The real story is beyond the numbers.

 

Robert M. Parker had only one thing in mind when he created the 100-point wine rating system: the ultimate, wine buying consumer—you and me. He designed a “school report card” rating system for us that was easy to understand and easier, yet, to utilize.  It eliminated the angst and uncertainty of what to buy, and replaced it with confidence and certitude.  I mean, really, what’s wrong about buying wines rated in the 90+ categories, even if you know absolutely nothing about the wine’s underlying grapes, the appellation or the producer?  Read on.

Parker’s tunnel vision (as he called it) focused on smell, taste and texture. That’s it!  Details like the history of the area and the producer, or relevant social and cultural aspects were irrelevant.  It was democratic and hedonistic.  “Just the facts, Ma’am, just the facts” as Sergeant Joe Friday used to utter on the popular Dragnet TV series.  Unfortunately, in Parker’s ratings, there were no facts, just numbers—mystically precise, all-encompassing numbers. 

That wines of all types, from every and all places can be reduced to a subjective, flash card, numerical assessment should alert buyers to the fact that there must be something more; that the rating is simply the starting point, and for curious buyers, like this tooth-stained enthusiast, the real story is beyond the numbers.

I suppose, in his defense, he left it up to me and others to take that extra step and go beyond the numbers.  Bordeaux enthusiasts, for example, who have taken the extra step and became informed about the appellations know that a St. Estephe rated, say, 92 is wildly different from a St. Emilion, also rated 92.  They have different primary, underlying grapes, from different soils and weather patterns and accordingly display their own, unique colors, aromas and flavors, as well as structural and textural aspects.  But gosh, they’re both 92s, who cares? 

To elevate an emerging winemaker to international visibility because he/she recently crafted a deep, dark and intense wine in his/her garage is praiseworthy.  But to refashion or reimagine (in numerical precision) the historical, cultural and social fabric of artisan winegrowing in many of the world’s appellations is quite another feat.  The distinctiveness of provenance and what was required both in viticulture (grape growing) and viniculture (wine making) were no longer relevant or part of the number crunching. 

Maybe it’s time to return to the days of respecting those unique differences.  There was a time in the past when America’s love affair with wine was beginning, when wine writing was a bit more informative and literary, if not downright—dare I say it—intellectual. 

I miss old-time wine writers who provided the details beyond the numbers.  In fact, there were no numbers, simply a presentation of what one needed to know about the who, what, where and why of regions and their accomplished producers.  I lingered over the writings of Hugh Johnson, Oz Clarke, Michael Broadbent, and, most particularly, Gerald Asher as they brought wine to life for me.  More often than not, those writers sat face to face with winegrowers who lived (and died) on the land, most likely as the recent part of a multi-generational commitment from a time-tested, winegrowing family.  Seriously, can one realistically assign a number to that?

But all is not lost, because magazines like Wine Spectator, Wine Enthusiast and (especially) Decanter do, from time to time, present in-depth articles on appellations, producers, and current practices.  And lastly, don’t forget that on the back label of every wine there is typically a reference to the producer’s Internet web site, and detailed therein is usually an “About Us” section that details important family traditions and beliefs.  There’s a wealth of information beyond the numbers, if you’re interested in pursuing it.