Reality Bites

What is genius in wine? I think we can apply Schopenhauer’s observation: “Genius is its own reward. It serves no useful purpose; it bears no profit. It is as music, or art, or poetry or philosophy. To be useless and unprofitable is the patent of nobility.”

Wine, as we understand it, serves a commercial imperative; 99.9% of wine conforms to this imperative. There are, however, rare wines that exist on their own terms, wherein the winemaker has held back from intervention in that you cannot say with certainty that the wines are good or bad. They are sui generis. Genius comes from within; the genius of wine is thus the perfect expression of itself. Evaluative norms do not apply.

I am not saying wine should be raw grape juice and that the winemaker plays no role. There are numerous transformations and evolutions – indeed the living character of the wine depends on these processes continuing. Stable wine is mute, real wine is in constant flux.

This may mean that two bottles of the same wine may not taste exactly the same, a fearful concept in a world dedicated to homogenous products. Yet since we are content to recognise the possibility of mutability within ourselves why do we not assess wine in the same way? And whilst we would obviously not desire to drink anything unpleasant, nor should we flatten our expectations to look for wines that conform solely to specific flavour profiles (ugly expression).

It is almost easier to describe real wines in terms of what they are not, rather than what they are. In a dynamic sense they draw their inspiration from the soil and the stones, from plant life and insects, from the sun and the wind, from the abundant wild yeasts that populate the vineyards and the winery. The vine is a glorious natural mechanism absorbing countless subtle flavour components. The role of the winemaker is perhaps to recognise the genius of the wine: its capacity to be luminous, uncanny, coalescent and fluid and to bring out that truth as gently and sympathetically as possible.