It is my plan to write a review on Hugh Johnson’s autobiography, A Life Uncorked, once I get done powering through it. I should say “ostensible autobiography” because Johnson seems to be incapable of avoiding just expositing on wine in general in a broad, somewhat disorganized, almost conversationally structured flow from topic to topic. Up to about the half way point we get this or that glimpse into his life, but usually as a sort of footnote to whatever topic he’s informing us on. His strong predisposition to teach, to inform, and more importantly just to talk about the drink he loves is why I in turn love him and his works and why I think all levels of wine drinker out there should seek out his books.

In his book, Johnson somewhat famously attacks the “absolutists”, most predominantly Robert Parker Jr. He says, “[Scores] have reinvented that bogeyman, the wine snob, as a more potent force. A wine snob used to be anyone who thought he knew more than you and found a way of rubbing it in. He was also, by extension, a wine bore. Your recourse was not difficult, though: it is all a question of taste. Introduce the illusion of absolutes and your tastes have to shape up.” This particular segment of his book brought it quite a bit of attention when it was first published and there were a number of salvos back and forth on this issue. His argument is an interesting one and should be noted, especially to the newly initiated. That being said, Johnson’s comments are really sermons to the devout choir—albeit funny and relevant sermons. The novitiates in this picture are still on the wrong side of the velvet curtain. They hear a scuffle, perhaps the curtain dances a bit as two bodies struggle on the other side, but they are left mystified as to the cause.  Allow me, fair reader, to part that curtain for a short period of time.

Mr. Parker’s good, if misplaced, intentions

Mr. Parker surely set out to offer more advanced readers a guide or a sort of shorthand to helpfully direct them towards wines of superior quality and craftsmanship. It was his success that ultimately put him under the bright light of criticism. If any real indictment can be made against him, it’s that he didn’t think of the ramifications of his actions if those with little to no savvy bought into his publications and his system. It should be noted, though, that there is really no indication that neophytes are Parker’s intended audience—quite the opposite, actually. His rating system, on the other hand, has done some serious harm to all levels of wine drinker, whether they are aware of it or not and whether or not Mr. Parker is aware of it.

If we look at what Mr. Parker did right or what he’s good at, we can more quickly get to the heart of the matter. I don’t think there are many that will doubt that his palate is exceptional and more importantly consistent. While his ratings system can hardly been seen as anything but absolute, if we read his ratings along with his reviews, we see a remarkable consistency of judgment.  With extended readings and tastings of our own in parallel, we quickly learn how to “read” Mr. Parker’s judgments. He has certain palate and texture preferences that we can count as constants. He will acknowledge qualities that are outside his set of preferences—a valiant, if foolish attempt at objectivity. However, for people that have not developed their own palates, these judgments can mean nothing.  In fact, Parker’s (and other absolutist wine critics’) judgments are often grafted into the neophyte’s sensibility with little to no grounding in their own real preferences. It seems a pitfall more dangerous to men than women, but I think it’s hard to overestimate its importance to a large and somewhat mystified burgeoning wine population.

There’s no room in the glass for critical dogma

The main problem here is that people think that it is a necessary part of the wine experience to be critical in the harshest sense of that word. Too often have I poured wine for people who know little to nothing only to hear back that the wine is “too dry” or “too fruity” or “too weak”. The problem here isn’t that they might be expressing their opinions. The problem is that they are scarcely aware of what having an opinion means. They have no palate experience to base their claims on. In other words they haven’t even earned the right to have an opinion. The unnecessary air of criticism around wine has caused even the very inexperienced to believe that you can’t properly taste anything without imposing a harsh and oftentimes baseless critique on the wine. This poor substitute for real personal judgment often blocks its more honest and introverted counterpart. It’s harder to have a valid and confident opinion of something than it is to simply graft a self-professed expert’s opinion onto your own.

More dangerous and exacerbating are the people (again, mainly men) who know enough to be dangerous, but who have supplanted 80% of a good wine education for a 200 word review and a pretty arbitrary number.  We have to forgive them their sins, I suppose, for they are sins of ignorance. What is more difficult to forgive is the sheer volume of pleasure that they are missing out on. Exploration, failure, and more than a little doubt are probably the healthiest things you can feed a new love of wine. These people aren’t doing anything morally wrong by supplanting their own experience for the experiences of others. They are just doing something that is so unbeneficial to themselves that one can’t help but be a bit perturbed. It’s as if you were walking behind someone on the sidewalk only to see them toss a $100 bill on the pavement thinking it’s merely a useless scrap of paper. That $100 bill has so much potential, can do so much—and so too ignoring the wine critics during your formative years can bring you a big pleasure payoff later.

A good buzz keeps the critics at bay

If you count yourself among those grasping for knowledge and a heightened and more informed quest for pleasure, there are some important exercises you really must go through before you can really learn to read these publications that make some pretty aggressive claims to objectivity. These exercises really all boil down to drinking more (there, I said it) and more importantly to paying attention to what you’re drinking, unclouded by the thoughts of others, whether they be established experts or otherwise.  I call this series “Sovereignty of the Senses” because I want readers to understand that there is never a wrong when it comes to wine drinking. There is only a right for you. It’s about the pleasure, stupid. So when exploring or trying something new, try first picking out what’s good in the wine, even if those attributes aren’t to your tastes. What’s wrong or what’s not to your tastes in a particular wine is just as important an evaluation, but you should always be trying to start out on the positive foot. Who knows, one day you may be judging the wine “too dry, but just dry enough for some” then the next you may be relishing its balance. The idea here is to try and close no doors that you may someday want to revisit.

I’ll be discussing some more concrete things you can do to keep your palate and your critical mind on an even keel in later issues, for now it’ll do for you to just keep tilting that glass. While yes, you should be critical of what you’re drinking, you should avoid at all costs becoming a critic.

• Chile. (Sauvingon Blanc, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Carmenere)
• Argentina. (Malbec, Bonarda Chardonnay)
• South Africa. (Sauvignon Blanc, Syrah/Shiraz, Malbec) I have to strongly recommend you stay away from Pinotage.
• Some Californian. This one is tough. The dominant paradigm for great cult value wines in California is that some small producer gets some nice fruit for a good price and makes a great value wine. Then, they get bought out by some mega-glom and the fruit source totally changes to the usual plonk the mega-glom pumps out on a daily basis, but the old label remains the same. In fact, in many cases, the only thing that gets bought is the label. However, it's not uncommon for other winemakers to go back to that original source and package it under their own label. These are tough to find, but usually even a better value than the first iteration.

• Languedoc. (Minervois, Corbieres, Cotes du Rousillon, Coteaux du Languedoc, Vin de Pays D’Oc) Some of the cheapest wines in France come from this region. It can be hit or miss, but the misses will rarely cost you much money.
• Rhone. (Cotes-du-Rhone, Nimes, St. Joseph, Crozes-Hermitage) Cotes-du-Rhone continues to be some of the most reliable values out of France in both red and the oft-overlooked white. Nimes is much like the Languedoc for spotty quality, though it’s a bit more reliable. St. Joseph and Crozes-Hermitage are northern Rhone’s Syrahs and it can be a bit harder to find something under $20 from these regions, but there are a lot of great values if you look and if you like thicker, smokier style Syrahs.
• Bordeaux. (Premiere Cotes du Bordeaux, Bordeaux AOC, Bordeaux Superiore, Cotes du Blaye, Entre-du-Mers, St.-Emilion)  Yes, Bordeaux can be a great source for amazing values. People often get blinded by the luminance and price of the super-premium first growths and other luxury Chateaux to see that Bordeaux makes more wine than any other appellation in France. The quality can be spotty and the wines can be hard to American palates, but there’s literally a sea of $12 Chateaux with almost identical labels out there that can represent some of the finest values a consumer can get out of France.
• Spain. (Ribero del Duero, Navarre, Bierzo, Rias Biaxes, La Mancha) The pace at which Spanish winemaking changes is dizzying even to the most astute observer. It’s important not to get too bogged down with the impossible details because Spanish wines can represent utterly amazing values. Quality can be spurious due to shrewd Spanish winemakers looking to cash in on the fad with over-produced wines, but again the costs of coming across a watery plonky wine are low. Tempranillo dominates most of Spain and most of the aforementioned regions produce it. Grenache or Garnacha is also spreading widely which makes for great drinkable reds for a great price. Albarino out of Rias Biaxes can have some serious price pitfalls, so choose wisely. Rueda is a great crisp white from Spain and usually a great value and underappreciated in the US.
• Italy. (Umbria, Chianti, Puglia, Campagnia, Veneto, Abruzzo, Sicily, some Piemonte wines) By far, Italy can be the most confusing wine country in the world. Also by far it produces the broadest range of wines. In all the confusion, many amazing values fall through the cracks. While finding good values in Italy will always be hard due to a confused appellational authority and oftentimes over-confident Italian winemakers, the rewards can be immense. I personally love the Gambero Rosso guide to Italian wines, though it’s a bit monolithic.