When discussing the taste of wine, haven't you often heard the phrase "wine tastes different from vineyard to vineyard"?
In fact, this statement merely describes something extremely obvious.
What's more, if you find yourself convinced by this narrative, you are being deceived in various ways.
"Wait, deceived? By what??"
If that's what you're thinking, please read this article to the end. After finishing it, you will no longer be able to look at the taste of wine "by vineyard" with the same innocent eyes.
What Is Different and What Is the Same
Now then, to avoid being deceived by winemakers, sellers, and other wine industry professionals, you first need to answer a single question.
That question is this:
The proposition "wine tastes different from vineyard to vineyard" is nearly synonymous with the proposition "wine tastes the same within each vineyard."
So, at what level do you think this "same" is "the same"?
I will of course provide an explanation afterward, but first, please take a moment to reflect on your own memories and sensations. If you haven't had the experience of comparing wines from the same vineyard, simply imagining it is perfectly fine.
Is this "same" completely "the same"?
Or is it "the same" with a certain degree of variation?
So, what was your answer?
Most likely, very few of you answered "the same" in the sense of complete identity. Rather, wouldn't many of you have given an answer like this:
"Well, there seems to be some kind of similar atmosphere, or maybe not. But since everyone says so, I suppose it must be 'the same' to that extent."
This is a highly unstable, ambiguous impression containing a vast amount of unclear elements, but in reality, I believe most people have roughly this level of perception. However, this is hardly surprising. In fact, it's perfectly natural.
Why? Because even within a single vineyard, the taste of wine differs.
To put it more precisely, wine tastes different at units smaller than the "vineyard" level. If taste differs at the sub-unit level that constitutes the "vineyard" unit, then it is a logical consequence that taste differs at the "vineyard" unit, which is an aggregate of those sub-units.
Is this a bit difficult to grasp? Let me give you an example.
Some wineries release wines further divided into "parcels" within their vineyards. When you taste such wines, you can certainly notice that the wine tastes different when the parcel is different. This "parcel" is a sub-unit that constitutes the "vineyard."
If there are differences at the elemental unit level that constitutes a given set, doesn't it stand to reason that there would be differences between the aggregated results of those elements?
In other words, it's not accurate to say "wine tastes different by vineyard"—rather, "wine tastes different even within a vineyard."
Why Do We Think in Terms of Vineyards?
When people encounter the narrative that "wine tastes different from vineyard to vineyard," they try to assign reasons to it. They say things like "the soil differs from vineyard to vineyard" or "the microclimate differs," and so on.
Indeed, these aren't exactly wrong. However, they only tell a very small part of the story. The fundamental perspective itself has been deceived.
Listen carefully. You are being deceived. This is the premise.
So how exactly are you being deceived?
Let me ask you a second question.
When you look at the wines released by wineries, at what level do you think the differences between them arise?
At the village level?
At the vineyard level?
At the parcel level?
At the individual vine level?
All wrong. Not even at the cluster level below the vine. It's at the level of individual berries—each single grape.
If you're skeptical, think about it. When grapes contract a disease, what is the unit of infection? When fruit ripening progresses and the sugar content of the juice increases, what is the unit?
All of these occur at the level of individual berries.
And when you think about things at this unit level, do soil and microclimate really have an impact?
Let me be blunt: they cannot. Of course, their influence isn't entirely absent. However, at the same time, even within the same cluster on the same vine—where the soil and microclimate should be virtually identical—the condition differs from berry to berry.
In other words, the act of attributing the reason for the opening statement "wine tastes different from vineyard to vineyard" to soil and microclimate is not wrong per se, but the unit being addressed is far too large. Nevertheless, if you find yourself somehow convinced when told this, you are being deceived.
What's Actually Happening Is Acceptance of Something Averaged
So why do you tend to think in terms of vineyards?
This is actually very simple: because that's the only unit at which you can access the taste of wine.
In other words, for most drinkers, the minimum unit of wine is not "individual berry" but "vineyard," and this is the reason. The fact that when presented with a smaller unit such as "parcel," people now accept that unit instead, serves as evidence of this.
However, as previously stated, in reality, the differences in wine taste (henceforth referred to as "heterogeneity")—that is, heterogeneity—begin at the level of individual berries.
Understanding wine at the "vineyard" or "parcel" unit is merely a matter of at which unit level (toward the image held by that unit) the heterogeneity that begins at the minimum unit is being homogenized. You could also say it's a question of at what level the fine variations are being consolidated, and what directionality can be projected by consolidating them in that way.
Since the level of homogenization differs, when you compare these respective units, differences naturally arise. As a result, we say that wine tastes different by parcel, or by vineyard.
Incidentally, this "homogenization of heterogeneity" means homogenization in the direction where heterogeneity becomes greater as the unit becomes smaller.
In a sense, this represents a state of high purity of the "variation" considered to be heterogeneous. Therefore, as the comparison unit becomes smaller, differences are often felt more acutely. You might find it easier to understand if I say that the larger the unit becomes, the more the varying tastes and aromas are averaged out. To put it bluntly, this is making the fine differences harder to see by obscuring them.
This is why differences become clearer when comparing individual parcels rather than vineyard names, and clearer still when comparing vineyard names rather than village names.
Where Does the Agreed-Upon Character of Wine Come From?
As a slight digression, I believe there are several factors behind why the taste characteristics of a given wine are accepted as being "generally like this." Specifically, they include the following:
- Heterogeneity has been averaged
- It has been adjusted
- Memory is deceiving us
- Combined with a small sample size (n) and tolerance for factors that don't homogenize, averaging occurs in our heads
I will omit explanation of the first point, as it's what I've been discussing above.
The second is seen in cases of larger-scale wineries or industrial winemaking, where taste and aroma are actually strictly adjusted with a certain directionality. In a sense, it's like following a set recipe, so this isn't deception or misunderstanding—in most cases, the taste and aroma are actually the same at a point much closer to complete identity.
The third is exactly as it sounds. Human memory lies. And frequently at that.
In a sense, you could call it preconception, but if you drink with the mindset that "the wine from this vineyard tastes like this," you actually perceive it that way, or your memory gets overwritten by the newly tasted flavor. "Ah yes, it tasted like this."
And regarding the fourth point: I don't think most people have many opportunities to simultaneously taste multiple bottles of wine made from the same lot. Even if they have, isn't it more often the case that it's been several years between tastings?
When this happens, in addition to the memory problem mentioned in point three, you also pick up the troublesome parameter of "aging." Since this "aging" element occurs bottle by bottle, those differences are never averaged out.
Furthermore, wine connoisseurs know how the taste and aroma of wine change through this aging process. Precisely because they know this, they tolerate the fact that aromas and flavors are partially masked by more prominent aging characteristics.
The proportion of taste and aroma changes that occur through aging in wine is substantial. When you tolerate such large changes, the smaller differences behind them become harder to see.
As a result, you end up grasping the differences between vineyards or parcels through broad, easily understood characteristics that aren't easily masked by changes from aging. Since you're capturing characteristics at the most prominent points, the way you perceive them inevitably moves toward a more standardized direction, losing precision. It often becomes a matter of "sort of."
When Does Averaging Occur?
I stated that the minimum unit at which heterogeneity in grapes appears is the individual berry, but there are multiple timing points at which this heterogeneity becomes homogenized.
The first timing point is the size of the containers used during harvest. Following that are the pressing process for white wines or the maceration process for red wines, and the size of the equipment used in those processes. At this timing, the various heterogeneities occurring in the vineyard are averaged for each work unit. And simultaneously, new variations are picked up for each lot.
These operations are necessarily batch processes. Therefore, no matter how careful you are, you inevitably process a certain volume of berries together.
However, the unit consolidated here is not actually the minimum unit at which observable taste can be verified. The next stage—the unit of containers used during vinification—becomes the actual minimum unit at which wine taste can be verified.
What I mean is this: depending on the capacity and characteristics of the containers used during fermentation and maturation, the aroma and taste of wine change for each quantity-unit placed in those containers.
An easy-to-understand example is the Barrique (small oak barrel) that also appeared in the previous article.
Even if the press capacity is 1,000 liters, a Barrique holds 225 liters, so the juice obtained from one pressing is divided among four Barriques at a simple glance, with surplus remaining. As a result, elements such as fermentation, oxidation, and maturation progress with each Barrique exhibiting different behaviors.
Not only that, but the extractives from the Barrique and their quantities differ from barrel to barrel. The Barriques themselves have individuality and are not perfectly identical to one another. As for the surplus that couldn't fit into the Barriques—well, that goes without saying.
Unless mixing between Barriques occurs in the subsequent assemblage (blending) or bottling processes, these are treated as the minimum unit in which taste and aroma have been averaged.
(Strictly speaking, concentration gradients of various components should occur within each Barrique, but I won't consider that here.)
The taste differs from barrel to barrel.
If taste differs in units of merely 225 liters, how could taste possibly be the same at the vineyard level?
If you conduct trial fermentation in a 50-liter glass demijohn, this unit becomes even smaller at 50 liters. The actual differences in wine taste exist at this level.
The assemblage process I mentioned earlier is the prime example, but it's precisely because such variations are adjusted in a certain direction that wine taste is averaged at larger units, creating the sense that somehow the taste tendency is the same from vineyard to vineyard.
Summary | Wine Taste Is Built Up, Not Narrowed Down
When observing vineyards based on the concepts of soil and microclimate used to explain the narrative "wine tastes different from vineyard to vineyard," you inevitably take an approach that starts from an overview of a wider area and narrows down based on categories such as soil and microclimate. And you tend to think that what remains after such narrowing down—the taste with increased purity after excluding the noise that would be included when targeting a wide area—is the taste of the vineyard, and the basis for the differences in taste between wines.
However, the reality is the opposite.
It's not that noise is being excluded; noise is being layered.
By accumulating and overlaying differences at much smaller units, noise is made harder to see, thereby giving the taste a framework and directionality. By doing so, characteristics similar to what would be obtained through top-down narrowing may ultimately emerge, but the methodology and way of thinking are completely opposite.
Think about it.
What you obtain from narrowing down is fixed. However, in the case of building up, you can differentiate endlessly depending on how you build and what components you use. What spreads before you is an infinitely vast world.
Despite this, it is deeply regrettable to confine that world within a specific framework and make it limited. And it is tragic to have that limited perspective imposed upon you, deceiving you from seeing what should be visible.
I don't intend to deny the act of accepting narratives about wine taste itself.
However, please simultaneously maintain the perspective that you might be being deceived.
Is it really the soil that's the cause? Is it the microclimate? At exactly what level can the winemaker intervene?
What you see, what you can perceive—at what level does it actually exist?
