One Step Forward, Two Steps Backwards

Regarding my constant look at the coverage of Italian wine by The Wine Spectator, it seems there is some good news and some not-so-good news. Let's start with the good.

Bruce Sanderson took over the job of writing about Italian wines for the magazine recently and from what I've seen so far (admittedly a small sample), I have to congratulate him on his views. In the November 30 edition, Sanderson rewarded the small estate of Cascina Roccalini in the town of Barbaresco with some very high scores, with the highest rating being a 93 for the winery's 2008 Barbera d'Alba.

I tasted this offering at the winery this past May, thanks to the US importer Terence Hughes, who set up my appointment after I expressed interest in trying these wines, which I had read about on his blog. I loved all the wines from Cascina Roccalini, especially this Barbera, which is an amazing wine (see the post from my other blog). The wines have great varietal purity, impeccable balance and beautiful structure. This is certainly a combination of several factors, including the viticulture of owner Paolo Veglio as well as the superb winemaking of Dante Scaglione, best known to Italian wine lovers as the former winemaker for Bruno Giacosa.

Dante Scaglione, Winemaker, Cascina Roccalini (Photo ©Tom Hyland)

As you might imagine from his previous work, Scaglione makes wines in a traditional style; that is to say, wines aged in grandi botti, large casks as opposed to the small French oak barriques. Many wine writers have joined me in my preference for traditionally aged wines from Piemonte, as they best express a sense of place instead of emphasizing a dark color or a the obvious sweet and spicy notes of small oak.

Readers of this blog know of my disdain for the previous individual who covered Italian wines at the Spectator. Suffice it to say that he clearly preferred modern wines made in an international style. Like what you want, but do your job and give credit to those vintners that continue to make wines that represent their heritage. There are just too many internationally-styled wines out there today. We all expect a different style of cuisine when we go to Italy - we don't go there to have a hamburger (or foie gras, for that matter), so is it too much to ask that producers in Italy continue to be honored for their traditional views? That they should be rewarded for making wines that are singular and not aimed at following a trend?

So thanks to Sanderson for his glowing reviews of the Cascina Roccalini wines. Maybe we will see a shift in the publication's Italian wine coverage, but I'll wait a while before I'm fully satisfied. (By the way, here is a link to Terence Hughes' blog with a mention of Sanderson's reviews. Thanks again to Terence for letting me know about these wines. Production is rather small, so the wines are only in a few markets.)



That's the good news. Now for the bad and I'll keep it brief. The Spectator has recently announced its Top 100 wines for the year, what the publication labels as the "year's most exciting wines." There are exactly nine wines from Italy that made the list.

Now while I think there should me more than nine, I won't criticize them for this; let's face it, there are impressive wines being produced in many countries these days, so they need to let their readers know about them. But it's the choice of wines that irks me. Of the nine wines, seven are from Tuscany. Seven of nine! You'd think this was the only region in Italy that produced notable wines (the other wines - one each - are from the Friuli and Veneto regions). Nothing from Piedmont? Nothing, especially given the new releases of 2006 Barolo and 2007 Barbaresco? Nothing from Sicily, Campania, Alto Adige, Lombardia or Umbria? This proves to me the lack of balanced coverage of Italian wines by the magazine.

Of the nine wines, eight are red. While I expected a significantly larger proportion of Italian reds to whites on this list, this balance is highly questionable. But even if you only have one white wine to represent Italy on your Top 100 list, you select a Pinot Grigio? This is one of the year's most "exciting" wines? Have the writer (or writers) not tried any white wines from Alto Adige or Campania recently? Or other producers from Friuli? There are dozens of impressive wines from these regions, especially from the outstanding 2009 vintage. Just to name a few producers who have made gorgeous Italian whites over the past year, I'd go with Cantina Tramin, Cantina Terlano, Elena Walch, J. Hofstatter (Alto Adige); Edi Keber, Zuani, Livio Felluga, Marco Felluga, Livon (Friuli) and finally Feudi di San Gregorio, Mastroberardino, Vadiaperti and Luigi Maffini from Campania. (One final note on this: the Pinot Grigio is from Attems, a nicely made wine, but one that is hardly exciting, especially when compared to the whites listed above. To make matters worse, the 2008 bottling is the one that made the list, even though the 2009 has been on American retail shelves for several months now, which means that the 2008 is probably gone.)

It seems as though the old administration at the magazine may have had a lot to do with this list, as a few of the wines that made the Top 100 from Italy have been represented before. Yes, there are some new entries here, but again, the list is just a dull one. Let's hope this year is the last time the publication selects such a poor representation of Italian wines. I hope that's the case, but I'm not betting on it.

Understanding Italian Wine

Vineyards in Campania

(Photo ©Tom Hyland)

An open letter to Matt Kramer at The Wine Spectator:

Dear Matt:

I just read your online post "Are You Afraid of Italian Wines?" at winespectator.com and frankly, I'm disappointed you would write such a column. You are one of the most engaging and intelligent wine writers in the country, so I don't quite understand why you wrote what you did. Was it a slow news week for you?

You mention that at a a restaurant you ordered a Pecorino Colline Pescaresi from Tiberio, while admitting that you hadn't heard of the Pecorino grape, the Colline Pescaresi zone or the producer Tiberio. Let's look at your claims. I can appreciate the fact that you weren't familiar with the Pecorino grape, as it's planted in small numbers primarily in Abruzzo and Marche. Ok, Chardonnay it's not. But you admit to enjoying the wine, calling it "dazzling stuff." Pretty nice compliment, so I'm thinking you're glad you tried this bottling. It's a nice thing when you discover something new, isn't it?

As for not being familiar with the Colline Pescaresi district, alright, join the club. It's a small district in Abruzzo, named for the Pescara province. You apparently have a problem with this designation simply because it's not a household name. Yet how many wine drinkers know where the Ben Lomond or High Valley AVAs are located in California? Should wineries in these areas not use these terms simply because they're not as famous as Napa or Sonoma?

As for not knowing Tiberio, so what? You must realize that there are thousands of artisan producers from Italy whose wines are imported into the United States. You said that you loved the wine, so now you know Tiberio and now you know about the Pecorino grape. And the next time you see a Pecorino from Colline Pescaresi, I'll bet you'll think about ordering it.

Two major things here. Yes, there are hundreds of varieties used in Italy that are seen nowhere else in the world. Thank goodness for that! Do you really want a world where we drink wines made from the same 10 or 12 varieties? I would hope not! If you don't know the variety, you can always ask your server, sommelier or manager at the restaurant. If they have decided to carry particular wines - obscure or not - you would hope they would have learned about these offerings and would have trained their staff. If that's a problem, write about that, but don't write about the fact that you never heard of the Pecorino or Biancolella grape (as you did with another wine).

Are Italian wines confusing? To some degree, yes. For some people, the names are too long and as they don't want to stumble over the pronunciation or order something they're not familiar with, they stick to the tried and true such as Pinot Grigio and Chianti. How unexciting is that? Vanilla, chocolate and strawberry will always be the best-selling flavors of ice cream, but isn't it great that you can also order pistachio almond or nutty coconut at Baskin-Robbins? Thank goodness that A-16 in San Francisco as well as hundreds of Italian restaurants in New York City, Chicago, Houston, Miami and other cities offer such a wide variety of Italian wines.

Back to my question about Italian wines being confusing. There are hundreds of tiny DOC areas that few people know about; frankly people want to know how a wine will taste and what grapes are used. Education of Italian wines in this country has not been given the same emphasis that wines from France and California have enjoyed. But does that mean the Italians have to dumb things down? How did you want Tiberio to label its Pecorino Colline Pescaresi? As Bianco d'Abruzzo? That might have been easier for you and others to understand, but what would that have told you, except for the fact that it's a white wine from Abruzzo? The best wines the world over come from specific varieties and places. I think we all learn a great deal more when we are given more information to process. You may label it as confusing, but I prefer to think of it as valuable data.

So Matt, please help your readers understand more about Italian wines. I realize that in an off-handed way, you did just that with this column, as you sang the praises of an excellent Pecorino and Biancolella. But as a respected wine writer, you should do more than complain. Write about the glories of these singular wines from the Italian peninsula. Your readers will thank you for it, believe me! If you'd like, please also pay a visit to my blog Learn Italian Wines. I think you'll enjoy it - and you might even learn a few things!

By the way, I think I'll enjoy a La Sibilla Falanghina Campi Flegrei tonight. It's a gorgeous white wine made from the Falanghina variety in the Campi Flegrei district, located a little ways out of Napoli; La Sibilla is one of the area's finest producers. But I'm guessing you already knew that!


Sincerely,
Tom Hyland

Out of Touch - Again

Serralunga d'Alba, one of Barolo's finest communes

Photo ©Tom Hyland

Wine appreciation is, at its most basic, an individual thing. What I think about one particular wine may not be in snyc with what you think. That’s fine – we can agree to disagree.

Yet along the way when wine lovers turn to someone for guidance, they want an accurate account of what certain wines have to offer. Again, you may disagree with one particular review, but for the big picture, you want the reality of the situation.

The December 15th issue of The Wine Spectator offers more evidence that James Suckling, who covers the Italian wine scene for the magazine, cannot be trusted to offer an accurate representation of that country’s wine industry.

This is nothing earth shattering, as Suckling has come up with some very strange accounts of Italian wines (more on that later), so this is just the latest in a string of faulty reports. But given the importance of this publication in many people’s eyes, it is worth reporting on.

This issue has Suckling’s take on the recently released bottlings of Barolo from the 2005 vintage. Basically, he has written that he slightly prefers this vintage to 2004. This may come as a shock to many who have had the experience of tasting a number of examples from each vintage. I am fortunate enough to taste more than 125 Barolos from every new vintage when the wines are presented for the worldwide press at the Alba Wines Exhibition, held in Alba each May, so I believe I am qualified to discuss this issue.

This year the 2005 Barolos were presented and overall, I thought the vintage was quite good, if a little uneven. As with every year, there are outstanding bottlings (Bartolo Mascarello, Francesco Rinaldi “Brunate”, e.g.), but there are not the sheer numbers of memorable wines as there were from 2004. That vintage was a classic, with excellent depth of fruit, beautifully defined structure and stunning aromatics. Many of the top bottlings of Barolo from 2004 can age for 20-25 years, in my opinion, while there are a few great bottlings that will peak at 35-40 years.

Comparing 2005, I think it is a very good vintage, as the wines have good depth of fruit and very good acidity. These are wines for the most part that will peak at 12-15 years after the vintage- a typical assessment on my part. Thus I’d give the 2005 vintage a rating of 3 stars (very good) while I awarded the 2004 vintage a rating of 5 stars or outstanding.

Others agree with me; one fellow journalist attending this event told me that the 2005 Barolos are nice wines to drink while you wait for the 2004s to come around. That’s pretty typical of what most journalists I spoke with thought of these wines – very nice, but hardly great and certainly not the equal of the 2004s.

Yet here comes Mr. Suckling professing his preference for the 2005s over the 2004s. Why? Basically he writes that the 2005s will offer more pleasure over the next decade. This is arguably true, as the wines are not as deeply concentrated, and thus are more approachable.

Yet, Suckling also writes that the 2004s will probably last longer than the 2005s when it comes to cellaring. Think about that! He admits that the 2004s will age longer, yet he prefers the 2005s. So what is he saying here? Basically he is saying that he likes more approachable wines when it comes to Barolo. Is this an accurate portrayal of what Barolo represents? Barolo is one of the world’s greatest reds, in large part, due to its aging potential as well as its ability to offer greater complexities and reveal more flavors as it ages. That’s a rare combination and one that should be prized.

For Suckling, Barolo can be a rich, powerful wine, but it can only be great if it is approachable at an early age. At least, that’s the best I can figure, given his ratings of recent Barolo vintages. His description of the 2000 vintage in Piemonte as a 100-point year (how ridiculous it is to rate a growing season on a 100-point scale?) is his most famous misrepresentation of Barolo. 2000 was a year that produced soft Barolos, ones with moderate acidity to go with the forward fruit. This easy-drinking vintage was in Suckling’s words, the “best ever” for Barolo, an absurd statement. Don’t take my word for it, ask any winemaker in Barolo about the 2000 vintage – you won’t find one who would even say that it was the best vintage in the last decade. So how can Suckling think that 2000 was the best vintage ever? (Further proof comes from tasting the wines – most are now at or nearly at peak and the fruit in many bottlings has dried out. Barolos peaking at 10-12 years of age? Hardly a description of greatness.)

You should realize that Suckling is an American living in Tuscany; it’s clear to me that he brings a California palate to Italian wines. He prefers a riper, more forward style of wine; thus a more traditionally made wine that has naturally high acidity with a subdued fruit profile is not something that he rewards with high scores. Winemakers in Piemonte call wines made in the fruit-forward style that Suckling prefers, “California Barolos”, referring for example to the wines from 1997 and 2000, two vintages Suckling lavished with high praise.

It’s easy to understand then that he is a fan of many Italian reds (especially Super Tuscans) that have little to do with the more classic approach of many Italian winemakers who respect the heritage and terroir of their land. (I could also argue that he favors wines of many of his friends in Tuscany, but I’ll save that for another day.)

Whether Suckling’s preference for forward, fruit-driven Italian wines is merely his preference or part of the requirement for any journalist at the Spectator is open to question, but let’s face it, his bias is all too obvious. Thus a classic vintage such as 2001 doesn’t get as high a rating as 2000, which is ridiculous- I don’t know how else to put it. And for 2005 to be rated as a better vintage than 2004 for Barolo, that’s more proof that long-lived Barolos aren’t what Suckling is looking for. That to me is not an honest portrayal of what Barolo is all about.

Vineyards at Verduno in the heart of the Barolo zone

Photo ©Tom Hyland

If this wasn’t bad enough, he also wrote a short piece on the 1999 Barolos and Barbarescos in this same issue. He writes that the 1999s were "never destined for greatness.” That did it for me! 1999 is an outstanding vintage as these wines offer excellent concentration as well as beautifully defined acidity, a combination winemakers – and wine drinkers – seek.

So why does Suckling believe that the 1999s are not great? According to his thinking, this wines are “lean.” Lean? The 1999s? He writes that they are not as concentrated as those from 1989, 1990, 1996 or 1997. He is arguably correct here, but does the fact that a vintage offers less depth of fruit that another mean it is not as good? What makes a Barolo or any wine great (and let me say here that the word great is overused by too many wine writers) is a combination of fruit, acidity, tannin and above all, balance. Bigger does not necessarily mean better. I have no problem with Suckling prefering the 1989, 1990 or 1996 vintage over 1999 (though I believe 1999 is far superior to 1997, as do many winemakers in Barolo), but to say that the 1999s from Barolo and Barbaresco aren’t great because they are not as intense as other vintages is futher proof of his misunderstanding of balance and structure as key roles in these wines. Callling the 1999s “lean” is like saying a 50-year old man who is 5’10” and weighs 175 pounds is lean. Compared to what, another 50-year old man of the same height who is 250 pounds? Maybe that man is overweight!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – if you look to James Suckling for advice on Italian wines, you get what you deserve.