Book & Film Reviews

At one time, the Soviet Union was the fourth-largest wine producer in the world, but by the 1990s, production in the successor republics had dwindled. In this trajectory, there are some parallels with Algeria. But the crucial difference was that while Algerian wines were always oriented to the French market, Russian/Soviet wines were largely based on French varietals but were geared almost entirely to an undis- cerning domestic market. As Stephen Bittner demonstrates in this new book, this reality proved to be the Achilles heel for those who aspired to build an industry pre- mised on quality and some conception of terroir.

There has long been a need for a book (or article) that would properly address the history of Russian/Soviet wine and describe it in an international context. This study more than delivers. In an understated way, Bittner deftly guides the reader through a number of thematic issues while paying close attention to changing dynamics over time. The book devotes considerable space to viticulture and oenology, including a fascinating account of the Russian response to phylloxera. It also addresses the chang- ing face of production, distribution, and consumption in the decades after the Revolution.

A second viewing of Mondovino (Lima and Schroder, 2009) and an obituary in the New York Times (Asimov, 2021) piqued our interest in the man behind the Judgement of Paris. That famous 1976 Paris wine tasting (which has been analyzed and reviewed in this Journal1) brought sudden, surprising attention to Californian wines, and for the first time demystified the French grandes maisons and their alleged superiority. Understandably, this single event is thoroughly unpacked in the longest and most absorbing chapter of the book. From its genesis and the difficulty of finding worthy American wines in 1970s Paris for an Independence Day tasting with some pomp, through to its aftermath, Spurrier insists that Patricia Gallagher take equal credit for the event.

If you are a certifiable wine geek, with multiple volumes by Jancis Robinson and Robert Parker lining your bookshelves, back issues of The Wine Advocate filed chro- nologically in binders, and a cellar-tracking spreadsheet occupying space on your hard drive, you can probably do without the latest edition of the Pocket Wine Book. But if you are someone with a healthy interest in food and wine—either a neo- phyte beginning to discover the joys of the grape or a curious but less-than-fully obsessed oenophile—you will benefit from owning a copy.

First published in 1977, the 2022 version follows the same format as its predeces- sors. You will need a rather large pocket to accommodate the book at this point, as this once-slim volume has swelled to more than 300 pages of very small print. Its cre- ator, Hugh Johnson, has turned the editorial reins over to experienced wine writer Margaret Rand, and 2022 marks the first edition produced entirely under her direc- tion. The general approach and overall structure of the book remain unchanged, how- ever, and Johnson’s guiding philosophy—that wine should be enjoyed as much as studied—remains intact.

As in past years, the book begins with a quick recap of “The Year in Wine,” noting the chief events and characteristics of the most recent vintage (2020 in this edition). Rand and Johnson each contribute brief introductory essays and spotlight “Ten Wines to Try for 2022.” Next comes a succinct summary of the principal grape vari- eties and a section offering advice for pairing wine and food.

The bulk of the Pocket Wine Book is a survey of the world’s wines by country or region, containing brief entries on principal styles, varietals, and noteworthy produc- ers. No single volume could include every significant winemaker, of course, but the number of wines and wineries cataloged here is still impressive. A simple notation system gives the reader plenty of useful information about each wine, including which vintages were especially successful for a given property, which years are now deemed ready for drinking, and which wines provide good value within a given price range. Openly dismissing the 100-point rating system used by Robert Parker and others—a decision one can only applaud—the Pocket Wine Book rates each wine from 1 star (“plain, everyday quality”) to 4 stars (“outstanding, compelling”). The rankings reflect the contributors’ preference for balance, freshness, and unique- ness over power, extraction, or oak, in line with current wine-making trends.

France still receives the greatest attention in this edition, with 61 pages devoted to its wines (plus a separate 22 pages on Bordeaux). Italy ranks second (31 pages) and the United States comes in third (29). Even so, the book’s 32 far-flung contributors have made an admirable effort to keep track of what is happening nearly everywhere fine wine is grown. If you are ever dining in Malta and find yourself confronted by a cellar list of local producers, the Pocket Wine Book would be your friend. Rand ends the volume with a bracing essay on “the ten best things about wine right now,” and her upbeat assessment may encourage you to reach for your corkscrew and pour a glass in celebration.

For some readers, the most useful section of the book will be its recommendations for matching wine with a wide range of foods. Based on a lifetime of sipping and tast- ing, Johnson’s opinions are firm but not dogmatic (apart from a stern warning that “watercress makes every wine on earth taste revolting” (p. 34). Even if my own tastes occasionally diverge from his, I have found his advice to be sound across a wide range of main ingredients, cuisines, herbs, spices, and cheeses. Above all, Johnson wants the marriage of food and wine to be free from anxiety. As Johnson wrote in the 2021 edition:“Matching wine and food matters, but don’t get hung up on it.”

That pragmatic, hedonic philosophy neatly captures the book’s enduring appeal. Some writers make appreciating wine seem like hard work; Johnson and now Rand remind us that it is fundamentally about pleasure. Knowing more about the wines we drink, when to pull the cork, and how to pair them with food enhances our enjoy- ment, and being able to allocate one’s wine budget intelligently is a useful skill. The Pocket Wine Guide can help you do all of these things, which is why I have ordered a copy for my two millennial children. I cannot think of a better endorsement than that.

Reference

Johnson, H. (2021). Hugh Johnson’s Pocket Wine Book 2021. London: Mitchell Beazley and Octopus Publishing.

Nature is full of color, vibrancy, and biodiversity; and so, too, should it be with natural wine. In her newly expanded and updated third edition of Natural Wine: An Introduction to Organic and Biodynamic Wines Made Naturally (2020), Isabelle Legeron argues that natural wines are made with conviction and promote a philosophy of love for the land that can, and should, affect the entire wine industry. To make her case, Legeron acknowledges that natural wine is not new; in fact, she states, it is what wine has always been. And across the three distinct parts of her impressive work, she asserts the benefits, qualities, and authenticity of making wine just as nature intended.

In the Introduction, Legeron writes that her book is “a tribute to those wines that are not only farmed well, but also fly in the face of modern winemaking practices, remaining natural at all odds” (p. 6). Brimming with photographs and scientific studies throughout her writing, Legeron interlaces her well-researched perspective with vivid illustrations and rational evidence, pointing out that while the agriculture behind creating organic and biodynamic wines may look untamed and untidy, natural wines require careful attention and precision from those producing them. This native, wild approach to viti- culture is exactly how Legeron believes winemaking should be. After all, “We are not separate from our environment and even less so from what we eat and drink” (p. 11).

Following the Introduction, Part 1 of the book, “What is Natural Wine?,” is broken into five sections, each with their own sub-sections to explore the question: Is there such a thing as natural wine; and, if so, what is it? Legeron purports, “Natural wine is literally living wine from living soil” (p. 92); and from the vineyard to the cellar, she takes her reader on a nearly 100-page viticultural and vinicultural journey through the production of natural wine.

In the first segment of Part 1, “The Vineyard,” Legeron examines viticulture across three distinct areas: “Living Soils,” “Natural Farming,” and “Understanding Terroir.” In “Living Soils,” Legeron explains that because there is no worldwide legal certifica- tion, one of the challenges in discussing natural wine is in defining it to clarify the difference between natural and organic winemaking. Natural wine “is wine from vine- yards that are farmed organically, at the very least, and which is produced without add- ing or removing anything during vinification, apart from a dash of sulfites at most at bottling” (p. 23). And the first step in producing such a wine is found at the ground level—in the living soils of the vineyard, teeming with biodiversity and microorganisms that are essential for proper plant and vine nutrition that creates natural wines.

In “Natural Farming,” Legeron defines the distinction between organic, biody- namic, and permaculture approaches. Whereas organic viticulture aims to eschew man-made, synthetic chemicals like pesticides and fertilizers in the vineyard, biody- namic agriculture emphasizes a holistic, astronomical approach to farming that con- siders the moon’s gravity and ocean tides to inform when to prune vines and bottle wines. “Life on Earth,” Legeron notes, “is fundamentally affected by these large exter- nal factors – and biodynamics takes this into account” (p. 35). A third approach, known as permanent sustainable agriculture, or permaculture, incorporates self- sustaining and self-sufficient systems into farming. Permaculture, explains Legeron, encapsulates the idea that “we should farm in such a way that we enrich our environ- ments both for ourselves and for all life that depends on that place” (p. 37). Whether named organic, biodynamic, or permaculture, “clean” farming, says Legeron, will have a positive environmental impact now and for future generations to come.

In “Understanding Terroir,” Legeron notes that terroir is derived from the French word for earth and refers to a sense of place. She continues to say that terroir high- lights the unique combination of factors—for example, a distinct year and a specific location—that creates flavors that are irreproducible elsewhere. As an agricultural prod- uct, wine is “created by living organisms in a particular place at a particular moment. It is the product of life forms, the sum of which is terroir. And, without them, terroir can- not be expressed” (p. 43). Due to their more traditional production, natural wines, notes the author, are specially equipped to express the finer elements of terroir.

In the second segment of Part 1, “The Cellar,” Legeron examines viniculture across four subjects: “Living Wine,” “Processing and Additives,” “Fermentation,” and “Sulfites in Wine.” Citing numerous studies exploring the microbiology of wine, in “Living Wine,” Legeron relies upon science to support the notion that bacteria found in natural winemaking have a positive impact on the taste and longevity of natural wine. In both “Processing and Additives” and “Fermentation,” Legeron notes factors that set natural wine apart from its competitors. She states, “Wine is one of those rare drinks made from a primary material – grapes – that naturally con- tains everything the wine needs to exist … anything else should be regarded as an extra” (p. 55). And in “Sulfites in Wine,” Legeron writes that sulfites, a common winemaking additive, are a defining characteristic and perhaps even a hallmark of natural wine in that little to none are added during natural wine production.

In the third, fourth, and fifth segments of Part 1 of the book, Legeron briefly inves- tigates the reputation of natural wine across three topics: “Taste,” “Misconceptions,” and “Health.” Legeron believes the cultivation behind natural winemaking, described in detail throughout the previous pages of her book, results in a lighter, more ethereal final product. “The proximity to and link with the actual, physical earth means that natural wines have a far greater array of textures than conventional wines” (p. 75). And while natural wine is not immune to potential flaws, Legeron is clear to debunk misconceptions about so-called faults in the stability of natural wine. While few stud- ies have been conducted that investigate the effects of wine on health, Legeron states: “Simply put, natural wine contains far less artificial ‘stuff.’ For this reason, it’s hardly surprising that it might be better for you” (p. 84).

In the “Who” section, Legeron recounts many personal stories and family histories from artisans to outsiders (even a Druid!) who were fundamental in the origins of the natural wine movement. “Natural growers,” Legeron claims, “don’t make wine to a formula or for a market. Instead, what they share is the pursuit of excellence” (p. 105). In the “Where and When” section, Legeron discusses grower associations and wine fairs, including her own festival, RAW WINE, which is the only artisan wine fair in the world that “requires full disclosure from growers regarding any addi- tives or interventions used during winemaking” (p. 122). She wraps up this part of her book with suggestions for trying and buying natural wine, which include loca- tions and merchants from her extended travels.

Finally, in Part 3, “The Natural Wine Cellar,” Legeron devotes over 70 pages to the creation of a rich index of global natural wine producers to help the reader discover natural wines. This mini-guide, replete with tasting notes on aroma, texture, and fla- vor across light-, medium-, and full-bodied wines, offers descriptions of the types of wine available in six different categories: sparkling, white, orange, rosé, red, and off- dry/sweet. Referred to by Legeron as a “do-it-yourself starter-kit” (p. 132), this wine selection adheres to her methodology for making natural wine: farms must use natural approaches and there must be no additives used during winemaking, with the possible exemption of minimal sulfites (which she is clear to detail in her tasting notes). While not exhaustive, this section of the book provides a rich background and vivid explanations of natural wine across varieties from across the globe and concludes with an international list of recommended wine growers.

In this well-executed, thoroughly researched, and beautifully photographed book, Legeron has compiled a necessary companion for any person with an interest in agri- culture and wine production. And while this informed work is certainly intriguing upon first read, with its litany of sources, including global case studies and numerous quotes from experts, it also serves the interested reader as a reference to return to again and again. Backed with scientific evidence, Natural Wine: An Introduction to Organic and Biodynamic Wines Made Naturally makes the case that natural wines can carry profound appeal to people across the globe. “For me,” asserts Legeron, “only natural wine can be truly great” (p. 6).

As evidenced by I Taste Red: The Science of Tasting Wine (Goode, 2016), Flawless: Understanding Faults in Wine (Goode, 2018), and now the third edition of The Science of Wine from Vine to Glass, Jamie Goode is a master author of wine books that occupy the space between popular and technical expositions. “This is not meant to be a textbook, covering the whole of wine science in a methodical manner. … I have set out to tell wine science stories in a way that would engage people who are not overly scientifically literate” (p. 7), he assures us. While this is generally the case, he cannot help exposing his Ph.D. in plant biology along with his command of chemistry throughout this important volume. Nevertheless, the acclaimed blogger and wine writer successfully accommodates the less knowledgeable through his engaging style while offering insights and opinions that should appeal to the more informed reader.

The first and second editions of The Science of Wine appeared in 2005 and 2014. Regarding the latest edition, “Overall around half the book is new” (p. 7), Goode tells us. The material covered in his two books mentioned previously is included in an abridged form.

Section 1, In the Vineyard, contains seven chapters covering the biology of the grapevine, terroir, soils and vines, climate, and caring for vines. Section 2, In the Winery, comprises 12 chapters including such topics as microorganisms, flavor chemistry, phenolics, extraction and maceration, sulfur dioxide, wine faults, élevage, sweet wines, and differences among tasters. Color photographs are sprinkled through- out. A seven-page glossary defines many important terms, occasionally in more depth than in the main text. An otherwise helpful seven-page index suffers from inconsis- tent indentation due to entries being listed in four narrow columns, resulting in some confusion as to which subentry is associated with which main entry. Surprisingly, there is neither a bibliography nor a reference section.

In addition to displaying considerable proficiency himself, Goode incorporates quotations and examples gleaned during interviews with or from papers by an array of international experts, most of whom are on the frontlines of research or prac- tice, to illustrate and reinforce points. The lack of dates left me wondering about the currency of the information, particularly important since knowledge is rapidly advancing. The absence of citations in the literature leaves the reader without a way of delving deeper into a topic. In any case, I certainly learned a lot and appreciate Goode’s erudition, thoroughness, and readability. I also applaud him for taking posi- tions, even when I do not agree with them.

Chapter 2, “Terroir: how do soils and climate shape wines?” contrasts insights from Australian winemaker, Jeffrey Gosset (“I don’t see winemaking as part of terroir but rather that poor winemaking can interfere with its expression and good winemaking can allow pure expression.” (p. 27)) with anti-terroirist California winemaker Sean Thackery (“My objection is simply that [terroir is] so ruthlessly misused… It’s very true that fruit grown in different places taste different. In fact, it’s a banality, so why exactly all this excess insis- tence?” (p. 29)). Whether one can actually taste the soil in wine is one of the most fasci- nating issues tackled. Goode weighs in: “As a scientist who has a working knowledge of plant physiology, I find this notion, which I call the ‘literalist’ theory of terroir, implausi- ble” (p. 30). This perspective is reinforced by viticulturist Richard Smart and Professor Jean-Claude Davidian of the École Nationale Supérieure d’Agronomique, but a fuller con- sideration of the subject is given in the next chapter.

In Chapter 3, “Soils and vines,” Goode considers the question, “How is it that soils seem to be so important for the wine quality, when science indicates that they are only playing a limited role in influencing the flavor of grapes?” (p. 39). He mentions a 2011 paper, sans citation, by Claire Chenu et al. on the role of microorganisms, a hot topic that is bringing us closer to understanding what actually gets into the vine and grapes that affect the flavor of the wine. One wonders why more recent work is not discussed. Inevitably, the term “minerality” emerges. While calling it “a really useful descrip- tor” (p. 50), Goode acknowledges that “it’s also a term that means different things to different people” (p. 50), begging the question: what does he mean by useful? He quotes a couple of wine writers who claim that the term did not appear until some- time in the 1980s or later. As I have previously noted (Hulkower, 2019), I used “min- erally finish” in a tasting note in 1976, a term that I must have picked up from somewhere. The subsections on “How Experts Use the Term,” “Taking Minerality Literally,” “Reduction as Minerality,” and “The Taste of Terroir” offer additional insights to those that I gained from the work of Alex Maltman (Maltman, 2018) and Parr et al. (2018), neither of which are mentioned. In a victory of his right brain over his left, Goode admits, “I used to favor the more established scientific view- point, assuming that volatile sulfur compounds could explain much of minerality. But I’m increasingly drawn to the idea that minerals in wine, derived from soil, could be affecting wine flavor in interesting ways…” (p. 54). We will see.

Chapter 8, “Yeasts and bacteria,” contains the best overview of the role of these microbes I have seen. Topics include cultured and spontaneous fermentations, wild yeasts versus cultured yeasts, and seemingly oxymoronic cultured wild yeasts. The table on page 110 relates classes of compounds produced by yeasts with their impact on flavor. The subsection, “Malolactic Fermentation,” is especially good.
Goode largely maintains accessibility for nontechnical readers by defining terms and acronyms along the way and employing his well-honed conversational writing style. He does tend to repeat himself frequently, which on the surface might seem unnecessary, but on reflection can be helpful in keeping important points at the fore- front. But then there is this from Chapter 9, “Wine flavor chemistry” that will surely bring nods of recognition from chem-nerds of a feather: “…Marlborough Sauvignon shows quite high levels of methoxypyrazines. These are a group of compounds includ- ing 2-methoxy-3-isobutylpyrazine (MIBP; known widely as isobutyl methoxypyrazine [though not by me]), 2-methoxy-3-isopropylopyrazine (MIPP; known as isopropyl methoxypyrazine), and 2-methoxy-3-secbutylpyrazine (MSBP; known as sec-butyl methoxypyrazine)” (p. 134). Thankfully, these outbursts are few in number and can be scanned or skipped without losing the gist of the discussion. Goode shines in Chapter 10, “Phenolics,” in which he tackles the “fiendishly complicated topic [,] …one where our understanding is incomplete” (p. 140). His explana- tions of the various chemicals, including tannin and anthocyanins that are part of the group labeled phenolics, are essential reading for anyone regularly using those names.

I work in the tasting room of a small winery in Oregon that specializes in 100% whole cluster fermented Pinot noir and was impressed by a piece by Goode (2012) that is the best I have read on the subject. So I was pleased to see that Chapter 12, “Whole-cluster and carbonic maceration” incorporates parts of the article while elab- orating on the current thinking and practice of this still controversial but increasingly popular approach. After presenting the pros and cons, he concludes: “What was once regarded as an outmoded practice – including stems in red-wine ferments – is now becoming a fashionable winemaking tool for those seeking elegance over power”

(p. 160). I, too, have noticed that the technique has been increasingly embraced by winemakers in the Willamette Valley over the last decade, with delicious results.

Chapter 14, “Wine faults: where are we, and when is a fault a fault?” provides a valuable summary of the material in Flawless. Chapter 15, “The evolution of élevage: oak, concrete, and clay,” is an excellent comparison of the various vessels used to age wine. The table on page 181, “Flavors from oak,” is especially helpful. I was impressed that Goode mentions the Oregon winemaker and creator of terra- cotta amphora, Andrew Beckham, in the subsection “Clay Around the World,” since his work is not all that well known even in his own state.

Even though a lot of the material covered may be too detailed and nerdy for the novice, The Science of Wine is not suitable for those wanting to master viticulture or enology as a profession. Instead, its value lies in providing a less formal but still in-depth overview of the main areas in each of these two disciplines and serving as an excellent reference. As such, Goode’s book belongs on the shelves of everyone involved in any aspect of the wine industry, from producer to writer to consumer.

References

Goode, J. (2012). Stemming the tide. The World of Fine Wines, 37, 90–97.
Goode, J. (2016). I Taste Red: The Science of Tasting Wine. Oakland: University of California Press. Goode, J. (2018). Flawless: Understanding Faults in Wine. Oakland: University of California Press. Hulkower, N. (2019). Book review: Vineyards, rocks, & soils: The wine lover’s guide to geology by Alex

Maltman. Journal of Wine Economics, 14(2), 217–220, doi:10.1017/jwe.2019.19.
Maltman, A. (2018). Vineyards, Rocks, & Soils: The Wine Lover’s Guide to Geology. New York: Oxford

University Press.
Parr, W., Maltman, A., Easton, S., and Ballester, J. (2018). Minerality in wine: Towards the reality behind

the myths. Beverages, 4(4), 77, http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/beverages4040077.

I like books for grown-ups that are not only a pleasure to read and learn from but also have color pictures and a larger sans serif font. Here is one.

In her fifth book, Katherine Cole, the Portland, Oregon-based wine writer, author, and James Beard award-winning podcaster, asserts, “Sparkling wine’s greatest asset may be its image, but sparkling wine’s biggest liability is…its image. That image has been, until recently, one of danger and glamour, exclusivity and impossibility” (p. 5). Her response is this bright, multi-hued, amply illustrated, reader-friendly vol- ume that strives for inclusiveness while not dumbing down the material. “I have tried to keep the technical terminology to a minimum. But there are some words and phrases that just come up a lot in regard to sparkling wine” (p. 11), she concedes.

Cole’s exploration opens with an introduction, followed by nine chapters and a glossary. An online buying guide, a bibliography, and a four-page two-column index cap off the work. “Life, Bubbly, and the Pursuit of Happiness,” as the introduc- tion is titled, contains an overview of the world of sparkling wine, suggested, “Occasions and Food Matches,” which concludes with “Oh, forget all that and drink sparkling wine, anytime, with anything” (p. 8), and a legend that equates the number of dollar signs with a range of prices, all as insets. Cole acknowledges her lack of omniscience and her way of getting around it: “I know I have blind spots. That’s why I asked a group of the experts I admire most…to spill on some of their favorites in each chapter” (p. 10). This approach is one of the strengths of her exposition.

Chapter 1, “Instructions for Achieving Effervescence,” starts with: “You are not required to read this chapter” (p. 13). Well, maybe if you are just focused on finding new sources of well-priced sparkling wine. But you would be missing as good an explanation as I have read of the path grapes take from vineyard to flute and the var- ious types of bubbly wines there are.

“Frothing Plot Points in History,” the second chapter, intersperses a recipe for Champagne Cocktail, champagne1 expert Peter Liem’s recommendation of two pres- tige cuvées, a rant against canned bubbles, and instructions on sabering a bottle, with brief vignettes about sparkling wine from the earliest records to the end of WWII. Among the latter is the story of the invention of the champagne bottle in England and the real reason for its punt. Of course, Champagne merits its own chapter before any of the other regions. Chapter 3 starts with a recipe for Kir Royale and the story behind this mixture of crème de cassis and champagne then gets more serious as we tour the main subre- gions. For each, Cole provides recommendations of bottles to try. She also assigns producers to Team Submarine if the base wine was made in a steel tank, resulting in a crisper mouthfeel, or to Team Galleon for a mellower fermentation in wood. Think of this chapter as Liem (2017)-lite, but more than likely to satisfy all but the geekiest.

In my review of Liem’s masterwork, I noted one distraction that also pertains to Cole’s: “While Liem’s writing makes the reading comfortable, the layout of the book can be sidetracking with single and multi-page inserts covering special topics breaking up the flow of the text sometimes in mid-sentence” (Hulkower, 2018, p. 361). In both cases, this can be excused as an excess of virtue. The subject is so diverse and multidimensional that the authors want to get everything in as best they can.

Cole claims that “…it is impossible to find quality [champagne] for less than $35” (p. 61). This should have been qualified with “mostly” since Caveau Selections, a source she includes in her online shopping guide, featured a Caveau Extra-Brut for $32, sourced from the estate of noted grower champagne producer Sophie Cossy in a July 2021 offering.

Another exaggerated claim is that “More than any other French region (OK, other than Bordeaux), aficionados select Champagne based on the producer name first, and the village or vineyard name second…” (p. 63). I would contend that more so than Bordeaux or even champagne, the producer is the single most important criterion for selecting a Burgundy.

Chapter 4 covers “The Rest of France,” followed by “Italy” (Chapter 5), “Iberophone Nations” (Chapter 6), “Central and Eastern Europe and the Middle East” (Chapter 7), “USA” (Chapter 8), and “More Anglophone Nations” (Chapter 9). Each contains contributions from regional specialists and recommendations for spe- cific bottlings, many of which are affordable and should be available in the United States, a criterion for inclusion. The chapters are liberally illustrated with maps and whimsical drawings by Mercedes Leon that strike me as suggestive of Guy Buffet, but leaner and more angular. Chapters 3 through 8 each conclude with what Cole calls “Bottle Shop” spreads: two pages of photographs of two dozen recommended bottles, captioned with the name of the producer, the region, and the dollar symbol.

There is so much that Cole shares about the sparkling wine produced outside of Champagne that I had not known. For example, I was aware that there are producers of Cava, the Spanish sparkling wine, in Catalonia that adopted an unofficial designa- tion, “Corpinnat,” for wines that are made from organically grown grapes that are mostly estate-grown indigenous varieties and that are aged in bottles for at least 18 months, twice as long as Cava. What I did not know was what bottles to look for with this designation. Cole includes two. Throughout the book, there are scores of recommendations for bottles at all price points, most of which I was not familiar with, making it a valuable reference when going shopping.

While the inclusion of a glossary is always appreciated, I found some holes that a future edition should plug. Admittedly, there are only so many descriptors available, making repetition unavoidable when reviewing scores of similar wines. By and large, Cole performs well above average in keeping things varied, interesting, and occasion- ally amusing. However, in keeping with the vinous verbal zeitgeist, Cole frequently uses “minerality” in her tasting notes. As there is no consensus on what exactly this means (Parr et al., 2018), an entry into the glossary giving her definition would be welcome. Another term that should be included in the glossary as well as the index is remuage (riddling in English), used on page 195 in notes on a sekt. It is described on page 20 of the chapter that Cole says is not required reading.

Cole “tasted hundreds upon hundreds [of sparkling wines] during [her] nine fran- tic months of research and writing” (p. 10). The result is part personal assessment with other experts’ opinions deftly infused and part reportage from a master of both. Cheeky, breezy, and fun to read, Cole’s latest is loaded with up-to-date infor- mation about the burgeoning world of wine bubbles that everyone can learn from. And Cole’s quips help the more arcane material go down in the most delightful way. Plus it has so many lovely pictures!

References

Hulkower, N. (2018). Review of champagne: The essential guide to the wines, producers, and terroirs of the iconic region by Peter Liem. Journal of Wine Economics, 13(3), 358–361, doi: 10.1017/jwe.2018.45. Liem, P. (2017). Champagne: The Essential Guide to the Wines, Producers, and Terroirs of the Iconic Region.

Berkeley, CA: Ten Speed Press.
Parr, W., Maltman, A., Easton, S., and Ballester, J. (2018). Minerality in wine: Towards the reality behind the myths. Beverages, 4(4), 77, http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/beverages4040077.

Johnny Carson, the king of late-night, once said that the secret to good comedy is the audience’s empathy. “If [the audience] likes the performer, then you’ve got 80% of it made” (Carson, 2001). Such is the case with Wine for the Confused. A charming introduction to the favorite beverage of this Journal, this documentary is presented by John Cleese, known to many as the Comic Messiah himself. The film provides an extended overview of the essential elements of wine production and wine con- sumption, from the perspective of a viewer who is intrigued, but perhaps intimidated, by the wine world’s massive scale.

Note that the film was released in 2004, and so this is a belated review. Unlike fine wine, few films were made to survive extended aging. One cannot help but wonder whether a film production that is nearly two decades old would still hold up well in the light of today. Wine for the Confused proves to be a pleasant surprise. At its core, a well-rounded and scientifically sensible program supports the documentary, like a solid tannin structure carries a bottle through the years. Cleese’s understated and effortless comedic touch supplies the piercing acidity needed to maintain fresh- ness and a degree of light-heartedness. Some distinctively tertiary notes remind you of the film’s age: its warm and embracing ambient lighting and the retro digital tech- nologies depicted therein pin its bottling date to the turn of the century. So long as one is prepared to tolerate these few remnants from the past, they can be appreciated.

The film opens with Cleese narrating a flamboyant parody of Greek mythology, a segment that the viewer might mistake for a Monty Python sketch. A group of actors, enrobed in white and crowned with floral wreaths, succumb without resistance to the gluttonous indulgence of engorged grapes. After wine is declared the “nectar of the gods,” Cleese quickly puts a stop to it, throwing the DVD (note the tertiary note!) out the window and calling it “awful snobbery.” Then, Cleese turns to the audience and confesses that he, too, is frightened about the complicated wine world and seeks to better understand his preferences. “Don’t let anyone tell you what wine you should like,” Cleese says, a theme that the film repeatedly underscores.

The scientific content of the documentary is structured around six grape varietals, historically the French “noble” grapes: Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon. These grape varieties serve as hooks, providing the threads of a systematic discussion of multiple aspects of viticulture and winemaking that are essential to defining a wine’s style. To showcase these varietals, Cleese visits three wineries located on the Central Coast of California and speaks to the vintners. Two grapes are presented at each winery through the tasting of (primarily) single vari- etal wines. Each grape varietal highlights a salient characteristic of the resulting wine. Piecing these characteristics together, a general and complete sketch of a wine emerges.

Our first stop is at the Gainey vineyard in the Santa Ynez Valley for a tasting of their Riesling and Sauvignon Blanc. Here, Riesling becomes the cue to a discussion about residual sugar, whereas Sauvignon Blanc is about acidity. Acknowledging that the off-dry and sweet styles of Riesling are a thing of the past, the winemaker Kirby Anderson pours our host a glass of its dry, modern interpretation. Then, he takes us to the winery’s backstage, where we see the huge stainless steel vessel in which the bubbly yeasts carry out the fermentation.

After hearing Cleese marvel at the concentrated flavors of a few water-stressed Sauvignon Blanc grapes that he inconspicuously picked off the vine, we head to the Byron Winery in the Santa Maria Valley. Here, the two Burgundian varieties, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, take center stage. Through Chardonnay, we are introduced to oak and to malolactic fermentation, through which many Chardonnays, especially the quintessentially Californian ones, gain their toasty and buttery flavors. Winemaker Ken Brown professes his love of Pinot Noir, enumerating its complex aromatic profile coupled with its fragile nature to become a great challenge for the winemaker.

Our last stop is the Foxen Winery, where we are invited to a picnic chat with wine- makers Bill Wathen and Dick Doré to learn about tannin, climate, and terroir. Here, we understand that grapes need sufficient heat to ripen and to overcome the green flavors, while sitting next to a lush eucalyptus tree, itself an unmistakable staple of a new world terroir that from time to time betrays the origin of the bold red wine in our glass.

The documentary endorses a perspective that is firmly viewer-centered. The film is interlaced with a variety of social situations in which the viewer might encounter the subject of wine. Cleese picks the brains of two sommeliers on how to order wine at a fine dining restaurant, inquires with a wine shop owner on how to buy wine with the best quality-price ratio, and puts up a demonstration of wine service at a family din- ner. But most entertaining of all is a festive backyard tasting party, where Cleese’s main goal is to stimulate his guests to describe the pleasant sensory experiences they are having from the wines, with all the vocabulary they can mobilize. Cleese is seen conversing with his guests, encouraging them to use descriptors to define the aromatic and flavor profiles of the wine. He pleads that they convey these prefer- ences the next time the need arises for a wine purchase at a store or a restaurant.

But the fun does not end there. Surely, a host as mischievous as Cleese would attempt to humble his visitors with a few tricks. Indeed, his dozen or so guests are wholly confused about whether the same blind wine is red or white, otherwise known as the Davis test (Trillin, 2002). A few rank a cheap bottle ($5) as the most expensive showing of the day ($200). All this is meant to demonstrate that the wine world can be disorientating. Yet, one need not be afraid or ashamed. After all, the enjoyment of wine is a subjective and personal experience.

Between a crash course on oenology and a practical consumer guide, the film strikes a cheerful balance with its rich and approachable content. But if the goal is to inform as much as to entertain, for it to remain scientifically rigorous is perhaps too much to ask. We occasionally hear suggestions that could be misconstrued if one pauses to think. For example, when discussing the concept of residual sugar in Riesling, we are told that sweet wines can be produced by stopping the fermentation early. While that is true of wines of other grape varietals, it is not the most notable method through which sweet Rieslings are produced around the world. When intro- ducing Cabernet Sauvignon, Cleese associates it with Bordeaux but without recognition of Merlot, a varietal that appears earlier in the film and contributes 66% of Bordeaux’s red grape plantings, three times larger than Cabernet’s 22% share (CIVB, 2020).

Throughout the film, Cleese is just another confused wine consumer. But as our host, he is daring. He asks the questions that we want answered but are afraid to ask the sommelier or the shop owner. Double role-playing with a straight face, he acts out the inner anxiety that many viewers have experienced, such as when pre- sented with a nearly incomprehensible wine list at an expensive restaurant. But per- haps Cleese is not really confused. This is revealed by his professed passion for white burgundy, which he discovered while filming The Holy Grail in cold, wet Scotland, and by the story of his sharing an off-dry Riesling with the Queen over lunch at Buckingham Palace. Nevertheless, with a performance as endearing and relatable as Cleese’s, one could hardly sense deceit.

Wine for the Confused was filmed in one of the prized wine regions in the United States. It was aired to U.S. audiences through the Food Network. Over the past 18 years, wine consumption in the United States has seen a steady increase, from 24.75 million hectolitres (mhl) in 2004 to 33 mhl in 2020 (OIV, 2021). During this time, the United States surpassed France and Italy to become the country with the largest annual wine consumption (OIV, 2022).

While nearly two decades have passed, audiences today can benefit from a solid introductory documentary such as this one. Before the era of smartphones, the scores and notes of wine critics swayed consumers’ purchases. Today, the myriad of crowd- sourced wine rating apps, such as Vivino, CellarTracker, and others, have democra- tized wine scoring but, in the process, have exerted an arguably greater influence on our decision-making. Cleese’s message, which he emphasizes forcefully in the film, that “don’t let anyone tell you what wine you should like,” stands true and clear. The better alternative, suggested by Cleese, is to recognize one’s preferences by pin- pointing them and voicing them without fear or shame. It takes a bit of learning, plus a lot of practice.

References

Carson, J. (2001). Likeability. In Johnny Carson on Comedy, Laugh.com Comedy Recording Series.
CIVB (2020). Vins de bordeaux press kit: 2019 report and 2020 strategy. Conseil Interprofessionnel du Vin

de Bordeaux, Bordeaux, France.
OIV (2021). State of the world vitivinicultural sector in 2020. Organisation Internationale de la Vigne et du

Vin (International Organization of Vine and Wine), Paris, France. Available at https://www.oiv.int/public/medias/7909/oiv-state-of-the-world-vitivinicultural-sector-in-2020.pdf (accessed January 1, 2022). OIV (2022). Database. Organisation Internationale de la Vigne et du Vin (International Organization of Vine and Wine), Paris, France. Available at https://www.oiv.int/en/statistiques/recherche (accessed January 1, 2022). Trillin, C. (2002). The red and the white. The New Yorker, August 11. Available at https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2002/08/19/the-red-and-the-white (accessed January 1, 2022).

As a statistician and wine lover, I sat down to write my first review for this Journal with my horn-rimmed glasses, a notepad, the wine almanac, my laptop, and my iPad. I was ready for a serious review of a documentary and the intense googling that would accompany it.

(Yes, I did dip into my brother’s wine cellar—he has the more expensive…eh hem…more sophisticated palate—I mean you must taste the product!)

But little did I know that the iPad for googling was not necessary, and that I was about to dive into a hip hop pumping, spell-binding, drama … for which I was woe- fully unprepared.

Frankly, I am not sure whether this movie made me more hungry or thirsty, but it certainly made me want to go to sommelier classes in Paris. What did it not do? Teach me anything about wine. But to its credit, it is an awesome drama (to this unsophisticated movie watcher) and provided a very enjoyable evening.

The absolute focus of the movie is the unflappable love and support of a mother, the push and pull between father and son, from following in the family business to paving his own path. I will refrain from discussing the age-old adage of father and son, but should you decide to search through Netflix for this movie, you should understand that while intertwined, wine has a distant second place in the storyline.

Commenting that red meat pairs well with Pinot Noir was about the highest level of wine discrimination, along with how to read the five main parts of a wine label (name, region, varietal, vintage, and alcohol percentage). But there is some discussion about sommelier school.

But let me go back to the beginning. The movie begins with quite a juxtaposition —images of centuries-old wineries in the French countryside, beer laboratories that any academic professor would kill for, the stirring of tomato sauce in a back kitchen for some baby back ribs, and tub-thumping hip hop.

As the music rolls to a stop, we are brought into the quiet trance of what looks like an everyday wine store, with the main character meticulously placing the bottles, label front and center, down to the millimeter, where he then launches into a sales pitch to a customer with an analogy of white wine to hip hop. From Chardonnay, being the granddaddy of wine, versatile and smooth like Jay-Z; to a Pinot Grigio, a wine with a bit of spice likened to Kanye West; and finally a Riesling, crisp, clean, and sweet, the Drake of white wine. The customer took the Drake (Riesling may not be my favorite, but I appreciated the choice).

Following that, we get an inkling of our protagonist’s dreams and the plot line while he stares at a sommelier diploma from the Southeastern Academy of Sommeliers on the wall before having to rush to his job as a short-order cook at his family’s BBQ joint.

Now, the only part of the movie that was wine-intense was—to some degree—the sommelier aspect. Having attended Le Cordon Bleu Paris for a year before delving into the world of statistics, I had many friends attending the sommelier and wine management programs both at Le Cordon Bleu Paris and at other institutions around the city. While there was dramatization in this movie (and yes, I realize this is a drama, so by definition, a dramatization), the cutthroat culture, the late nights study- ing foreign terms, the outrageous amount of financial capital necessary, and the intensity of the instruction all rang true.

And to be fair to what I see as the art, science, and dedication necessary to make a great wine, we see scenes of our protagonist with his father, picking wood from a wood distribution center, carefully choosing the mixture of cherry and hickory, with the apple not quite seasoned well enough for the father’s taste for his small family BBQ joint.

While the father is berating his son for thinking about sommelier school when he is clearly being groomed to head the restaurant, we are made to understand the dedication, attention, and palate that are necessary—whether you are cooking sauce ingredients or blending grape varietals. Father and son both have magnificent palates but very diver- gent interests. This comes up many times, from the father at the butcher discussing the thickness level of fat, to his son discussing the tannin levels of his own wine.

There were some fabulous moments. Those of us that enjoy wine probably know them all too well. Some love the idea of a blind tasting, but for others, it promotes hives. The use of the girlfriend’s favorite special mug as a spit cup was a good moment (although this reviewer has never used a spit cup—who would waste a good product?).

There are many moments when the film explains wine to someone who is less than a beginner, or indeed, to someone who knows absolutely nothing. Still, compar- ing wine to BBQ is beautifully done: as Memphis is to ribs or Texas is to brisket, so Argentina is to Malbec and Provence to Rose. This could be the first time my own father (a teetotaler but BBQ connoisseur) might have some understanding of what regional wine means. While this may not be news and perhaps too simplistic for read- ers of this Journal, I will recommend that if you have a friend or loved one who has not been interested in wine, they might gain a tidbit or two from this movie.

A father’s pride in his son is a beautiful thing, which you will witness in this movie, but perhaps in a way that is not quite how one would expect. The twist at the end had me yelling at the screen, but the final ending had me crying. In summary, I would not call this a wine lover’s movie, but if you have someone new to wine, it could be a very nice way to enjoy a glass together.

André Mack’s career path is highly unusual: a Black child born into a military family who became a waiter/wine server/sommelier at two good restaurants in San Antonio, a sommelier at two of the best restaurants in the world—the French Laundry in Yountville, California, and Per Se in New York City—and then the founding owner/winemaker of Maison Noir, an Oregon winery.

The cover of 99 Bottles advertises it as an “entertaining, unconventional wine guide,” but the book really is more of an autobiography—the author’s account of his unique career path told through 99 vignettes of two to four pages each about events along this journey. The book is a wine guide only in the sense that each vignette involves some beverage—usually wine, but sometimes bottled water, juice, beer/ale/malt liquor, or distilled spirits. Most vignettes describe the beverage associ- ated with the event, but often this description is brief and not an important part of the story. In many cases, the beverage is simply a member of the vignette’s supporting cast.

This classic reference book, first published by Hugh Johnson in 1971, is now available in 16 languages, with 4.7 million copies of previous editions having been sold. In tell- ing us where wine grapes are grown, it is an essential and unrivaled part of every wine lover’s library. It is also a natural companion to Robinson, Harding, and Vouillamoz’s (2012) seminal book on which varieties are grown commercially (Wine Grapes, reviewed in JWE, Vol. 8(2), 2013), as well as to Robinson’s Oxford Companion to Wine (the fifth edition of which will appear in 2022).

A better understanding of the geography and terroir of each region helps the con- sumer identify where tonight’s bottle came from. For newcomers to wine, the first 40 pages of the book cover wine’s history, how vines are grown, how wine is made, and how it is consumed. Just as important, the Atlas helps vignerons assess their place in the ever-evolving wine world. This book is thus also for them, as well as others just wishing to keep up to date with where the world’s vignerons are located.

The Atlas has been revised every six or so years since it first appeared, with Jancis Robinson joining the project beginning in 2001. If you already have an earlier edition, should you indulge in this new one? For anyone who refers at least occasionally to it, the answer is almost certainly “yes.” It is worth its modest price for the new set of spectacular photos and unique colored topographical maps alone. As well, much has changed since the 7th edition came out in 2013, including a greater focus on soils, climate change, and more-sustainable methods of production, a greater interest in less-familiar varieties better suited to a warming, drier climate, and a broader range of wine styles. While diversification away from the best-known international wine- grape varieties does not show up in the world’s bearing area statistics yet, the increas- ing export focus of many producers in many countries ensures wine consumers—for whom this Atlas is produced—have never had such a wide range of wines to choose from in terms of region or sub-region of origin, grape variety, wine style, quality, and price (Anderson and Nelgen, 2021).

The text and many of the maps have been revised for this edition, and the maps are color-coded to identify sub-regions or various qualities within each region. For major regions, their maps are accompanied by small boxes of basic information on the latitude, elevation, two climate variables, and the top two or three varieties grown. Those readers looking for more-detailed varietal and climate information on any of more than 700 of the world’s wine regions can turn to a freely available compendium (Anderson and Nelgen, 2020). For the convenience of Atlas readers, that compendium includes a concordance table linking its regional names with those used in the Atlas.

My wife and I were dining out with another couple last summer before the Delta var- iant reared its ugly head. The other couple ordered steak; I chose chicken, and my wife went for pork. As the designated wine person, I was searching through the light reds on the wine list for a suitable compromise when the waiter poured me a taste of a very full-bodied white Burgundy, and suggested that it would go well with everything we had ordered that warm evening. A taste made his claim plausible. I gambled, and he was right!

I agreed to review Big Macs and Burgundy because it promised more such sur- prises, and it does deliver surprises aplenty, of various sorts. This book is an upbeat, approachable collection of basic and not-so-basic information about wine and about the interaction of food and wine, bits of the author’s history, and numerous interest- ing, often thought-provoking recommendations for wine pairings that involve foods ranging from caviar to Cheez-Its. I often found myself trying to imagine (there must be a taste/smell analog to “visualize”!) how this would really taste with that. The style is breezy (more on this to come) but authoritative, and the abundant photographs and illustrations add appreciably to what I found to be a very enjoyable read.

The author, Vanessa Price, starts at the beginning for beginners and those, like me, whose knowledge of wine is based more on accumulated anecdotes than on system- atic study: how grapes ripen, the relationship between acidity and alcohol, and the roles of tannin and sugar. She discusses the influence of climate and terroir and describes the 12 main styles of wine. Turning to food, she explains the relationship between smell and taste and discusses the main elements of taste, adding spicy and fatty to the classic sweet, salty, bitter, savory, and sour.

She then discusses congruent pairings, between foods and wines that share similar characteristics, and contrasting pairings, which involve sensory elements that oppose each other in a way that yields pleasing complexity. Her illustrative congruent exam- ple is Meursault and fried chicken, while Champagne and fried chicken are an exem- plary contrasting pairing. She ends the pairings section with general guidance for developing pairings: think about the dominant components of the food; consider its intensity and heaviness; and then consider the spices, sauces, and preparation involved. And, of course, she reminds the reader that things that grow together geo- graphically generally go together.

What follows and constitutes the bulk of the text is an amiable mixture of auto- biographical anecdotes, bits of wine information, and, mainly, lots of short discussions of recommended wine pairings. The autobiographical anecdotes reveal that the author was raised in a fairly devout Southern Baptist home, took a shot at acting, and fell in love with wine more or less by accident. The wine information includes discussions of methods of making sparkling wine, Burgundy rankings, the origins of Super Tuscans, swirling and decanting, styles of Sherry, storing wine, Pinot Grigio versus Pinot Gris, the Judgement of Paris, and more. I will bet that even readers of this Journal will learn something from all this.

As the book’s title suggests, many of the pairings it presents involve inexpensive foods for which (I think) almost nobody carefully selects a wine. Examples from each of the book’s 16 chapters may give some sense of the wide range of sometimes very quirky pairings the author recommends and the usually sensible rationales she gives for them:

• Subsistence Pairings: We are advised to pair cheap pizza, one of the cheap eats considered, with Montepulciano D’Abruzzo, for its acid and tannin.
• Southern Comforts: Cote Rótie’s robustness is said to make it a good match for BBQ Brisket & Ribs, a Southern staple.
• Extra Value Meals: Red Burgundy is paired with MacDonald’s Big Macs, per the book’s title, but the author argues that the more intense meatiness of a Quarter Pounder calls for a bigger Super Tuscan.
• Roadside Attractions: Among the snack-rack options considered, Smartfood, that cheddary popcorn, is paired with a light Bourgogne Blanc.
• Fast-Food Fixes: The author argues that the tannin and acidity in an Italian Rosato perfectly cut the fat in hot dogs. She also recommends wines to drink while binging particular TV series, for example, Côtes du Rhône with This is Us to match the show’s diversity and because it’s “as cockles-warming as the Pearsons, without all the tears.”
• Wine with Breakfast: The bubbles in a demi-sec Champagne are said to cut the heaviness of French toast while its sweetness harmonizes with the sweetness of this “debauched” dish. (My wife points out that a mimosa made with a cheap sparkler does the same trick.)
• Trader Joe’s, A Love Story: I confess to a weakness for Trader Joe’s Mandarin Orange Chicken, which is paired with Clare Valley Riesling from Australia because of that wine’s fresh citrus, minerality, and abundant acid.
• Secrets of the Bargain Basement: This chapter suggests cheaper wines that can substitute for more expensive wines in a few pairings, like substituting Minervois Rouge because of its “serious firepower” for Châteauneuf-du-Pape with Pad Thai.
• Crave the Date: Among foods served on special occasions, Thanksgiving left- overs are paired with Chinon for its acidity, fruit, structure, and soft tannins.
• Dinner Party Duets: The focus here is on appetizers like Jalapeño Poppers for which the author recommends Spätlese Riesling for its sugar to soften the Poppers’ spice and its acidity to counter their grease.
• Boring but Beautiful: Among the healthy foods discussed, the Sweetgreen Harvest Bowl is paired with Bordeaux Blanc because both are blends of “com- peting forces.”

• What to Pair with Greens: Italian Pinot Grigio is paired with Tuna Niçoise, for example, because its saltiness can “manage the cooked eggs,” while its freshness can “slice through sensitive tuna like a laser.”
• The Standard Bearers: This chapter is devoted to classic pairings, including one of my all-time favorites: grilled salmon and Oregon Pinot Noir. No explanation necessary.
• Frightful Delights: One of the foods that some find frightful is steak tartare, which is paired with Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc (or, perhaps, a Côtes du Rhône White) for its big body, low acidity, and arresting aroma.
• Expense-Account Prep Course: Among the high-end dishes discussed is pressed duck at Daniel’s, paired with Cornas, the “biggest, baddest, roughest, and tough- est” Northern Rhône appellation.
• Surf and Turf: Lobster rolls, a beach classic, are paired with Bandol Rosés for their strength, delicacy, “cool spiciness and lean, tropical-fruit spine.”As some of these examples may suggest, the writing style, described by one Amazon critic as having a “millennial-chic vibe” may strike some readers as a bit too breezy and over the top. For instance, Barolo is described as “the Tony Soprano of Italian wine,” and on steak au poivre, the author enthuses, “Together with Pomerol, this, my friends, is the Immaculate Conception of wine parings, the Orgasmatron of meat and grapes, the ‘You complete me’ of pampered mouth holes.”This really is a serious, clearly written book, so it can be jarring when the author seems to be trying hard to be cute.

  I have two bones to pick with the pairings themselves. First, while the author makes a nice general point about congruent versus contrasting pairings, for most foods she recommends only one wine—most commonly (I think) a congruent pair- ing. It would be good sometimes to have a suggested pairing of the other sort. Second, while most of the pairings sound attractive, I expect many readers will never try many of them—either because they are simply not going to buy a wine to go with Cheetos or Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia or Honey-Nut Cheerios, or because they cannot find the recommended wine, like the Tedeschi Vineyards Sparking Pineapple from Hawaii that’s paired with the honey dipping sauce for Chicken McNuggets or Clare Valley Riesling. I would rather have had pairings for a few lamb dishes than for Cheetos, and a few more “if you can’t find or afford that, try this” suggestions for wines would have been welcome.

  But to be clear, I do highly recommend this book to experienced oenophiles and wine newbies alike. It is a light, entertaining read that conveys a great deal of useful information, and most of the suggested pairings are fun to imagine trying.

There’s a scene in the film “Sideways” in which the four main characters go to an author’s talk at a winery. After five seconds of high-flown blather about the origins of the Pinot Noir grape and an eye roll by Stephanie, the group sneaks off to the winery’s barrel room. The author in the movie is apparently modeled on Oz Clarke, the prolific British wine writer.

If so, Mr. Clarke’s portrayal in “Sideways” seems unfair. Although his descriptions of wine are elaborate and at times overblown, he has been a major force behind the “democratization” of wine. In his latest book, Red & White: An Unquenchable Thirst for Wine, Mr. Clarke describes his introduction to wine as a student at Oxford in the 1980s, and how he became convinced that consumers needed options besides the top wines from France and the sea of mediocre wine that was most of everything else pro- duced in Europe at the time.

He would find his accessible, affordable, and delicious wines in the New World. After graduating from college, Mr. Clarke would land on the BBC program “Food and Drink.” As co-host of this long-running and popular show, he helped to create a generation of British wine-drinkers by introducing them to “exuberant, juicy, fruity wine” from Australia, California, New Zealand, and elsewhere. With the rise of New World wines, European producers would soon follow suit: the New World “showed that France’s domination of great wine could be challenged. California started it. Australia continued it. Now Europe could do it, Italy leading, with Spain, Portugal, and others following behind.”

Red & White is part memoir and part travelogue. Mr. Clarke recounts his first sur- reptitious drink of wine at the age of three, joining the Oxford wine tasting club in an unsuccessful attempt to impress women, and learning the hard way not to store wine at friends’ houses (cases of Lafite ’61 and Pétrus ’64 were among the wines never recovered). Mr. Clarke started as a stage actor, but wine took the place of acting when the wine taster for “Food and Drink” dropped out at the last minute, with the producer of the program reportedly saying, “Get me that actor who knows about wine.”

The bulk of Red & White is a tour through the wine regions of the world. The trip begins, predictably enough, in France. The reader is guided through the French appellations, with sincere attention given to small (the Jura) and less renowned (the Languedoc) areas. Mr. Clarke has an unsurpassed curiosity about and passion for wine, delighting especially in rare varietals and wines whose quality is not yet reflected in prices. His writing combines wine history and science, personal anec- dotes, and descriptions of individual wine-makers. The style is light and refreshing, not unlike a glass of rosé on a hot summer day.

Unlike most books about the wines of the world, France is not the primary desti- nation. I found a 2001 edition of Hugh Johnson’s Wine Companion on my book shelf and calculated that 40% of its pages on wine regions are devoted to France, with only 20% given to non-European countries. Red & White quickly moves from France to Australia, New Zealand, the United States, and Canada, and from there to places expected (e.g., Italy, Spain) and not (e.g., India, Uruguay). Mr. Clarke brings his enthusiasm for wine wherever he goes, but that is not to say his views on wine are uncritical. For example, he thinks that there is too much Tempranillo produced in Spain, yielding much “unconvincing” wine, and that Merlot is overplanted in France, where “loads of the early-ripening Merlot is broiling away in the unsuitable suntraps of the south.” Japanese wine? Drink their beer instead.

Red & White does not have a central thesis, but it does have recurring themes. One is that New World winemakers, and some European producers, have gone too far in their pursuit of ripeness. Mr. Clarke has played a central role in promoting accessible, fruit-forward wines from the New World, but laments the trend toward massive, high-alcohol reds. In his chapter on Australia, he describes the abuse of Barossa grapes “at the hands of the over-ripening brigade crazy for a 100-point wine.” He cel- ebrates wine-makers around the world who are trying to produce wines that make a “statement about the vineyards they came from,” even if that means a break from the traditional European varietals. His view is that the “world doesn’t want any more big, oaky clunkers, but it does want tasty, fresh reds at lower alcohol levels.”

Another theme, which for me is the book’s highlight, is the effect of climate change on wine. Mr. Clarke was an early voice of warning. His keynote address at the 1993 New York Wine Experience, a high-profile event featuring top wine-makers from around the world, focused on the adjustments the wine industry would inevita- bly have to make in a warming world. He spoke of how wine-makers were going to have to change the style of their wines and adopt new grape varieties. He predicted the French system of appellation contrôlée would become obsolete as Spanish varie- ties like Tempranillo made their way into Bordeaux and Syrah was planted in Burgundy. The French producers made a noisy exit from the auditorium, and the Wine Spectator, the host of the event, departed from tradition by not publishing the address in the next issue.

Of course, Mr. Clarke has been proven correct, and Red & White is filled with fas- cinating examples of climate change impacts on wine and the adaptive responses by wine-makers. The Yarra region in Australia has become too warm for Pinot Noir and vineyards are being replanted with Shiraz. Mr. Clarke sees the same change coming to the Marlborough region in New Zealand as well. Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon are being planted in southern Germany, and, in Lebanon, harvest dates have moved back by a month over the past 50 years. The highly-regarded 1982 Bordeaux vintage ushered in a more fruit-forward style of wine in the region, which Mr. Clarke declares to be “the first marked by what we now know is the relentless charge of climate change.”

And then there’s the second French invasion of England (the first being the Norman Conquest of 1066). As Mr. Clarke explains, part of the allure of sparkling wine from Champagne comes from the use of barely ripe grapes, which have been difficult to produce in the region in recent decades. Since 1990, the ripening season temperature in Champagne has risen by more than 2° C. French producers have been buying land in southern England, which is cooler than Champagne and has the same chalk soils. Taittinger was the first producer to establish a vineyard in southern England, with Pommery following soon after. Five million bottles of wine, most of it sparkling, are now being produced each year in Britain.

I enjoyed Red & White. Mr. Clarke’s writing is lively and humorous and clearly conveys his unabating excitement about wine. He explains that he has always been able to put his experiences with wine into words. Thus, we get this description of Amarone from Italy:

In the best examples, this gives a wild, slightly unnerving personality to the wine, which often starts almost sweet with fruit that could be anything from plum and blackberry to baked apple, sweet cherry flesh, sour cherry skins and figs and rai- sins baked halfway to paste. But the bitterness – the Amarone (amaro means bit- ter in Italian) – always comes back as black chocolate, as wood-smoke, as the burnt bits on the bottom of a roasting pan, and ideally there will be a splash of meat stock and balsamic vinegar sourness to season the final bitterness, which should be as grippy yet affectionate as the lick of a cat’s tongue.

Maybe not entirely believable, but fun to read.

My main complaint about the book is that it goes on for too long. After the tour of all of the places in the world that make wine, Mr. Clarke turns to a description of each of the major grape varietals, often returning to locations the reader has already been to. By this point, I was ready for the trip to be over and yet, sections with names like “Cabernet Sauvignon and Canada” stretched out before me. Despite the excessive length, I still recommend the book. It’s highly entertaining and full of absorbing information from one of the world’s experts on wine. This is the perfect book for a hot summer day, accompanied by a chilled glass of rosé.

Nominally, The Truffle Hunters is a film about the search for an elusive, bulbous fungus for which foodie connoisseurs are prepared to pay astronomical prices. The highly prized white truffle, or Alba truffle, is found in the forests of Piedmont. (The black, or Périgord, truffle is found, and increasingly cultivated, in southwestern France and is less highly prized, but not exactly chopped liver.)1 The truffle, itself, might qualify as a best-supporting actor nominee, but the real stars of this beautiful film are the wiry old men (some well into their 80s) and their faithful dogs who trudge through dark forests at night in search of these heavenly delights. In fact, this film is really a love story between the men and their dogs.

My first draft of this review elicited a colleague’s comment that I should not go to the corner occupied by the Grumpy Economist, which is already covered, so I will take on the mantle of the Honest Oenonomist. While this book is neither “complete” nor solely a “course,” it has merit as a reference book and a coffee table showpiece.

Here, the book does well. It has a first-rate index, contains an entertaining 43-page personal history of the author’s involvement with wine, includes a first-course lesson/ chapter, which provides 28 well-done pages about grapes, weather, fermentation, wine chemistry, aging, bottles,1 glasses, and wine labels. Three of those pages show striking photographs. This recurring theme—pages devoted to photographs, not to teaching nor to reference material—contributes to coffee table status. In my opinion, the best teaching material in the book is the 19.5 pages devoted to the phys- iology and biology of taste and smell.

After its introduction, the book provides more course lessons: Prelude, America, France, Spain, Italy, Australia/New Zealand, South America, Germany, Sparkling, Fortified, Other Countries, and Quiz questions on the preceding chapters.

In the classroom, many of us “teach to the test.” So, a sample of Mr. Zraly’s quiz questions gives a flavor of what the course teaches. Name the ten top states in wine consumption per capita [in the U.S.]. Name one chateau from each of the five growths [of Bordeaux]. What are the three most important white wine villages in the Cote de Beaune? Name the four different quality levels of Chianti. What were the first grapes planted in Argentina? What are the three major types of Champagne?

Why do I find that the book functions best as a reference/coffee table book rather than a text to accompany a course? As one example, the 24 pages of the chapter on French red wines and Bordeaux includes 6 pages of attractive photographs. Another two pages list the names of the 1855 classified growths. All in all, I found that 40% of the material in the chapter is reference material. Where does this leave me? With 55% of the overall book allocated to pictures and reference, only 45% provides course teaching. Even as a reference book, it sometimes behaves strangely. Suppose you want to know what foods go well with chardonnay. The index directs you to pages: 96, 245, 334, and 347. Page 96 recommends oysters, crab, trout, and salmon, while the last of these favors sirloin steak.

The publisher of this book is the first crowdfunded publisher in existence.1 How this works is that they place books they believe are worthy on their website and invite people to pledge funding in return for small rewards—free and/or signed copies of the book, your name printed in the book as a supporter, etc. At the time of writing this review, the publisher was celebrating 10 years of existence, with 476 pub- lished books and about half that number of active projects.

According to the publication Drinks International, crowdfunding for Gerard Basset’s memoirs was spearheaded by Jancis Robinson, and the target was to raise some £14,000.2 The exercise was obviously successful because it raised more than twice this amount before the book was published in early 2020. It is now out of print, so prospective readers must access the ebook version,3 which, it turns out, is well worth reading, even for those of us who prefer to hold a real book in our hands. Why do people write autobiographies or memoirs? Arthur Koestler (2019, pp. 37–39) asked himself this question in the first volume of his own autobiography:

This lavishly produced book, which won the 2019 James Beard Award in the bever- age category, assumes no prior knowledge about wine and thus is aimed at persons who do not regard themselves as wine experts. Its language is clear and readable, and its graphics are numerous, impressive, and informative. Even those who, like the readers of this journal, regard themselves as having a good deal of expertise will likely find things they did not know.

The book is organized into four main sections plus a short glossary and a list of references. The first section entitled “Wine Basics” covers how wine is made, as well as how to taste it, serve it, and store it. A short second section covers pairing with food, although the third section, which describes 86 grapes and 14 wines, also has a considerable amount of information on pairing. The final substantive section covers the geography of wine in 14 major producing countries.

OK, I’ll warn you up front, I’m enamored with British wine writing. The dry wit, the masterful yet effortless use of language, and the confident command of the subject remain inspirational models for this wine writer.

In Vino Veritas assembles 36 pieces, dating from 1833 through 2019 by 34 writers, many of whom are English, including Michael Broadbent, Hugh Johnson, and Steven Spurrier. The latter two, along with Simon McMurtrie, founded the Académie du Vin Library, the publisher of this volume. A brief introduction by Hugh Johnson highlighting the origins of wine writing is followed by 10 chapters, each covering a single theme and each containing 3 to 5 stories covering 2 to 11 pages.

Charles Walter Berry’s In Search of Bordeaux is a highlight of Chapter 1, “Good Vintage, Bad Vintage.” This excerpt from In Search of Wine, A Tour of the Vineyards of France published in 1935 by “one of the first British wine merchants to venture abroad and taste wines on their own terroir” (p. 18) chronicles his visits to the chateaux the year before. It contains descriptions of wines, both good and not so good, and accompanying dishes. Included as an insert, Michael Broadbent’s tasting notes of several of the wines supplement Berry’s pithier ones. In addition, Fiona Morrison MW contributes Le Pin: the First Day of the Harvest written in 2019 and H. Warner Allen describes My Best Claret (1951).

A 1981 extract from Christie’s Wine Companion by Broadbent, My Wife and Hard Wines, concludes the chapter. It is a charming recollection of visiting old wine cellars whose bottles ended up on the block at the famous auction house. Contrasting “map-bedecked modern American air-conditioned cellars” with “the ‘feel’, smell, chill and content of an old cellar,” he wonders: “How can a room com- fortable enough to sit in for several hours…possibly be the right temperature for storing fine vintage wines?” (p. 25)

Rule Britannia! Britannia ruled the wine world in Europe, at least between the 18th century and well into the 20th century. This is all the more remarkable since only until recently has the United Kingdom produced anything vinous worth mentioning, and not all that much at that. Even more ironically, as an example of always hurting the one you love, a vine disease, oidium tuckeri, passed from England to France via Belgium in 1851 and wreaked havoc for a decade until it was found that dusting with sulfur would stop its spread. England’s more enduring positive impact was as a thirsty market for French, Spanish, German, and Portuguese wines. Hence it was the most important stimulus for elevating their quality. As Hugh Johnson affirms: “Great wines are made by their markets” (p. 245).

Alongside the growing wine trade, wine writing began to flourish in Britain start- ing in 1775 with the publication of Observations, Historical, Critical and Medieval, on the Wines of the Ancients and the Analogy between them and Modern Wines by Sir Edward Barry. “Writing about wine from the consumer’s point of view had in the past been almost a branch of medicine…” (p. 317) explains Johnson. “Such writing was to become the specialty of the English, for the simple reason that English wealth, at the top of the social ladder, had accumulated the most varied cellars of top-quality wines on earth” (p. 317). Building on this tradition, Johnson presents his masterful overview of the evolution of the world’s most cherished bev- erage, not surprisingly in an unabashedly Anglocentric way.

Following the Foreword by Andrew Roberts (more on this later), Johnson’s Preface addresses his wariness of the word “history” and the limited degree to which he updated the story after 30 years. On the former, he recognizes that “scholars have made [the word history] their own and will challenge any unqualified pretender” (p. 11). His reluctance to go on with the story stems from his belief that it would be “as much about money as it is about wine, or taste or pleasure” (p. 14). Moreover, he asks: “It would further our knowledge – but does it further our understanding? In any case…I have limited myself to the story of wine at the time when it took over a large part of my life, and became my enduring pleasure” (p. 15).

Gustave Flaubert declared that “Writing history is like drinking an ocean and pissing a cupful.” Having eschewed the “h” word, Johnson instead, after consuming thousands of wines, including one that was 421 years old, and digesting dozens of references, penned his tale that unfolds across 43 chapters organized into five parts. The nine chapters of Part One cover the period from “Man’s First Experience of Alcohol” to when “Mohammed Condemns Wine.” (I’m using chapter subtitles which are more descriptive of the content than the titles.) Part Two, with ten chapters, begins with “Charlemagne and the Rebirth of Europe’s Vineyards” and ends with “Great Steps in the Technology of Glassmaking.” The 11 chapters of Part Three cover the period from the end of the 17th century into the 19th century. Part Four comprises ten chapters, which dwell on the turbulence caused by revolution and wars. They address their impact on the maturation of the wine industry primarily in Europe but with excursions to the New World and take us to the dawn of the 20th century. The first of three chapters of Part Five is an overview of the first half of the 20th century featuring “War, Slump, Poor Weather and Prohibition” and is followed by two containing updates since the first release of the book. Up-to-date information is also spliced into the text throughout, for example: “…the oldest pips of cultivated vines…were found in Soviet [as it was then] Georgia…” (p. 24). Mercifully, an index of 19 pages each containing three columns of smaller text is included to facilitate refreshing the reader’s memory. A bibliography lists references by chapter. Unfortunately, there are no maps or illustrations.

On Bordeaux is a rambling collection of extracts and articles on “the world’s greatest wine region,” that poetic patch of southwestern France that straddles the Gironde as it nears journey’s end. We are reminded of the special, distinct nature of this terroir from the get-go: the book begins with four testaments to Bordeaux’s delicate yet proud dependence on the “power of the vintage.” The compendium then winds through a litany of interlaced themes: topography, individual châteaux, the aristoc- racy, Bordeaux personalities, the ravages wrought by Phylloxera, the serendipitous benedictions of Botrytis cinerea, and the uncertainties of global warming. There are the inevitable comparisons: across vintages and individual wines, across the structured formalism of the Left Bank and the softer seductions of the Right, and —dare we even say it?—between the offerings of Bordeaux and Burgundy. (The lands beyond are barely visible, like one of those New Yorker’s maps of the world.)

Everything about this richly-produced volume is designed to catch the reader’s eye: the austere definitiveness of its main title (in happy contrast to the zany hyper- bole of its subtitle), the pleasant texture of the pages that fall open with a satisfactory weight, the colorful photographs throughout, and last but certainly not the least, the profusion and variety of the essays contained therein. Oh yes, this tome will draw you in with hours of pleasurable reading, and better still, it will make you want to break out the claret.

It starts with the good old days: In a cartoon from 1953, the Republican elephant and the Democratic donkey are peacefully toasting each other. The next illustration

The esteemed French oenologist Emile Peynaud wrote that before Louis Pasteur’s work on fermentation, “good wine was merely the result of a succession of lucky acci- dents.” The reality is more complex. While it is customary to credit the ancient Romans and those they colonized for the wider dissemination of the vine and

As colonies go, Algeria was singular. It lay just across the Mediterranean Sea from France, and it came to focus on the one commodity that the metropole produced in abundance, namely wine. None of this was supposed to happen. White observes that the initial emphasis lay squarely upon promoting complementarity in which Algeria would deliver up its bounties in the shape of commodities that France needed—like grain, tobacco, and cotton. But efforts to develop alternatives stalled, and Algeria ended up producing prodigious quantities of wine that threatened to compound France’s systemic problem of overproduction. This is a book that handily brings together a history of wine—from unpromising beginnings, through phylloxera and the subsequent surge in production, to the travails of the interwar years and the eventual demise of viniculture—with a history of settler colonialism and all its contradictions.

The book shuttles between two running themes. The first is the relationship between Algeria and France, as it played out in relation to wine. The second is the impact of the wine industry upon Algerians, who provided cheap labor but never a market for the fruit of the vine. As with South America, it was Catholic mission- aries who provided the initial impetus, in the shape of the Trappists and Cardinal Lavigerie’s White Fathers. Their success with the vine close to Algiers led to growing numbers of settlers planting their own vineyards—notably in the western

When it comes to the study of the economics of wine, Stefano Castriota has compiled a comprehensive and interdisciplinary exploration of the world wine market and its social implications in his newly revised Wine Economics. Originally published in Italian, this recently released edition by The MIT Press investigates the production, distribution, and consumption of wine and the growing subfield of wine economics with a focus on English-speaking countries of the New World, particularly that found in the United States.

While academic in methodology, Castriota’s manuscript should find an extended readership across a wider and willing public as a heuristic for an increasingly com- plicated subject and crowded field. Drawing on an extensive review of literature from economic policy, management, finance, medicine and law, Wine Economics offers essential insights into the global wine market supported by extensive data sets and Castriota’s thorough research and analyses.

As mentioned in the Foreword by American Association of Wine Economists’ president Orley Ashenfelter, “Castriota has provided the reader with a look at the general nature of the subject of wine economics but with an eye to its applicability in matters of public policy.” To be sure, over the course of eight exploratory chapters, Castriota closely examines governmental regulation across world wine markets to unveil how industry directives impact trade associations, business organizations, and even influence the experiences and perceptions of wine consumers across social and international borders.

Starting with a historical perspective of world wine markets and concluding with a strategy to grow effective winemaking sectors and cultures across the globe, the book is divided into two segments: part one looks at mechanisms involved in the operation of the global wine arena while part two examines market regulation by public authorities.

In the initial chapter, Castriota explores production, consumption, and export in world wine markets, followed by a detailed explanation of the so-called “wine war” between New and Old World countries beginning with the “Paris judgment” of 1976 through the present day. With a litany of graphs, charts and statistics, and an exhaus- tive overview of the global wine market, this critical background could easily func- tion as a stand-alone article and serves as an important foundation for the remainder of the book and the promotion of his forthcoming policy arguments. Chapter Two exhibits an overview of wine consumption with an interesting and perhaps unex- pected concentration on alcohol abuse and negative health and social consequences that affect the quality and price of wine.

Chapters Three, Four, and Five turn to firm profitability, types of wine companies, and finance, respectively. Castriota fairly argues that wine market structure

Wine is intensely national and regional. Winegrowers and others in the trade regu- larly interact with state and local actors, from those who enforce the national wine law to the members of the village cooperative. Wine scholars have normalized this dualism by treating wine as a national or regional subject (say, e.g., a study on Italian wine, or a book about the region of Champagne). While approaching wine through a national or regional lens is organizationally satisfactory, recent scholar- ship has called out the limitations of both approaches, suggesting instead that a global lens is best suited to portray a trade that is, if nothing else, international in nature. This globalist critique of the dualist status quo has been convincing, with the national lens most prone to insufficient generalizations.

Enter Wine in Austria: The History. The national paradigm, for all its faults, has found its redeemer. Before embarking on a review of the book, which includes some minor criticisms, I want to make clear upfront my opinion that this book is a mas- terpiece. In fact, in almost 20 years of reading academic wine publications, I would consider this herculean effort to be the most ambitious, courageous, and interesting that I have encountered. Its 500 pages (including notes) of text from more than 40 contributors are of the highest pedigree, while its color images, luxury binding, and producer-bio inserts (more on these later) make this book irresistibly unique.

Think of Goode’s fifth book as an assortment of short one-sided conversations on various wine-related topics. As such, this small volume, measuring 4 by 6 inches (10 by 15 cms) and containing fewer than 50,000 words, is a radical departure from his four previous books, and therein lies the challenge for those accustomed to the good doctor’s more focused and structured writing. His intended audience is “a broad spec- trum of readers, including interested consumers and those in the wine trade” (p. xi). He states that the first half is for the wine drinker and the rest is for the industry. But it is not until the last paragraph that Goode presents his reason for this free-flowing offer- ing: “It’s enough to say that wine is worthwhile, complex, and repays attention. It is special. We need to cling to the cultural richness that has its origin in a time and place, and celebrate this fabulous gift. That’s why I wrote this book” (p. 228).

By virtue of his decades as a “wine communicator,” as he prefers to be called, Goode has gained gravitas and earned the right to share his perspectives. The guide is “an attempt to gather together some of my thoughts about wine, in a series of short, targeted chapters” (p. ix) he explains in the Preface. “My approach to wine is a bit different, and I think it is unique… I was trained as a scientist, but I’m an artist at heart” (p. x), he emphasizes. Unlike the more left-brained I Taste Red and Flawless, which are important contributions to our understanding of neuro- enology and wine faults, respectively, this collection of musings emanates mostly from his right-hemisphere. The tone is frequently more emotional than educational, although there is at least one instance when he lets loose with technical terminology. Following the Preface are 55 2- to 9-page chapters in no obvious order or intercon- nection with titles like “Some wines are just wine,” “Framing: how words can get in the way,” and “Beer is better than wine.” A three-page, two-column index is included.

Goode accepts the fact that his views on wine may not be widely held. “I don’t expect everyone to agree” (p. xi), he acknowledges. Indeed, it did not take long for me to take issue. Chapter 1, “The heart of authenticity,” contains the assertion “…there is something unique about wine in that it is a product of a particular time and place…” (p. 1). While I certainly regard wine as a distinctive beverage, it is not for the reason Goode states. These days, coffee, tea, whiskies, and even canna- bis are sourced from specially designed sites and can be vintage-dated. Wine’s uniqueness stems from much more than the elusive notion of terroir that Goode

I wish we had Which Winegrape Varieties are Grown Where? on hand when Jancis Robinson MW, Julia Harding MW, and I published the reference book Wine Grapes (Robinson, Harding, and Vouillamoz, 2012). It would have saved us from cross-checking multiple sources and from contacting each and every country in order to obtain updated information on the bearing areas for each of the 1,368 grape varieties in our book. One year after our publication, Kym Anderson and Nanda R. Aryal opportunely provided comprehensive statistics on the wine grape varieties of the world in the first edition of Which Winegrape Varieties are Grown Where? We subsequently exchanged a lot of information among authors, and Kym most affectuously “acronymized” our book RHV, based on our initials.

For the revised edition of Which Winegrape Varieties are Grown Where?, Kym Anderson and Signe Nelgen have done a tremendous amount of additional research to put together statistical data for 1,705 varieties from 53 countries. In a constantly changing wine world, it is fascinating to compare data from 2000, 2010, and 2016, illustrating the evolution of what is called “encépagement” in French, which can be somehow translated into “vine populations.”

As a strong advocate for “vinodiversity,” I am fascinated to delve into the Varietal Intensity Indexes that indicate the importance of a variety in a region compared with the rest of the world. I am pleased to see that these indexes have the advantage of highlighting obscure indigenous or limited new PIWI grape varieties. On the oppo- site, the revised edition offers new features like indexes of internationalization of varieties, showing how many non-native varieties are cultivated in each region.

Climate change has become a hot topic—I am thrilled to see in the revised edition the addition of key climate indicators for each region, thus making it quite useful to know which grape varieties can be grown in a cool, temperate, warm, or hot climate.

The revised edition of Which Winegrape Varieties are Grown Where? is an almost infinite source of fascinating data on the past, present, and future of the wine world from a statistical point of view. And, the icing on the cake, believe it or not, it is free!

Congratulations to Kym and Signe for this groundbreaking compendium!

José F. Vouillamoz
josevouillamoz.com
jose.vouillamoz@gmail.com

doi:10.1017/jwe.2021.3

Having only recently read Ron Chernow’s excellent biographies of Alexander Hamilton (Chernow, 2004), George Washington (Chernow, 2010), and Ulysses S. Grant (Chernow, 2017), I was eager to read a biography of Hamilton’s great political oppo- nent, George Washington’s talented Secretary of State, and—of course—the third President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson. Instead, I “changed it up,” as my son would say, by reading this work by James Gabler that promised from its title to combine my armchair fascination with American history and my abiding interest and love of fine wine.

The book lives up to its title, as it provides what may be a nearly exhaustive (but sometimes exhausting) encyclopedic compilation of Jefferson’s travels and wines. Apparently, seven years were required for Gabler’s research and the writing, and it shows. The book draws on what I assume to be abundant original research and offers what must be the most complete and authoritative cataloguing of the wines Jefferson enjoyed (or not) from before the Revolutionary War, through Jefferson’s