The Ratings Game

Often when I enter a wine shop, I imagine that I have just passed through Scooby Doo’s magic curtain and been transformed back into the unknowing customer. I usually go to the first salesperson I see and ask where they keep their highly rated white Zins. This is akin to asking to see video footage of a 400-pound sumo wrestler winning the Boston Marathon. There is nothing better than the perplexed facial expression, dart of the eyes and lazy point I often receive. My ridiculous question then gives me, Chet “Maverick” McKay, the opportunity to request a fly-by on all the other sales reps. After receiving my free pass to shop, I begin perusing with the sincere hope I can make it out of there without breaking something I can’t afford. My mind seems to send false signals to many of my appendages when I am shopping for vino. I guess I get so excited being around my friends (the wine bottles) and the barley sodas (the beer) that sometimes in a fit of euphoria I knock, kick or drop something. Regardless, I was doing a little research into how consumers buy wine and trying to confirm my suspicions. Rather than go in as a blind mouse, I tend to enter the store a little more prepared than the average customer, as I have all the major wine publications at my disposal. The “Big Three” of wine are: Stevie “I’ll make your wine sell” Tanzer, Robbie “Don’t think, don’t speak, just drink what I tell you” Parker and the “Wine Dictator,” I mean “Spectator.” Shelf-talkers found in retail shops usually scream these three cats’ opinions at you. I have to give all due respect: Each of these publications offers great insights into the world of wine, and if you are a wine student they greatly increase your knowledge and ability. However, taste is as subjective as beauty, and I am out to challenge the powers that be and prove once and for all that their recommendations are worth noting but aren’t absolutes. Often I see their opinions taken as fact and the other pertinent information throughout their publications reduced to a single number. Wine, like any other intellectual field, has contrasting opinions among its elite thinkers. I wandered through the shop, bouncing from conversation to conversation. (Some call this eavesdropping but I’m calling it research.) Luckily, after only 10 minutes I found the fodder I was looking for when I stumbled into the following worn-out wine scenario. This scene constantly plays out in retail shops, restaurants and any other place wine is sold, spoken about or bartered for. I quietly moved into position, watching a novice shopper who was confused by the massive number of labels and shelf talkers lining the aisles, and once again I heard, “This wine received a 90-point rating from the ‘Wine Spectator.’” This immediately sent the consumer into buying mode and gave her the needed encouragement to accept the salesperson’s recommendation and open her purse. The salesperson failed to mention anything about the region the wine was from, the vintage, the grapes, the wine maker, the producer or even the style. What he did was continue the downward spiral of wine enjoyment by giving the consumer one frail single opinion that wasn’t even his. What about all the wines that never get rated, are they not worth trying? What about teaching the consumer how important it is to learn something about the region, the style, the winemaker or the details of how the wine was made? (See the article I wrote on owning a wine book, “Sauce,” May 2002.) Does the salesperson not realize that one person’s 90 is another person’s 79? I once overheard a wine-shop owner joke when ratings differed significantly between Parker and Tanzer that he would take several cases from the distributor and just sell the Parker rating. Smoke and mirrors. Do we have to have vindication from a rating in order to appreciate a wine? Wine is liquid art. It offers a myriad of styles, a thousand opinions and a great chance to enjoy the best artists. If you are still playing Doubting ________ (enter your name here), read the following three reviews written about just one wine: Collosorbo Brunello di Montalcino 1997, and you will quickly see that taste, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. * Stephen Tanzer: “Deep ruby with a garnet core. Opens with appealing smells of sottobosco, tobacco, wet soil and spicy cedar. Redolent of overripe fruit, primarily plum jam, and a heady mix of earthy flavors and fresh road tar. In spite of a pronounced acid bite the abundant tannins are suave, and there is an impression of density and weight. The long finish carries an aftertaste of roasted chestnuts. The acids seem slightly intrusive but the wine’s intensity and zest are nonetheless quite attractive. 91 points.” * Robert Parker: “The dark ruby/garnet colored 1997 Brunello di Montalcino boasts an intoxicating perfume of new saddle leather, cherry jam, dried Provencal herbs, and spice box. This complex, medium to full-bodied, supple-textured 1997 can be drunk early because of its fat and glycerin, but it promises to age well for 10-12 years. 90 points.” * Wine Spectator: “Rather earthy, with mushroom and berry aromas. Full-bodied, with soft tannins and a decadent aftertaste. Very funky, slightly odd. Tasted twice, with consistent notes. 3,000 cases made. 79 points. J.S.” Now go back through the reviews and do a little contrast and compare for my previously described theory to sink in. There you have it: three well-respected publications, three completely different opinions … one consumer. Quit chasing ratings and really get into wine. Learn about the regions and the winemakers and find out what makes them unique. Use ratings as a guide, not an absolute. There is so much more to see if you look past the surface.