Can terroir (and sommeliers) survive?

From the chapter: Terroir in peril

Lately I have been feeling a disturbance in the universe. The profession of sommelier has been under fire, which is not surprising. The number of working sommeliers has increased significantly since the 1970s and '80s, which leaves the trade all the more susceptible to the persistent stigma: Sommeliers are snobs, sommeliers are arrogant, sommeliers are the cause of ridiculous restaurant prices, overly tight pants and, apparently, numerous other things “wrong” with the wine and restaurant industries.

At one point I found myself taking flak for suggesting that a 2016 book, entitled Terroir and Other Myths of Winegrowing (University of California Press), is not entirely copacetic. According to the author, Mark A. Matthews, a UC Davis Professor of Viticulture, terroir is often associated with sensory qualities suggesting minerality, despite the fact that “minerals derived from rocks may represent a relatively small part of the soil’s impact on plants,” and “mineral nutrients have no established contribution to flavor” in wines. This, Matthews concludes, is one of the reasons why terroir is nothing more than a “shibboleth that establishes an in-group in a world unto itself... This isn’t wine appreciation… it is more like wine snobbery.”

The idea that there is no direct correlation between flavors in wines and minerals in soil is nothing new. We concur. The SOMM Journal (and its previous incarnation, Sommelier Journal) has published several articles explicating this very issue. Matthews errs, however, in his interpretation of the consequences of this observation. Most of us (I can’t speak for everyone) who speak often of terroir are not talking about “flavor” uptake from soil. We are simply talking about the direct influence of a place on the sensory attributes found in wines.

You know: The things that make, say, a classic Chablis taste lean, lemony and minerally, whereas a Carneros grown Chardonnay tastes fuller, fleshier, and intense in floral tropical fruit. Terroir matters... a lot. Matthews’ implication is that we “terroirists” would have everyone believe that Chablis tastes minerally because of minerals in the calcareous soil of Chablis. We don't, because that would be like saying Carneros Chardonnays taste tropical because there is papaya, mango and passionfruit growing under the ground. I’m no agronomist or professor of wine, but that doesn’t make me stupid. 

Yet somehow, the myth of sommelier imprudence persists. In one of many responses to my online objection to Matthews’ thesis, someone wrote, and I quote: “For every level headed article you write about ‘sense of place’ some jackass is writing an article about tasting dirt. Master Sommeliers insist that the ‘blood’ note is the result of iron in the soil. Which is another problem; terroir is almost completely attributed to soil... I believe that the influence of the sun, when the grape sees it and doesn’t and the resulting temperature dynamics create a huge diversity in a small area. How many somms, writers and even winemakers are open to the idea that something other than soil can be the predominant factor in ‘place’?”

Ahem... all of us? Who among us are not cognizant of the impact of much more than soil, but also topography, aspect, elevation, latitude, climate, temperature, wind, and endless other natural factors—not to mention typicité contributed by growers (choice of grapes, clones, rootstock, vine training, pruning, picking decisions, ad infinitum) and, of course, winemaker decisions—on our best and most interesting wines? 

The simplest, and still most accurate, definition of terroir is still “sense of place.” No one I know says “sense of dirt.” If some people think sommeliers do, then the trade really does need to work harder on its image.

I am more concerned, however, about the possible disappearance of terroir driven wines. If there is an element that believes it is more important for wines to express “varietal” character or competent winemaking rather than the special places they are grown, then we probably are in deep manure. Good winegrowing and winemaking is important, but you still cannot sprout a Chablis in Carneros, and vice versa. No matter how many times you blink, terroir is an elephant in the room. It is still the cause of what makes most of our finest wines taste the way they do. That fact is not going away, no matter what anyone⏤from UC Davis professors to instant wine lovers who just got through memorizing all the pictures in Wine Folly's Essential Guide⏤says.

California’s Original Grandpère (Zinfandel planted in 1869) and owner/grower Terri Harvey.

I, for one, simply cannot fathom the likes of a wine world in which a Tempier, a Mouton, a Scharzhofberger, Fiddlestix, Rued or Original Grandpère go the way of unicorns, minotaurs or Tinker Bell, although we probably need not worry about the most exalted vineyards disappearing from our reality. Consumers will make sure there is always a demand. But what could be worse is many of our lesser known yet equally terroir driven and worthy wines disappearing into giant vats of commercially branded bottlings, simply because there are not enough consumers to appreciate special attributes derived from specific places. Do you believe in magic? Damn right, I do.

We know from experience, though, that magical wines can and do disappear. Remember, not too long ago, when many of California's most distinctive old vine plantings were buried in giant vats to satisfy a market for something called White Zinfandel? Thank goodness, appreciation of old vines has since been revived. And for good reason: Old vine growths are now valued not so much because they are, well, old, but because of the distinctive qualities gleaned through their wines, which has everything to do with terroir. If not, no one would care—might as well pull them all out and make wines only from younger, cheaper, more productive vineyards, to hell with special attributes.

Terroir matters, whether you believe it exists or not. It may, in fact, be the single most important reason why sommeliers exist. Someone has to celebrate, and sell, the special vineyards and wine regions of the world!