Journal of Wine Economics Volume 9 | 2014 | No. 3

This is a very welcome book, in spite of the fact that there must be hundreds of others dealing with Bordeaux wines. It is printed handsomely, on durable paper (it is noted that it is printed on alkaline paper), has a cloth book marker, and the last 20 or so pages are devoted to the classification of wines determined at various times in the past as well as to an evaluation of vintages since 1982.

The text falls into two parts. Part I (pp. 6–54) consists of five brief chapters con- taining general discussions of (1) history and culture, (2) climate, soil, and grape varieties, (3) viticulture, (4) winemaking and terroir, and, finally (5) classification of wine and regulations. Part II, comprising the bulk of the book, is devoted to a case- by-case description of individual wines, listed by subregion of Bordeaux. Before we lose sight of one of the best features of the book, let me say that every chapter and each discussion of individual wines is accompanied by handsome photographs of vineyards, châteaux, and appurtenant structures, as well as maps, and in many cases of the current owners of the various vineyards.

The history of Bordeaux goes back to its medieval beginnings, when the region belonged to England, as discussed in Chapter 1. Originally, Graves was the principal wine-growing region, and the author quotes Samuel Pepys who said in 1663, “I drank a sort of French wine, called Ho Bryan [sic], that hath a good and most par- ticular taste I ever met with.” Wine making expanded in the eighteenth century, Médoc developed, the Rothschild family arrived in the nineteenth century, and finally American interests started to buy vineyards in the twentieth century, to wit, the Dillon family, which acquired Château Haut Brion in 1934. The brief historical overview is informative and useful. Chapter 2 deals with climate, climate change, and climate hazards as well as soil. A brief discussion of permitted varieties of grapes and their characteristics concludes the chapter.

Chapter 3 covers matters that may be unfamiliar to many, specifically soil manage- ment and, equally important, canopy management, diseases of grapes, and a discus- sion of the all-important question of when to harvest. Chapter 4 goes on to discuss the all-important questions of fermentation techniques, barrel aging, and blending, and has brief section on dry white wines and sauternes. Chapter 5 begins with the 1855 classification and also discusses changes or additions to the original classifi- cation, the nature of the wine market, the role of the negociants, of en primeur, and much more.

The rest of the book is a detailed analysis of individual vineyards, with a brief (one-page) description of the vineyard itself, followed by a discussion of the individ- ual wines, that is, the “first” wine of the vineyard and any “second” wines that it may have. All of this is extremely sensible, and readers will find all three parts of this handsome book very useful indeed.

Rachel E. Black and Robert C. Ulin’s edited volume reminds me of the fickleness of disciplinary boundaries. As a historian who researches wine, I have long believed that my discipline lagged behind others in vinous studies. From my perspective, geo- graphers, philosophers, economists, and anthropologists, in particular, have led the movement to institutionalize wine scholarship in the academy. Thus, it surprised me that Black and Ulin, two prolific anthropologists who research wine and viticul- ture, consider vinous scholarship in their own discipline “scant over the past twenty years” (1). It turns out that grapes always appear riper in someone else’s vineyard.

The smart volume is divided into four sections, each of which is preceded by a short editors’ introduction that attempts to synthesize theoretical approaches or analytical threads. Despite the unavoidable geographical, theoretical, and methodo- logical overlap, the book is structured cleverly enough to allow the reader to jump around, finding what may be most useful. The strength of the volume is in its going beyond rote discussions of wine’s phenomenology (as a subject/object of taste), its place in the lab (for metric analysis), or its commodification (as a product in the market). Instead, the book offers critical accounts of the social relations behind wine production and consumption, discussions of place and iden- tity, and finally an engagement with the technology-nature dualism that continues to define wine in the twenty-first century.

Section I, “Rethinking Terroir,” reevaluates one of the most controversial themes among wine writers. But, rather than rehashing worn debates about the environment, soil conditions, and the objective measurables of wine, the authors here consider how terroir is itself an active, dynamic, politically driven “ensemble of knowledge” (p. 12). Sarah Dynes’s ethnographic account from Bordeaux reveals how the Bordelais them- selves consider their task as winemakers to magnify the given terroir. The social dimen- sion of terroir, though secondary to its physical dimension, is also real; offering winegrowers and winemakers possibilities for the contextualization of tradition and labor of their wines. Robert Swinburn, a graduate student in anthropology with family roots in an Australian vineyard, and Nicolas Sternsdorff Cisterna, also a gradu- ate student in anthropology, test the notion of terroir in the New World. Swinburn coins the term “deep terroir” in order to move beyond the physical and to discuss the intangible, spiritual qualities of terroir. Deep terroir, we learn, is anathema to the worlds of science and commerce, where terroir usually reigns. Sternsdorff Cisterna, though a bit closer than Swinburn to terroir’s conventional attributes, raises interesting questions about the Chilean wine industry’s employment of terroir in shifting its reputation from a producer of low-cost to quality wines.

Robert C. Ulin, a veteran of academic terroir, asserts that historians and geogra- phers are as complicit as contemporary wine writers in marginalizing the historicity of social relations behind the production and consumption of wine. This is an out- dated charge that is no longer valid. Nevertheless, Ulin’s analysis retains its promi- nence of place for the way in which it unreservedly intertwines terroir and late (or “disorganized”) capitalism. The brilliance of Ulin’s approach is in his recognition of the limitations inherent in thinking about terroir exclusively as an antidote to modern, place-less wines. Moving beyond this simple formulation, Ulin postulates that terroir can mystify production and consumption and therefore naturalize critical social relations. What is at stake here is the diminishment of human labor, past and present, and the continued abstraction of social relations under modern economic forms.

Section II analyzes power relationships and shows how the intermingling of local growers, regional wine trades, and global conglomerates serves to reinvent tradition. Chapters 5, 6, and 9 introduce the English-language audience to viticultural regions beyond their usual purview; Bulgaria, Poland, and Slovakia. Although each chapter tackles a unique problem, the essays are united in their exciting engagement with wine and identity in the post-Soviet world. Ewa Kopczyńska’s essay, “Wine Histories, Wine Memories, and Local Identities in Western Poland,” introduces readers to the war-torn Lubuskie (Lubusz) winegrowing region, where a fascinating mixture of German winemaking traditions, anti-German sentiment following World War II, Soviet-era viticultural bungling, and post-Soviet wine tourism have been fused together to create a complex, twenty-first-century nationalist project. Bulgaria and Slovakia are grappling with a similarly complex intermingling of culture and political economy as their own wine trades enter into global commercial networks. The effects on the local environment, we see, are worth paying attention to.

Christina M. Ceisel’s essay on Galicia, Spain, centers on the performance of wine trade participants, who simultaneously capitalize on local traditions while appealing to the European Union for funds and additional support. Evoking Max Weber’s “eternal yesterday,” Ceisel calls into question the presumed tensions between heri- tage identity and the transnational marketplace. Erica A. Farmer’s essay on Bordeaux considers the historical creation of the appellation d’origine côntrolée (AOC) and the links that connect geography, notoriety, and tradition while also creating an enforceable, protective legal framework. The essays by Farmer and Ceisel both complicate the simple view that place alone creates a wine’s identity.

Section III opens with an excellent essay by Marion Demossier, an anthropologist who has already made important contributions to the study of French winegrowers. Here, Demossier offers a richly informed unpacking of the concept of grands cru— once thought of as an intensely local project—but that now, because of the transna- tional wine trade, has been extrapolated to other cultural and social settings, including New Zealand and East Asia. Although some elements of the original, local narrative are “lost in translation,” transnationalism has thus far managed to uphold the significance of the grands cru designation. Adam Walker and Paul Manning’s essay offers another view of a post-Soviet winegrowing area: Georgia. The authors argue that the shift from quantity to quality in wine production has been simultaneous with the post-Soviet republic’s attempt to appeal to Western con- sumers or domestic consumers who aspire to Western forms of consumption. The project of transformation in Georgia has engendered new forms of stratification and exclusion that are commonplace in the contemporary post-socialist world. In an interesting departure from the mainstream of essays in the volume, Winne Lem analyzes gender and labor divisions in the Languedoc region of France. Strongly tied to the terminology of family and kinship studies, Lem uses Pierre Bourdieu’s idea of habitus and Antonio Gramsci’s concept of hegemony to theorize how men and women maintain family winegrowing farms over generations. Lem provocatively argues that the “masculinization” of viticulture in the Languedoc has led to the regulation of labor that is in accordance with the interests of men and that manages “to keep their sons and daughters down, in the multiple senses of the word, on the farm” (p. 238).

Section IV tackles the place of technology in the production and representation of wine, long seen as a “natural” drink. Elizabeth Saleh’s essay captures the spirit of winegrowing among former colonial partners (though this historical relationship is not overly explicit). Saleh traces the presence of French wine “technopreneurs” in Lebanon who struggle to maintain French/international viticultural standards, including grape selection, while Lebanese winegrowing traditions slip away. Essays by Paul Cohen and Rachel E. Black target the contested notion of “natural wine.” Cohen offers a historical view of natural wine through the lens of Jules Chauvet (1909–1989), a Beaujolais biochemist, négociant, and winemaker. While I disagree with Cohen’s assertion that Chauvet was a “pioneer” in the areas of nonintervention and natural winemaking (these philosophies are centuries old and were centered in German-speaking Europe rather than France in the generations before Chauvet), there is no disputing Chauvet’s influence in post–World War II French winegrowing. Cohen nicely interweaves a number of separate but related threads, including con- tested discussions of which ingredients/methods constituted “natural” winemaking and the surprising difficulties in pinning down a useful concept of nature. As Cohen argues, natural was not (and is not) a stable, clear-cut category. Black’s essay moves the discussion to the present as she challenges the prevailing way in which wine—as manmade product as any—is still conceived and packaged as natural and untouched by human hands. An additional problem is the hydra- headed nature of the term “natural wine” itself. There is no enforced legal definition nor is there an international certification process. Although the natural wine move- ment is full of contradictions, Black smartly points out that there is a strong drive among European and North American consumers to reconnect with agriculture and artisanal craftsmanship, including winemaking. Our drive toward the “natural” arose in part because of our turn away from technologized processes.

As with any book, one can find faults to quibble about. Vinous scholarship has grown at a blistering pace in the past five to ten years, but significant elements of this accumulation have been overlooked. In addition, several of the essays contain few references, though a useful bibliography is included. In terms of geographical coverage, it is striking that more than 25% of the book is dedicated to post-Soviet countries while Argentina, Austria, Germany, Italy, and the United States are ignored. I assume that this reflects an anthropological preference for the developing or undeveloped world, yet the majority of the balance of the essays concern Australia, France, and Spain. Nevertheless, Wine and Culture is a worthwhile volume because it combines the most seminal anthropological and ethnographical questions about wine production and consumption with geographical and theoreti- cal diversity. The book reaffirms my belief that anthropologists are making a greater contribution than scholars from other disciplines to the academic study of wine.

Of the numerous wine books published in the past decade, to my knowledge, this is the first that provides genuine insight on firm-level decision making across several parts of the industry. It includes thirteen case studies of businesses around the globe from Argentina to New Zealand. The case-study format lends itself well to drilling down beyond the usual reporting on industry trends or superficial snapshots of firms and yields a rich and varied body of work that is sure to benefit industry analysts, practitioners, and students.

A major intended audience appears to be students—perhaps graduate or executive program participants—who seek careers in the wine industry or business consulting. Indeed, each case study includes a set of questions, which ask the reader to assess some key issues and tradeoffs presented in the study and offer recommendations based on the evidence. An “Author’s Perspective” section provides the authors’ views on the same issues.

The book also will be a useful resource for the industry analyst who has a strong grasp of national or regional industry trends but lacks the market participant’s ground-level insight. For instance, sometimes a sweeping market force and associ- ated decision is faced by virtually all firms at once, and therefore its effect can be aggregated additively across firms to yield an industry-level impact (e.g., in the case of a new regulatory requirement or the entry of a powerful technological change). Such transformational forces tend to receive widespread attention and dis- cussion, but they are relatively rare. Far more commonly, firms and industries face more subtle or incrementally rising challenges that may or may not require an immediate, focused response. This volume sheds light on many such incremental developments that well-managed firms actively recognize and address, and poorly managed counterparts ignore at their peril.

In the context of globalization-driven transformation of virtually all aspects of the macro wine industry, it is particularly interesting to witness these impacts on firms. The insider’s view provided in this volume helps to personalize the challenges of running a business in a highly competitive industry. In fact, I recommend that anyone considering opening a wine business—perhaps lubricated by the romantic image of owning a popular winery where one seamlessly shifts roles from vineyard manager to winemaker to host whenever friends stop by to share a bottle—read and study this book carefully. It provides a clear-eyed glimpse of the range of issues and pitfalls that must be recognized, assessed, and managed all while minimizing production shortfalls and compromised staff morale.

Each case study begins by describing a challenge to a wine-related business and appropriate background information, then builds up to a set of key decisions to be made. The studies highlight analytic tools that attempt to assess the conditions objectively. For example, several chapters employ Porter’s Five Forces or SWOT (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats) analysis to clarify the issues and the potential tradeoffs.

These tools may not always generate optimal decisions, but their transparent ana- lyses support clarity of thought, particularly when the issue in question may be value laden or require questioning of deeply held beliefs. For example, one winery holds sustainable practices as a core value but must consider abandoning its carbon- neutral pledge for financial reasons, while a family-owned Bordeaux winery assesses whether to continue participating in a “Cru Bourgeois” designation program favored by its patriarch and founder.

One emerging theme is that market realities differ significantly for wineries in tra- ditional European wine production regions and those in the New World, many of which entered the industry relatively recently. The contrasts are sharp and mutually reinforcing, particularly in terms of wine production. In 2000–2005, France and Italy were the leading consumers of wine (in absolute terms) and provided large domestic markets for producers. Since then, however, the trend has changed. By 2011, con- sumption had begun to fall sharply in those countries, and growth is now centered in both the developed and developing New World, led by the United States and China (International Organization of Vine and Wine, 2012).

This dynamic alone bears strongly on producers’ strategic decisions. Faced with negative domestic consumption growth, French, Italian, and Spanish wineries have little choice but to focus on export markets if they want to grow. Generalizing broadly, the differences in average age of consumers (younger in the New World), average wealth (lower in the developing New World), and wine style preferences (fruitier, less dry in the New World) make responding to changing market opportunities a more complex endeavor than one might expect. Even the decision to consider changing at all may be an arduous one. For established Old World wineries, altering a viticulture and vinification process that has produced decades or even centuries of popular acclaim and profit might seem questionable. Yet, in a dynamic marketplace where a changing of the guard is under way, whole- sale fossilization of past practices may be the riskier route going forward, as new competitors scramble to distinguish their wines and experiment with approaches to attract consumers. The next section reviews a few of the case studies.

The case study by Sharon Forbes of Lincoln University in New Zealand analyzes the options for incorporating sustainable practices in a winery’s strategic objectives and production practices. The analysis suggests that adopting sustainable practices is a multifaceted process marked by difficult choices—it is far more than a simple “yes” or “no” proposition. Anecdotal information and promotional materials often characterize this decision as economically favorable and a marketing triumph, because sustainable practices, in addition to reducing environmental impacts, can reduce costs and appeal to socially conscious consumers. However, this case study digs deeper to consider the potential marginal costs and benefits of sustainability. It notes, for example, that the benefits for wineries of “going green” are likely dimin- ishing at the margin as the field of sustainable wineries becomes more crowded, thereby diluting the differentiation benefit. Likewise, the proliferation and professio- nalization of sustainability certification mechanisms may improve their credibility but also tend to raise compliance costs, especially with respect to labor. The winery, Huia Vineyards, elected not to renew its carbon neutrality certification after weighing the pros and cons. It was a difficult but probably an economically sound decision, and the company remains fully committed to integrating sustainability in its planning and operation.

The study of the Winzergenossenschaft Westhofen (WGW) cooperative in Germany by Marc Dressler and Anika Kost of the University of Ludwigshafen, perhaps the most informative case of the bunch, profiles proactive organizational change in the wine industry. It describes the process by which the cooperative improved its efficiency and modernized its physical equipment and business model to become a diversified enterprise that now turns a profit in a highly competitive mar- ketplace undergoing far-reaching consolidation among producers. Cooperatives, which produce one-third of German wine, play an important role in the country. The cooperative structure helps small producers to realize economies of scale and sometimes to gain leverage vis-à-vis distributors, but they are plagued by reputations for lower quality and operate with thin profit margins.

A combination of changes taking place at WGW has helped foster its current success. The new management reduced slack in the production processes in part by shedding staff across departments. It also changed the basis upon which members are paid for their bulk wine production to reflect current market prices, reducing the cooperative’s risk exposure. WGW’s improved operational logistics created additional warehouse capacity that is now rented to external clients. Similarly, outside clients have access to its production facility and laboratory and make up 80 percent of the users. It even added solar panels when repairing a roof and generates income by selling power to the energy grid. These and other developments have transformed the cooperative from a traditional wine cooperative to an enter- prise with multiple business lines and profit centers. Overall, the changes entail some risk by moving beyond the core business of wine cooperatives. The initial result appears to be favorable, but the true outcomes will not be known for some time to come, and constant reassessment and adjustments will be needed to keep the cooperative responsive to its membership’s needs and economically viable in a competitive marketplace.

After detailing and assessing the WGW’s transformation and current status, the case study turns to engaging students by challenging them to develop future options for the cooperative. It asks them to conduct a strategic review with industry assessment and SWOT analysis and then present their results to cooperative members, board members, and other stakeholders. Strategic priorities may include, for example, defining a path to increase average margins on wine sales by placing relative emphasis on increasing its premium-quality line or pursuing new export markets to establish a presence in markets where wine consumption is growing.

The study on the use of cork to enclose wine bottles offers a view from within the industry intermediate goods supply chain. Tom Takin and Duane Dove of Sonoma State University analyze how the evolution of technological options and market acceptance of new enclosures threatens the long-held dominance of cork enclosures.

The “cork debate” pits a centuries-old established product against new alternative enclosure systems touted as technically superior but less accepted by consumers. The selection of an enclosure type has become more complex with recent supply chain developments, cost differences, and, importantly, consumer reactions.

The primary factors involve relative prices of each system, the impacts of cork taint, and consumer acceptance. The interaction of these elements makes the selec- tion process challenging, as the alternatives to natural cork are now viable and gaining market share. The initial impetus toward synthetic corks and screw tops was driven largely by disruptions caused by cork taint, which was estimated to occur at a rate above 5 percent, costing the global industry billions of dollars annually in the 1990s. Synthetic corks and screw-top enclosures eliminate the taint problem.

As synthetic alternatives emerged and became increasingly accepted by wineries, the natural cork producers responded by improving their production processes and adopting stricter quality control protocols—a process that may have been facilitated by concurrent consolidation of the cork industry. The authors state that the esti- mated cork taint rate now has fallen to 1 percent, making it a far less important driver of change. So the main “push” factor may have virtually disappeared, but the “pull” factors (lower costs for cork alternatives and ease of use by consumers in the case of screw tops) still hold influence. According to the study, the main barrier to wider use of cork alternatives is limited consumer acceptance. In the United States, many consumers associate synthetic and screw-top enclosures with low quality, a condition likely colored by the long-standing use of screw tops among low-priced jug wines. Yet the market share of cork alternatives has grown quickly and now approaches one-third of the global market, so their acceptance rates vary by nation (e.g., use is much higher in the U.K.).

Given that synthetic corks and screw tops tend to cost much less than half as much as natural cork, one might expect this shift to continue. However, a couple of factors may provide resistance. First, since the newer enclosures that are impermeable to air have been on the market for a relatively brief period (apart from jug wines, which are not meant to be aged), one wonders how age-worthy wines will be affected by such enclosures (natural corks are semipermeable, permitting partial oxidation of wine over many years). I would expect that some wineries must be conducting their own experiments by enclosing identically produced and stored wines with corks and with synthetic enclosures for comparison in the future. If the long-term effect of impermeable enclosures on wine aging is found to be benign (or even favorable) compared to cork, this might resolve a key remaining uncertainty, although we may need decades before the evidence becomes clear enough to draw informed conclusions. Nonetheless, it may be unlikely that wineries will seek to enclose their super-premium age-worthy wines in anything other than natural cork, given their high margins and the long-standing precedent of sealing those bottles with cork.

Second, for some of us, the very act of removing the foil, twisting the corkscrew, popping the cork, and perhaps examining it gives simple pleasure and differentiates wine from other beverages. I’m dubious that unscrewing a twist-off cap offers the same enjoyment. Although we ultimately care most about the contents of the bottle, we see the complete process—from retrieval from the cellar to swirling in the glass—as a unified sensory experience. Hence, even a technically perfect enclo- sure would be hard-pressed to replace natural corks in the psyches of dedicated wine drinkers if it meant eliminating the ritualistic pastime of extracting a cork to reveal the elixir within.

The study on the Dominio del Plata Winery in Argentina by Javier Merino illus- trates the choppy currents that wineries must navigate in today’s globalized environ- ment. These currents include evolving market shares of wines made in the “modern” style, shifting retail channels, and the intensification of competition accompanied by strategic planning to develop competitive advantages.

The author attributes the growing preference for modern-style wines (generally, more fruit-driven, less acidic, and less tannic) over traditional European wines largely to the emergence of new, younger consumer markets and the growth of export-minded New World producers since the 1980s. If sustained, in the aggregate, this dynamic portends a future wholesale shift in consumption toward modern wines, as younger consumers replace older ones in the market. This creates a quand- ary for traditional producers, who must choose between a shrinking market share, adapting their long-held traditional wine styles, or perhaps diversifying their offer- ings to try to bridge traditional and modern styles and audiences. Of course, wine production styles and consumption preferences are far too layered and complex to be divided into two simple categories as I have described, but the description illus- trates the nature of the challenges. It is also noteworthy that the ongoing debate between globalists, who view the forces of globalization as positive influences on wine quality, price, and consumption, and terroirists, who counter that globalization is destructive of a wine’s unique characteristics that reflect the local soil, environ- ment, and culture, are absent from the discussion in this book. Perhaps this is due to the reality that wine business practitioners are deeply engaged in the many chal- lenges of their firms’ operations, leaving them little time to ponder broad philosophi- cal issues. Or it may be the case that individual winery owners have previously contemplated this divide and favor one side or the other and perhaps run their oper- ations accordingly. Although the debate provides ample fodder for wine writers and enthusiasts, admittedly, it does not lend itself to facile analysis in a business case- study format.

Merino argues the movement away from retail sales in dedicated wine shops toward more accessible locations, particularly supermarkets, has profoundly affected producers. Although greater access likely expands the potential market and boosts mass consumption, it increases the market power of the dominant retailers and exerts downward pressure on producers’ margins. Mike Veseth (2011, reviewed in the Autumn 2011 issue of this journal) supports this view in his analysis of Tesco in the U.K., Aldi in Germany, and Costco in the United States as major vendors of low-priced wines that expand accessibility and squeeze margins. Merino notes that smaller producers may respond by favoring exports to smaller markets where the large retail chains lack a strong presence. Presumably, they would be incentivized toward more direct sales to consumers as well.

The case study uses “revealed comparative advantage” scores as a tool for shed- ding light on the change in relative national shares of wine exports between 2002 and 2011. It shows that Argentina and New Zealand led the way with a more than doubling of their relative export shares while established producing countries like France, Portugal, and Spain changed little. Australian and South African scores fell substantially during the period as both lost global export shares.

Based on this analysis, the author identifies key factors influencing export com- petitiveness, such as innovation-driven low production costs, favorable exchange rates, the popularity of key varietals, and access and proximity to strong consu- mer markets. Argentina scored particularly well on these metrics during this period, as reflected by its growth in relative export shares. However, this happy convergence of forces could be easily reversed, as occurred in Australia during the 2000s.

Recall that Australian exporters were flying high in the 1990s but experienced a series of disruptions from which the Aussie wine industry is still recovering. How much of the recent success of Argentine wineries will endure? One can speculate about several potential vulnerabilities. For example, will the malbec varietal, the fea- tured red grape in Argentine wines, remain generally well-regarded by consumers or might it become somewhat passé, as did the Australian shiraz (syrah)? The high his- toric volatility in exchange rates between the Argentine peso and the U.S. dollar signals that an advantageous export environment for Argentina will not be perma- nent. National agricultural policies may bear strongly on the industry as well. Indeed, any return to the import protection and agricultural subsidy policies of the 1970s and 1980s would likely generate the same oversupply of low-quality wines in Argentina that were produced during the previous iteration.

The responses to these potential threats will likely be determined by individual wineries. The Dominio del Plata Winery launched an initiative to expand its export business as a means of increasing revenue and providing a sustainable future. It moved upmarket by creating new high-quality wine brands that target the stronger markets and generate higher margins. The strategy has paid dividends, as Dominio’s average sales price per case grew by 64 percent between 2009 and 2012. Yet, despite this success, it remains focused on ensuring that the growth remains sus- tainable. For example, Dominio regularly conducts blind tastings against higher- priced competitors to promote improvement in the ratio of price to quality, and it adds a unique touch by having its winemaker visit each sales market to create a per- sonal connection and provide a channel for collecting direct feedback. These and other measures suggest that the winery is intent on managing its future proactively to avoid repeating the missteps of other former rising stars. Time will tell whether this approach will bear fruit in terms of long-run growth and viability, but the present signs appear favorable.

For economists, the entire book offers useful nuggets on the microfactors influen- cing firm-level decisions within the wine industry. Some of the cost analyses provided enable managers to assess the expected marginal costs and marginal benefits of alternative options in a consistent fashion, resulting in well-informed decision making that supports efficient outcomes. I highly recommend this book to those seeking insights on the business side of the wine industry. It presents a diverse set of case studies that appear particularly well-suited to serve as part of a course curriculum.

I close with a few minor critiques. Edited volumes commonly suffer from a hetero- geneous quality, and this book is no exception. Although each study offers plenty of quantitative and qualitative information, the depth of analysis and tone are uneven. For example, a few of the business descriptions read like promotional material while others sound impartial. Finally, the writing is stylistically inconsistent, but this is perhaps not surprising, given that many contributors are nonnative English speakers, and this rarely interferes with the reader’s comprehension. These quibbles should by no means deter interested readers from absorbing the many insights offered in this useful contribution to the wine business literature.

1959 Steinberger Trockenbeerenauslese with the rich, intensely fruity bouquet burst onto my palate with remarkable flavors, as if I were biting into a perfectly ripe, honeyed apricot. It lingered with a depth of finish that I had never before experi- enced, as my contemporaneous notes recount. This nectar concluded a tasting of aged clarets that I hosted on May 22, 1977, to celebrate the completion of my doc- toral studies. My gourmet group’s practice was to serve an Auslese when one was awarded a bachelor’s degree and a Beerenauslese after earning a master’s degree. During the 1970s, we had tasted several other bottlings from the Steinberg vineyard near Hattenheim, my notes on which are among the most effusive. This is not surprising, since the wines from that vineyard were called “the kings of the Rheingau” by Frank Schoonmaker in his classic The Wines of Germany.

My, how the world, or “Planet Riesling,” as Stuart Pigott prefers to call it, has changed. In his essential and exuberant paean to the best white wine on earth, he chronicles the past quarter-century’s remarkable evolution of “my favorite grape,” as he frequently refers to Riesling, without any color distinction. This hymn of praise, however, is not written in iambic pentameter. Instead, it reflects his penchant for gonzo journalism, which “is written without claims of objectivity, often including the reporter as part of the story via a first-person narrative” (www.wikipedia.org). As an homage to Pigott and his influences, Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Wolfe, I have adopted the same style for this critique. After all, what is good enough for the author should be good enough for the reviewer.

Pigott is all over the place in the narrative and illustrations. He coins his own termi- nology. The global network of wine professionals around new Rieslings is “Planet Riesling” (p. 13). He refers to “Blade Runner steeliness” (p. 17), then uses the term to designate a separate category of Rieslings distinct from the more common dry, medium dry, medium sweet, and sweet. Inexplicable and inappropriate selfies appear in a couple of places (pp. 13 and 189). Tales of his personal encounters with many of the most noteworthy producers around the globe comprise most of the text.

It is with respect to this trip around the new world of Riesling that the book is most valuable. After introductory chapters that briefly present the history of the grape and describe the various styles of wines made from it, the tour begins in the wine lakes of the Northeast. I have limited experience with the products of New York’s Finger Lakes (or FLX, as Pigott prefers to call it), a region that I visited only once, so it was nice to learn that Dr. Frank and Hermann Wiemer, while both still significant producers of fine Riesling, weren’t the only ones in town. The discussion of the recent development of the wine industries in Ontario and Michigan made for good reading.

We next head to the West Coast. California, of course, is prominently mentioned, but Oregon merits an insightful discussion. While Pinot reigns supreme, especially in my home region, the Willamette Valley, Riesling has almost as long a history, with the first vines of it planted over 40 years ago. Some of my favorite producers, Chehalem Winery and Brooks Winery, are among those singled out. I have also had remarkable examples made from grapes grown in the Maresh Vineyard in the Dundee Hills American Viticultural Area (AVA) and Hyland Vineyard in the McMinnville AVA, both among the oldest in the area.

While in the West, Washington State’s Château Ste. Michelle, “the world’s biggest producer of Riesling and the most consistent of those producing Riesling on this grand scale” (p. 76), is an obvious stop. Canada’s Okanagan Valley in British Columbia is home to a handful of producers whose individual approaches led Pigott to observe that “Okanagan Riesling really can’t be reduced to a simple formula” (p. 82).

I have marveled at Grosset Polish Hill Rieslings from the Clare Valley in South Australia the couple of times that I have had them. This winery is one of several that Pigott takes us to in Oz, as he likes to call it. So busy was I sampling just about every other varietal, I don’t recall tasting any Rieslings during my extensive tour of New Zealand wineries in 2004. As I learned in the book, the distinguished efforts of a handful of winemakers are eclipsed by the attention lavished on Sauvignon Blanc.

Austria merits its own chapter, with extensive discussions of the areas around the Danube. In the land better known for Grüner Veltliner, Riesling “has gone from being a specialty to one of the most important white grapes for quality wine in Austria during the last generation” (p. 116). The wines tend to be fuller-bodied, with a higher alcohol content than many wines from Germany.

We finally arrive in the land of the Rhine and its tributaries, the home of the Riesling grape. The chapter begins with a statement that made me aware of my age: “Riesling, and particularly German Riesling, has long suffered from the image of being old-fashioned” (p. 129) and invariably sweet. During the same period I savored the Steinbergers, I consumed many crisp Kabinetts, intriguing Spätlesen, glorious Auslesen, and, on the rarest occasions, luscious Beerenauslesen from some of the finest producers, several of whom I visited on a trip to Germany in 1978. Along with Burgundies and clarets, these superb German Rieslings set the hook, as it were, and committed me to a lifelong love of wine. They may be seen as old-fashioned, but to me they were revelations.

After a quick history that explains some of the basis for that reputation, Pigott turns his attention to what has been happening lately not only among many of the outstanding winemakers I came to appreciate but also among the new breed known as Jungwinzer, “a word that now doesn’t only mean young winemakers but also implies talent, creativity, and coolness” (p. 130). Alsatian Rieslings, in my experience among the driest and most versatile on the table, are covered in the same chapter as the Germans because the region is on the French Rhine.

The penultimate chapter covers Riesling Lone Rangers, in countries where the grape is grown but has not gained prominence. Efforts in Eastern Europe, Italy, South America, and South Africa are lightly touched upon.

“The Stuart Pigott Riesling Global 100” concludes the exposition. While Steinberger is nowhere to be found, there is an oblique reference to it in a discussion of Kloster Eberbach, the monastery where the wines are made (p. 134), and several of my old and new friends make his list. For those he highlights that are not familiar to me, having this calibration suggests new things to try.

Wine economists should be amused by the 1949 wine list from Houston’s Shamrock Hotel listing higher prices for Rhine and Moselle wines than for most clarets. Sidebars throughout the text offer “Crazy Riesling Stats” galore.

Although this volume is the best contemporary account of the state of Riesling that I know of, it is not without some distractions. There are several instances of poor editing, including typos and spelling errors. I also wish that the book had a glossary and more extensive indexing to facilitate searching for terms. Instead of maps of pro- minent Riesling growing areas and pictures of labels (beyond those on p. 148), there is an inordinate number of photos of winemakers and others in the trade. Most of the pictures of vineyards are a welcome break from the densely worded two-column pages, but I find some, like the one spanning pages 182 and 183, uninspiring.

These defects aside, I know of no other writer who is more qualified to extol the virtues of this most important varietal. Pigott summarizes his case for his favorite grape: “the entire point of Riesling is the wines’ diversity, and as long as they are well made, this diversity is enriching” (p. 162). The book provides ample evidence of this point and thus merits consideration by oenophiles of every degree of experience.

Whereas Pigott makes his preference crystal clear, I am still occasionally conflicted as to which is the greater grape, Riesling or Pinot Noir. A brief conversation at the 2014 Passport to Pinot with Wynne Peterson-Nedry of Chehalem, a noted producer of marvelous wines from both, may eventually sway me in Pigott’s direction. If we use the desert island test, she pointed out, Riesling would be more appropriate to accompany what we are likely to eat. Hmmm. A compelling argument, but I think I’ll continue to study the question.

1 Mark Heil received his Ph.D. in 1997 from American University in Washington, DC where he still lives and tends a home microvineyard. The views expressed in this review are those of the reviewer and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Department of the Treasury.

Neal D. Hulkower
McMinnville, OR
nhulkower@yahoo.com
doi:10.1017/jwe.2014.35

It is a very catchy title that makes you anticipate fabulous revelations, great secrets, and the solution to all the problems that may arise from bibulousness . If this is not quite the case, it is perhaps less the fault of the author than of the episodic nature of the subject matter. As the title promises, much of this volume deals with “extreme” wines or “extreme” aspects of wine, and it is not a priori clear what the best organiz- ing principle might be for an approach like this. In any event, the discussion contains many interesting and some amusing factoids―I use the term to indicate that many of the assertions in the book rest on hearsay rather than on statistical evidence and that the provenance of the alleged facts is sometimes uncertain. But the author clearly intended to write not a scholarly book but one that would inform and, at the same time, entertain, which it does quite well.

The book reads a little bit like the author’s blog on wine available at www.wine economist.com: it is chock- full of facts, some well-known and some not at all, occasionally amusing, but somewhat disorganized, and for a reader who is well versed in the tasting and the lore of wine, it is like a bunch of extra shakers of various spices to add to your meal so that you enjoy it more. It is interesting that the author insists, more than once in the book, that he does not make a habit of rating or recommending wines; this admirable self-restraint might well be practiced by other wine experts. So what is the ultimate aim of the book? This question is best answered in the author’s own words:

A lot of The wine economist’s are searching for the wine world’s outer limits: “What is the best wine?” They ask. The best wine value? The best wine brand? The best wine magazine? … Implicit in these queries, I think, is a certain anxiety. There are lots of wines out there and con- sumers are worried that they are choosing poorly, paying too much, or getting advice from biased or incompetent wine gurus. (pp. 11–12)

We are, in fact, treated to a discussion of the worst wines, as well as some of the best, in the context of ratings by Parker, Tanzer, and Jancis Robinson, closely followed by a discussion of the most famous, including the famous 1855 classification that elevated the “gang of four” (Veseth’s term) to exalted status. This is followed by some well-known examples of horrors, such as the Austrian antifreeze episode and the case of Thomas Jefferson’s 1787 Château Lafite. The oldest wines commercially available are Madeiras at the Herbfarm: www.theherbfarm.com
See, for example, the 1795 Companhia Vinicola do Madeira, Terrantez, which sells for $10,000 a bottle. I should add that there is a nice discussion of Malbec wines, marred only by the absurd assertion that “most economists are more comfor- table with theories than with facts.”

Quite logically, we proceed to a discussion of the most expensive wines, with special attention paid to the very special year 2009. A nice discussion of the Australian wine industry, with its booms and busts, is followed by historical remarks about the effects of Prohibition in the United States. We then turn to “extreme wine geeks” (Allen Meadows), “extreme wine importers” (Bobby Kacher), and many, many important people in the wine industry (James and David Lett, Drouhin, Mondavi, Catena, Angelo Gaja, Giuseppe Bologna and many others). Celebrity wines are discussed next, together with the myths surrounding them (that they are an American phenomenon, that they are bad, and that they are bad for the business). Yao Ming and Chinese wines are introduced, as is the “godfather” of California wine, Gustave Neibaum, leading to Inglenook and Francis Coppola. The author rightly bemoans the scarcity of good “wine movies.” New wine regions are discussed—mostly Brazil, China, India, and Russia, the last of which is bad, bad, bad, at least at the present time. There is a mention of the “Judgment of Princeton” in 2012, in which “wines from New Jersey report- edly bested both California and the French.” More accurately, the Judgment of Princeton pitted New Jersey wines against French wines only, and it would be an exaggeration to say that the New Jersey wines bested the French; rather, we could say that New Jersey per- formed to their credit. There are also some truly zany allegations in the book, although it is not clear how much the author believes them, such as the claim that wine tastes different depending on the type of music that is played in the background.

Much of this is amusing and informative. My guess is that it will make the neo- phyte reader eager for more and will enable the expert reader to fill gaps in his or her knowledge and understanding of wine.

Richard E. Quandt
Princeton University
metrics@quandt.com
doi:10.1017/jwe.2014.36