After I recently recommended a New Zealand sauvignon blanc here, a reader emailed me to say he had tried and disliked the wine. He said it smelled like asparagus.
I replied that the wine was supposed to smell that way, and that it was consistent with sauvignon blanc from that southern-hemisphere, two-island nation.
Not every wine I recommend will be appreciated by every reader, but I was amused that this complainant might have wanted a bland wine. A lot of Americans like blandness. I prefer distinctiveness.
It’s not easy defending myself when I know I’m right—and I have many readers who understand and appreciate what I said. If a defense were necessary, I would use the old Latin phrase, “De gustibus non est disputandum”—regarding matters of taste, there is no debate.
You like sauerkraut. I don’t. Neither one of us is right nor wrong.
Still, with wine and many other things, there is a standard of quality. Take music: I think the worst of Mozart is better than the best polka on an accordion.
Yet, some people love polka and hate Mozart.
With wine, a similar case can be made. The email complainer’s asparagus is the NZ-SB lover’s gooseberry or grass clippings. New Zealand sauvignon blanc should smell this way.
Without it, the wine would not be an authentic sauvignon blanc. It makes the wine authentic because it has the expected varietal character. It is the aroma most associated with sauvignon blanc. At its best, it smells a bit like new mown hay.
Zinfandel has a strawberry/raspberry/cherry aroma with a spice note; gewurztraminer is like carnations, gardenias, and lichee nuts.
Some grapes (like chardonnay and pinot gris) are not blessed with assertive aromas. Some grapes, like the native American grape concord, are quite assertive—almost pungent. That concord smell is found in many jellies and jams.
Pepper is commonly smelled in cold-climate-grown syrah.
So, although someone may like assertive aromas, others may prefer blander versions.
Will you find varietal intensity in most California wines? No, not anymore. It is the saddest part of the tale. Blandness is more common today than ever.
It reminds me of how much flavoring is routinely used here in coffee drinks bought at popular coffee outlets. A lot of people ask for 10 pumps of hazelnut syrup.
The coffee then smells more like hazelnut than it does coffee. It’s what they prefer. I have no problem with people liking their drinks that way. I like my coffee to smell like coffee.
And I like my sauvignon blanc to smell like sauvignon blanc.
The failure of a lot of Americans to understand and/or appreciate varietal character in wine has infected even some of the most vocal and visible wine critics, some of whom decry distinctiveness.
The result over the last 30 years has been a lot more bland wine than I have ever seen. It may take a generation for this trend to reverse itself. Meanwhile, those who like distinctiveness in wine seem to be buying more wine from overseas. About 37 percent of the wine sold in the United States last year was an import, a record, up from 32 percent a decade ago.
European wines tend to be more distinctive than domestic. There is a message here. Is anyone listening?
