Terroirisme

Mr R has taken off on one of his business trips, and in the flurry of activity prior to his departure he managed to recycle the entire mountain of newspapers that has been piling up around us for several months now. Included in this mountain was Wine Goose's stock of celebrity magazines, so that when I eventually get the children off to sleep and sit down for half an hour of 'me time', instead of looking at few glossy photos (I'm always far too tired to ever bother with reading the accompanying text, and as everybody knows it's utter rubbish) before passing out in bed, I discover that the only magazine in the house, apart from some back issues of Barbie and Bob the Builder, is a sober looking periodical entitled The Economist. It may well have been a deliberate move on his part to improve my dinner party conversation, but if he thinks I'm going to spend the few minutes that I have to myself reading about banks and oil and that sort of thing he is off his rocker. I almost decide to give myself a home pedicure, as advocated by another of my favourites, Good Housekeeping, but it's all too much effort and so I start flicking through The Economist, in the hope of coming across an actor's obituary or something similar that I can actually absorb. Then I spot an article entitled 'Unleash the war on terroir' and I am delighted to find myself on familiar territory.

Essentially the article starts by pointing out that few things annoy French winemakers more than other winemakers' irreverance towards the terroir. It then goes on to examine the topic of transgenic wine, something that sounds really scary, so those of you who want to learn more about that can click on the link above and read the entire article. Right now Wine Goose is going to focus on unravelling the mystery that is terroir. Contrary to what the article states, the expression is not restricted to the winemakers; it is a word that is freely used throughout the wine trade, from Wine Goose when selling a fine bottle of Bordeaux, to restaurant sommeliers persuading diners to opt for a decent bottle of Pouilly Fumé.

Originally a French term used not only in wine, but also in tea and coffee, terroir denoted the special characteristics that geography bestowed upon these products of the soil. Nowadays there are many definitions of terroir but by far easiest to make sense of is 'the combination of soil, climate and terrain that shapes the character of the vines that grow there'. So far so good - this goes some way to explaining why France's Sancerre and New Zealand's Cloudy Bay taste so different, although both are produced from the Sauvignon Blanc grape. So the expression terroir can therefore apply to wines produced outside France, or can it? My answer to that is yes (watch out for the forthcoming assault on Wine Goose by the French wine trade) - but not to all of them because the importance of these influences depends on the culture of a particular wine making region. This is key, and generally a terroir-driven wine will be labelled accordingly - with the region, vineyard and quality certification more dominant on the label than the grape variety or the producer.

Lots of other factors that can enhance or interfere with the terroir characteristics come into play during the winemaking process - use of yeast, use of oak, decisions about pruning, irrigation and when to harvest. For example the use of oak is a controversial element since some will advocate that its use is beneficial while others will argue it can mask the influences of the terroir. Then the question arises as to whether in this modern era of the flying winemaker and enormous investment in hitherto far outposts of the wine world, can the terroir be lost in the expensive technique?

Open a bottle of the Argentinian Norton Sauvignon Blanc. Swirl it, sniff it, taste it and you will be rewarded with a lovely crisp textbook white wine. No more, no less. Great value at €8.99. Now pour yourself a glass of Domaine Magellan Grenache-Carignan 2004. Go through the same process and the aromas from this bright, lively red will transport you to the Languedoc. As soon as you taste it's soft plummy flavours you are watching the sun set over the vineyard as you knowledgably discuss last years harvest with the wine-maker, in this case Bruno Lafon, whose family in Burgundy produces tiny quantities of four-figure Montrachet at Domaine Comtes Lafon. All that for just €13.95. This, to Wine Goose, is the essence of terroir - a wine that tastes like it came from somewhere, rather than just a marketing concept.