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Chateau de Pierron Madiran 2002 (and an existential foray on the topic of wine criticism)

This didn't quite work for me. Nothing bad about it as such, but not my
Posted 17th August 2012        
     

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This didn’t quite work for me.

Nothing bad about it as such, but not my bag. A bit tepid. Sort of spicy and fruity, but with few distinct notes coming through. All-in-all, a bit flat. Possibly “flabby” if that’s the correct use of this word in wine terms. I’d probably edge more toward shapeless, boneless, or flumped.

It made me think; people – people who review wine – when reviewing wine seem inordinately disposed to justifying anything negative they have to say. In most fields of criticism there is no such concern. I know first-hand from my time as a(n award-winning) music journalist that subjectivity is no barrier to worthwhile reading; and that objectivity is nothing: a blue camel or a white whale or what you will. It basically doesn’t exist.

But is wine-making more science than art? Is this why people bend over backwards to be “fair”, and in doing so often say very little about wines they are less than bowled-over by?

Similarly, is a bad writer (and there are plenty of them) with a decent education in wine any better placed to form an unbiased opinion on a wine than a good writer (or indeed a bad one) who knows sod-all about viticulture?

This question used to trouble me when I began professionally reviewing wines, which was part of the reason I sat the WSET exam (albeit only at the “intermediate” level). Part of the reason I won’t sit any more is that I learned nothing on the course that I couldn’t learn (and little that I hadn’t already learned) from Wikipedia. Like so many other avenues of academia, WSET seems to be essentially an exercise in formalising – and therefore limiting – knowledge, and protecting a profession with a veil of elitism composed almost entirely of jargon. And partially of one historical narrative indicating a received wisdom about what constitutes good taste.

But taste and wisdom are both ephemeral concepts.

Back to the wine.

If I concede that I drank this wine at temperatures consistently exceeding 26°C – a full 10°C above the temperature recommended on the label – does that make my opinion of it invalid?

I have a perfectly good wine thermometer thank you very much. But unless I’m worried about wasting the considerable amount of money I rarely shell out on a “special” wine (say, £20+), I’ll probably rely on woolly terms like “room temperature” and “refrigerated”. These come to mean even less when you live in a 150-year-old cottage in British summertime, it turns out.

No, I believe a wine should taste good even when drunk at the wrong temperature. Just as I believe the new Cradle of Filth album (any given “new” Cradle of Filth album) should sound just as good sat at your desk with a black coffee and a blueberry muffin on Tuesday morning as down at Slimelight on a Sunday morning after your fifth cider and black.

So, no “fair” trial for this one. Just a couple of pithy sentences and an over-abundance of scare quotes.

In the interests of trivia, this comes from Madiran, an AOC that showcases Uruguay’s signature grape – and have you ever tried signing your name with a grape? Bloody nigh-on impossible.

In the interests of encyclopedicness, I got this wine from a mixed dozen of “summer wines” from Tesco (buy here). It’s not currently available on its own, but if Tesco’s retailing strategies are honest (ha-ha), it must be worth upwards of £12, in theory. The mixed case was pretty good overall. Well, the whites were good. The rosés were so-so and the reds were hit-and-miss.

I declare this a miss.

     

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Meet the Author:
Alexander Velky
Alexander grew up on Anglesey, almost as far away from civilization as he’d have liked. He studied English at university and subsequently moved to Prague to teach it to Czech people for just long enough that he could say he’d done that. He then returned to the UK to do an MA in Professional Writing, and later moved to London by accident and worked in the music industry for a while. His interest in wine has been developing throughout. He took the WSET Intermediate exam, for which he was rewarded with a certificate and a pin badge, but he probably won't bother doing any more. He now lives in Pembrokeshire with his wife and daughter. He writes, and drinks, for a living. You can follow him on Twitter if that's how you choose to spend your time. Photograph by Léonie Keeble