Field Notes from a Visit to the Sherry Triangle

June 3, 2025 By Mike Veseth in Spain, wine, wine history, wine markets, wine tourism 1 Comment

Sue and I recently returned from three weeks in Spain. We spent a few days in Madrid (where we dropped in at FEV General Assembly meetings), but most of the time in Andalusia, home of Sherry and Montilla-Moriles wines. Great wines, good food, and welcoming people. We soaked up a lot of information (and wine, too).

This is the first of a brief series of Wine Economist columns about our experiences and what they tell us about these wines and their wine market more generally. We begin with a “field notes” column, a kaleidoscopic collection of observations meant to give you a sense of what we saw and heard on the wine road in Spain. More focused articles will follow shortly.

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Sherry, which is fortified, is from the Jerez-Xérès-Sherry region and made from Palomino, Pedro Ximénes, and Moscatel grapes. The Sherry Triangle is the name given to the Jerez D.O., the only region where true Sherry wines are made. The “triangle” is roughly defined by lines connecting the cities of Jerez de la Frontera, Sanlucar de Barrameda, and El Puero de Santa Maria, where the wineries are located.

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People like to say that wine is made in the vineyard, but in the case of Sherry, what happens in the cellar is key. It is difference in cellar processes more than grape quality or variety that determines what type of Sherry will be in your glass. In this regard, Sherry may be more like Champagne and Port.

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About half of our time in Spain was focused on wine; the other half on the history, culture, and people of Andalusia. We visited five wineries chosen to give us a view of the wine industry’s diversity in this region.

Bodegas Williams & Humbert, the producer of Dry Sack, Don Zoilo, Canasta, and other brands.
Bodegas Lustau, whose Sherry wines are widely available in the U.S. market.
Bodega Gonzalez Byass, maker of a wide range of products both in Spain and around the world, including the famous Tío Pepe brand.
Bodegas Tradición, a relatively young winery making very old wines.
Bodegas Alvear in the Montilla-Moriles region near Cordoba. The Montilla wines are kissing cousins of Sherry, but can’t wear the official Sherry seal.

We enjoyed conversations with many wine industry people including Susana Garcia Dolla of OIVE, César Saldaña of the Sherry D.O. Consej0 Regulador, and Mauricio Gonzalez-Gordon of Gonzalez Byass. We benefited from advice from our friend George Sandeman. Many thanks to everyone who hosted us, answered our questions, and helped us get the most out of our visit.

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We usually taste wines with trade groups, not “civilian” consumers, so we were very interested to see what would happen when we accompanied a typical tour group to Bodegas Alvear. We first tasted a light, fruity unfortified white wine and then three of the traditional wines: Fino, Olorosso, and Pedro Ximenez. At the end of the tasting the question was asked: Which ones do you like? All hands went up for the fruity white. Only a few hands were raised for Fino and Olorosso with a few more for the PX.

The wines were great (Alvear is the oldest winery in Montilla and one of the best in Spain). The wines from Montilla-Moriles focus more on Pedro Ximenez, which grows there the best, with similar techniques but they not generally fortified. Very hot temperatures, very ripe grapes, high natural alcohol levels. That’s the story of Montilla.

The fruity white, which is called “El Rebate” after the step at the entrance of a Montilla house, is meant a welcoming gateway to the world of wine. It was a familiar taste to our touring friends and they loved it.

The Fino and Olorosso presented them with unfamiliar tastes, dryer, nutty, without fruit notes. The excellent PX, an Alvear speciality, was really well balanced, but sweeter than our new friends were accustomed too. Sue and I loved it. Most of our friends didn’t understand it or the other traditional wines very well.

The same wines at a trade tasting would probably have an entirely different ranking from the civilian group. We report these results because they help explain why Sherry (and the similar Montilla) wines are unlikely candidates for broad consumption. They are different and it takes a little effort to understand and appreciate them. It is effort well spent, but a barrier nonetheless.

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Sherry is not one specific wine. Many styles, many aging regimes: Fino, Amontillado, Manzanilla, Oloroso, Palo Cortado, Pedro Ximénez. Cream sherry (made sweet by the addition of rectified grape must or, even better, sweet PX wine) is what people think Sherry is, but isn’t. Lucious PX is sweet but balanced. One of the most memorable tastes of the trip was at a Taberna la Montillana in Córdoba where we were served a Bodegas Toro Alba Don PX 1955 at the end of the meal. Amazing.

However, Sherry is often stereotyped as a sticky, sweet apéritif that granny drinks at Christmas, which might be an insult to Sherry, granny, and Christmas! But most Sherry wine produced is dry, the style preferred in Andalusia. It reminds us of the problem that Riesling confronts. Riesling is too sweet, people say before they have even tasted it. But most Riesling that we encounter today is dry or off-dry.

Some Sherry wines are sweet, of course, just as some Riesling wines are sweet. In Sherry’s case the stereotype probably results from very popular and widely distributed brands like Harvey’s Bristol Cream, which are sweet; people generalize from that experience. Getting people to embrace dry Sherry can be as hard as getting them to try dry Riesling.

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Sue and I had an “ah ha” moment at Bodegas Tradición. We were tasting through their wonderful wines. Did we want to try the Cream Sherry? We hesitated (which is not like us). Maybe not, we said. Cream Sherry has a bad reputation (see above). Well, try our Cream Sherry. And it was great, a blend of Amontillado and PX with superb balance. We had to abandon our prejudice. Back home, we bought and enjoyed some Harvey’s, too. Time to review stereotypes for Sherry and more generally!

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As in the Douro Valley, there is a movement in Andalusia to produce more non-fortified wines using the traditional grape varieties. Sue and I were on the lookout for these table wines during our visit and we were a bit surprised by what we found. We expected white wines because Sherry grapes are white. But we were disappointed with the white wines we found. It seems that Palomino does not ready yield really great wines (I am sure there are exceptions because we only had time to taste a few of them.

The red wines we tried surprised us. First came a Palacio Quemado Crianza produced by Bodegas Alvear from an old vine Tempranillo vineyard north of Seville. Distinctive, wonderful with the traditional foods of Córdoba. Then we enjoyed the Finca Moncloa, produced by Gonzalez Byass in the Cadiz region. It is a special project designed to preserve and promote the native Tintilla de Rota grape. The blend of native and international grape varieties was terrific both times, especially with roast lamb.

From Sharecroppers to Superstars: Family Wineries in Italy

December 10, 2024 By Mike Veseth in Antiinori, Family Wineries, Italian wine, wine, wine history, wine markets 1 Comment

The arc of the Italian wine industry bends towards quality in the 21st century, something that has become increasingly clear to Sue and me as we have visited many of Italy’s important wine regions in recent years.

Quality has not always been Italian wine’s guiding star, however. Piero Antinori’s 2014 book The Hills of Chianti traces the 20th-century transformation of Italian wine from quantity to quality that continues today. The role of forward-thinking family wineries and their intense focus on quality from the vineyard to the cellar and beyond comes through on every page.

We recently sampled wines from two of our favorite regions — Romagna and Piemonte — that illustrate Antinori’s hypothesis about the link between quality and family-owned wineries.

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Rediscovering Romagna

I was reminded of Antinori’s book recently when we were invited to taste wines from Romagna, a region that extends from the Adriatic coast inward toward Bologna. We enjoyed these wines, mainly Sangiovese di Romagna and Albana di Romagna, when we lived in Bologna years ago (I was a visiting professor at the Johns Hopkins center there).

The wines were perfect with the city’s rich cuisine. We look for them here in America, but they are hard to find. I once asked one of the Colli Bolognesi winemakers about the problem and he just pointed over the hill. Tuscany, he said. Tuscany (and Antinori, I guess) get all the attention. We mostly sell our wines at home.

But the bending arc can have many effects and it seems to me that the rising quality of Italian wine offers wine drinkers around the world new opportunities, both within Tuscany (as Antinori’s book suggests) and in other parts of Italy, too.

All in the Family

So we were excited to taste the Romagna wines of Poggio della Dogana and Ronchi di Castelluccio, wineries owned by the brothers Aldo and Paolo Rametta. The Rametta family does not have centuries of history in the wine business like the Antinori family, but they are firmly rooted in the Romagna region. After working in other industries (finance and renewable energy), Aldo and Paolo Rametta found it impossible to resist scratching the itch to return home to work with the land. Wine, of course, but not just wine. They are interested in agriculture and bring family business values to their work.

Poggio della Dogana was their first investment in 2016; then an unexpected opportunity appeared in 2020 to purchase Ronchi di Castelluccio, the very well-known maker of Sangiovese di Romagna. We know the latter winery because their Le More Sangiovese di Romagna is a wine we can sometimes find here at home to pair with Sue’s authentic Bolognese ragu.

Everybody and Nobody

We couldn’t resist sampling the Ronchi di Castelluccio Buco del Prete Romagna DOC Sangiovese Modigliana, made with grapes from a vineyard carved into a forest clearing in 1989. We paired the wine with roast chicken (which we often have with Pinot Noir) and I think the combination made us appreciate the elegance of the medium-bodied wine and the complexity that lingered on the finish. An excellent wine. We can’t wait to try the Ronco della Simia, made with grapes from an even older vineyard.

We loved the Sangiovese, but I admit that the Poggio della Dogana Belladamaa Romagna DOCG Albana Secco stole our hearts. Why? Quality was part of the answer, of course. Albana is a white wine that thinks it is red, with good body and memorable herby notes on the finish in the case of the Belladama.

We often enjoyed Albana wines when we lived in Bologna, but we always thought of it as a simple, easy wine, not something that can be serious. So tasting a next-level Albana got our attention.

But, if I am honest, it is also something that Aldo Rametta said on a Zoom call. Everyone drinks Albana in Romagna, he said, but no one drinks it anywhere else. And it is true. But maybe a wine like this at a time like this can change things. In fact, quality white wines from up and down Italy are now finally getting attention and developing followings in export markets.

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Tenuta Carretta was founded in 1467 when sharecropping arrangements were formalized for the estate north of the city of Alba. As Antinori’s book explains, sharecropping remained the dominant organization for Italian agriculture into the mid-20th century and in wine the turn towards quality only gained strength when the difficult transition from sharecropping was complete. In all its long history the Carretta estate has changed hands only a few times. The winery’s website explains that

In 1811, after 350 years, the property passed from the Marquis Damiano to the Count of Roero, who cultivated it for 120 years. In 1932, he gave the estate to the Veglia family of Turin. In 1985, the property finally passed to the Miroglio family from Alba, founders and owners of the textile group with the same name.

The Miroglio family’s commitment to the winery strikes me as very much fitting into Antinori’s ethos and the Rametta brothers’ work in Romagna. The Miroglio family have roots in the Langhe. Their apparel empire began there before expanding around the world. Their purchase of Tenuta Carretta almost 40 years ago seems to have been about family and tradition and they have invested considerable time and effort to develop distinctive wines that reflect the particular terroirs of Roero and the Alta Langa. Each wine is meant to be unique to its time and place, to bend the arc even more toward the quality pole.

Tenuta Carretta makes the great red wine varieties of Piedmont, so it is noteworthy that the samples they sent us were white wines: the Roero Arneis DOCG Riserva “Alteno della Fontana” and the Langhe DOC Riesling “Campofranco.” Interest is rising in white wines these days and many consumers are searching for distinctive wines, so we welcomed the opportunity to taste these wines.

The Roero Arneis DOCG Riserva was a wonderful wine, refined and elegant. It is a proper reserve wine having spent 24 months aging on lees and a further year resting in bottle. The Riesling was a completely different experience, however.

You might be surprised to see a Riesling from Piemonte, but we know a few other Piemonte winemakers who produce Riesling because they just love this noble grape variety and cannot resist the temptation to see what it will produce here. It seems that a great deal of effort was necessary to make this Riesling a reality. A special terroir was discovered in a long-abandoned vineyard area (“franco” in the name “Campofranco” means “unused”). It is kind of extreme terroir and the cellar treatment is distinctive, too. The result is a wine that Sue said she wouldn’t have guessed to be a Riesling. Lots of minerality, a whiff of petrol that quickly disappeared. Fascinating and delicious. Kinda wild, too. Worth seeking out as are all the Tenuta Carretta wines we have tried.

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At the end of Piero Antinori’s book, he peers into the future and sees the outlines of what is recognizably the wine world of today, where consumption quantities are falling, wine quality is rising, the family wine firms are stronger than ever. He was right about quality and about the challenges he saw ahead for the wine market generally. Time will tell how family wineries fare in the global and local market adjustments that lie ahead. These seem like just the sort of challenges that family wineries are built for.

Bordeaux Bloodbath? Grubbing Up Deja Vu

September 24, 2024 By Mike Veseth in economic crisis, wine, wine history, wine markets 1 Comment

You’ve probably seen the news from Europe. The headline on Politico read, “Bordeaux bloodbath! France pays winemakers to dig up vines.” The French government has allocated €120 million to subsidize the removal of as many as 30,000 hectares of grape vines in the Bordeaux region due to unfavorable market conditions, according to EuroNews. That’s about €4,000 per hectare. The Bordeaux program is part of a bigger plan to take as many as 100,000 hectares (out of a total of 800,000) out of production.

It seems to me that the numbers are both big (100,000 hectares removed?) and small (€4,000 per hectare). American growers will rue the fact that they generally don’t receive subsidies from anyone when they are forced to grub up vines. The French are both lucky and not.

Grubbing up is a hardy perennial. France isn’t the only country that has to pull out surplus vines today and this isn’t the first time, either. I looked back in The Wine Economist archives to see when the topic of grubbing up first appeared on these pages. Here is what I found. You’ll note that I was skeptical about the EU program when I wrote this back in 2008. New Zealand’s earlier vine-pull scheme turned out well, I noted, but ripping out vines is only a temporary fix unless there are associated policy and structural changes to alter the market balance. I expect the same holds true today.

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Grubbing Up / The Wine Economist / May 6, 2008

Grubbing up is one of my favorite wine economics terms. It means to pull the vines up by the roots and replace them with other agricultural crops. It is a harsh term, just as it sounds, because it is the opposite of wine — it is anti-wine. Grubbing up isn’t something that a wine lover contemplates with ease, but sometimes it is necessary. The European Union’s Council of Ministers has recently finalized a grubbing up scheme for the EU and it is probably a good idea, even if it may not work.

Watering Down the Wine Lake

The problem is that EU wine production vastly exceeds demand with the result that thousands of liters of wine must be bought up by the EU each year and distilled into alcohol to prevent prices from dropping through the floor. The distillation price support only encourages continued production, waste and expense. It is a mess — a wine lake, as people say — and it has to stop.

A fairly radical plan was introduced a few years ago, one that would have paid farmers to grub up thousands of hectare of vines and introduced market reforms to allow (by deregulating) and to encourage (through supporting programs) European winegrowers to compete more effectively with New World winemakers who are taking their markets.

The package that the Council of Ministers agreed last week is significant even if it is less radical than the original initiative (Decanter magazine called it “watered-down” — never a good thing when you are talking about wine). The program called for subsidies to encourage winegrowers to eliminate up to 175,000 hectares of vines (versus 400,000 hectares in the original proposal), limit chaptalisation (the addition of sugar in the wine-making process) rather than eliminating it, and market-based reforms that encourage and enable winegrowers to compete on world markets (through varietal labeling of wines) rather than hide behind protective barriers.

I’ve been reading up on the details of the final EU plan and it is pretty interesting. The program includes money for grubbing up, of course, and deregulation of wine labels, removal of some vine planting restrictions (so marketable grape varieties can replace uneconomic grubbed up varietals), funds for wine promotion abroad, and so forth. Like any EU program, it is a complicated balance of economic reality, fiscal feasibility and political necessity.

The idea is to help the European wine industry transition to a new market environment, where export markets are growing, domestic markets shrinking and competition is fierce. It is not unreasonable to think that policies like this could work. They worked in New Zealand in the 1980s, for example.

Lessons from Kiwi Wine History

New Zealand today is famous as one of the great success stories in the world wine market. A small nation in an unlikely location, it punches above its weight in the global wine market, holding the title as champion exporter. Not in quantity, obviously, but in price. New Zealand has the highest average export price of any wine producing country.

But such was not the case 25 years ago. New Zealand suffered from a surplus of mediocre wine that could only be sold domestically behind high protective barriers. The industry collapsed with many failed firms from a combination of bad wine and surplus production. The government paid to grub up vines and then opened the market to international competition. Cheap but better wines from Australia flooded in to fill the domestic bulk wine market, leaving New Zealand producers only one choice — make better wine for export. They have done so brilliantly. Their success inspires the EU reforms.

It would be a mistake to think that what worked so well in New Zealand in the 1980s will work equally well in Europe today. It is unlikely that the EU would be willing to let its wine sector reach the sort of crisis that New Zealand experienced and that motivated the dramatic reforms implemented there. If big change comes from big crisis, as I believe (I wrote a book on this theme), then Europe is unlikely to see big change. The social cost of crisis is just too great. The guiding principle of EU policy is to prevent crisis, which makes change that much harder to effect.

Comparing New Zealand to Europe is problematic in other ways, too. New Zealand’s wine production is tiny — a drop in the bucket, really — whereas European producers account for well more than half of all the wine in the world. New Zealand’s grubbing up program may have been difficult, but only 1500 hectares were uprooted rather than the “watered-down” 175,000 set for the EU.

Changing the Rules of the Game

The principle of the EU wine reform scheme is sound, yet many reports that I have read are pessimistic. I think this is mainly because the final reforms are so much more timid that the initial proposal. But there are other reasons for concern.

One thing that economists have learned over the past 25 years is that institutions matter. This is another way of saying that economic forces do not always produce the same results. If the “rules of the game” are different the laws of economics will produce different results. Institutions are the rules of the game in life. Dani Rodrik, my favorite development economist, makes this point in his recent book One Economics, Many Recipes. The nature of local institutions, public and private, formal and informal, shapes the economic landscape in important ways.

This idea applies to the EU reforms in particular. Take the grubbing up scheme, for example. An incentive to repurpose large but unprofitable vineyards in Australia, for example, might well meet with an enthusiastic response because the institutions of wine growing there are different, with large vineyards and a consolidated industry. But European vineyards are much different and represent a completely different model.

Many vineyards (where much of the inferior surplus wine originates) are tiny inherited plots of a hectare or so, frequently on sites with few viable alternative uses. The rules of the game here are much different. A hectare might produce 20-30 tons if badly overcropped and, at perhaps $500 per ton at the local cooperative, gross revenues are too small for a family to live on but too great (compared to alternative uses) to give up. It’s an institutional trap that might be solved by consolidation, but making large vineyards out of these scattered small plots is necessarily costly and difficult.

Under these circumstances growers are likely to hang on to their vines for years rather than accept a modest one-time payment. Grubbing up might need to be forced, not voluntary, to have much effect.

New regulations to allow wines to be labeled according to grape variety (rather than the traditional local geographic designation) might be attractive to a large and distinctly commercial wine producer, but much wine in Europe is still produced by cooperatives that have little to distinguish their wines from others apart form the local designation. What advantage would they have as simple varietals in a world awash with good varietal wine?

A Certain Vision of Wine

It is possible to envision a future where the reforms can work, where the marginal vineyards have gone out of production, where consolidation has increased efficiency and where branded varietals can compete with the world market. (I have even seen some early attempts at EU branded varietals in the discount bins of a local store — more about this in a future posting.) I think it is possible that this vision may be realized — eventually.

But oh, it is such a big jump. The institutions of the small family vineyard and the local wine cooperative seem to me to make these reforms much more difficult. New Zealand’s success will be difficult to repeat.

Wine Film Review: SOMM Cup of Salvation

September 17, 2024 By Mike Veseth in wine, wine history Leave a comment

SOMM Cup of Salvation is a new release from the talented team at SOMM Films who have already given us SOMM, SOMM: Into the Bottle, and SOMM III. Their wine-film catalog now also includes a streaming channel called SOMM TV. If wine is your passion and video is your medium, you can have it all pretty much 24/7.

SOMM Cup of Salvation is now available via Apple, Amazon, and SOMM TV streaming platforms and is scheduled for limited theatrical release very soon. Here is a link to the new film’s official trailer. It is worth seeking out. Sue and I approach wine films with caution because we’ve seen so many disappointing ones, but Cup of Salvation gets our top score, two wine glasses (sort of like two thumbs up, get it?). Here is our review.

What’s the Story?

Cup of Salvation unfolds in several layers. In the broadest terms it is the story of wine’s cultural importance. Wine might be just a casual drink to many people, but its meaning runs deep and what happens to wine can be a mirror of what happens to society. This is wine as religion, philosophy, and identity.

The Cup of Salvation story takes place mainly in Armenia, sometimes in Iran, and a little bit in Oregon. Armenia, which along with Georgia is arguably the birthplace of wine, is struggling today to restore wine to its rightful place. Armenia suffered repeated invasions and abuse at the hands of outsiders over the centuries and the historical vineyards have suffered, too.

When Armenia came under Soviet rule about a hundred years ago many of the ancient vineyards were destroyed, replaced by industrial farms growing grapes for brandy production. In the Soviet system of specialization, Moscow dictated that Georgia (Stalin’s home) make wine and Armenia make brandy. So the old vineyards, winemaking traditions, and wine culture survived on the margins and under the radar. This is wine and ideology, geopolitics, and James C. Scott’s theories of oppression and resistance.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the opportunity appeared for Armenian wine and society to emerge, but the road was not a smooth one. This is where things get personal as we meet the bold and charismatic Vahe Keushguerian (creator of the Armenian sparkling wine brand Keush) and his more cautious but very brave daughter Aimee (who makes Armenian wine from indigenous grapes under the brand Zulal).

Vahe and Aimee Keushguerian (shown here in a still from the film) are part of the returning Armenian diaspora who seek to preserve Armenia’s wine history and create its future. The story of what they do in Armenia, why they do it, and what it means to them and to others, is at the heart of the film.

Risk is a strong theme. Some of the very old, very high-elevation vineyards are in an Armenia-Azerbaijan war zone (Vahe’s winemaking cellar/bunker is fortified to resist bombs. Yes, that’s a flak jacket he’s wearing in the photo.)

And then, as if there isn’t already enough risk, there is the crazy idea that punctuates the film. Iran is right next door. Iran has a long history of wine growing. Grapes are still grown, but no wine. The authorities would never hear of it. So, why not smuggle grapes across the border into Armenia and make the first Iranian wines in 40 years? What could go wrong? It would be, if you could do it, maybe the riskiest wine in the world (although there are vintages from Syria and Lebanon that would compete for that title).

The tale of the smuggled Iranian grapes makes up the last third of the film. Tensions and emotions are revealed and released. The meaning of wine is shown, not explained, and it is hard not to be moved.

Where Did the Idea Come From?

I asked the film’s director, Jason Wise, how the pieces of SOMM Cup of Salvation came together. The answer, he told me, is that he was in Armenia working on a completely different project (set for release next year) and met Vahe Keushguerian. Vahe’s story of Armenia’s wine renaissance was compelling and seemed to demand a film of its own.

And then Vahe’s Iranian wine project came on the radar and I think that lights must have started flashing. Wise knew about Moe Momtazi from another film project. Momtazi and his wife Flora are Persians who fled Iran many years ago, eventually settling in the Willamette Valley, where they founded Maysara Winery and Momtazi Vineyard. They carried with them as they escaped across the border an understanding of Iranian wine and its potential.

Momtazi’s Persian origin story is well known in Oregon (I wrote about the Momtazis in my 2013 book Extreme Wine, for example), but Wise was talking with him about something else. Momtazi is well-known for his commitment to biodynamic wine growing. Once Wise learned the Iranian backstory, the dots started connecting and the new film’s story emerged.

Why the Film Works

Cup of Salvation works for many reasons. First, it is beautifully filmed and that is always a good thing. The story is strong, too, especially the Iranian connection. But it is the characters that dominate the film, Vahe and Aimee Keushguerian most of all, but also Iranian-American winemaker Moe Momtazi and his daughter Naseem.

The characters are strong and the emotions authentic. It is hard not to connect with the people and through them the wines. There is even the subtle thread of daughters worrying about fathers to think about. Memorable.

Sue and I have to admit that some factors probably predisposed us to like this film. We first tasted the Keush and Zulal wines last year thanks to samples provided by Storica Wines, the U.S. importers. And we know and like Moe Momtazi, whom we met when I spoke at the International Pinot Noir Celebration in Oregon several years ago.

Even without these personal connections, however, I think we would be sympathetic to the Armenian wine story because of what we learned when we visited Georgia when I spoke at the UNWTO conference there. Georgia, remember, was lucky to get the Soviet wine franchise while Armenia was assigned brandy production. But it wasn’t really a gift because the Soviet wine system was focused on industrial production of sweet wines. As in Armenia, the task of preserving the essence of Georgian wine was left to families tending their grapes and making traditional wines. Our sympathy for the Georgian producers trying to revive their industry is, I suppose, part of our reaction to this excellent film about Armenia and Iran.

I know a critic who sets a pretty high standard for the wines he chooses to write about. They must be delicious, of course, but that isn’t enough. They also need to tell a story and to reveal something meaningful about people and places or maybe values and ideas. We are not wine critics here at the Wine Economist, but the Armenian wines we have tasted were both delicious and told interesting stories. Everyone we’ve shared them with came to the same conclusion.

We are not film critics, either, but we set something of the same standards when it comes to wine films. They should entertain, but that’s not enough. Somm: Cup of Salvation is a pleasure to watch, that’s for sure, but the stories it tells, the questions it asks, and the truths it reveals make it something special.

Raise two glasses (or more if you have them) to SOMM Cup of Salvation.

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Storica Wines is currently offering a “Sip & Stream with SommTV” package that includes a 4-pack of Armenian wines featured in Cup of Salvation bundled together with free access to the SOMM TV channel for the rest of 2024. Here is a link to the offer details.

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There is a fine film about the Georgian wine struggle, which we reviewed here in the Wine Economist back in 2018, “Our Blood is Wine.”

Wine Book Review: Italy in a Wineglass

July 16, 2024 By Mike Veseth in book reviews, Italian wine, wine, wine history 1 Comment

Italy in a Wineglass: The Story of Italy Through its Wines by Marc Millon (Melville House Publishing, 2024).

They say that every glass of wine tells a story, so if you get enough of the right wines together, can they tell a really big and complicated story? Can you tell the history of Italy through its wines?

That’s the challenge that drives this very interesting new book by Marc Millon. Sue and I recently returned from a trip to Collio in Italy’s northeast near the border with Slovenia (watch for our first report next week) and Millon’s book kept me engaged during the long trans-Atlantic flights. I am a fan.

Zooming In and Out

The story is organized chronologically because the idea is to tell a history (you’d probably do it by region if wine itself was the point). The chapters follow a set pattern that I call PGP for Particular-General-Particular. Particular, to start off with something concrete, then zoom out to General to make broad points, then focus on Particular again to drive home the point. It’s a very effective way to tell a story.

Millon begins each chapter with a personal vignette that evokes a particular time, place, wine, and usually good food, too. If you’ve been to Italy a few times it’s likely that you will be familiar with some of the places that Millon visits and the experiences he reports. A concrete personal connection is made.

The vignette is chosen to launch us into a more general discussion of a slice of Italy’s rich political, social, and economic history. Millon’s style here is fluid and footnote-free. Not simple in terms of ideas, but not difficult to understand. The history section almost always finds a way to bring the development of Italy’s wines and wine industry into the story.

Finally, Millon zooms in to provide detailed profiles of a few particular wines that he has chosen to illustrate some particular point. If the vignette introduction and the historical centerpiece haven’t hooked you, the stories of the wines surely will. I was interested that a couple of the wines that Millon chooses were also on the list I compiled for my book Around the World in Eighty Wines, and for pretty much the same reasons.

Conflict and Economy

Two noteworthy threads run through the book. The first is war and conflict, which has a big impact on wine, generally not in a good way. This especially hit home for me since we were headed to Friuli, where so many battles have been fought over the years (and indeed, Millon’s chapter on Wars and Wine opens in Cormons).

The second thread is economic change. We learn a lot about changing systems of wine production (feudal, sharecroppers, cooperatives, the “economic miracle,” and more) and how they have affected wine, wine producers, and the wine industry. If Italian wine economics were all you cared about, this would be a good introduction because the key elements are there, set firmly in a broader context.

How does Italy’s history (and its wineglass) conclude? Millon brings his book to a close by surveying the many problems facing Italian wine and wine more generally in a chapter he calls “Back to the Future.” He even offers a few wines to help the reader think through the journey (Gravner’s Ribolla Gialla from Friuli is one of them).

By the last glass, you’ve learned a lot about Italy, Italian wines, and how they are connected. An excellent read! The only thing that would have made it more satisfying is if Delta Airlines offered better wines (preferably fine Italian wines) for its passengers to enjoy while reading Italy in a Wineglass at 38,000 feet!

Wine in America: An Independence Day Flashback

July 2, 2024 By Mike Veseth in book reviews, wine, wine history Leave a comment

It is an Independence Day tradition here at the Wine Economist to use our national holiday as an opportunity to reflect on wine in America and American wine. This year we take a historical perspective by re-printing a book review from 2020 that offers a fascinating glimpse of changing American attitudes toward wine in general and American wine in particular. Enjoy!

Book Review: Wine & the White House

Wine and the White House: A History by Frederick J. Ryan, Jr. (White House Historical Association).

wh2 President Trump doesn’t drink beverage alcohol and neither does Vice President Pence, and yet wine is a constant at White House state dinners and similar events. What’s served is nice wine, too, according to records found in this rather fascinating new book.

A state dinner for French President Macron on April 24, 2018, for example, included Domaine Serene Chardonnay (Oregon), Domaine Drouhin Pinot Noir (Oregon), and Schramsberg Cremant Demi-Sec sparkling wine (California).

Apart from the Prohibition years (when, if there was wine in the White House, it wasn’t served in public settings), wine has always been a White House staple and having your wine served at a state dinner has been the ultimate celebrity endorsement.

Wine and the White House is a big book (more than 400 pages), beautifully produced, generously illustrated, and full of information. It is not a book to read from cover to cover, but rather something to dip into and enjoy. There are wine-driven profiles of each president in one section, an examination of the White House collection of wine glasses, decanters, and other wine paraphernalia, and even surveys of the different wine regions (and some of the producers) that have featured at White House events.

The author, Frederick J. Ryan, Jr., is Chairman of the Board of the White House Historical Association, a perch that gives him access to important source material. He was Assistant to the President under President Reagan, the founding CEO for Politico, and is currently the Publisher and CEO of the Washington Post.

This book was created with a diverse audience in mind. There are sections on wine basics, for example, for history buffs who might not know a lot about wine. And there are other sections to guide wine people who might not have brushed up on their American history in a while. And, of course, there is a lot of material that both wine people and history people will find new and interesting. You can pretty much open any page at random and find something you are happy to look at or read.

The chapters that I like best focus on the wines that presidents served to their guests at state dinners and similar events. There are menus going back to 1877, for example, with relatively complete data (including reproductions of the actual menus) starting with the Eisenhower White House years. I’m interested in these documents because they give a sense of how Americans and their leaders thought about wine in the postwar years and how those attitudes evolved.

f4758b03499942eadac83252f0119173 Fine wine meant European wine in the 1950s. Eisenhower’s guests were only very occasionally served anything else. A typical Eisenhower state dinner started with Dry Sack Sherry, Spain, and then moved on to Chateau Climens Barsac, France, and what is listed as Beaune Greves Burgundy, France. Pol Roger Champagne, France, brought the evening to a close. There were variations, of course, for particular guests. German Rieslings for Chancellor Adenauer and Lafite for Winston Churchill.

The Kennedy years saw the the range of wines broaden (more Rieslings and Soave, for example), but generally within a classic old world frame. Noteworthy: increasing presence of American wine (especially Almaden and Inglenook) and I noted Lancer’s Rosé from Portugal served at a luncheon for the Danish Prime Minister. Inglenook “Pinot Chardonnay” appears several times, a reminder that Chardonnay was still little planted in California in the 1960s and often went by this now-forgotten name on bottle labels.

LBJ’s White House dinners embraced American wine wholeheartedly, a trend that has continued. It is as unusual today for an international wine to be served as it was 70 years ago to see a domestic bottle on the table. The White House wine people were ahead of consumers more generally, especially early on, in their willingness to serve American wines to important guests.

It is also interesting to note that the range of American wines, once the trend got started, rather quickly moved beyond California (although that state’s wines still dominated). White House wine selections make a statement and it seems that this is intentional at least some of the time. Can you guess which president first served Texas wine or Michigan wine? Washington and Oregon have joined California as White House regulars.

Wine and the White House is a book that it would be fun to give or to receive. Pour a glass of fine Madeira (a wine that Jefferson bought by the pipe according to a reproduction of his inventory sheet) and enter this unique world. Wine and history pair very well indeed.

Cantina Tramin: Strength in (Small) Numbers in Alto Adige

June 18, 2024 By Mike Veseth in cooperatives, Italian wine, wine, wine history, wine markets Leave a comment

Your first impression when you arrive at Cantina Tramin is that you’ve entered some sort of space portal. Here in the lush Alto Adige hills, you expect to see a sturdy old building housing Cantina Tramin winery, but it’s not there. Or rather it is there, but it is hidden by a very modern addition that was completed only in 2010. Old and new.

The new Tramin is striking. You feel like you are approaching a space ship when you drive up. And you feel like you are peeking out among the vines when you look out from inside. It is quite an experience.

Quite a Surprise

The wines are quite an experience, too, especially the white wines. Bright, bold, complex. They fit the image of the winery perfectly. The surprise comes when you learn that this sleek, modern winery with its terrific wines is a cooperative, born from crisis more than 100 years ago.

Sue and I have visited the Alto Adige several times and we are always impressed by the great wines we taste and the tiny vineyards we encounter. The vineyards cling to the hills in this region with the valley floor given over in many places to the tree fruit for which the region is well known. There are about 5000 hectares of vineyards and about 5000 winegrowers tending them. Even if math isn’t your strong suit I think you can tell that the average holding is pretty small and the smallest of them are like grape-strewn postage stamps.

1898 and All That

The Cantina Tramin cooperative took flight during a crisis in 1898. The many small growers lacking market power relative to a few large buyers, facing ruinously low prices, and led by Tramin’s parish priest, pledged to work together rather than run a race to the bottom. This is how wine cooperatives spring up. But as anyone who has served on a committee can tell you, it isn’t always easy to make collective enterprises succeed.

Cantina Tramin followed the well-traveled road in its early days, producing bulk wines (mainly red wines from the Schiava grape) and selling them off at low prices to be bottled, marketed, and sold by others. Then in the 1980s came the realization that competition for basic wines in the bulk wine market might not be economically sustainable, especially for a region with such fragmented vineyard ownership.

So the decision was made to radically change the cooperative’s model, moving from quantity to quality, from bulk wine to branded wine, from red to white. It was an expensive decision because it meant replanting by individual cooperative members and cellar investment by the group. The fantastic new winery that opened in 2010 was the crowning touch, but it came after much hard work and investment by the 160 families and their 270 hectares of vines.

Bold DNA

Bold moves seem to be in Cantina Tramin’s institutional DNA. Creating and later expanding the cooperative was a risky decision, albeit one that was more or less forced upon the grower families at the start. Breaking away from the quantity-driven bulk wine model was a big step, too. I am sure there were doubts and second thoughts at the time, but that bet has paid off very well.

You get a sense of the strategic thinking at work here when you look at the winery’s Chardonnay program. Chardonnay does really well here and there is a lot planted, but it wasn’t suited to the kind of buttery Chardonnay that was in fashion 20 years ago. So rather than release a 100% Chardonnay, Tramin created “Stoan” (stone), a blend of Chardonnay, Sauvignon, Pinot Bianco, and Gewurtztraminer. Only some years later, when tastes had changed, did Tramin release “Troy” (trail), a pure Chardonnay that spends a year on the lees.

Big Bets Pay Off

Maybe the biggest bet of all is Tramin’s signature wine, the Nussbaumer Gewurtztraminer. Although it is difficult to know for sure, many think Gewurtz originally hails from this region. It sure does well here, whatever its origin. It is an easy wine to enjoy when done well, as it is at Tramin, but not necessarily an easy wine to sell. There’s the name, which some consumers are afraid to pronounce, and then there are the different styles of Gewurtz that you find, from austerely dry to sweetish and flowery.

The Nussbaumer is more about minerality than flowers. Made from very ripe grapes, which account for the surprisingly high 14.5 percent abv, it is all about balance. The winery’s food pairing recommendations are speck (the delicious smoked prosciutto product this region is known for) and saffron risotto with licorice powder.

Winebow represents Cantina Tramin in the United States and a look at its online catalog shows a surprisingly wide range of wines including other white wines like Pinot Grigio (an important export to the U.S.) and reds, too, including Lagrein, Schiava, and Pinot Noir.

Cantina Tramin is a great success. Could it be a model for other regions? Definitely yes if you are looking for a business model for cooperative success. In terms of organization, Cantina Tramin does everything right, especially in terms of creating strong incentives for winegrower members to produce the best possible grapes and no sacrifice of quality for quantity or collective reputation for individual gain.

It is never easy to get collective agreement for such systems and many cooperatives failed in the past precisely for this reason. One key, we were told, is that Cantina Tramin is not too big so the families know one another and the social contract that binds the members together is as tight as the legal contract. (Not for nothing are Italian cooperatives called cantine socialle). So there is strength in numbers … so long as the numbers are not too big!

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Here are the Cantina Traminb wines we tasted for this report:

Pinot Grigio Classico 2023

Unterebner Pinot Grigio 2022

Stoan Bianco (70% Chardonnay, 20% Sauvignon, 5% Pinot Bianco, 5% Gewurtztraminer) 2022

Troy Chardonnay 2020

Nussbaumer Gewürztraminer 2022

All of the wines were distinctive and delicious. The biggest surprises were the Chardonnay, which was complex with a long finish, and the two Pinot Grigio wines, which set a high standard for wines made from this grape variety.

Wine Book Reviews: Getting Serious about Prosecco and Rosé

May 29, 2024 By Mike Veseth in book reviews, wine, wine history 2 Comments

Here are brief reviews of two new books that tell the stories of two previously under-appreciated wines that have come into their own, but the books do so in completely different ways. Prosecco Superiore first, then Rosé from Provence.

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The Story of Prosecco Superiore by Susan H. Gordon is a serious book about a serious wine. The first assertion is not hard to appreciate. Derived from Gordon’s doctoral thesis, the book is thick with the signs of academic research: useful and interesting footnotes, an impressive bibliography, and the sort of price tag that takes the breath away from non-academics (professors and their students are hardened by experience when it comes to the cost of these books).

Gordon has seriously thought about how she wants her readers to understand the story (or stories, I think) of Prosecco Superiore. Thus the traditional “Wines of fill-in-the-place” organization is nowhere to be found. Yes, we learn about grape varieties, climate, geography, production methods, and so forth (a.k.a. the usual suspects of wine books), but interwoven and in the context of other factors, especially the history of the people, the region, and Italy itself.

Gordon is very clear. She wants you to work, not be a passive passenger, so what she’s written is more of a workbook than a simple guide. Are you up for the challenge? Good, then you can begin.

Seriously Prosecco

My second assertion (that Prosecco Superiore is a serious wine) may take more convincing and it might be necessary to pour yourself a glass of the wine at some point just to be sure. Prosecco wines have been one of the great wine market success stories of the 21st century, but most of the attention has been focused on Prosecco DOC wines that come from vineyards on the plains. Less notice is given (perhaps because less wine is produced?) to the Prosecco Superiore DOCG wines that come from hillside vineyards in the zones that were the historical birthplace of Prosecco.

I never turn down a glass of Prosecco DOC because even the relatively simple ones, often with a touch of sweetness, are refreshing. Interestingly, many of the best-selling wines are either distributed by U.S. wine firms (Gallo, for example, has market leader La Marca in its stable) or bottled by Italian wineries as private label wines for U.S. wineries (Cupcake Vineyards Prosecco, for example, or the popular Kirkland Signature wine). The Prosecco Superiore you find is more likely to be made by the winery on the label.

Sue and I have been fortunate to visit the Prosecco Superiore region on several occasions (I’ve given lectures at the famous wine school in Conegliano) and we have come to appreciate the differences between Prosecco and Prosecco Superiore (structure and minerality among other things) and among the DOCG wines from different zones. It has been a fascinating study with an unexpected side-effect: happiness. Prosecco Superiore always makes me smile!

Take a Walk

Gordon’s book covers a lot of territory. The original subtitle, we are told, was “Histories, Geographies, Languages, Topographies, Personalities, and Typologies of Prosecco Superiore.” That’s a lot to think about.

But the organizing principle is easy to grasp and enjoy: let’s take a walk. A walk through history. A walk with Antonio Carpenè, without whom Prosecco would not exist. A walk in the Prosecco hills. A walk through the streets of Conegliano. Walking is good exercise, but more importantly, it is done at a pace that lets you notice and appreciate what you see and hear and think about the connections.

Walking is a good thing and walking with Susan H. Gordon as she (and you) encounter all these people, places, things, ideas, and forces is quite an interesting and worthwhile experience.

Like Prosecco Superiore, this book is a serious undertaking. But, also like Prosecco Superiore, it makes you smile the smile that comes from understanding something more serious than you thought it was.

The Book of Rosé: The Provençal Vineyard That Revolutionized Rosé By Whispering Angel and Château D’Esclans (photos by Martin Bruno and text by Lindsey Tramuta).

Is Rosé a serious wine? I suppose it depends on the Rosé and on the wine drinker, but there was a time when “serious” wine people tended to look down their noses at pink “swimming pool” wines. (Even today there are Rosé wines with swimming pool brand names or label graphics.)

A Hundred Bucks?

That situation has changed and a reason why is the subject of this book, Sacha Lichine and his Chateau d’Esclan wines. Lichine (son of the famous Alexis Lichine, the “Pope of Wine,” who did so much to develop wine market and culture in the United States) embraced the Rosé challenge almost 20 years ago. Working with Bordeaux’s famous Patrick Léon and taking advantage of seriously old vines on the property, Lichine produced a wine called Garrus, which sold for more than $100.

A hundred bucks for a Rosé? He must have been crazy. But the impact was as dramatic as the price. Like Angelo Gaja, who raised prices and expectations in Italy years before, Lichine’s shockingly high price forced buyers to reconsider their prejudices and stimulated growers and other producers to up their game in terms of quality.

Whispering Angel

Old vine Garrus is still the top of the line, but Whispering Angel is perhaps the most popular of the portfolio of Provence Rosé wines on offer by Chateau d’Esclan. My favorite book chapter follows Lichine and colleagues as they set out to market Whispering Angel to a skeptical worldwide market. It is clear that Lichine and team knew who they wanted to drink their wines, where, and on what occasions, with an eye to creating a luxury brand. They then set out purposefully and patiently to achieve this goal. Required reading for wine marketing students.

The Story of Prosecco Superiore demands a lot of its readers. The Book of Rosé is more relaxed. Indeed, it presents itself as a large, heavy, beautifully illustrated coffee-table book with some text woven in. Many will choose to own (or give) it for the photographs alone. But the text, although brief, tells an interesting story that is worth reading.

Two wines, two stories, two ways of telling it. Both worth your attention.

Wine Book Review: Discovering the Hidden Vineyards of Paris

April 23, 2024 By Mike Veseth in book reviews, history, wine, wine history 3 Comments

Geoffrey Finch, The Hidden Vineyards of Paris (Board and Bench, 2023).

Urban wineries aren’t surprising anymore. It is not that difficult to truck in grapes and other supplies to make (and then sell) wine in the heart of a busy city. City wineries are not as ubiquitous as local craft breweries, but they aren’t hard to find. If you go to Paris, for example, you’ll find a winery on the first floor of the Eifel Tower.

Urban vineyards are a different matter. Cities, by their very nature, are filled up and built over, with what open land that remains after urbanization devoted to parks, playgrounds, and so forth. A vineyard? That would be a surprise.

But of course, cities have not always looked and operated as they do today. Before the advent of cheap and secure transport, for example, cities had to be much more self-sufficient than they are today. Food could not cheaply and reliably come from far away, so local sourcing was vital. This was especially true for wine in Europe because of its central place in diet, culture, and economy.

You can find remnants of the old vineyards if you look for them. In Venice, for example, the Venissa vineyard is a short vaporetto ride from St Mark’s Square. It’s a different side of Venice, serene like the city itself (La Serrenisima) once was. Sue and I love the vineyard and the hotel and restaurant that the Bisol family has developed.

But wait … there’s more! If you know where to look in Milan you can find the evidence of Leonardo’s personal vineyard reconstructed, according to Professor Scienza, using DNA analysis. Add that to your bucket list!

I was amazed to discover that Paris was once the center of the largest vineyard area in France and the world. This makes sense, however, since the city’s large population required wine, and the local environment was well-suited to grape farming. Parisian vineyards declined slowly and then suddenly, however, due to a number of forces including especially the arrival of the train, which delivered quantities of wines that were better than the local ones (from Burgundy and Bordeaux) or much cheaper (from Langudeoc and eventually Algeria, too).

Parisian vineyards declined but did not entirely disappear. You have to look closely to find them, however, which is what Geoffrey Finch has been doing for over 40 years. His new book is a slim volume packed with insights, information, and colorful illustrations that tell the story of grapes, wine, and Paris.

Finch guides us through vineyards that are used to produce wine, vineyards that don’t yield wine but serve other purposes, and isolated vines too random to be called vineyards but that tell interesting stories. Even the largest of these vineyards is small by the standards of Bordeaux or even Burgundy, but size isn’t the point here. Rather they are a chance to encounter the history of Paris and wine and, if you are lucky, have a taste, too.

We have visited Paris several times, but have never been to Clos Montmartre, the largest vineyards and the only one with commercially available wine. There is even a community wine festival. It’s on our list for the next Paris expedition.

It would be great to visit these vineyards with Finch on one of his tours and to hear his stories in person, but reading The Hidden Vineyards of Paris must be the next best thing because of his distinct sensibility, insatiable curiosity, and obvious fascination with Parisian history. Each vineyard (or individual vine in some cases) has a history that is specific to its subject and also reflective of Paris more generally. Each is a pleasure to read and appreciate.

Taken together, the vineyards and their biographies give a rich sense of what Paris is, has been, and perhaps might be again. The Hidden Vineyards of Paris is informative, entertaining, and well-written. Highly recommended.b

Got Bacon? What Can the Wine Industry Learn from Pork’s Problems?

February 20, 2024 By Mike Veseth in economic crisis, Uncategorized, wine, wine history, wine markets 9 Comments

The outline of the Wall Street Journal story was very familiar to anyone who has followed wine industry trends in recent years. The product had a long history and was well-loved in America and around the world. But the industry itself was in crisis. Demand was down. Part of the problem was health concerns and part of it was price (its retail price was higher than the most popular substitute). Worse of all, younger consumers were turning away.

Production costs kept rising and rising, but retail prices not so much (or at all, in some cases) eating margins and leaving red ink stains on the account books where black ink profits once regularly appeared.

It all had a familiar ring, except (here’s the punch line), the story was about pork, not wine. “We’re not eating enough bacon, and that’s a problem for the economy,” the headline proclaimed.

Does misery like company? If so, I guess I now feel solidarity with pork producers. Or is it a case of miserable company? I don’t know. But I decided to dive into the article, looking for lessons from the pork crisis.

Lesson One: Re-Education is Difficult.

Wine has a health problem. Moderate wine consumption can be part of a healthy diet (the French Paradox effect), but alcohol itself has many detrimental effects. If you define wine by its alcoholic content, then that’s a problem for health-conscious consumers, who are increasingly drawn to no- and low-alcohol wine (and to the not-wine alternative, too). A challenge for the wine industry is to tell a positive story in the face of the negative anti-alcohol headwinds.

Once upon a time, pork had serious health issues, too. Pork was fatty, which discouraged health-conscious consumers, and needed to be very thoroughly cooked (165-170 degrees) to avoid the disease trichinosis. Changes in production methods over the years have created a healthier product, which is leaner and safer to eat without over-cooking. Pork has become so lean that foodies now seek out fattier heritage breeds with more flavor.

The facts about pork have changed, but consumer attitudes have not changed with them. It isn’t easy to re-educate consumers once the conventional wisdom has been established. It will be hard for wine to change the narrative, too.

Lesson Two: The Perils of Generic Marketing

What would a generic marketing campaign for wine look like? I don’t know (I’m not sure “Got Wine?” would do the trick), but a lesson that we can learn from the pork industry is to be careful what you say and how you say it.

“Pork, the other white meat” was a popular ad campaign that raised awareness of pork products and created an opportunity to establish pork as an alternative to low-fat chicken. The good news is that it might well have prevented a steep decline in pork consumption in the past.

But, the WSJ article reports, the campaign seems to have backfired in the current environment because, if you compare pork to chicken, the chicken is likely to be cheaper — and that matters a lot.

The WSJ article quotes one stakeholder who suggests maybe they should have tried to position pork as a cheaper alternative to beef rather than the new chicken. But, as the graph shows, beef consumption is falling, so maybe that’s not the optimal strategy. The current campaign is “real pork makes a real difference.” Really? Is the goal to lure people away from fake pork? Or is it to discourage chefs from using chicken instead of pork in traditional recipes? Not sure.

Wine needs to take the pork experience into account and remember that wine is more expensive on a per-serving basis than beer or spirits (on average) and a moderate wine consumption message, even if effective, can’t change that.

Lesson Three: Innovation

I was especially interested in the WSJ’s report on how pork producers are innovating to try to stimulate demand. Innovate? How can you innovate something as basic as bacon or a pork chop?

As noted above, some farmers are going back to the future by re-introducing heritage pig varieties that have more fat and flavor than the lean pork products that have taken over the market in recent years. Foodies will look for (and pay for) heritage breeds.

Bacon is a favorite pork product and there are lots of different styles in the supermarket meat case. Smithfield is innovating by making bacon that is more convenient to use, needing just 10 minutes in the oven to crisp up rather than the usual 20 because of special processing before packing. Quick bacon.

My favorite innovation idea (I like the idea, but I haven’t tried the product yet) is Tyson Food’s “pork griller steak.” This is a new cut of pork that Tyson seasons and marinates. It is designed to be flavorful and easy to cook. You can grill it, broil it, pan fry it, or even cook it in an air-fryer so long as you stop cooking when the internal temperature reaches 145 degrees. Note that the recommended temp is well below the old cooking standard for pork, producing a result that is more tender and juicy.

The Folly of Complacency

Some people may be uncomfortable with this wave of innovation in the pork business, but it seems to me that change is nothing new for bacon, ham, and chops. A lot of new ideas will need to be tried to discover the ones that make a difference.

The same is true in the wine business. As a traditionalist, I am not always persuaded by the new wine ideas I see on the shelves. But, as I said recently in a public radio interview with reporter Tina Caputo, “If we simply make the same wine, packaging it the same way, sell it with the same message, we will get the same result.”