On Wine: No one is safe from wine fashion police

We tend to think that the criterion for great wine is absolute -- that winemakers in the best wine regions of the world have figured out long ago what constitutes a great wine and set about producing them, occasionally foiled only by poor weather or an invading pestilence. We believe that winemaking in Burgundy or Bordeaux or Tuscany has changed little over the years and that newer regions such as California, Oregon and Washington are simply trying to figure it out and once they do we can expect few changes in style.

But this is simply not true.

Fact is, nobody has it figured out. Styles are changing everywhere to conform to what is perceived to be the latest fashion in wine. That's why there was a stampede to plant chardonnay when that grape became popular, then came merlot and now syrah.

Consequently, the Chianti Classico you drank 10 years ago, for example, barely resembles those made today. In virtually every major wine region in the world winemakers can be divided into "old style" or "new style" producers. Though definitions of the old style can vary from place to place, the new style inevitably means bigger, stronger, higher alcohol, new French oaked, heavily fruited wines. Though the quality of most of these wines is beyond reproach, the wines tend to be unsettlingly similar.

The industry has given a name to the style of these wines and it is "international style." Winemakers around the world are trying to make not only the best wines they can, but more importantly wines that will sell. We forget that making wine is a business and if a wine is not made in the style of the current darlings of those who fashion the trends than it may as well wear a Mr. Yuk sticker as a label.

Just who are these fashion setters anyway? They are first of all the wine press, which extols the virtues of a certain style of wine and award scores of 90 points or higher on their rating scale to the wines that conform. Collectors then fall all over each other trying to pack their cellars with these trophy wines. Then these wines become a must-have for the wine lists of the most tony restaurants. Other winemakers read the hype, taste the wines and say "If this is what gets 90 points and $100 a bottle, I can do that."

Not even Robert Mondavi, the man who set the standards if not the trends for wines in the last three decades, is immune to criticism from the wine fashion police. In a recent article in the Wine Spectator, a leading wine publication, the Mondavi winery was taken to task for, in essence, not being more like the other Napa Valley Stepford wines. Mondavi has always preached the gospel of elegance and complexity in what he considers great wines and his unwavering requisite that a truly great wine must perform well at table. In a letter to the magazine Tim Mondavi, the official winemaker, responded by saying, "I am concerned ... that while global wine quality has improved tremendously, there seems to be a current trend toward aggressively overripe, high in alcohol, overoaked wines that are designed to stand out at a huge tasting rather than fulfill the more appropriate purpose of enhancing a meal."

Closer to home, other wineries have felt the sting for not marching in lockstep with the trendsetters. Mark Newton, owner/winemaker at DiStephano winery in Woodinville, is a relative newcomer making his first cabernet in 1991. He could have easily gone over to the big side but instead made a conscious effort to make wines with finesse, bright acidity and the ability to pair well with food.

"I'm trying for an elegant, supple style," he says, "I'm going for concentration of fruit but not that big over ripe style." Sales are fine for Newton but he realizes he could sell more wine faster and for more money if he conformed to the status quo.

Myron Redford, owner/winemaker at Amity Vineyards in Oregon's Willamette Valley, always knew what kind of wines he wanted to make since he began his career in the mid-1970s.

"I wanted to respond to my grapes and to make wines that aged," he says. And for years he made some of the most respected pinot noirs in the country. But then many Oregon pinot producers began moving in a different direction.

"It was during the late 1980s that my style diverged from the Oregon mainstream," he explains, "my colleagues viewed my wines as old style and I viewed many of their wines as oaky fruit bombs." He felt that new French oak barrels were becoming overused. "I wanted people to see what pinot really tasted like," he says. "Why should [the Oregon wine] industry be based upon the attributes of certain forests in France?" He now has to work a lot harder than mainstream producers in Oregon to sell his wines but he has no regrets.

Tim Mondavi in his response to the Wine Spectator said, "I believe there is room for more than one style in California, and I applaud a diversity of styles."

If only the rest of the wine industry could feel the same way.