Journal of Wine Economics Volume 17 | 2022 | No. 3

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.

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).

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.

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.