The attractiveness of quantifiable values attached to wine is obvious and yet, at times, a little misleading. Problems arise when tasting becomes an exact science. Obviously there are subjectivities in anyone’s palate and it is these foibles which make wine so attractive to me. I’d rather engage in a discussion surrounding the merits of wine than arrive at a score out of 5, 10 or 100.
I’ve been round International Wine Fairs and tasted a quantity of wine ranging wildly which almost defied a ratings system and certainly wouldn’t have benefitted from it. The perfect example would be the Wines of Slovenia stand this year at the London Wine Fair. This year they were of a good quality and well presented, with an interesting range and informed discussion encouraged. This certainly beats last year when I was served some of the worst wine I had ever tasted by a man barely conversant in English. My worry is that quantifiable scores would consign an emerging area such as that to a spiralling reputation when little is known of competing varieties and producers within the country. Limiting tasting responses to specific reactions relating to specific bottles allows us a broader vocabulary than that of the scoring index. After this year’s London Wine Fair, I’m actively considering going to Slovenia on holiday, not to mention a quick tour of their vineyards!
Part of what concerns me about such scoring is its unspoken limitations. I’m also a University Tutor and mark 1st year Undergraduate Essays regularly. These essays are marked out of 100, yet an unspoken rule is that they cannot score over 75%. This is unfair, you may cry, yet it recognises the limitations of students at an early stage of their training. With Wine Spectator’s scores, however, I’m often taken with the fact that minimum scores can be achieved simply by producing something which meets the dictionary definition of wine. At either the top or bottom end of such grading systems, I’m a little wary of unspoken limits which haven’t been justified. I feel that such scoring indexes should always have the ability to fail an entry if they are to be honest. Yet, as I’ve just said, I’m wary of the smear that this could leave on more obscure offerings.
I must admit that I have been attracted by Parker’s scores in the past and I have bought wines based on an exceptionally high rating. Obviously wine producers boast of any accolades on their bottle, as is only sensible. I’ve likewise seen American wines with Gold medal stickers advertising wins in county fairs. Such baubles are almost solely for decoration and designed to draw the eye on a crowded shelf. Scores in the upper 90s on the Wine Spectator scale dazzle and draw the eye likewise. The problem is that, personally, I’m not the wine world’s ultimate arbiter. I find that my personal tastes don’t always follow those of such prescriptive grading criteria. Problems arise when wines are crowded out because of a low score in this one index. I’ve sampled some wines which have scored poorly on Parker’s index which appeal far more than some of the exceptionally high-scoring prestige wines I’ve tasted. This seems an obvious point but it is also one worth making.
Likewise, it is problematic that prices can be driven almost solely by the endorsement of an individual (or that individual’s stable of wine-tasters). I’ve spoken about the film Mondovino before and although I wouldn’t wish to be seen as a fan-boy (or, to be honest, a Steve-Dave), I think its central message is a valuable one: respect the pluralism and traditions of the wine world and yet be suspicious of those who would speak as its ultimate authorities. Wine has always seemed a glorious riot of individuality and quirks amidst myriad definitions and styles. I’m not against using ratings to convey an opinion on specific bottles, although I am against presenting those ratings as a verifiable truth.
