both gray and come from the ground, right?
As I said at the outset, “salinity” is threatening to become the new “minerality.”
OK…to me, salinity is almost more a mouthfeel than a flavor. Almost. It is a textured nuance. Hmmm. Minerality is stony, while a saline character is slick. To me, quite different. And I see, John, that you are not suggesting they are the same.
I don’t read the critics, for the most part. My mentor told me more than once that it is important that you have a language that you understand within yourself. So you can understand what you are experiencing, and develop and recall some language that is meaningful to you. Now sharing tasting notes and trying to make purchasing decisions based on what another person describes? Tough, very tough.
The most ‘saline’ wines I have ever tasted have been high pH Australian Shiraz.
Then David Powell told me that they were in many cases from vineyards which had been flood irrigated with brackish water…
I do think pencil shavings and pure cedar have different scents, perhaps (as others speculate) because of aromatic waxes or clays rather than the graphite itself.
Conflating cedar and cigar box, however, is manifestly a mistake.
Well, when you shave a pencil, most of what you get is the wood.
As for cigar boxes, they obviously have had tobacco in them, so there’s another dimension there. And tobacco is certainly a common descriptor for Bordeauxs. But the cedar is still noticeable in actual cigar boxes. So I don’t know about “manifestly a mistake.”
I think a solid chunk of graphite doesn’t have much smell, if any. I think pulverized pencil lead or draftsman’s lead does have a smell, something reminiscent of stone and metal. Note the comments from Robert and others above about a smell of graphite that was not from pencil shavings. FWIW, I think pencil shavings smell like both cedar and what I would call a graphite smell. I also get flavors in some wines that taste like that “graphite” smell.
As far as salinity, I’ve seen it used mainly for taste although somehow this discussion has turned mostly towards smell. We apparently have two types of taste receptors for “salty” and they are triggered by ions other than sodium, although the perception of saltiness is less because the receptors are optimized for sodium. Some wines definitely taste saline. I’m not sure why salinity would be exclusive to white wines, although it may be easier to notice in whites than reds. Note that the Mount Etna whites from Carricante are frequently described as having noticeable salinity. Not sure why that same sensation could not also be present in Mount Etna Nerello Mascalese wines and I think the transparency of the Passopisciaro reds might allow it to be more easily perceived.
Our senses of taste and smell are complex and highly variable depending on the individual. It seems rather presumptuous to tell people they are simply smelling cedar when they claim graphite, or deluding themselves and their readers if they find a red wine to have a saline character.
-Al
I’m guilty of using “salinity” in a number of my tasting notes, sometimes for Rieslings, sometimes for white Burgundy, most often in white wines in general. If it’s a saline quality on the nose, I usually use “sea spray” as the descriptor, meaning the smell of the ocean, whatever that is 
I’m not telling anyone what they do or don’t smell or taste. I’m just saying that a lot of critics and others throw around words that aren’t accurate descriptions of some things that are fairly easy to identify and name and agree on (smell of cedar, taste of salt).
As I’ve said three or four times, I have no quarrel with the notion of salinity in wine; just with what looks like trendy overuse of the term by critics.
The critics seem to be talking about a saline taste. But it seems that lots of people here think salinity refers to seaside smells, which probably have to do with bacterial byproducts of sea plant life. In that case, “saline” or “salinity” are misleading terms.
What use is the term if it’s used for such different qualities?
As for “graphite,” it’s clear that the term is often used simply for cedary aromas, and that seems like a sloppy use of language – a confusion of the lead of a pencil with the surrounding wood.
If it refers to something other than cedarish aromas, it’s still not clear what that is. Some suggest a connection to flint or smoke. Or to the clay in the lead in pencils. But that proves my point, I think: The term isn’t helpful if it could mean anything from cedar shavings to smoke or clay, depending on the user.
Glad to see someone else tilting at windmills for a change Though I get what John is saying, and mostly agree.
fuq it, I’m still going to use the term ‘lead pencil’…because first off, I’m a fool…and secondly, I’m old school and going to pretend the non-lead versions smell differently!
and I def. find saline in some white burgs
…chablis from those old oyster beds?..also that Ramisco grape Colares I had with Alfert…clear saline note
I’m not telling anyone what they do or don’t smell or taste. I’m just saying that a lot of critics and others throw around words that aren’t accurate descriptions of some things that are fairly easy to identify and name and agree on (smell of cedar, taste of salt).
As I’ve said three or four times, I have no quarrel with the notion of salinity in wine; just with what looks like trendy overuse of the term by critics.
The critics seem to be talking about a saline taste. But it seems that lots of people here think salinity refers to seaside smells, which probably have to do with bacterial byproducts of sea plant life. In that case, “saline” or “salinity” are misleading terms.
What use is the term if it’s used for such different qualities?
As for “graphite,” it’s clear that the term is often used simply for cedary aromas, and that seems like a sloppy use of language – a confusion of the lead of a pencil with the surrounding wood.
If it refers to something other than cedarish aromas, it’s still not clear what that is. Some suggest a connection to flint or smoke. Or to the clay in the lead in pencils. But that proves my point, I think: The term isn’t helpful if it could mean anything from cedar shavings to smoke or clay, depending on the user.
I don’t know, you did use the word “bullshit” which seems rather more judgmental than you’re now willing to state.
While there was a thread drift to discuss seaside smells, I don’t think I’ve ever read a tasting note that used salinity to describe a smell rather than a taste (they tend to use other words to describe the smell of the sea). Maybe there are some, but I think they are surely not common (although I’m happy to be proven wrong). I think you did indicate that it was BS for salinity to be used to describe some red wines.
It’s not at all clear to me that people are using “graphite” for cedar aromas or flavors, I haven’t seen much to support that vierw except your claim that it’s so and you continue to ignore people who claim their reference has nothing to do with any wood.
Just because it’s not clear to you what a graphite aroma/taste might be doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist or have meaning for others. Maybe you’re not sensitive to it.
-Al
I very much agree with this.
Certainly some Australian producers in drought conditions were suffering from ‘salinity’ ![[wink.gif]](/uploads/db3686/original/2X/0/04707e6a7bbb03e0153e349d8a9270d30e1e9525.gif "wink"){kind=small}
and there were deep concerns that the natural filtering of salt out of underground water was being compromised by drought, in simple terms the salty sediment was getting stirred up.
I was initially worried that Americans were attempting to muscle in on the British market for pomposity. However noting this was Galloni and d’Agata, I was reassured that their Italian heritage was allowing them to channel a great history of pomposity that rivals our own. Forza Italia! ![[dance-clap.gif]](/uploads/db3686/original/2X/8/835ce082e2fa9c96c4b7f96406bf6e9a0db882ff.gif "[dance-clap.gif]"){kind=small}
Hmm, maybe Johnny is on to something about how critics are co-opting and using this new vogue term!
Coincidentally, I was reading up on an old favorite of mine, Chateau Les Carmes Haut Brion, and with the new winemaker and owner, it appears the critics are gushing all over it now. All three use the Johnny be-banned term!
2016 Chateau Les Carmes Haut-Brion, Pessac-Leognan
Extremely long and erudite with crushed stones, blackberries and blueberries. Hints of fresh herbs. Full-bodied, tight and polished. The balance and beauty are amazing. > Salty and minerally> . More polished than the 2015. Wait and see. From biodynamic grapes.
96-97 points, James Suckling (Apr 2017)
The 2016 Les Carmes Haut Brion is a blend of 41% Cabernet Franc, 20% Cabernet Sauvignon and 39% Merlot, with 13.8% alcohol and a pH of 3.55, the lowest acidity for many years. It was vinified in their Philippe Starck-designed “submarine” (this is what their aesthetically arresting winery looks like as it surfaces in the Bordeaux city suburbs!) with 48% whole berry fruit. Winemaker Guillaume Pouthier (ex-Chapoutier) showed me a large inflatable ring used to submerge the cap to create more of an “infusion” rather than a maceration. The 2016 is matured in 65% new oak, 30% one year old and 5% in amphora. It has a very pure, very attractive bouquet with ample blackberry, boysenberry, blueberry and fresh fig aromas, a little more extravagant than some other Pessac-Léognan 2016s, yet it maintains impressive control and focus. It develops more pressed flower aromas with time. The palate is medium-bodied with tannins that gently grip the mouth, tertiary notes on the entry, fine acidity vis-à-vis the fruit, then a slight tarriness towards the broody black fruit on the > saline, marine-influenced finish> . It is an intriguing take on the vintage, classic in style like many others, detailed with impressive complexity. You know, it is not a million miles away from Lafleur in Pomerol, but in the same sense, it will require a decade in bottle to show what it can do. It is a new benchmark for this estate with big ambitions. Tasted twice with consistent notes.95-97 points, Neal Martin, Wine Advocate (Issue # 230 - Apr 2017)
The 2016 Les Carmes Haut-Brion is one of the most distinctive wines of the vintage. A wine of real depth and density, it possesses stunning richness and intensity in all of its dimensions. The high proportion of Cabernet Franc and the 50% whole clusters give notable aromatic lift, > saline intensity and drive> . Ample, full-throttle and unapologetically intense, Les Carmes Haut-Brion is once again superb. Tasted three times.94-97 points, Antonio Galloni, Vinous (Apr 2017)
More to John’s point, these notes really are quite silly when you dissect them and compare them. Certainly my notes could be picked apart, but I’m not a pro that people pay to read. At first you appreciate the detail in Neal’s notes, then you realize it’s contradictory and rather non-sensical. The wine is both more extravagant than other Pessacs in 2016 but then also classic like them. It is low acid but with fine acid. And then the non-sequitor reference to Lafleur. Bizarre, I don’t even get it.
I’ll be really happy when you guys decide what words I can use to describe what I am tasting. Someone hit me up when you’re done.
Rombauer