Vinoculation

Dave had his first shift working back at the restaurant in Vancouver the other night having freshly completed vintage at Archery Summit in Oregon (full report pending!). I received an email with the usual banter we carry on with, which included a commentary concerning a couple who were dining at the restaurant. For anonymity, we’ll simply say that the couple ordered a very expensive, top notch French red from a classic (older) vintage. The wine was enjoyed with a fine meal and the couple left happy, leaving a generous tip.

Now, here’s the clincher: the wine was shit. Not obviously cork affected, nor suffering from any of the other tell-tale faults one looks for, but clearly not the wine it should have been. Maybe heat affected, maybe affected by that nasty cork taint that just mutes the fruit with no obvious spoilage, maybe just a dud bottle. Who knows? But, in this instance, the sommelier/waiter would have (should have) quickly acknowledged that the wine was not up to scratch and procured a replacement bottle or suggested an alternative.

Dave knows wine – he has excellent palate integrity and confidence in his abilities – so he knew immediately upon tasting the wine at the end of the night that it was not a representative bottle. His sympathies went out to the couple who paid a lot of money for this wine, who were either too embarrassed/shy to speak up and question the wine, or had no idea that what they were drinking was sub-par. The first instance is the scariest one – for the restaurant – because there is a (slim) chance that the diners were simply introverted individuals who did not wish to cause a scene and were happy tipping (based on the quality of their meal). In all likeliness, they would not return because they would be under the impression that they were served a poor bottle of wine. Truth be told, this instance is very unlikely in the States or Canada (though more likely in Australia or New Zealand).

Thus, it comes down to gross inadequacy of said diners’ ability to judge wine. Smell and taste the wine – take as long as you like – then question the wine if you’re not 100% sure that it’s fine. That’s what the waiter and/or sommelier are there for. The whole experience raises the question of wine appreciation and what I’d like to call ‘pretending’. Wine pretenders equals upper-class society that buy and drink expensive wine like its water and have absolutely no clue between Yellowtail and Grange, Bourgogne and DRC, Chardon and Dom. It’s all about image. People seen to be drinking the right stuff, at the right place, in the right company. Bah.

I know, I know, this elaborate generalisation does not encompass the entire population of well-to-do wine drinkers; many are well educated, extremely forthright in their assertions and well learned in wine culture. However, as the world population increases and more people realise more wealth, access to great wines will become more and more limited, to the extent of monopolisation if not policed. Balanced only by the integrity of growers, winemakers and negociants, will access become a thing of the past where wines are sold to the highest bidder? And why not? If a winemaker knows that his wine will double in price the moment he sells it to the first cog in the chain, then why not raise the price and keep the share of profits for himself? Rather him than some greasy, two-faced middleman who maintains honour and loyalty as he rips the winemaker off behind his back.

Enter Drew Noon. Quite possibly the most honourable winemaker in the world. Here is a man – a Master of Wine at that – who was visited by a certain Bob Parker some years ago. Parker loved the wines – they were avante garde, they were tour de force, they were full throttle – and awarded them so. This was back at the height of the Ausse Red Frenzy that had swept across North America, with the mighty greenback and promise of notoriety enslaving many a South Australian winery (as it still does), to the extent that we see the rise (and some would argue overindulgence) of boutique wineries selling super-premium wine. But I digress. What it meant for the wines of Drew Noon was astronomical prices on the secondary market; in excess of US$200/bottle. At the time, Drew was selling his wine for AU$25/bottle (circa US$18/bottle – less than 10% their equivalent price on the US market).

With demand far exceeding supply, he had a decision to make. Increase the price of his wine by 400% (and still sell out such was the magnitude of his operation) at the expense of a few disgruntled, loyal customers, or continue to sell his wine for AU$25/bottle. The decision he made is a timeless measure of the man’s integrity. He opted for the AU$25/bottle option, maintaining his prices at that level to this very day. It’s a humbling portrayal of a man’s love of his craft; the land, the lifestyle, the fruit, the heritage, the wines. It’s humbling to the extent of a man on the verge of tears. You just do not see this in the modern day world, so it comes as an incredibly emotional shock when you lay witness to what is really a miracle of character. To aptly quote Mr Parker: Kudos Mr Noon, Kudos.

So what message does one take away from this rambling of esoteric wine ingredients concocted into a luke-warm soup of broth? Two things. Firstly, know wine and enjoy wine, remembering to swallow your pride and ego – there will always be someone out there who knows more than you. Secondly, find your piece of Drew Noon, wherever it may be in this world, and hold it tight for as long as you can.