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Recent events at another wine periodical have raised the question of the public’s attitude toward wine critics. The wave of reprisal and even revulsion against their award to a non-existent restaurant has highlighted a little-known and even less understood phenomenon: That many wine consumers harbor an uneasiness about wine criticism and hence toward wine critics, a suspicion that, unlike Caesar’s wife, not all of us are above suspicion.
In my other blog, I speculated that some of the outpouring of anger toward the wine magazine in question might be due to the feeling on the part of some that the magazine, in its vast influence, has grown arrogant. While I’m not making a judgment on that either way myself, I wish to clarify and expand that statement here by explaining my own view of the role the wine critic ought to take toward his or her job. The key word is modesty. The wine critic must be ever mindful not to take for granted whatever seeming power he possesses, for the simplest and most self-defensive of reasons: Pride goeth before a fall. The wine critic who believes his own hype will surely be brought low.
There are many reasons for a critic to be modest and humble. Surely one of the strongest is the realization — which every one of us has, or should have, deep, down inside — that we could be wrong in our assessment of any given wine. A wine critic, even the most famous in the world, could make a blunder so disastrous that it could ruin his career. I have often referred to the late Harry Waugh’s self-deprecating remark that he had not mistaken a Burgundy for a Bordeaux “since lunch.” Can you imagine if, in a public venue, Parker mistook Burgundy for Bordeaux? It would be a scandal of the greatest magnitude. And yet I would venture to say it has happened, maybe in the privacy of his tasting chamber in Monkton. I will confess here and now that it has happened to me. And since I deal more with California than Europe, I will confess I have mistaken Merlot for Zinfandel, Pinot Noir for Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon for Petite Sirah — and the other way around.
Knowing that you could blow something as fundamental as varietal identity is one reason to be modest and humble, but there is at least one other. A critic might over a period of time assign two different scores to the same wine. Granted, there could be good objective reasons for this: The 2 wines may have been stored and shipped under varying conditions. They might not have been “equalized” at the winery. And if the time period between tasting them is greater than a few months, the second wine may have undergone changes in the bottle due to aging. But there is no critic who doesn’t worry that he may simply react differently to the same wine, and therefore expose the subjective, interpretive and somewhat volatile nature of wine tasting. Knowing you might give an “85” to a wine you previously scored “94” is certainly enough to keep one humble, as is the realization that a low score can impact a small family winery’s income.
In my travels in California I keep humility constantly in mind. I try not to pretend to know more than I do, or to over-estimate my importance. To the extent anyone fusses over me, it’s embarrassing. I’m in awe of how much smarter so many people in this industry are than I am, and I never forget to remind myself how fortunate I am to have this job. Many people have told me they’re surprised to find out, when they get to know me, that I’m “real,” instead of some cardboard cutout of a serious, snobby wine critic. I like that; it’s something I consciously try to do.
Filed under: Commentary, Industry Issues
11 Responses to “On wine criticism, modesty and scandal”
Please Wait
August 25th, 2008 at 1:39:33 PM
Another reason for critics to be humble:
What they do, at its most fundamental, is to help others.
Having others respect and seek your opinion because it’s helpful for them is probably the most flattering - and humbling - aspect of all.
Not to mention the deep humilty that comes with the realization that we could devote our entire lives to the study of wine, this amazing, living thing that brings us together in our experience of it, and still never know all there is to know on the subject, or be able to ever properly convey all of the wonderful mysteries that make a great wine so great.
Cheers!
August 25th, 2008 at 2:31:10 PM
1WineDude, you said a mouthful.
August 25th, 2008 at 5:37:13 PM
I really liked your post. This is the kind of thing that the x and y generations need to hear. I think it is what a lot of potential wine enthusiasts want to hear.
I always had the highest respect for individuals like Harry Waugh, Alex Bespaloff or, still very much with us, Michael Broadbent. I think it is because they look(ed) at themselves as participants in wine, not judges of wine. Though a review or a recommendation could be drawn out of them, there was always a slight reluctance that came from modesty and an understanding of their own fallibility. The interesting thing was that their humility raised the value of their opinion to many of us. This may not be the best route to commercial success, but it is a proven attribute of the respected and the long remembered.
September 9th, 2008 at 11:56:06 AM
Blind tastings are humbling to all -modesty ensues - but they are few and far between (I’ve come to asking for a blind flight at my local just for fun). If you ever want to mess people up badly, serve 2 bottles of the same wine (back to back is particularly excruciating but not necessary- it happened to me by accident- truly no one in a group of WSET Diploma students who all brown bagged it got the mystery). As dude said -communicating one’s gustatory experience of (your)Volnay,Chambertin or Bonnes Mares is an ongoing challenge.
September 23rd, 2008 at 7:29:03 PM
[i]”The key word is modesty. The wine critic must be ever mindful not to take for granted whatever seeming power he possesses, for the simplest and most self-defensive of reasons: Pride goeth before a fall. The wine critic who believes his own hype will surely be brought low.”[/i]
Frankly, I don’t think this is possible.
Huble people don’t become critics.
It’s as simple as that.
September 23rd, 2008 at 7:54:46 PM
Pantagruel, I am not sure what “humble” people are entitled to do, if they are not able to do things that entail making judgments and expressing opinions.
September 23rd, 2008 at 9:19:12 PM
I’m talking critiquing, Steve.
There are many ways to formulate and then express opinion. To do so for publication based on brief impressions and woefully incomplete knowledge strikes me as distinctly lacking in humility.
To do so and express the opinion in a way that is intentionally misleading to the intended readership seems condescending.
Critics can be humble people, of course.
Just not when they’re critiquing.
September 23rd, 2008 at 9:28:21 PM
Pantagruel, you are correct in that there is a certain amount of confidence when someone like me reviews a wine. I am always aware that I could be wrong, or I could give a different review at another time. But it’s called judgment… Judgment is called for in every job. All I can do is to point out to readers that wine reviewing is an imperfect art. If people value it, that’s fine. If they don’t, that’s okay, too.
September 23rd, 2008 at 9:34:00 PM
“All I can do is to point out to readers that wine reviewing is an imperfect art.”
And more power to you for that.
I know it strains the bounds of politeness to log on to your website and state that “people like you” aren’t humble.
My apologies to you for that, and my heartfelt thanks that you actually tolerate “brisk” discourse on your blog.
Obviously there are degrees at work here.
A critic that goes out to visit a producer, walks the vyds, kicks around the cellar, tastes from barrel, tank, and bottle, and asks enough questions to understand the philosophies, goals, impediments, histories, plans for the future etc of the producer is far more capable of rendering an opinion that more closely conveys a picture of the winery.
Too few critics do that, unfortunately.
September 23rd, 2008 at 9:44:41 PM
Pantagruel, I am completely willing to engage. It helps to keep me sane. In a perfect world I would visit a winery or two each day, and leisurely consider its wines, taking hours to ponder and taste and let the wine change in the glass. Unfortunately, the market does not pay for such indulgence — and I have a job, as I suspect probably you do too. I continue to point this out to readers, reminding them that I restrict myself to 12 wines per day, unlike some far more famous critics who taste 5 or 10 times more.
September 23rd, 2008 at 10:06:02 PM
“I continue to point this out to readers, reminding them that I restrict myself to 12 wines per day, unlike some far more famous critics who taste 5 or 10 times more.”
Keep this up and I’m gonna have to retract my statement about wine critics not being humble.
Personally, I would love to see a writer/critic release a newsletter (either print or electronic) that is nothing but in-depth “analysis” of a limited number of producers.
Burghound does something vaguely similar from time to time, as does Gilman.
But I would love to know in detail what producers are thinking and doing.
The two books of yours I read were wonderful, really going a long way to bringing me closer to an understanding of the regions/producers involved.
It would be great to merge that type of format with critiquing. Extra points if you leave off the obligatory (and oh so contentious) point score at the end of a wine review.