This opinion piece has appeared in the latest edition of Time Out magazine.
http://www.timeoutdelhi.net/restaurants-caf%C3%A9s/features/brave-new-swirl
After getting over our old obsession with French wines, we fell in love with the New World, only to rediscover the heady liquids coming out of our own backyard
http://www.timeoutdelhi.net/restaurants-caf%C3%A9s/features/brave-new-swirl
After getting over our old obsession with French wines, we fell in love with the New World, only to rediscover the heady liquids coming out of our own backyard
By Sourish
Bhattacharyya
You can also find this article on www.timeoutdelhi.net |
Those were the days when people would proudly gift
bottom-of-the-barrel table wines from a French company named Barton &
Guestier (which, I must add, doesn’t only produce bad wine!), just because it
was French. The waiters knew only one name and it was Chateauneuf du Pape, the
name given to wines produced within the geographical appellation of the same
name in south-eastern France. It was easy to remember the wine because everyone
used its acronym CDP, though some Punjabi gents insisted on calling it papay (Arre, ek papay pila!), without
the least respect for the allusion to the first French Pope, Clement V, a great
lover of Burgundy wines, and his six successors who shepherded the faithful in
the tumultuous years of the Avignon papacy (1309-1378). Chateauneuf du Pape was
the ‘Castle of the Pope’.
The other reigning divinity of that era was Georges Duboeuf,
the man famously known as the Pope of Beaujolais, which is another prominent
geographical appellation, but wines people drank with gusto were the ones his
humongous factories mass produce for less discerning markets. People were
drinking bad wine and they were drinking it just because it was French, so much
so that if one received a vin de pays
(second from the bottom) as gift, instead of a vin de table (lowest of the low),
one considered it a major honour.
The five ‘growths’ of the 1855 Classification and the grand vin of Bordeaux, the grand cru and premier cru of Burgundy, and the many finer points of this complicated
caste system went on top of the heads of the drinking public. The handful of
oenophiles came across as a bunch of old farts with a lot of money that they
had found no female recipients for, or bored housewives who needed an
honourable way to keep themselves busy. Who had the time to figure out that Chablis
was not a grape variety but the name of the northernmost wine-making district
of Burgundy, or the patience to wait for a decade or more for one of Bordeaux’s
pricey red wines to ‘open up’ and become ‘drinkable’, or the inclination to
find out if the Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande was better than the Pichon
Longueville Baron — both are Second Growths and therefore high up in the
Bordeaux caste hierarchy.
Old World wines can confuse the hell out of ordinary mortals.
When the Europeans framed their arcane wine regulations, which require you to
be a walking wine encylopaedia to know what you’re drinking, they did not
account for the drink finding a following across the world. They merrily went
about inventing a wine argot that only insiders understood and the French
inheritance laws complicated matters further. The famous Burgundy grand cru of Clos Vougeot, as a result,
is actually 51 hectares divided into plots that belong to 80 different owners. Grand cru, incidentally, is a term
reserved only for the elite 550 hectares of vineyards in the region.
You can imagine how confusing it can get when you have some
of the finest wines of France coming with unpronounceable names of vineyards
superimposed with the names of the villages where they are located. So, when
you are served a Gevrey Chambertin, which is the name of a village (or commune)
in Burgundy, you have to know that you’re about to drink a Pinot Noir, a fruity
red wine that expresses itself best in Burgundy, though people in Oregon may
not agree with this proposition.
If that is not a shock in itself, how about trying to recall
the nine grand crus located in this historic village? And I am not even asking
you to decipher what a TBA signifies on a German wine label. It is not ‘to be
announced’, but Trockenbeerenauslese, or ‘dried berries selection’, which
signifies that the wine you are drinking is a dessert wine made with
hand-picked grapes affected by noble rot.
The New World — Argentina, Australia, Chile, New Zealand,
South Africa and the United States — has made life a lot uncomplicated. The
labels, for starters, are not like Hercule Poirot mysteries. If it’s a
Chardonnay or a Pinot Noir, a New World label says so in as many words. It
tells you all you’d want to know about the wine (grape variety, alcohol
percentage and country and region of origin) without challenging your knowledge
of French or Italian or German, or of geography. And what’s better, you can buy
a bottle of New World wine and drink it on the same day; it may get better with
age, but it’s not ‘closed’ or ‘tannic’ (in other words, undrinkable) when
young. New World styles are more welcoming, more accessible. The French may
sniff at New World wines for being “Coca-Cola”, but the world just loves them —
and now, labels such as Screaming Eagle, Harlan Estate, Opus One, Penfolds
Grange and Montes Alpha M have caught up with the heavy hitters of the Old
World.
A wine connoisseur may tell you that there’s a palpable difference
between the wines of the Napa Valley and those of the Russian River Valley
(California), or of the Barossa Valley and the Margaret River Valley
(Australia), or of Marlborough and Central Otago (New Zealand), but if you
don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Whether you like a Chardonnay or a Zinfandel, or
Anything But Chardonnay, all you need to do is go to the nearest liquor store
and pick up a bottle whose label says so. No guessing games, no riddles — and
thankfully no cork.
The embarrassment of a cork breaking as you struggle to
extricate it from the neck of a bottle is too common an experience to be repeated
in print. The possibility that your wine may be corked — out of every 100
bottles, three are likely to be contaminated by a substance released by cork — has
only solidified the argument against this closure technique that has run out
its lease. Fortunately, much of the world (with the dogged exception of France,
Italy and Spain) has switched over to screwcaps, which we all know how to
unscrew without difficulty, because the fresher, ready-to-drink winemaking
styles lend themselves to this idiot-proof form of closure.
New World wines gained a market initially only because they
were much cheaper to import, which made it easier for vendors to sell them at
competitive prices to hotels and restaurants without seriously compromising
their margins. Take the Argentine economic crisis (1999-2002). It pulled down
Malbec prices so much that the world started drinking the plump red wine from
Mendoza as if it was going out of fashion. The taste grew on the world and
soon, we realised we were on to a good thing.
Chilean wines became hot favourites in India for a similar
reason. In Maharashtra, it used to be very cheap to import and bottle wines
bought in bulk from the international market. Rajeev Samant’s Sula seized the
opportunity and used imported Chilean bulk wine to produce Satori Merlot. The
red wine clicked and created a market for Chilean wines.
In the case of Australia, though, it was aggressive marketing to enter new markets, necessitated by overproduction at home, which led to the push towards India. With the market share of French wines dropping to 39 per cent, the New World (mainly Chile and Australia), which had zero presence here at the start of the new millennium, commands a healthy 37 per cent. Italy too has made serious inroads into the Indian market, thanks to a concerted push by its state agencies, and today straddles 24 per cent of it.
In the case of Australia, though, it was aggressive marketing to enter new markets, necessitated by overproduction at home, which led to the push towards India. With the market share of French wines dropping to 39 per cent, the New World (mainly Chile and Australia), which had zero presence here at the start of the new millennium, commands a healthy 37 per cent. Italy too has made serious inroads into the Indian market, thanks to a concerted push by its state agencies, and today straddles 24 per cent of it.
The future, though, belongs to Indian wines, which has got a
new lease of life with the emergence of Fratelli as a serious player and with
more (though not necessarily better) labels coming out of Bangalore. The
quality of Indian wines has shown a remarkable improvement in the last ten
years — Fratelli’s Sette, Sula’s Dindori Shiraz and Four Seasons Barrique
Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon top my personal favourites list — and it is
unsurprisingly attracting the hip and young. The world has discovered Indian
food; it’s India’s turn now to discover Indian wine. India is wine’s newest
world.