Parker & The Retsina Effect

I read an interesting article by Tim Atkin in Off Licence News regarding junkets and wine critics, and inadvertently it has led me to having a rant. He asks the question if it is possible for a wine writer to be totally impartial if he is being wined and dined by a producer, and also if it is possible to be a fair judge of a product if you have never seen where it is produced. It is what I have called “The Retsina effect”

As you will by now know, I run a wine shop, and every year, from the middle of the summer onwards we get requests for Retsina. This horrific drink, a combination of wine and pine resin, is demanded by customers as “a fantastic wine I tried when I was in Greece”. And of course it was! They were sitting on a beach, surrounded by half naked attractive people sipping this ice cold beverage having a wonderful time. They could have drunk bleach and it would still be the most wonderful drink on earth. But what they are remembering is the whole experience, not just the wine. So I sell them a bottle, Retsina, not bleach, they take it home and drink it and find out the truth, that it is a hateful drink and that they would have been better with a bottle of Domestos. While we like to think we are professional enough to rise above it, people who comment on wines or retail them are not immune to the Retsina effect, and nor should we be.

The Retsina effect is why retailers and journalists are given all expenses paid trips, because the producer or distributor wants us to visit the places the wines are made, meet the people who make the wine, have a nice holiday, trying wonderful wines and then go back home and write about them favourably or stock them in their shops. They know they are trying to influence their guests, their guests know that they are being played, and as long as you recognise that, there is no problem. If you are serious about your job, you can compensate for the schmooze factor in and be objective, and if you can’t, just own up to the fact that you went on a junket and tell the truth in your article, or ask for a sample from your supplier to try when you get home before you order half a pallet worth of stock.

Atkin mentions Robert Parker, who set the ethical standard by which critics are judged, but that standard is now, thanks to RP, beyond most people in the trade. Only an independently wealthy critic could afford to adhere to Parker's “no hospitality” rules and any retailer would soon be out of business if he had to fund every trip he went on.

I decided to analyse the freebies I’d received over the years and see if they have been influenced me in any way. And of course they have, I wouldn’t be human if they hadn’t. I have a particular fondness for some producers I’ve visited, have great memories and have, as a result, been somewhat influenced in choosing their brand over another when recommending or purchasing (for personal use) wines. I’ve also promoted their brands in a small way on this website when I have written about them. What these trips have never done, like Atkin, is influenced my opinion on their wines.

But Parker would argue that I, and Tim Atkin, have been influenced and have come up with a conclusion about a wine that is tarnished and therefore not 100% unbiased, all because of a freebie. My counter argument would be simply this:

Everyone is influenced and everyone is bias when tasting wine, even Robert Parker. He can try wines in the most clinical of surroundings, stand on his moral high horse and say that he has paid for everything and that his judgement is ethically sound. But what if he was starting to get a cold and his senses were slightly off par? What if he had an argument with someone that morning and was in a bad mood? What if he’d just had some great sex and was in a fantastic mood? These influences, irrespective of the fact that they have nothing to do with wine tasting or freebies, could influence his tasting abilities, either negatively or positively, and therefore, due to his overwhelming influence, make or break a winery! And what makes this ‘flawed’ opinion any more valid than my ‘flawed’ opinion just because I got a free trip to Italy?

Similarly his personal preferred style of wine is very biased towards more simple, fuller styles of wine, and therefore both 100% correct and 100% wrong. His desired style of wine is not always my cup of tea, but I’d never dream to say it is wrong, even when it is totally obvious that he is! But even this is not a problem I have with Parker. The problem I have is the arrogant attitude that leads the reader of his “standards” to think he is the only perfect taster.

Parker claims to be the “One True Voice of the Wine Consumer”. We could argue whether that is ego or a marketing line till the end of time, the fact is he has become the one voice that everyone listens to. He may insist that these comments are just his own and that people should decide what their palate is like rather than take his word as gospel, but every writer, yours truly included, says that! But if you really believe that your views are purely personal, you should not claim to be “the one true voice” of anything, let alone the “wine consumer” who you have directly led certain wines to be taken away from and into the hands of investors.

He also says, on his website, “on occasions, I have accepted invitations to lunch with a producer, but have never had any problem criticizing that producer if his wines are not up to standard”. There, by his own admission, makes his whole claim to be unbiased, total hogwash or exceedingly arrogant. Feel free to choose for yourself. If it is ok for him to have lunch with a producer once every five years and then comment on their wines, considering himself beyond any corruption, who the hell does he think he is to have the opinion that a different critic would not be able to make a similar claim, even if they have dinner with a producer once every five days?

Going on, he says he keeps control of his writers by buying bottles of highly regarded wines to check for “accuracy”! Accuracy in what? Whether an individual liked a wine or not? We all know the ongoing disagreement between Parker and Jancis Robinson, and reading through the American’s notes and those of Michael Broadbent, you also see a marked difference in preferred styles, so why shouldn’t those people on his payroll also disagree with him? Oh, that’s why! They are on his payroll and you aren’t allowed to disagree with the boss in a dictatorial state. Just look at Burma... or Iran…

Wine is all about personal opinion and wine writers, like the wines we try, are not perfect. Tasters all have their idiosyncrasies and they all have their personalities and not one of us is 100% immune from outside influences, be them positive or negative. Parker’s claims to be neutral from any ethical influence are, at best, tenuous, as, even if he does pay for most of the things he comments on, by his own admission, he receives free samples and the occasional lunch. So his arguement for being the people's champion, purely comes down to the fact that he thinks that critics and retailers who get the occasional freebie can’t form a clear, unbiased opinion, and he can.

Which is codswallop.

And arrogant.

We are in a time where perks are being scorned upon because a load of MP’s are on the fiddle, and if a free trip to Islay or a night at Chateau Saran is going to be viewed as buying my reviews of Ardbeg or Moet & Chandon, then so be it. I have been bought. The 1978 Moet is lovely (not available commercially) and the 1974 Ardbeg was delicious (hideously expensive). Oh, and 2003 Moet Rose sucks and Ardbeg Blasda is pointless and they are both available on a shop shelf near you. Just thought I’d level out the scorecard for Mr Parker...

By Peter Wood with 3 comments

Duncan Murray, 1980 - 2009

It isn’t unusual to admire someone you worked with, but when I joined the wine trade in 2001, my assistant manager at Oddbins was a man I grew to admire, but not because of his work – by his own admission he wasn’t overly brilliant at that! He was given the reins of the Oddbins shop in St Andrews and for two months he and I staffed it on our own, with a grand total of 7 months experience combined, and we did a not too shabby job. I worked hard, he played hard, and on more than one occasion I’d arrive to find him looking a little worse for wear and in yesterday's clothes! For those two months we struggled on 12 hour shifts, for thirteen days straight, fueled by rather tasty wines which he introduced me to, until finally we got some relief in the form of a new employee. By that point, I knew I wanted my career to be in the wine trade.

Later on, he would joke that he “was the manager of Oddbins, St Andrews… but didn’t manage”, but nevertheless he moved to Bristol and was instrumental in opening up one of Oddbins’ Ultimate Wine Stores, and he stayed there until he decided, apparently on a whim, to leave and return home to Scotland

Realising he had to get home on some form of transport, he opted, not for the train or a car, but to cycle from Lands End to John O Groats. Buying a knackered old bike and a few spare inner tubes, he peddled his way up the country, not to achieve a record time, just because he wanted to say he’d done it. This was, to me, the serious element of the man. His schemes may have been unusual, but the determination to succeed was unwavering.

He then discovered the Plymouth Dakar Rally, a car jaunt for old bangers, and decided he wanted to do it. There was just one problem, he didn’t have a driving licence! Again, because he had set his mind on doing it, he took lessons, got his licence and set off for Dakar in a beat up Ford Orion that he had bought for less than £100.

Moving to Aberdeen saw him living with, according to his tales, a stripper, and then, again, apparently on a whim, he went to University and studied business and Spanish and committed to it with the same determination that he completed his previous exploits. There never appeared to be a plan in his life, just a series of spontaneous decisions made which always seemed to work out and almost always accompanied by insane dancing and laughter.

Duncan Murray was a man who, to the casual observer, would not be the person you would point to and say was someone to admire, but to me he was. No matter how mad the idea, he embraced life and did whatever he needed to do to achieve his goal. Around the dinner table, whenever his name came up there would be dozens of “Duncan Murray stories”, all funny, crazy and, usually, inebriated, but they always made people laugh, and that is his legacy. Anyone that can make people laugh, whether they are in the room or not, is a man that you have to admire.

You were taken too soon my friend, on your 29th birthday. If I ever make anything of myself in the wine trade, you were the one that guided me, in your own unique fashion, on my first few steps of that journey.

I’ll miss you.

By Peter Wood with 8 comments

Champagne, Day 3: Four champagne houses & a chalk pit. Part 2

I’ve never really been a fan of Veuve Clicquot for two reasons. Firstly, they always appear to be firmly aimed at a certain demographic of customers; the polo playing fashion conscious young with lots of money to waste and where presentation is everything. The company’s distinctive yellow label is seen anywhere there are trendy people and they appear, to focus on the on trade a lot more than the off. The second is that I've never really liked their non vintage!

As a result, I’ve never really given Veuve Clicquot a chance to prove it’s worth to me. If I wanted a vintage champagne I’d always have opted for Pol Roger, Taittinger or, latterly, Moet & Chandon. Veuve was never given a chance.

Our last night of the trip was spent at Veuve Clicquot’s Manoir de Verzy. Not the splendour of Chateau Saran, but much more homely and a friendly place to be. We sat out in the sunshine filled garden drinking a bottle of Yellow Label, already established as not one of my favourites, and we were shocked. This wine was outstanding! Normally, to me, the non vintage Veuve is quite tart, a lot of high acid and masses of zingy, zesty fruit and bundles of minerals. As a result, I’ve avoided it because it isn’t the style of wine I want. Chill it right down, effectively killing the flavour, and I could drink it, but normally, I’d avoid it. This bottle however was richer, rounder, far more balanced with hints of honey coming through the citrus fruit. We learned that this bottle had a bit of bottle age on it, resulting in a mature bottle of really delightful champagne.

An aperitif of 1998 Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame followed. Showing their prestige cuvee first was a bold move, but an inspired one. It is a lovely wine, but has a lot of freshness that cleans your palate before a meal. There was dark honey aromas, some dusty stones and spice, and a palate that was quite minerally, but with a super, elegant element to it. Almonds and candied fruit finished off this wine – it was super. So why did they show their latest prestige cuvee first? The fact that it is still a young wine (relatively speaking!) meant that it would not go that well with food, it would simply clash. So, if you are showing a young wine off, you might as well make it your best! Then they showed what Veuve Clicquot is brilliant at. This champagne house’s wines are brilliant with food.

The first course was served with 2002 Veuve Clicquot Vintage. It was lobster with asparagus and citrus fruits and the zingy, zesty elements of the champagne really complimented the fruit, and the mineral elements of the wine paired perfectly with the lobster and the acid cleaned up your mouth delightfully.

1999 Veuve Clicquot Vintage Rose followed with a fillet of beef with potatoes and truffle essence. You wouldn’t believe that a rose champagne could survive being matched with steak, potatoes and a rich sauce, but not only did it survive, it shone. The dark, meaty aromas of the wine, wild strawberries, spice and a lot of cranberries complimented the aromas coming off the plate. Once in the mouth, there was a mature, smoked spice, some Black Jack chewy sweet flavours, cassis and some green, under ripe fruit. This just worked perfectly with the strong flavours of the food. It was a seriously impressive pairing, executed expertly by the chef.

The 1999 rose continued through a cheese course, and dessert was served with Veuve Clicquot Demi Sec, served out of a carafe! Our host informed us that decanting the wine increased the sweetness and helped to amplify the oxidation of the Pinot Meunier in the wine. The carafe had been put in the freezer so there was ice surrounding the glass, and then decanted into it before being poured into the glasses. It complimented a Coxes Orange Pippin cheesecakey dessert (I know, I’ll never be a food critic) perfectly and, again, the wine stood up to very bold flavours from the course very well. As great as the 1959 Moet was the night before, it clashed with the dessert. This wine, which I really wouldn’t normally want to drink as it is far too sweet, was outstanding.

After dinner we sat down and we were brought a bottle of 1985 Veuve Clicquot Rose. A light, orange colour, with marmalade and spice on the palate, with some lemon and brioche. There was a little crusty bread aroma coming off the wine with dried strawberries and raspberry. It was a lovely wine and a perfect end to our evening and our trip.

Postscript

My trip to Champagne was unbelievable. I am so fortunate to have tasted so many outstanding wines, met lovely and interesting people and been looked after by my hosts so well. But there is one thing that will stay with me more than all the splendour and sparkle that I experienced, and that was a wall in Epernay.

I’ve studied the First and Second World Wars in the past, but had never made a trip to a battlefield, and didn’t expect to visit one on this trip. I remember, years ago, reading that grapes were harvested during the First World War to the sound of gunfire, but it had never really been real to me. But on my first day in Champagne, a casual walk up the Avenue du Champagne made it very clear how close war came to champagne, and I found myself on a battlefield.

In the wall of a building, yards away from the likes of Pol Roger, Perrier Jouet and, of course, Moet & Chandon, was a stone with five bullet holes in it in the shape of an arc. These holes, showing the movement of a machine gun being aimed at a soldier, made me realise very quickly that the First World War was fought, not just trenches in wide open fields, but on the streets of Europe, amongst palaces, homes and above wine cellars.

Thinking back to the trip around Moet’s cellars, seeing the 1892, 1904, 1907 and 1911 vintages, virtually undisturbed for all these years, it occurred to me that those wines were sitting in the same cellars when that soldier was being shot at a few hundred yards away and made me realise how fortunate I am. I get to try exceedingly good wines, and get to live a wonderful, free life because people like that soldier, be him British, French or German, were prepared to give their life for what they believed in. That wall and those five holes will be the most powerful memory from my trip to Champagne in 2009.

By Peter Wood with No comments

Champagne, Day 3: Four champagne houses & a chalk pit. Part 1

I don’t normally get a lot of time to relax, but for an hour on the morning of day three in Champagne, I did. Eating breakfast in my room, with the windows open, fresh air circulating around my room and views to die for, I started my day in the most wonderful surroundings. After saying our farewells to the wonderful hosts at Chateau Saran, we decided to head for Mesnil. Unfortunately, satellite navigation systems don’t factor in closed roads so we ended up getting lost. Our three car convoy soon became two, when the third car, an Audi R8, went AWOL. Realising that we had to stop and wait for the Audi to catch up to a 1 series BMW and a VW Polo (do the words hare and tortoise mean anything here?), we did so only to nearly get nicked by ‘le rozzers’. Fortunately, the police were understanding, or couldn’t be bothered with the paperwork of arresting a bunch of Brits, and led us to a lay-by and not the local police station.

After regrouping, we reached Mesnil. This town is what I wanted from France. Lots of small roads with ramshackle buildings next to perfectly restored houses with dust being thrown up as you drive down the street. We’d arranged it so we had a morning free so decided to visit Le Mesnil, a cooperative based in the town it takes it’s name from, and attempted to try their wines.

The people at Le Mesnil were exceptionally accommodating, and started opening bottles for us, at ten in the morning. The Le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs, costing €16.70 at the cellar door and therefore about £25 on the shelf in Britain, was outstanding. Light and fresh with a simple lemon juice and lemon pith flavour. A wine with lovely balance, a delightful mousse and a long, minerally finish that shows, inexpensively, how good Blanc de Blancs can be. 8.5/10

Their top wines are called ‘Sublime’, and the 2001 Sublime Blanc de Blancs was also excellent. A little more lemon than the basic wine, quite spritzy too and with lots of pencil lead on the finish. A hint of fruit sweetness, I actually got pancakes with lemon juice and sugar on the nose. The palate has a gentle bubble, again, great balance and with a zingy flavour mixed with a creamy texture. A really lovely wine but I actually preferred the basic wine! 8/10

When in Mesnil, we had to visit the famous walled vineyard of Krug. The Clos du Mesnil is not easy to find, it doesn’t have the large branded signs that, for example, Salon has. A simple iron gate with the name above symbolises Krug’s greatest Chardonnay vineyard, and they do not want visitors! The gate is permanently locked, and whilst you can take photos outside the gate, you have a better chance of getting into Keira Knightley than you have the Clos du Mesnil. We stuck our hands through the railings to take a few photos of the vines that produce this outstanding wine, and then got back into the cars to go to visit Krug in Reims.

PLEASE don’t think badly of me, but Krug was a bit of a disappointment. We were welcomed, tasted the Grande Cuvee, which, as always, is outstanding, whilst being told about the history of Krug. We were informed that it doesn’t matter where the base wines in Krug Grande Cuvee come from, nor which of the three grape varieties they are, as Krug is made to a specific taste. Some years there will be more of one grape than another, other times older reserve wines will be used more or less depening on how the main body of the wine tastes. Everything in Krug is about how things taste, not what they are or who grew the grapes.

A tour of the cellars came next, which is always fun and entertaining, and the fact that Krug were bottling when we were there was very interesting. You think of a producer like Krug having a very traditional method of producing their wines, and they do, but when it comes to bottling it they hire in a bottling plant and get it all done in a month! What I would imagine is usually an oasis of quiet in the bustling city of Reims becomes a noisy industrial plant!

We then went back into the tasting room for a tasting with Olivier Krug where we got to try the 1989 vintage with him. I’ve had this wine before and it has been lovely, but the most recent bottle I have had seemed a little bit old. This bottle however was anything but. Gorgeous honey and melon aromas, lots of brioche, and a touch of spice and goats cheese. The palate has a rich, up front flavour of honey and mature fruit, but then cleans up, becomes very lively and youthful, with fine bubbles. It was lovely. And that was the end of our Krug experience. Obviously, Moet & Chandon raised the bar in hospitality, and Ruinart and Veuve Clicquot would be just as hospitable, but it felt as though Krug didn’t want us there. We were a group of people who work in the wine trade, knew all about the history of Krug anyway, but were almost fed from a company script. There was no attempt to show us, through use of maybe base wines or a blending class, how they get the flavour of Krug Grande Cuvee, which is, by their own admission, the only thing that matters. I realise that I’m incredibly fortunate to have been permitted to visit Krug, but I just felt a little under whelmed. Moral of the story: Don’t meet your heroes.

I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for Ruinart and I never knew why. Their wines were always excellent, when I tried Dom Ruinart for the first time, their 1988 vintage in magnum, I was amazed that it smelled like a distillery washback and that stuck in my head, but I’d never had a major event cause this effection.

Having visited Ruinart, I now have a reason for my liking of this house, and it is because I like their stories! I’ll give you a potted history. Making use of the change in law in 1728 that allowed wine to be transported in bottles as well as barrels, Ruinart was founded in the following year. Their house was built on top of massive chalk pits that were then used to store the wines in perfect conditions. During the First World War, Andre Ruinart used his cellars to smuggle food to the troops, by constructing an underground railroad. He stayed underground for four years during the war, but his health and his house suffered. Above ground, Ruinart was destroyed, and below ground, Andre became ill. He saw the end of the war, but didn’t see his Champagne house rebuilt, dying in 1919. But like other famous widows, Andre Ruinart’s wife, Charlotte, rebuilt the buildings exactly as they were before the war, and she is the person to be credited for raising this company from the ashes.

We then tried four wines, two Blanc de Blancs and two pinks. The Ruinart Blanc de Blancs is a favourite of mine. Light, fresh and clean, it has a spice emerging through the citrus fruit on the nose. Great minerality on the palate, a super long, tingling finish, with a lot of citrus on the palate makes this wine a perfect choice for rejuvenating yourself after a long day! We then compared it to 1998 Dom Ruinart. This had a longer, richer aroma. Lots of honey toast, chevre and some honey comb wax. The palate had a gentle elegance to it, evolving fruit and a creamy mouthfeel and a little coconut on the finish. A really, really good wine!

The Ruinart rose was all about strawberry jam! Very simple, clean and with a touch of rosewater, this is not a wine you think about. Cold, on a lovely day and you really wouldn’t go wrong with this wine. I know of a few people who might say this is boring, but I don’t think that is fair. The fact that it is not a challenging wine can only be a good thing as it will appeal to many people, not just wine nerds!

Finally the 1996 Dom Ruinart Rose. It is not often that you taste a wine and are reminded of sweet cured sausage, but the Dom Ruinart Rose certainly tasted like that! There was also a warm leather, tobacco an hints of oranges on this wine, with a lovely spicy element on the finish. This is definitely a Champagne to go with food, on it’s own it is not exactly an easy wine to drink, but with something to balance out the gutsy flavours, this wine would sing.

By Peter Wood with No comments

Champagne, Day 2: From P&O to a palace. Part 3

After trying a wine that showed the passage of time, I suddenly found myself a hundred years in the past, but with wireless connectivity! Chateau Saran is an oasis of luxury, with fine dining, fine champagne, fine views and servants. If you are not used to servants, suddenly having one is an odd experience! Everywhere I’ve ever stayed before, I’ve taken my own bags to my room, ironed my own shirt and have never had breakfast brought to my room before, but at Saran I had people doing everything for me and it was so strange!

We were visiting Saran for dinner, and again, were presented with some unbelievably good wines to try over dinner Starting off with tuna tartare with a avocado mousse and caviar, this was paired with the 2003 Moet & Chandon. Firstly, the food was exceedingly good, but the bitter lemon pith and the smoky elements worked wonders with the meaty fish. This was a pretty damn good food wine pairing. Moving on a course and things got better with the food and, marginally, worse with the wine!

Since my early days in the wine trade in the dim and distant past of 2002, I’ve never really been a fan of the nineties vintages of Moet & Chandon. I’ve said that the 1990 was “all bubbles, no squeak”, the 1996 was “not special” and the 1998 “like Cheshire cheese and… bitter”. We tried the 1995 with seared foie gras, with grapefruit jelly and orange powder. The wine was the weakest Moet we tried that day, but an ideal partner to the food. The brioche and orange that came flying out of the glass, then a very bitter element on the palate complimented the Foie gras and citrus flavours of the dish.

Revisiting the 1990, nearly five years after tasting it before. An aroma of lemon came off the glass, but it was quite a closed nose. The palate had lemon pith, some grapefruit elements and a herbal element too. A very subtle finish, with lingering lemon flavours made this wine a tough one to make notes on, but it was nothing like the cheesy, dull wine I tried in 2004. Or maybe that is just my palate changing! Served with Sole and langoustines, with a saffron emulsion, this subtle dish, matched with a very subtle wine… subtly!

Pigeon with a maple syrup came next, and an outstanding wine with it. The 1976 Moet & Chandon, a wine with seriously low acid, as has the current release 2003, gave us the opportunity to see what the ’03 vintage may become in thirty years. A load of tobacco, quite smoky with lots of marmalade. The palate had toast, tropical fruit an some lovely spice, and then an apple sweetness. It was this flavour that made the wine sing with the food, the sweet maple, matching the apple, and then the smoky aromas and flavours giving the champagne a savoury element to go with the pigeon. I had never had a better champagne and food matching before.

And then I had one of the worst! But it really didn’t matter because the wine was fabulous! The 1959 vintage is an outstanding champagne. I tried it on New Years Day this year, and it was even better at Chateau Saran. Gorgeous citrus and tropical fruit, honey, brioche and a super texture, this is a wine you must try. The dessert it went with, a sweet cake, was lovely, but clashed terribly with the wine. I didn’t care though, as the champagne is so good!

After dinner we retired to the drawing room, and had a bit of time to reflect on the day of decadence, with a magnum of the best tasting Moet non vintage I’ve ever had (an older bottle per chance?) and some Hennessy Paradis. Sitting there in splendour, sipping fine cognac, I realised that my life is quite good!

And the next day we’d be going to Krug…

By Peter Wood with No comments