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You’ve probably heard of wine described as well-balanced. It’s a term that is as endearing as it is seemingly meaningless. Reminiscent of repetitious dregs, it almost seems to share an essence with the term stylistically bountiful. As if wine wasn’t subjective enough, yes? It’s time to explore the the domaine of taste and this ubiquitous term, balance, which represents the hegemony that dictates quality.
A wine should be balanced - but the underlying factors preceding the word balance are undefined and soft. Let’s clear one thing up: balance is two-fold. Balance is the face-off between sugar, and acid in the glass, sure. But it’s also a war between homogeneity, and complexity. Strangely the two go hand-in-hand.
Sugar
The rich substance in a wine. This gives a wine body, fullness, and voluptuousness, in the form of the chemicals that supplant it towards the end of fermentation. Namely, glycerol, and alcohol. Glycerol gives a wine mouth-filling oiliness, and alcohol provides a wine with richness, and heat in the back-palette. The presence of sugar does not necessarily result in the creation of a sweet-wine. All wines have some sugar, as they’re the product of juice, certainly.
A sweet wine is usually the fault of residual sugar, sugar that was unable to be fermented, or was added after fermentation. Fermentation will automatically halt once a wine reaches around sixteen percent ABV, the reason for this being, alcohol begins to kill the yeast responsible for processing the sugars. Too much sugar can mean that yeast has an overabundance to process, resulting in high alcohol, and, eventually, leftover sugar.
Another way to end up with a sweet wine, is to add alcohol from grape spirits intentionally to kill the yeast before they can even finish processing the sugar. This method is called fortification, and results in sweet, high-alcohol wines like Port. But don’t just go by ABV.
The ABV labels in America are as useless as humanly possible. Actual alcohol by volume can vary glass to glass within the same bottle, and the average within a bottle can vary within 1.5% of the stated ABV. That’s because winemakers print the labels prior to fermentation, and they are based on the average ABV from the previous few vintages. Needless to say, this is not an accurate representation of the actual ABV. A better metric is a short finish. If flavor ends abruptly upon swallowing, and is replaced by heat in the throat, the alcohol is out of balance.
Here’s the complicated part: a lot of wines that American’s would call, “dry,” i.e big domineering Cabernet, and Zinfandel from California, are actually some of the sweetest non-fortified wines out there. Those lush jammy, overripe, and rich flavors are actually the easiest to drink to the underdeveloped palette, because the first flavors that we human learn to identify as small children, is sweetness.
We discussed glycerine earlier, upon the analysis of the tears of a wine. Glycerine and alcohol are inseparable non-polar substances. While alcohol brings heat, glycerine brings richness. That is, soupiness. Imagine a big bowl of warm tomato bisque. Its rich, mouth-filling, creamy, warm, and altogether wrong in the context of wine. It obliterates minerality and dispels nuance. Without any richness in red wines, you’d just end up with a sour bowl of mineral water - but again, balance is key.
As one progresses in their love for wine, so one will desire more complex flavors that are easily covered up by jammy fruitiness which is the result of an overripe crop, high alcohol and rich glycerine. In that sense, you can think of alcohol and glycerol, as the antithesis to complexity. At its worst, too much sugar leaves the drinker with a soupy mouthfeel, kool-aid complexity, and all the finish of Five O’Clock vodka.
Acidity
Rip-roaring warheads are unpleasant. Enjoying a glass of buttermilk with dinner, is unheard of. But even more egregious, is watching someone drink apple cider vinegar straight because they’re on some fad diet, and think they’re unlocking some health benefit besides heartburn. Welcome to the misunderstood world of acid.
Acid is not necessarily what causes a wine to be sour, more on that in the next section. It is, however, responsible for the mouthwatering sensation that our bodies receive when we drink a wine: the tingling in anticipation of refreshment. All wine contains acid, just as all grapes have acid in them. Some grapes have more than others. But this crucial balance can be explained in simile, as the difference between a dum-dum, and a caramel apple. There’s a reason people use green apples, you know.
Acid is required to make a wine high-quality. It refreshes us, and cleanses our palettes off - like a power washer removing sweet grape residue. Acid gives a wine lightness, and all the buoyancy of fresh linen. It exposes flavors of minerals, flowers, and aromatic fruit. But, obviously, too much can be like a bolt of lightning, turning refreshment into unpleasant bitterness, mouth-sucking sourness, and devoid lightness - like busting a paper-mate pen in your mouth.
There are several different types of acid. Grape juice, like any other fruit juice naturally contains an astringent acid called malic acid - this can be found in green apples, cranberries, raspberries, and other fruits. After fermentation, as temperatures rise, malic acid ferments into a much softer acid, called lactic acid.
This is the same acid found in milk and buttermilk, and often presents less-harsh flavors, but in white wines with less glycerin, the flavors shift and become less like orchard fruit, and more like butter, or popcorn. The acid over time then changes again as it becomes more volatile, especially with exposure to oxygen. Upon its conversion to acetic acid, the wine will exhibit more flavors of balsamic at best, and red wine vinegar at worst.
Almost all red wines have at least undergone malolactic fermentation, that is, the process of acid changing from sour malic, common in whites, to softer, butter-like acid. If a red wine finishes bitter, this could be an indication of phenolic bitterness, and residual acidity. In Amarone, a Veronese red blend made mostly of Corvina, one will notice the volatile flavors of nail polish, and red wine vinegar.
This is characteristic of raisinated grapes, that have been exposed to oxygen. This wine is first dried on straw mats, and in hanging attics, then it is made into wine. This process accomplishes two-fold - first, it brings out rich dry fruit flavors and sugars, and strengthens the acidity with aeration, and concentration of the grapes natural sugars, and acid.
All of this to say, a wine’s sugar and acid must be balanced, however complex that may be. You know if you’ve had an unbalanced wine. As explained above, too much sway in one direction, and you end up with something either too bitter and tart, or something weighty and lacking in flavor.
Old World Vs. New World
I would be remiss if I didn’t take the opportunity to talk about the new world, and the old world when it comes to wine. This characterization is a major virtue that tasters can use to identify a wine when tasting blind. Have you ever heard someone exclaim that fruits like tomatoes are from the so-called, “new-world?”
There we a lore of strange plants foreign to the European settlers found on the continents of North and South America, though many had been consumed by the native populations for thousands of years prior. One such finding was was the vast array of native grapes. The grapes from this continent were very different from their European counterparts.
In fact, they’re a totally different genus. Vitus Vinifera are the winemaking varietals native to Europe and Asia. These include essentially all of your favorites, Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Grenache. The settlers that tried to make wine from the local varietals, collectively referred to as Vitus Labrusca, “Wild Vines,” found them to contain some very… Off flavors.
Vitus Labrusca includes grapes like Niagara, Catawba, and Concord. There are multiple other genus native to the US, including Muscadine, but most professionals just use the the Labrusca moniker. The common terms used to describe the flavor of the wine made from native American grapes, is foxy, and grape-y. Foxy refers to the smell of a fur coat, or coat closet or even mothballs. Grape-y, well, most Vinifera varietals divulge flavors of other fruits, and more tart secondary and tertiary characteristics, where labrusca tends to give off strong flavors of grape Kool-aid, and lacks any secondary or tertiary characteristics.
Also notable, is that when the first settlers arrived, these grapes were strewn all over the continent - they are immune to almost every disease that plagues European grapes. They are immune to the cold, and grow just fine in the fog. They grow in all soil types, and whether cool or warm climate, they taste basically exactly the same. This means that in production, there is very little struggle for the vines, which generally means low-quality, less-complex wine.
Because of the poor quality of the native grapes, America’s original vintners, like Thomas Jefferson, began to import Bordeaux varietals, which were instantly killed by pests, variable climate and mold. It seemed at the time that America was inhospitable to the Vinifera grapes. But how could this be, when the Spanish had managed to plant a native Spanish grape called Pais across California, and parts of Mexico as monastic communion wine. It seem that America's first vintners hadn't properly vetted their american Terroir: California was the place to plant. When plantings of Vinifera became feasible in California, it was newer immigrants; refugees of the gold rush, that planted vines in the Napa Valley.
California, New Zealand, Argentina, Australia, and South Africa are all considered New World wine regions for obvious regions. One obscure driving factor in this similar characterization, though, is the lack of Vintage Variation. All of these regions have incredibly consistent climates, with little advantageous weather, and not much to report in the way of cold. This means year over year the wine bottled tastes consistent, and the yields of harvest are high, as the risk of crop loss due to pests, poor climate, or hail is very low.
The fruit is able to ripen easily, the soils are perfectly arid, and the acidity tends to be in good balance. These factors mean that these New World regions are wrought with another type of pest, and that is mass-manufacturing, and overproduction. The most indelible way to find this scourge is to look for places that will easily ripen grapes, where land is cheap, and water is sparse. Most places that produce this sort of well plonk generally irrigate and don’t want to risk mold or pests that would force them to buy more pesticides. These places, should they run into a problem with lower yield, or poor harvest, usually are more apt to chaptalize or use additives to create a consistent product.
But enough about them. Let’s focus on the purpose of all of this. There are two different worlds of wine that produce different notable characteristics. Vintage Variation is common in the old-world, that is France, Italy, Spain, Germany et al. It’s the differences in the weather, and climate year over year that can change the flavor of each vintage. Unpredictability is seen as a good thing - in good years these wines are incredible, in bad ones, perhaps one with rain towards the end of the harvest, not so much.
There is a presumption that the longer you age a wine, the better and more expensive it is. This is not necessarily the case, it is dependent on the variation in the vintage. In a year with a warmer average temperature, we call this a, “hot year,” there could be slightly over-ripened fruit, leading to richer primary characteristics, and earlier harvest, because it tool less time for the juices to ripen.
Skin and flesh ripens differently in grapes. The skins need to be exposed to the sun to turn dark, and ripen fully in a red wine, which they will do around August, and they will continue to ripen until harvest. Just because a skin is dark does not mean it’s fully ripened: a ripened grape skin will have softer tannin. It happens sometimes that the flesh of the grape, responsible for the wine itself, is sometimes ripened or contains the appropriate amount of sugar, but the skins are not anywhere close due to a number of factors.
This could be because despite high temperatures, the dog days of summer were mostly overcast, or perhaps there was some less-than-desirable canopy management on the part of the vigneron. At any rate, this can mean a vintage destined for extended aging to soften those tannins fully and make the wine more pleasant to drink. In the winemaking process, the vintner has time to make up for this problem. It will require exposing the wine slowly to oxygen - which softens tannin.
Another factor in vintage variation can be late-season rains. A good vigneron will need to be diligent in when he chooses to pick. They often, in areas prone to rain, need to wait to harvest, though the grapes are ripe. Waiting too long can result in lost crop due to cold snaps, and early season frost. One cannot pick grapes when the soil is wet, because the wine will be diluted with the excess water in the plant.
Vintage variation can be seen in a lack of rain in the early season. This is particularly terrible for warmer climate regions with variable weather. Bud break is the formation of the initial fruit, in this case, grapes. Lack of rain during the early season of bud break, typically April, can mean delayed bud break, which results in a shorter growing season, and shorter ripening season. It can also mean the water table is far lower than it should be which can parch the grapes later in the season.
Vintage variation is a desirable trait to most tasters, because it adds complexity to a wine. Periods of unrest for vines can be a good thing, and when a vintage is good, it can be miles better than one from a region with no variation. That being said, it can be a total headache for growers during the harvest. You can usually taste the complexity in a wine that comes as a result of vintage variation through one dominant factor in old-world wines.
Minerality
This factor is what wine professionals call minerality, and the term itself is pretty loaded. I will preface this discussion by saying, there are only trace amounts of minerals themselves in a wine. They usually have to do with the water content in the vineyard, but you don't actually taste them. Every few years or so, a university somewhere does a corrective case study on wines from the old-world and is unable to find any tastable minerals in the wine.
Sure, there are plenty of minerals in wine, this is due to the fact that wine is mostly water. The minerals themselves are not what tasters are tasting when they describe a wine as having minerality. According to the most recent science on this subject, they are probably tasting esters from the actual fermentation process itself. This can be due to the various yeasts on grape skins and in the vineyard that cause different flavors to crop up. It can also be due to the winemaking process, storing temperature, and all sorts of other factors, all that end up making the wine somewhat metallic, or stony, or even hard-water tasting.
Minerality itself is the flavor that most would describe as rock-like, basalt, metallic flavors that crop up on the mid-palette. But, again, the favors are not due to actual minerals in the wine, or mineralic substance, anymore than blackcurrant is responsible for its wafting aromas in a wine, or sandlewood its. Minerality then, is simply a loose descriptor, or categorical marker akin to any other wine profiling device, and can be used as such.
Now that we have reviewed the concept of balance, and the construct of the divided world, let’s compare your old world wine, to some new world examples that you may be familiar with. Below are my tasting notes for some popular new world examples. Give both wines a try, and see if you can taste any minerality, or anything that sets the Burgundy or Bordeaux examples apart from wines you’ve had before.
Meomi Pinot Noir
On the nose there are aromas of cherry candy, fresh red plum, and strawberry jam. This wine leads with non-fruit flavors of pancakes, vanilla, and chocolate. The wine is rich, and a bit soupy, with bold texture and heat that is generally uncharacteristic of this grape. The texture is buttery, somewhat drying, and the alcohol provides a noticeable heat. The acid is refreshing, but not overbearing.
Joel Gott Cabernet Sauvignon
This wine leads with fruit flavors of plum, blackcurrant, and stewed blackberry. The wine is heavy and deep purple, with rough texture. The wine has lingering flavors of chocolate, cedar, pencil lead, and smoke. The texture is beefy, somewhat sandpaper-like, and the alcohol provides a noticeable heat. The acid is refreshing, but not balanced with the richness of the wine.
Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc
On the nose there are aromas of gooseberry, kiwi, lime peel, and grass. This wine leads with tropical flavors of lychee, melon, and gas. The wine is light and slightly salted, with no bitterness. The texture is light, somewhat refreshing, and the alcohol is not noticeable. The acid is piercing, mouthwatering and sharp but not overbearing.
Manage à Trois Red Blend
On the nose there are aromas of cassis, fresh raspberry, and blackberry jam. This wine leads with non-fruit flavors of chocolate, vanilla, and almond. The wine is rich and bold with grating texture. The texture is rather rough, somewhat drying, and the alcohol provides a noticeable heat. The acid is not quite as much as desired, but not overbearing.
La Crema Chardonnay
On the nose there are aromas of cedar, pear, movie theatre butter, and mango. This wine leads with flavors of butter, oak, and banana. The wine is heavier for a white and slightly salted, with no bitterness. The texture is lager-like, somewhat refreshing, and the alcohol is noticeable. The acid is lacking, but not offensive.
The Paradox of Sweetness
Perhaps you will have also noticed the theme of words like Butter, Chocolate, Vanilla, Clove, Tobacco and Allspice too? New World wines tend to be a bit less careful in the way of aging their wines. American consumers love hearty oak flavors - and these descriptors are they! This is how oak can manifest in a wine, white or red. Heavy oakiness is one of the hallmarks of a New World Wine. Whereas Old World producers tend to use lighter French Oak, and older barrels to carefully add the desired amount of oak to their wines, the New World wines are so much fruitier, they need more oak to hamper some of their grandiose sweetness.
There's one last thing to cover here - The Paradox of Sweetness. Maybe you’ve heard someone proclaim their affections for a dry Cab before. When they describe the wine in question their affections show preference to favors of chocolate, and blackberry, and baking spices, but nothing dry. Perhaps this is you, maybe you prefer a dry Cabernet. When we are young, our palettes are adept to enjoy the sweeter things. As we grow older we get more accustomed to the taste of the savory, but this can take time.
In the case of the more modern New World Cabernets that everyone fawns over, it was once Zinfandel, and before that, Merlot, that were described as bold, and dry. Fans of Josh, J. Lohr, and Joel Gott will be astounded to learn, that in terms of overall sugar content, these wines represent the high end of sugar. These wines are often oak aged extremely thoroughly, which adds tannin, they are made from grapes that are ripened to their fullest, and in some vintages, even chaptalized to obtain the very high alcohol content. All of this to achieve rich, round, bold wines, save for their acidity and tannin. While technically dry styles, these are sugar-dense wines.
Because of the rougher and ever present tannin in Cabernet Sauvignon, and other thick-skinned grapes, the tannin dries out the palette, and sugars, having been largely fermented into glycerol, and then almost undetectable. That’s because glycerol tastes not only rich, but oily and dry. This masks the flavor of sugar, with weight.
These richer wines stylistically are a direct result of The Wine Advocate founder, Robert Parker, who would consistently score wines higher that tasted fully-ripened, and showed primary characteristics in full-force. Weight, and fruit flavors are definitely indicators of a wine’s overall sugar. Don’t let tannin and mouthfeel fool you. The blend of a wine, that is, the chemical blending properties of a wine can be deceiving.
A lot of the flavors that are more present in a wine are directly based on the chemical compound in the wine that is able to transport, them and a lot of people speculate that a wine’s body, that is its chemical makeup, and ratio of water to tannin, glycerine, glycerol, sulfur, and ethyl-alcohols are directly related to the ratio of limestone - to clay in the soil. This is perceived to be due to the plants ability to access water during bud break, a crucial time in the formation of the fruit. Vines will often store water in the fruit to access when conditions become very dry, this means a lack of glycerine in the finished wine, used to carry forward fruit flavors and weight. Though this mechanism is only speculation.
Limestone is fine draining, and porous, running water down hundreds of feet in some cases. This means that a vine needs to trench down very far to access water, oppositely clay is a mineral-rich and stores water. This means that wines made in clay soil can sometimes be weighty and uninteresting, because they’re easily able to produce fruit. This is the main way by which flavors are going to differ from smells. Remember, smell is essentially intranasal - taste is retronasal, though the nose detects both, the sense of taste is can be much more nuanced depending on what chemicals in the wine carry what flavor esters, and when those chemicals like glycerol arrive on the palette to deliver their payload of aromas. These aroma combinations are sometimes referred to simultaneously with the concept of Terroir.
Now, let’s refocus our attention back on Vincent Girardin Santenay, and La Tour de Bassan. Both of these wines are clearly going to show slightly different flavor profiles, certainly in the way of their complexity. In the Santenay, you should notice some flavors of that aforementioned minerality, maybe a little leafiness? Like the smell of Autumn? I noticed both of these in La Tour de Bessan as well. Also maybe some hints of pencil sharpener here, that were very different and interesting. There was also far fewer notes of fresh fruit, and brown sugar. More acidity makes the wine sharp, refreshing, and more focused.
Vincent Girardin Santenay is produced in soils of limestone capped ground with some red dirt and clay morsels peppered throughout the marl. There is a far higher consistency of limestone, and the water table is relatively low most of the season. What interesting flavors can you taste, and how do you think the soil affects the way this wine tastes?
La Tour de Bessan is produced in gravel soils, in an area with a high water table. The Médoc was once a swamp, drained by the Dutch. There is a good amount of clay here, but the region tends to be relatively dry for bud break. This seems to have a heavier texture, but decent minerality, still. How does it compare, in terms of richness to the Santenay?