The name game

Appellations aren't so terroirble after all

Uncorked by Thor Iverson

Quick Quiz: What's the difference between Montrachet, Chevalier-Montrachet, Puligny-Montrachet, Chassagne-Montrachet, Bâtard-Montrachet, Criots-Bâtard-Montrachet, and Bienvenues-Bâtard-Montrachet? Do you know? Do you care? Have your eyes glazed over just reading this paragraph?

Those are all the names of appellations in Burgundy -- specifically, the vineyards that produce the world's finest chardonnay-based wines. As I mentioned in this column a while ago (February 20), most European wines are named after places rather than grapes -- for instance, a Hermitage is a wine made from syrah grapes in the northern Rhône Valley, while a Pomerol is a merlot-dominated blend from a small area east of the Gironde River in Bordeaux.

But appellations are more than place names for wines; they're also an educated guess about what type of wine will come from those appellations. Wine regions like Italy, Germany, and Burgundy have so many names for so many microscopic little places that even wine experts lose track. In Italy, it seems as though every grape yields a different kind of wine with its own appellation. In Germany and Burgundy, only a few grapes are used to make most quality wine, so the hundreds of appellations in each region must mean something else.

In Burgundy, for example, the only visible difference between any two wines of the same color is the appellation on the label. And when those names are similar, as in the first paragraph of this column, it can get confusing. Yet the difference in the taste of wines with different appellations can be profound. So what do those geographical delimiters signify? An unshakable faith in the validity of terroir.

Ah, you knew I'd be coming back to that, didn't you? Well, here's the scoop: the French (and the Italians, Germans, Spaniards, Portuguese, Austrians, etc.) believe so strongly in terroir -- the idea that grapes manifest the qualities of the place where they're grown -- that their entire system of appellations is based on it. French cartographers didn't just randomly scribble down the border that divides Bâtard-Montrachet from Bienvenues-Bâtard-Montrachet. The division is based on a wealth of climatological, geographical, and soil data (supported by a lot of tasting) that suggests that the wines from the former are different from the wines from the latter. All this for two small vineyards that are not visually distinguishable.

There are also hierarchies within appellations that highlight the top vineyards of the region. Every area does this differently; in Burgundy, for instance, premier cru (first growth) denotes a vineyard with outstanding terroir and a history of producing superior wines. Even better is grand cru (great growth), applied only to those vineyards known to produce the absolute top wines of Burgundy. The designations are, with a few inevitable exceptions, highly accurate, but the demand for the top wines drives their price into the stratosphere.

That's not to suggest that appellations are perfect. Political considerations have occasionally led to the redefinition of borders; no surprise there, given that a wine from Bâtard-Montrachet costs at least twice as much as a wine from Chassagne-Montrachet, which surrounds half of it. And appellations continue to change with historical experience. Sometimes this is to the wine drinker's benefit, other times it is not: St.-Joseph and Crozes-Hermitage in the Rhône have lousy reputations largely because of the careless expansion of their borders.

Appellations also codify terroir by enforcing strict regulations governing technique, alcohol level, permitted grape varieties, and a host of other oenological details. This seems confusing, but once you sort it all out, it's actually quite helpful in learning what to expect from a Valpolicella, Carmignano, or Soave. On the other hand, tying a winemaker's hands in this way discourages experimentation. For instance, Zind-Humbrecht (an outstanding Alsatian producer) can grow chardonnay in its grand cru vineyards -- and does -- but cannot legally mention the appellation on the bottle, because chardonnay is not an "allowed" grape under Alsace's appellation laws.

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I'll put my cards on the table: I'm a terroirist. I believe wine should reflect the place it's from, and winemaking that strips wine of that character is a pathetic excuse for winemaking. I believe when winemakers ignore their land and create vinous monuments to technique alone, we lose what is essential, magical, and true about wine. A wine should do more than reveal a winemaker's ability; it should express the culture, the spirit of the people, the soul of the local cuisine. A world where all wines are the same is a world with only one job, only one meal, only one song.

So the next time someone tries to compare their Napa Valley chardonnay to white Burgundy, or some $50 Chilean limited-release cuvée to red Bordeaux (or vice-versa), tell them to go back to their assembly line. The wine may be tasty and technically sound, but it's devoid of soul. Real winemakers want only one thing: to produce the best wine their land, their grapes, and their technique can make. Everything else is marketing.

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Since many of the wines I'm talking about are expensive and hard to find, I'm not making any specific recommendations this week. However, I'd strongly suggest attending some of the tastings and dinners hosted by wine-savvy restaurants and retailers like Uva (1418 Comm Ave, 617-566-5670) or, farther afield, Big Y (Northampton, Massachusetts, 1-800-474-BIGY), where single-vineyard and neighboring-appellation wines appear regularly. If you'd rather experiment at home, find a highly knowledgeable retailer with a good selection of German wine (tell him or her that you're interested in tasting wines from individual vineyards). Also, look for white Burgundies from Verget, Chassagne-Montrachets from Jean-Noël Gagnard, and Chablis from the various producers named Dauvissat, none of which should force you into a second mortgage.

Thor Iverson can be reached at wine@phx.com.

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