"Gimme Some Big-Ass Cab"

Several years back, I was pouring wine at a tasting in Tampa when one of the local connoisseurs approached my table, glass outstretched, and clearly stated his preferences. Granted, it was Tampa, but it seemed to me that this gentleman had perfectly summed up, in a few words, the American mania for overpowering red wine.

How did we come to this point, when only one type of wine is considered worth drinking? It’s not like we invented it: Henri Murger’s 1849 play, La Vie de Boheme, included the line “The first duty of a wine is to be red.” The sentiment was repeated many times in the century that followed. In Alec Waugh’s 1959 book In Praise of Wine, he added the qualifier “The second is to be a Burgundy,” which seems like a more reasonable proposition. Even so, we’re talking about a serious set of blinders.

Many observers feel that Robert Parker had a great deal to do with this. In his decades as America’s foremost wine critic, he was known to favor intensely concentrated, overripe red wines, which tended to get higher ratings in The Wine Advocate than their more balanced cousins. Producers began to mimic that style in the hope of receiving the magic 90+ rating. “Attention, Monsieur,” a Bordeaux châteaux owner told me once as we began a tasting, “we refuse to Parkerize our wines.” Such outliers were few and far between.

Without question, climate change has loomed large in this situation. Prior to the 1980s, the typical California Cabernet had an alcohol content of 12-12.5%, which was a global average for dry table wine. 14.5% is not unusual today, and remember that in the U.S. and Australia, a 1.5% variance is permitted; thus, your 14.5% wine could easily be 16%. There’s also the issue of label approval, which could take several weeks (ideally) or more than six (it frequently happens). Prudent winery owners are well advised to submit their labels three months in advance of bottling. Is the final blend completed at that point, and has the correct ABV (alcohol by volume) been verified, or is it a shot in the dark?

We all know that wine was originally intended to complement food. With the rise of the all-important wine media, however, more and more properties are making their wines to get ratings. A blockbuster, super-ripe Cabernet is likely to do well in a tasting, but it’s just as likely to overwhelm any food you attempt to pair with it. There’s also the question of aging. Virtually every professional review of a new vintage will include an estimate of the wine’s plateau of maturity, which at best is an educated guess. Contrary to the conventional thinking in Tampa and elsewhere, high alcohol and low acidity may make wine more pleasurable in the short term, but those bottles seldom age well. A good recipe for long life in a red wine is the crucial balance between alcohol, acidity and tannin.

What has gotten lost in all of this, sadly, is an appreciation of the nuances of high-quality white wine. In many dining situations, a glass of generic Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio is the opening quaff prior to selecting a big red. Tasting menus have played a big part in cementing this process, even when a diner chooses the sommelier’s wine pairings to accompany each course. It’s taken for granted that the main course will be red meat, and that you’ll want a glass of a blockbuster Cab to go with that. The assumption often carries over into a la carte dining.

In many contemporary restaurants, it’s becoming harder and harder to find wine that doesn’t hail from a New World region. Sommeliers are also becoming scarcer, except in luxury dining destinations. Often, your server hasn’t tasted many of the selections on the list and isn’t going to be much help. Even worse, the most popular Burgundies in average restaurants come from négociants, and everyone’s favorite Bordeaux is the one they can pronounce without embarrassment (ever wonder why you see Château Greysac all over the place?).

Some people believe that imbibing a cocktail before dinner dulls the taste buds for any wine that may come later (there’s no scientific evidence to back this up, as far as I know). But what about tannin? If you don’t believe tannin impairs the palate, attend a tasting of a dozen or more young Cabs; afterward, your mouth will feel like it’s covered in fine gauze. At omnibus tastings in Bordeaux, it’s common practice to place slices of roast beef on the tongues of participants, to revive their taste buds.

If you like wine, I’m guessing that there’s some aesthetic element that appeals to you beyond alcohol, some appreciation of art or craft. After all, you can get drunk much quicker on vodka. So why restrict yourself to one grape variety produced in a specific way? Why not try some Grand Cru white Burgundy, some of the amazing single vineyard Chardonnays produced by Ted Lemon at Littorai, a bottle of older vintage Champagne, or Château La Mission Haut-Brion Blanc? They’re not cheap, but neither are Harlan Estate nor Screaming Eagle. The worst thing that can happen is that you broaden your horizons. Fair warning.