Some headlines found in various important US and British news journals concerning the Wine Press:
Parker gives John Grisham's new novel 94 points. Read now-until say, 2012 (at which point it will no longer be relevant). "Gobs of finely formed phrases provide the backbone for this solid effort from Grisham. A romp in the hedonistic garden of delight." On the other hand, Milan Kundera's new book received 67 points. Parker calls it, "too meta for my liking, impossibly complicated, and decidedly not a turn-on."
Wine Spectator magazine chooses Colgate Whitening Toothpaste as Toothpaste of the Year, awarding it 98 points. It had previously made appearances in the Top 100 in 2006 (rated 93 points, #56 of 100) and 2005 (rated 91 points, #72 of 100). Analysts expect Colgate-Palmolive to raise prices by 15% and allocate tubes only to stores willing to carry their less popular toothpaste, Colgate Cavity Protection.
Banana Republic announces a line of 90+ point sweaters to be released this Spring. Fashionably dressed wine critic Stephen Tanzer to consult.
The Steak Eaters Association of America announces that the Rib-Eye is the new highest scoring steak in America and determines that the Filet Mignon has been overrated for much of the last 20 years, pointing to its subtlety and tender chew as faults. Sitting on the panel of judges was the editorial board of Wine Enthusiast Magazine. Some suspect that the Filet Mignon Association of Advocates had been buying off the judges of previous steak tastings by offering free tenderloins to those critics willing to write inflated reviews about the cut.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Something New in 2008
I've failed to post for some time now. This is due in part to some dissatisfaction with the current concept of Crasse de Fer. In the beginning, the idea behind this blog was to emulate what Neal Martin had done with Wine Journal. I appreciated his style, candor and ability to convey with words his experience of a wine in the glass. Lately however, I have spent some time rereading many critics early writings on wine (including mine) and considering the relationship between the words they have written and the sensual experience to which it corresponds. What I have come to realize is that very seldom is a reader informed of the degree of pleasure a wine evokes in the writer.
Numerical scores help place a wine on this scale of potential pleasure in a seemingly subjective way if one is to interpret that a high score will correlate proportionally to pleasure (i.e. a 98 point wine will give more pleasure than an 88 point wine). But this system possesses its obvious flaws as I have had some sub 90 point wines that in the appropriate context have provided much more satisfaction than some deemed perfection by a wine critic. I toyed very briefly with the idea of giving scores to the wines that appear on Crasse de Fer, but it seemed more like an exercise in the imposition of the ego than it did in meaningfully approximating the degree of pleasure on might gain from drinking the same wine.
The tasting note of course provides the alternative to a score (or its compliment, as many critics will have you believe) but I think that the tasting note without any kind of contextual reference is essentially useless to the reader. I can write that a certain Bordeaux smells of cedar, tobacco, and cassis, that it displays fine, ripe tannins, noticeable acidity, and a pleasant mouthfeel and you have essentially a generic tasting note for any wine made from a blend of Cabernets and Merlot from a decent vintage anywhere in the world. I can then give a subjective interpretation of the wine saying that it was "excellent" or "very good" or "one of the best wines I have ever dunk," but I still think this misses the point a little. The last few qualifiers are maybe the most important in that it is this information that I want when I read someone else's tasting note, basically, "is it good?" and "is it worth the money?"
Of course, there are thousands of wines out there that are good and worth the money. Beyond this, one wants to know if there is something about the particular wine that makes it more worth buying/drinking than another (if we are to understand that most people reading wine reviews do so from a consumer's point of view). But often times this is not the case, because many wines that the critics review I will never have an opportunity to taste. In this instance therefore, what I am interested in is not a buy/don't buy type of review, but a vicarious experience of the wine tasted. In this case, perhaps a well-written tasting note helps place the wine, but in addition to this I want to know what it evokes in the reviewer: pleasure (if yes, how much?), dissatisfaction (why?), disappointment, etc.
I suppose what I am getting at is this: a numerical score is not objective enough in my opinion to actually convey anything meaningful about a wine's potential enjoyability and a tasting note is neither objective or subjective enough to help a reader determine whether or not they would want to buy or drink the wine that the tasting note describes.
Therefore, in the next coming weeks I will be altering the way in which I present wines on Crasse de Fer. I will continue to write tasting notes and describing the context in which the wines have been imbibed, but in addition to this I will be posting a visual representation of the wine. The image will break the wine down into its essential elements and provide a somewhat objective (though not completely so as the picture is generated through an interpretive filter, that is, my nose and palate) visualization of the wine that does not essay to place it in a pre-determined quality scale. Rather, this determination will be made by the individual's interpretation of the image. Andrew Greene and Ted Burns deserve the credit for the concept and I am very much indebted to them for their collaboration.
I will also give more subjective impressions of the wines beyond the usual "good," "very good," or "excellent" qualifiers. Instead I will try for something a little more poetic like: pure pleasure in a bottle, a delight to drink, etc.
For me, wine is meant to compliment a meal, to be shared amongst those whose company I enjoy, to provide pleasure and restore the soul.
It is not meant to be perfect, rather have character, personality, and individuality. It is not meant to be a manufactured trophy to display and impress, but a humble and ephemeral labor of love, an offering from the earth and winemaker to the epicure, or amateur.
Santé
Numerical scores help place a wine on this scale of potential pleasure in a seemingly subjective way if one is to interpret that a high score will correlate proportionally to pleasure (i.e. a 98 point wine will give more pleasure than an 88 point wine). But this system possesses its obvious flaws as I have had some sub 90 point wines that in the appropriate context have provided much more satisfaction than some deemed perfection by a wine critic. I toyed very briefly with the idea of giving scores to the wines that appear on Crasse de Fer, but it seemed more like an exercise in the imposition of the ego than it did in meaningfully approximating the degree of pleasure on might gain from drinking the same wine.
The tasting note of course provides the alternative to a score (or its compliment, as many critics will have you believe) but I think that the tasting note without any kind of contextual reference is essentially useless to the reader. I can write that a certain Bordeaux smells of cedar, tobacco, and cassis, that it displays fine, ripe tannins, noticeable acidity, and a pleasant mouthfeel and you have essentially a generic tasting note for any wine made from a blend of Cabernets and Merlot from a decent vintage anywhere in the world. I can then give a subjective interpretation of the wine saying that it was "excellent" or "very good" or "one of the best wines I have ever dunk," but I still think this misses the point a little. The last few qualifiers are maybe the most important in that it is this information that I want when I read someone else's tasting note, basically, "is it good?" and "is it worth the money?"
Of course, there are thousands of wines out there that are good and worth the money. Beyond this, one wants to know if there is something about the particular wine that makes it more worth buying/drinking than another (if we are to understand that most people reading wine reviews do so from a consumer's point of view). But often times this is not the case, because many wines that the critics review I will never have an opportunity to taste. In this instance therefore, what I am interested in is not a buy/don't buy type of review, but a vicarious experience of the wine tasted. In this case, perhaps a well-written tasting note helps place the wine, but in addition to this I want to know what it evokes in the reviewer: pleasure (if yes, how much?), dissatisfaction (why?), disappointment, etc.
I suppose what I am getting at is this: a numerical score is not objective enough in my opinion to actually convey anything meaningful about a wine's potential enjoyability and a tasting note is neither objective or subjective enough to help a reader determine whether or not they would want to buy or drink the wine that the tasting note describes.
Therefore, in the next coming weeks I will be altering the way in which I present wines on Crasse de Fer. I will continue to write tasting notes and describing the context in which the wines have been imbibed, but in addition to this I will be posting a visual representation of the wine. The image will break the wine down into its essential elements and provide a somewhat objective (though not completely so as the picture is generated through an interpretive filter, that is, my nose and palate) visualization of the wine that does not essay to place it in a pre-determined quality scale. Rather, this determination will be made by the individual's interpretation of the image. Andrew Greene and Ted Burns deserve the credit for the concept and I am very much indebted to them for their collaboration.
I will also give more subjective impressions of the wines beyond the usual "good," "very good," or "excellent" qualifiers. Instead I will try for something a little more poetic like: pure pleasure in a bottle, a delight to drink, etc.
For me, wine is meant to compliment a meal, to be shared amongst those whose company I enjoy, to provide pleasure and restore the soul.
It is not meant to be perfect, rather have character, personality, and individuality. It is not meant to be a manufactured trophy to display and impress, but a humble and ephemeral labor of love, an offering from the earth and winemaker to the epicure, or amateur.
Santé
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