Winophilia

It has become an annual tradition:  Somewhere around halfway through my spring and summer tastings of Spanish wine I realize that a fair number of the inexpensive bottles I’m seeing more closely resemble serious, structured wines than the fruity, easygoing versions that I suspect most buyers are seeking in the $12-and-under range.  People in the business call it “over-delivering,” but I wonder who exactly the target audience might be for these wines.  When I want to relax with a movie and not think too hard (or not think at all) do I want Michael Bay or Luis Buñuel?

Is the typical under-$12 buyer looking for an earthy wine with tannic spine, distinctly dry flavors and complexity that does not come from primary fruit character?  Or is that audience actually going to be turned off by a wine that isn’t exuberantly fruity and tannin- and funk-free?  Are importers really giving the customer too much value when they offer a cheap wine that behaves in aroma, taste and texture like a $30 wine? 

Many of America’s best wine importers began their careers by working with producers who made structured, ageworthy wines from Europe’s classic regions, and few of those wineries turned out cheap-and-cheerful bottlings.  On the contrary, actually:  many of those wines were emphatically not meant to be drunk young.  Over the past decade, though, a good percentage of these same importers have ventured into the value side of the wine business.  But in many cases their heads are still wrapped up in what I’ll call, for lack of a better term, the serious wine style.

To make a low-brow analogy, is the everyday beer drinker going to be happy that he can get a hoppy, bitter beer for the same price as his old reliable Budweiser or Coors?  It seems to me that many of the serious, over-delivering Spanish reds made from old-vines tempranillo, monastrell and even garnacha will have greatest appeal to long-time winos who crave tannic structure and complexity that often involves animal, herbal and earthy qualities—exactly the qualities that will likely turn off Mr. or Ms. Average Winedrinker.

I’m constantly amazed at how much complexity can be had for under $15 from Spain.  In fact, as I taste bottle after bottle of these surprisingly serious wines, I often think of how much I’d love to show them to my wine snob buddies—the ones who, believe it or not, simply can’t imagine spending less than $20, or even $30, on a bottle of wine, ever.  So there’s the distinct risk that these wines are getting caught in the middle, with the everyday drinker finding them unpleasantly demanding, while the guy who regularly spends upwards of $25 a bottle for everyday drinking, and might well like these wines, won’t stoop to buy anything from a region—or even country—without snob appeal.  Maybe he simply won’t drink anything “cheap.”

I’ve had this conversation with a number of importers, and there is almost universal agreement that they need to make their inexpensive wines accessible to a large audience, which means less tannins, more fruit and greater immediate drinkability.  A huge number of these wines are sold through big box stores, supermarkets and retail chains, and easygoing appeal is what corporate buyers have determined is right for their customers.   

A few importers acknowledge that they and their producers have changed their blends to accomplish this, but hasten to state (perhaps a bit disingenuously) that they aren’t dumbing down the wines but rather tweaking the winemaking process to de-emphasize tannins and spotlight the fruit.  That’s completely understandable, even admirable from a business standpoint.  Still, it’s unfortunate that so many excellent Spanish wines aren’t taken seriously by the very audience that can and should appreciate them.   Maybe they would be if they were more expensive.

What’s your opinion? When you spend ten bucks on a bottle of wine, do you demand the most complex and intriguing wine your money can buy or are you looking for straightforward pleasure?