Food for Thought

[#1]

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to France to trek around some of the vineyards of Bordeaux with a bunch of other wine-curious journalists (see my earlier post Albariño Adoration). While I was struck by the incredible beauty and complexity of many of the wines I tasted there, once or twice I came upon a bottle that impressed me like a bad song: all one-note pumping bass or screechy vocals, the beauty of arrangement and subtlety lost in a desire to try to please everybody with a loud, Top 40 hit. Or, in the case of wine, to please wine critic Robert Parker, whose famous (or infamous) 100-point ratings system has become so influential that many winemakers produce products in large part to satisfy Parker's tastes.

So I phoned my colleague, the wine writer Alice Feiring, whose fantastic book The Battle for Wine and Love, or How I Saved the World From Parkerization (recently out in paperback) is part memoir, part plea for a post-Parker return to authentic wine production, part whirlwind adventure to seek the truth at vineyards throughout Europe and the U.S. What was it like to take on one of the biggest and most influential wine critics in the world, Mr. Parker himself? Alice was happy to tell me.

Amy Zavatto: The title of your book is incredibly provocative–the gloves were off. Was there ever a moment when you said to yourself, “What have I done?” Did you feel like David taking aim at Goliath with a slingshot?

Alice Feiring: Well I absolutely did feel like David taking aim at Goliath, but I was not at all nervous about that because it [the story I was telling] was bigger than Parker. The word Parkerization is a play on commercialization; I basically borrowed his [Parker's] name and hung the framework of the book on his impact on the wine world. It [the term Parkerization] really was bigger than Parker too. But I felt a little bit bad, because I know it’s hard to be talked about. Even though everyone talks about Parker, I felt a little bit embarrassed when I spoke to him that his name is in my title. But I knew I was taking on something bigger.

AZ: Did Robert Parker ever respond to the book?

AF: No, I never spoke to him again. He has talked with Forbes about my book, and, I forget exactly what he said, but he called it scandalous and that, no, he’s not going to read my book. I think if Parker did read the book he’d be very surprised that it’s not a Parker bashing. It is really about how his influence has changed and shaped wine. I fault him for only one thing: Not coming out and acknowledging his influence.

AZ: Do you think the book has had an impact?

AF: I guess in my dark hours when I think, oh, what the hell am I doing? But I’ve gotten so much email from people, from strangers, saying, ‘I had no idea why I wasn’t liking these wines. People would say, oh, this got 95 points [in Parker's famous 100-point rating system], and I’m drinking it and thinking, I don’t get it. I can’t drink it! And I was too embarrassed to say so. Then I read your book and it validated my palate.’ Those were really lovely and affirming to get.

AZ: Balance is a word people use a lot when they talk about wine. In your book you say, “I like wines that grab me with irregularity.” Tell me the difference between irregularity and a wine that’s off-balance?

AF: Balance is when tannin and acid and fruit come together and interplay. That’s very different from having a wine that is smoothed out into a sort of homogeneity. When something is off-center, it catches your attention; it has something to say. For example, I talk in the book about a friend of mine who refuses to have a nose job, and she’s beautiful. Part of her beauty is that she has this sort of off-balance nose; a bit of imperfection gives an extremely unusual and striking look that is memorable. [Certain] technology is creating wine to a certain idea of what beauty is as opposed to growing grapes of place that have something distinct to express.

AZ: Robert Parker has become a kind of lighthouse for people who don’t trust their own opinions about wine. You seemed to have a natural ability at an early age to trust yourself, even when you were green to the industry. How can unsure, timid wine drinkers learn to trust their palates?

AF: I think no matter what level of wine knowledge you have, no matter what kind of palate you have, there’s always a level of intimidation somewhere. So for example if I’m going to a BYOB and bringing wine to a gathering with people who have very deep cellars and old vintages and I just have my 300 bottles of un-temperature-controlled wines in my apartment that rarely go over $20–$25, what do I bring? I’m going to be embarrassed! I torture myself. And I don’t know anybody who doesn’t at least have that kind of moment, at some point. It’s important to know that there’s no quantitative way of looking at wine drinking. Don’t beat up on yourself; everybody’s different. The point is to learn what you like, not to like what somebody else likes.