jamie goode's wine blog

Monday, April 24, 2006

Spent this evening working on a piece for Harpers on lanuage and wine. It's got me thinking, in particular about two questions. What is the most appropriate way to describe our perception of wine? And does our language for wine shape our perceptions?

Think about these questions as you read the following tasting notes:

Dark fruits and oak spices can be discerned in the aromatics of the 1998 Clos de Vougeot Le Grand Maupertui. Medium- to full-bodied, dense, and concentrated it is a fat, fruit-dominated wine. Blackberries, cherries, and loads of spices cover up this wines structured character… Smoked bacon, juniper berries, candle wax, and cherries can be found in the nose of the medium to dark ruby-coloured 1999 Clos de Vougeot Le Grand Maupertui. This full-bodied, chewy-textured, highly-extracted wine is crammed with toast, blackberry syrup, Asian spices, and bacon. It is intense, plush and delineated and has outstanding depth.
Pierre Rovani, talking about the wines of Anne Gros in Parker’s Wine Buyer’s Guide, sixth edition


More reserved on the nose than most of the Ambroise wines, but also with exciting glimpses of what is hidden under the cloak. A slightly roasted, nutty scent, but not in the least dried out or too warm. On the palate there is even a coolness to the fruit, the elegance and freshness of which is even better preserved than in the Clos Vougeot. But there is at once more breadth, depth, richness and sustain. Harmonious all the way through the long finish. The sheer scale is slightly daunting, but the phenolic phalanx is marching in step, with its spears pointing in the right way, protecting rather than threatening the fruit. Regal wine, at the beginning of a long reign. Neil Beckett’s note on Bertrand Amboise Corton-Le Rognet Grand Cru 2003 in issue 5 of The World of Fine Wine


A total whore of a wine (I mean that in a good sense) is the 2002 Grenache Old Vine. Made from 69-year-old vines planted in sandy soils, aged in a combination of new and old French and American wood, and cropped at 1.5 tons of fruit per acre, the vintage’s cool drought conditions have resulted in a magnificent wine that represents the nectar of Grenache. Dense ruby/purple-colored with spectacular concentration in addition to sweet blackberry, kirsch, raspberry, pepper, and flower characteristics, this magnificently concentrated, full-bodied 2002 takes Barossa Grenache to new heights.
Robert Parker commenting on a wine from new Barossa superstar Troy Kalleske

Clear fresh cherry red. Nose tight but sweet and ripe. Lean and nutty, then more almond-like, growing in potency and finishing long.
Hugh Johnson on Domaine Amiot-Servelle’s 2000 Chambolle-Musigny Les Amoureuses, in The World of Fine Wine issue 3

A dark glowing colour followed by a thick, warm burr of blackberry fruits, like the embrace of a tropical night. The palate is dominated by plunging exotic blackberry richness, thick and almost pippy, its exuberance and sheer presence a testament to the solar wealth of 2003. This ample fruit is held impressively in balance as the palate unfolds, and nothing obtrudes or disconcerts; it all tapers away to a lively, breath-freshening finish. Magnificent, enduring wine.
Andrew Jefford describes Ligier-Belair’s 2003 La Romanée in The World of Fine Wine issue 5



I'll leave you to form your own opinions, merely noting that these notes reflect a range of different strategies in capturing sensory perception in words. To fuel me in my labour, I've been accompanied by Ricasoli's Brolio Chianti Classico 2003. It is a robust, structured, savoury sort of red wine with plenty of fruit, but the dominant feature is the muscular tannic structure. It's a bit like a middle aged guy who has worked out heavily in the gym and gone running four times a week - the muscles are well defined, but they are all sinewy and the veins are showing. This wine lacks the easy going, plumpish muscularity of youth - instead we have a rather tough, drying sort of structure, which allied to the high-ish acid makes this the sort of wine that's authentic and enjoyable, but only really with food. I'm quite enjoying it, albeit in a mouth puckering sort of way. Reasonably serious. (Sainsbury £10.99)

7 Comments:

At 12:06 AM, Blogger Trish said...

Looking forward to reading the Harper's piece.

 
At 3:04 AM, Blogger Matt said...

I hope your piece is riddled with structured testosterone yet bracketed by a whiff of dainty.
There is a lot of fun to be had on this topic even more so because it drifts into the realm of literary/linguistic criticism. Fun indeed. Keep it up - I think this may be a new wine enjoyment appreciation route...one I'm excited to float down.
Matt

 
At 8:41 AM, Blogger Edward said...

Jamie,

Of all the 4 tasting notes included, all could be reduced, condensed and dare I say improved, other than Hugh's note.

if you are interested look at this link:

http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/001005.html

 
At 8:44 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Interestingly, the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan maintained that only on entry into language do we become conscious, and that consequently our perceptions (of the world in general) are shaped by the language we use-we only know what 'love' is because of the word. I've often thought this had ramifications in relation to wine. If you have never heard of a star fruit, the chances of you finding a wine that smells like it are obviously slim. One might wonder, though, to what extent knowledge of the smells of such things influences the descriptions of wines, or whether knowing the word automatically constitutes the impression that one knows the smell associated with the fruit. That you have to have smelt it seems logical, but the unscrupulous might not put this theory into practice...

 
At 9:24 AM, Blogger Jamie said...

Edward, for some reason the link has been cut off - what the missing bit of the URL?

Anon - so if Lacan's thesis is correct, we would find that feral children (brought up without language) would not have consciousness.

An extension of his thesis would perhaps be that the different nature of various languages would subtly shape the nature of one's conscious representation of the world. A language with different structure to english, for example, would change the world view of one who grew up with it.

I'm not so comfortable with his ideas in their entirety: I don't subscribe to the tabula rasa view of the infant mind - I'm more taken by Fodor's modular mind ideas.

 
At 9:25 AM, Blogger Jamie said...

Trish and Matt, thank you for your comments. It's a fun subject.

 
At 10:04 AM, Blogger Edward said...

Jamie,

Try this:

http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/
~myl/languagelog/archives/
001005.html

It is all one line and without breaks. For some reason known only to Blooger I am sure, if I put it all on one line - bits go missing as before.

If you get stuck, I put the link on my blog.

Cheers,

Edward

 

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