By Stephen Eliot



I am beginning to wonder if the most significant thing about latter-day wine journalism and the world of wine blogging with its unending, self-published broadsides is that culture, convention and most anything that remotely smacks of accepted wisdom are sure targets for attack.



Expertise is roundly dismissed and eschewed for solipsism and declarations that quality and beauty lie solely within the eye of the beholder. There are no great wines other than those that an individual deems to be great, and the worth of any observation and commentary about wine is relativistic and valid only when perspective is noted. Caveat seems to have replaced certainty, and cacophony is the sound of the day.

Even when not obvious and however well-disguised, there is a decidedly adversarial edge to so much wine writing these days. Somewhere along the line, an “us versus them” mentality has insidiously worked its way into much of wine conversation, and generations seem to have been set against one and other.

The Millenials are the force with which to be reckoned, or so we hear, and Boomers are more irrelevant by the day. Younger wine drinkers refuse to be fooled by the elitist musings of older, beard-stroking, white males, and, if the opinions of anyone over fifty are to be considered with caution, those from the sixty-something crowd are so suspect that they are best dismissed out of hand. The new battle cry is “damn (the) experience and full speed ahead.”

Now, I fully admit to a bit of defensiveness, for the thinning hair that I have is indeed gray, but I value experience as much today as when, as a very young man, I found my passion for wine and read every word that I could from the “old” masters of the day. Andre Simon, Alexis Lichine, Frank Schoonmaker and, later, the likes of Harry Waugh, Michael Broadbent, Gerald Asher, Leon Adams and Hugh Johnson opened more doors than I could imagine, and never once did I approach their writings with any kind of youthful chip on my shoulder. I traded stories and opinions and talked endlessly with my contemporaries as well in my pursuit to learn everything that I could, and, whatever the source of information, from professional and eager novice alike, I would measure its worth in my own experience. And, guess what, those old guys had a good deal to say.

Wine is an acquired taste, and once acquired that taste will evolve. That which was terrific early on came in time to seem simple and sometimes quite vapid as experience accrued. While I have no issue with wines that are “yummy” and directly delicious, I nonetheless revel in real complexity, the broad range of sensation and the catalyst to contemplation that the best wines provide.

A winemaker for whom I have a great deal of respect greets visitors to his winery with a sign that simply reads “If you know what you like, you are a wine expert.” I happen to like his wines very much, but knowing what you like after tasting a half dozen wines hardly strikes me as expertise.

Expertise does not necessarily demand decades of tasting and study. There are good many talented young writers and retailers and sommeliers who have paid their dues and rigorously done the work, and years in the trenches will never guarantee that someone really knows what they are talking about. But, I would argue, experience is a must when claiming authority. You cannot know what you like until you have tasted it, and understanding why you like a given wine, not merely that you do, seems to me the beginning of real wine mastery. I cannot feel but that the rush to “demystify” wines and break down perceived snobbism has sadly tainted and unjustly devalued authentic expertise.

Expertise is a process, a journey if you will, and the longer the road, the more expert one becomes. Yes, I am now one of the “old guys,” and the journey has been as gratifying as it is long. With any luck, mine is far from being over, and I am excited about what I will learn tomorrow. I have my opinions. They have been earned, but they are not static, and every new wine and every new vintage to come will have a hand in their shaping. They will only be final when the journey comes to an end.