A singular, shining identity. The expression of a particular, unique place on the Earth’s surface—call it terroir—blessed by geological and microclimatic felicities, hallowed by a name rich in historical or at least local associations, through the prism of a noble grape variety.
This ideal notion carries much weight in the world of wine. You might recall Walter Pater’s dictum that “all art constantly aspires to the condition of music” and apply it to this luminous singularity. You can, however, already see that this ideal notion is fraught with complications or even contradictions. It may hold good for the greatest wines of Burgundy, the Mosel, Barolo, or the Loire, but it is clearly more problematic when applied to Bordeaux, Champagne, Rioja, the Douro, or even Napa Valley.
For a start, in those latter regions, varietal wines are the exception rather than the rule. Petrus may be (in recent times) a 100% Merlot wine, but I have yet to encounter a 100% Cabernet Sauvignon wine in Bordeaux, apart from experimental lots shown to me at Léoville-Las-Cases by Michel Delon. Traditionally in Champagne, Rioja, and the Douro, identity has been linked with brand or house style—a very different notion, you might think.
I was reflecting on these matters recently after a dinner showcasing vintages of Yalumba’s top red cuvée, The Caley, named after the horticulturist and adventurer Fred Caley Smith, introduced by winemaker Kevin Glastonbury. This blend of Coonawarra Cabernet (sometimes also Barossa Cabernet) and Barossa (sometimes also Eden Valley) Shiraz is
This Article was originally published on World of Fine Wine
