Place and upbringing also play a huge part in the process, portrayal and reputation of wine. Cabernet sauvignon, grown on the gravelly embankments of Pauillac, or pinot noir on the east-facing flanks of Vosne-Romanée, possess a pedigree and position achieved through history and politics. Even the ugliest of wines, with its Grand Cru moniker, royal connections, religious provenance or other pretentions can transcend reality. Through various human constructions, chronicles, classifications and landownership, we have created a hierarchy that has shaped the way we perceive and reference wine. Wealth and aspiration have entrenched it. There is little one can do to change the order of things within a generation. Wine writers and observers would like to think that they wield sufficient influence to rearrange the furniture or alter opinions and taste. During the 1970s, Stephen Spurrier’s Judgement of Paris tasting brought California into the fine wine orbit. Robert Parker’s 100-point scale established an international cult wine scene. Yet the fine wine firmament hasn’t budged that much. The force of origin and prestige, built over decades and centuries through repetition and storytelling, powerfully drives the fine wine agenda and the thought processes of the international fine wine community. Real estate ultimately wins. I was thinking about this whilst judging the finalists of an international wine list competition. Inevitably, the shortlist comprised an impressive cornucopia of the world’s classic wines, indexed by regional post code and vintage. As expected, Château Lafite, Domaine de la Romanée Conti, Krug, etc., were all included. As predicted, all the real estate properties, vintages and communes, like the ordered progression of a Monopoly board, were represented. But should we celebrate and reward the uncreative effort made to compile these massive telephone book-sized directories of dream wines? With wealth, ego and access to the internet, any moron can compile a great wine list. Surely, connoisseurship has to comprise more than awareness of and appreciating fame! Inevitably, these great lists are quite static; the vast majority of the wines are too expensive for the average restaurant-goer. The action, particularly in Australia, is found where quality and value intersect. In Hong Kong or Macau, the activity may concentrate on the most celebrated wines, resulting in a scramble on the secondary wine markets to replenish stock. Is not the clockwork behind the wine selection, depletion rates, and the way the sommelier interacts with the customer more indicative of a great wine list? Enthusiasm, empathy and love for wine, regardless of origin, are the elements of connoisseurship today. Without guidance it takes skill and luck to identify a wine blindly. Most of us can only ever truly hazard a guess. Roald Dahl’s ‘Taste’ of course has a sinister twist. The gourmet’s knowledge of Bordeaux is exceptional and his analysis is perfect, but he is a cheat. Having left his reading glasses in the host’s study, it is clear that he had discovered the identity of the wine before dinner. When playing the Monopoly board of wine, there is always someone who should GO DIRECTLY TO JAIL.
Roald Dahl Taste 197
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