© Montes

Oak has traditionally been an important ingredient in wine's flavor.

One of the most divisive winemaking techniques is on the way out, much to James Lawrence's relief.

If superior terroir provides the foundation for making great wine, then new oak is potentially responsible for its degradation.

"You cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear" is the familiar adage, however some winemakers have historically shown a remarkable talent for ruining their exceptional raw materials with rampant oaking.

But there's an upside: such wild abandon in the cellar has provided critics with something to criticize for many years. I recall my first wine tasting in London years ago, and an ebullient Oz Clarke castigating a Kiwi winemaker for over-oaking his Pinot Noir. More recently, journalist and winery owner Victor de La Serna decried much of Ribera del Duero's output as "oaky soup". If I received a dollar for every time wines have been dismissed as "too oaky" during blind tastings, then I'd be as rich as Croesus.

Yet in recent times, I've observed a growing inverted snobbery about new oak – from winemakers, rather than critics. That's not to suggest that the supply, or indeed demand for new oak fruit bombs is moribund, just that a widening firmament of owners and winemakers wish to distance themselves from this paradigm. It's hardly surprising – sommeliers have proselytized the consumer movement towards the subtle and fresh for some time now. The natural corollary of this (reported) change in consumer attitudes is surely a reduction in the amount of new oak.

The movement encompasses many different regions, and price brackets. Although personal taste may play into the decision making, the catalyst is often commercial – who wants their wines to be perceived as unfashionable and therefore unsellable?

In 2016, Château Angélus' director Stephanie de Boüard conceded during a tasting that she planned to bring "her personal touch" to the grand vin. Not least, reducing the role that new oak plays at Angélus.

"We currently typically use 100 percent new French oak for a period of up to 22 months, and I'd like to scale that back somewhat, to make the wine more supple. I'm looking forward to experimenting with 90 percent and 80 percent, for example – ultimately though, the level of oak depends on the vintage in question," said de Boüard. Hardly a cataclysmic change, of course, but an important development for a wine that is still regarded as one of Saint-Émilion's most powerful and extracted.

Third Growth Château Lagrange is also wary of spoiling its grand vin with a surfeit of barrique.

"Since 1983, we have typically used 50 percent new oak for Lagrange – aged for 20 months – and 20 percent new oak for Les Fiefs de Lagrange, which is aged for 14 months," says Matthieu Bordes, director-general at Lagrange.

"One can still taste wines that were made between 2000 and 2010 in Bordeaux, and 'treated' to aging in 200 percent new oak. Today, most of these wines are oxidized, dry and tired. But winemakers are rewriting the process and learning from their mistakes – at least I hope."

So too are Australian producers increasingly distancing themselves from the oaky caricature. Barossa, once renowned for its lavishly oaked Shiraz, has shifted towards showcasing the flavors of the grape; less new oak influence joins a tendency to pick earlier and produce fresher, pure-fruited wines.

© Tahbilk Winery

Australia had a reputation for indulgent use of new oak, but today's wines are much more restrained and elegant.

"There is certainly danger in using too much new oak in a wine. In recent times I have observed that some wines have not necessarily too much new oak, just generally poor use of oak. This comes back to time in barrel, level of toast and cooper selection," says Alex Schulz, winemaker at Turkey Flat.

"Most leading producers in Australia are taking a closer look at picking time and determining styles around these decisions. To me, this is the single biggest important factor in determining wine style."

Other winemakers would appear to agree.

"There is definitely a trend towards wines that are fresher, crunchier, and juicier. This is something that we've pursued for sure," says Han Tao Lau, senior winemaker at Greenstone Vineyards in Victoria.

"We want our wines to taste of fruit and the site that its grown on, not of trees. We avoid over-oaking by our choice of oak, choice of cooper [some cooperages make more "oaky" barrels than others], and the size of the vessel. We're quite happy about the length of time our Chardonnay and Pinot Noir spend in oak, and have been looking at shortening the oak maturation time for the reds in particular."

But perhaps the most dramatic transformation in attitudes to new oak has occurred in Italy and Spain. What was hailed as Tuscany's savior in the 1980s – French grapes and barriques – became de rigueur for prestigious Italian wineries by the late 1990s. More recently, though, some Italian winemakers have given barrique the boot, increasingly switching to alternative materials and vessels for fermentation and aging. Meanwhile, Tondonia owner Maria José Lopez de Herredia's insistence that new oak is the devil is looking less and less anachronistic.

"New oak has become too prominent a force in Spanish winemaking," says Maria José.

"The cask historically was simply used to transport wine – it was never intended as an enological tool. Oak should remain a secondary feature of wine production, used to stabilize wine, rather than used to impart aromas or flavors that trample over the fruit and terroir character."

Many would see wisdom in her comments. The bond between wine and oak was forged by the Romans, but it is only relatively recently that winemakers have obsessed over the ability of wood, particularly new oak, to influence the smell and taste of wine. Have we come full circle?

"Fashion was never for us," laughs CVNE chief executive Victor Urrutia.

"We were tragically unfashionable for many years and that was OK, we managed. Traditional is on-trend right now; we're the real thing, so for once lets enjoy our moment in the sun. We've been giving lengthy oak aging (in used wood) to our wines since the 19th Century. This is what wine drinkers have come to recognize and love. People are tired of extraction and I hope the period of obsessing over new oak in Spanish winemaking has passed."

However, as South African winemaker Justin Van Wyk emphasizes, new oak still has an important role to play in fine wine production, if used judiciously. He argues that in addition to an overall reduction in the amount of new oak used globally, winemakers are approaching barrel-aging with more intelligence and insight.

"A wine can easily become over-oaked, but it is not a result of maturing for too long in barrel, but rather a result of using the incorrect barrels for the specific wine/variety," observes Van Wyk, winemaker at Constantia Glen.

"Merlot performs a lot better when matured in second fill barrels, whereas our Cabernet Sauvignon and Petit Verdot perform very well in new oak; winemakers are becoming more clever with the type of oak used. For example: using coopers with low flavor impact, extra-tight grain oak, demanding oak that has undergone longer natural seasoning such as three or four years instead of the norm of two years' seasoning, top-quality French oak, of course, and lighter toasting levels."

Van Wyk underlines the point that increasingly, barrels are toasted for longer and at a slightly lower temperature, ensuring an even toasting through the oak staves without scorching or discoloring the wood in any way.

"This is a more gentle toasting that prevents furfural [toasty/coffee] flavors from developing," says Van Wyk.

Matthieu Bordes adds: "Some wineries are using 100-percent new oak and it is very well integrated after a few years, so there are many variables to consider. Fortunately there is no recipe."

And so the focus returns, perhaps boringly, to balance. Both in terms of the percentage of new wood and the fine-tuning of the oaking regime. A 'slight' predilection towards sensationalism is calling on me to proclaim that new oak is dead, but that's clearly not the case. Yet the continuing efforts of many winemakers to reign in, and refine their oak treatment is surely a cause of celebration. Winemakers are (generally) well aware of the risks of selling oaky caricatures to a disinterested market.

Personally, I'd love to throw the new oak baby out with the bathwater, I really would. I have tasted a glut of wines over the past decade that have been suffocated by aggressive oaking regimes, compared to a handful of wines which were under-oaked – new wave Australian Chardonnays apart. However, I can still recall the abysmal 2013 vintage in Chablis, and how much those woody tannins helped certain wines put flesh and muscle on their bones. For better or worse, new oak will play an important, but hopefully not asphyxiating role in the years to come.