Terroir vs winemaking -- Neal Martin lays the smack down

Clos St. Jacques is an example is an underrated terroir. It probably should be a grand cru, but I would rather it be a premier cru because prices would go up if it were a grand cru.

I was shocked at how “little” it was being sold for (I was at Sotheby’s on a trip to NYC picking up an order and saw it and bought it on impulse) and while I’m no expert on Grand Crus, it seemed to be on another level from most other premier crus I have had (and also appeared to be perfectly in its prime). I think the secret’s out though - I don’t know if there’s that much value to be had from the Clos St Jacques/Malconsorts/Amoureuses/Suchots of the world anymore but there are almost certainly no aged GCs of quality on offer for what I paid for the Jadot.

AFAIK the difference between a Bourgogne and a Grand Cru, for labelling purposes, is in the provenance of the grapes. This leads me to conclude - and I might be saying something stupid here, but bear with me - that what makes the Grand Cru big and cellarworthy and the Bourgogne an easy drinker mostly boils down to vinification techniques. Even if the Grand Cru grapes have higher potential alcohol, I can’t see that being the only factor. What would a Bourgogne look like if it were made in the manner of a Grand Cru? The guys in the Gironde have been making big, cellar worthy wines out of blends for their entire History.

In most cases, the appellation Bourgogne fruit won’t have the same concentration or complexity as the grand cru fruit. So if you treat the Bourgogne like a grand cru – with a longer maceration on the skins, more stems, smaller barrels, new oak, longer aging – you’ll likely end up with an unbalanced wine, probably with too much oak and too much tannin for the fruit. Lighter wines (i.e., lower appellations) generally call for a lighter touch.

I visited Burgundy last year and the difference in geography is immediately apparent. The Bourgogne wines all come from the “other side of the road” where the land is flat and the soil has more clay, generally making for less precise and complex wines with more forward fruit and less weight as well as more fertile and higher yielding vines. The 1er and Grand Crus are entirely on the slopes which has ramifications in exposure, drainage, soil types, and a host of other things. That’s not an accident.

There is generally more oak usage on the GCs as well as a different vinification process, it’s true, and some producers don’t pay nearly the attention to the Bourgogne that they should but someone like Fréderic Mugnier treats all of his wines the same (though admittedly no Bourgogne) and there are stark differences between the Chambolle villages and the Bonnes Mares (each of which I’ve had one sip, once). The more prestigious wines are able to “take” more oak influence and extraction because of their structure, yes, which also means they have the ability to maintain that structure as they age and develop the desired complexity rather than the Bourgogne becoming anemic and tired over time. I do think the aging potential of a lot of Bourgogne and villages wines is underrated, though, but that’s a different argument.

Ultimately, again, a good producer knows their terroirs and adjusts accordingly. They’ll know how to treat each parcel to get the best possible result from it.

best way to look at terroir, or “somewhereness,” as Matt Kramer called it, is to line up a bunch of wines such as Chevillons Nuits from the same year. Wines all have same élevage and it’s the terroir that speaks. Terroir is real, sometimes masked by producer decisions, but shines with “transparency” in the right hands.

This.

You can disagree with my opinion, and I can disagree with yours. But objectively “wrong”? Seems like this thread shows that’s a tough one to prove.

It’s kinda like faith in a god. Tough to prove there is or isn’t a god, so there’s faith. That doesn’t make faith right or wrong - it’s a personal perspective.

Not really. Martin isn’t saying that terroir doesn’t matter or is bullshit, just that winemaking decisions matter more.

The basic premise of terroir is not all that controversial. Does where I grow grapes significantly affect its quality? Of course. Climate, exposure, and soil are all well established to have significant impact on grape-growing. Warmer weather impacts a different flavor profile compared to cooler weather.

Maybe you meant something far more specific when you said “terroir is bullshit”

Sorry, I don’t disagree with your opinion. I’m saying you are factually wrong. It’s not personal perspective, at least not once you’ve had enough experience to recognize the reality of terroir. When you taste through the multiple vineyards of a producer year after year, and see the relationship of each wine to its source, terroir becomes quite apparent and obvious. And no, it’s not like faith in god. There is no evidence you could present that demonstrates god exists. There is clear evidence that terroir exists.

This thread doesn’t negate terroir, though it does make a valid point that growing and winemaking choices can mask or distort terroir. Find the producers who transform their fruit into wine in the most direct and transparent way, and the notion of terroir becomes unassailable.

Yes, but is this due to terroir or the way the vineyards are managed (higher yield, less attention to detail, etc)? There are of course quality differences between bourgogne level vineyards (eg compare a bourgogne vineyard on the flats below Gevrey to a bourgogne vineyard in St Aubin). I would be interested in seeing if a decently well situated bourgogne vineyard, with good vine material, managed in a Leroy style (extreme attention to detail) would not be able to absorb grand cru style vinification…

This is the question I wanted to ask. We’ve been discussing the terroir and producer. Is not a third variable the money the producer is willing to spend making the wine? A producer can spend a lot more money (e.g. yields and barrel quality) on Grand Cru grapes and expect to recover the investment compared to Village grapes.

Balance is what makes a good wine. Better producers are just better at it. They know what they can do with the grapes and what they can’t. If they have some level of control over the vineyard, they can shape that as well, but it’s not a requirement.

I’ve had some fantastic wines from supposedly off years. But the common thread was I look for good producers in down years.

A great director can elevate the talents of bad actors. A great actor can’t save a film with a horrible director.

I would think it is the exact opposite. The top producers are first and foremost great farmers. Look at some of the pictures William Kelley posted about a week or so ago showing how different vines from the top producers look from vines from lesser producers. Then, yes, the better producers take the grapes they get and know what to do with it in winemaking, but I bet if you talk with the top producers they would all say that the REQUIREMENT is the farming - to start with great grapes.

It’s obviously wrong. If it were right then for example drc romanee conti and corton (or la tache and rc) would be indistinguishable when they clearly aren’t. The only difference is the terroir and they’re clearly distinct wines.

My wording was definitely poor – I did not mean to imply farming was not an important part. I simply meant that better producers can do more with weaker crops (whether that was farming, weather, or otherwise).

And the fewer plots the wine comes from, the more dependent it is on the farming practice (since the flaws have no mix of similar grapes or other varietals to hide behind). But even still, good producers seem to find away around these challenges.

Michael, I agree with you. Anyone who thinks terroir is bull has never tasted through a range of a Burgundy producer’s wines (and the range of wines made by many, many other types of wine producers). Taking quality differences out of the picture, when I have tasted a Chambolle Musigny from say Hudelot-Noellat next to his Vosne Romanee from the same vintage, the wines taste different. You may like one wine better and I might like the other wine better, but there is no denying the wines taste different. It is the same at virtually every excellent producer at which I have ever tasted a range of wines from Truchot to Ridge (Geyserville and Lytton Springs taste different, for example), etc. Yes, a mediocre producer than smother these differences by covering them up with tons of new oak, etc. But at any excellent producer it is not hard for any even semi-competent wine taster to tell that the wines taste different.

I have no idea what “objective” means in wine, but if one cannot tell that wines from different plots in Burgundy taste different from wines from another plot from excellent winemakers, I question your ability to taste wine. Just because someone believes the world is flat does not make it so.

It all comes down to the grapes. One of the ways good producers find a way around the challenge of weaker vintages is to sort out bad grapes. I have a friend who used to live in SF and while there made wine for personal consumption with a few friends. He once told me at over the years they tried various things to see if the wines tasted better or worse. The one thing that really made a huge quality difference was sorting out the bad grapes (he also mentioned that this was a pain in the neck and took a lot of time). The best winemakers take the extra time and sort out bad grapes.

I doubt you will find anywhere in the world where a top producer has a weaker crop due to poor farming practices.

Poor farming practice, no – but hail storms, or mega droughts, or weeks of rain near harvest – not much they can do other than, as you said, take the time to sort out what they have and make the best of it.

I’ve seen the workers doing that sorting. You get an understanding why some wines cost more. That is slow and meticulous work.

This is the most interesting paragraph in the article.

Armand Rousseau’s Charmes-Chambertin, Gevrey-Chambertin Lavaux Saint-Jacques and Les Cazetiers failed to impress not just me but others in the group, prompting murmurings of whether the domaine is living on past glories. Then along came their stunning Clos Saint-Jacques, impressive Clos-de-Bèze and majestic Chambertin, and the answer is clearly: “No.” Maybe some of Rousseau’s lower-performing crus just had an off day?