On junk science and my (former) dislike of Chilean wine

wpid-dsc_0592.jpgA quick glance at the science section of any major newspaper tells us two things. First, that there is no shortage of academics trying to find the answer to anything and everything in our observable universe. And second, that there seems to be a disproportionate number of scientists devoting countless hours, perhaps even years, to some of life’s least important issues.

Almost all of it is junk science with an agenda behind it, and this fact has been reported widely. It seems, for some reason, that the Telegraph is leading the pack when it comes to reports of junk science, perhaps because, in its endeavour to attract the most clicks and therefore higher ad revenues, it must print anything and everything.

It comes as no surprise that junk science about wine tasting appears frequently, hashing and then re-hashing the same tired topics. Case in point, this week’s round of wine tasting ‘science’ and ‘research’, as reported by the Telegraph and Harper’s Wine & Spirits. At the Telegraph, we read about how wines with lower alcohol are purported to have more flavour than those with higher alcohol. Sure, insofar as the alcohol isn’t masking the fruit and other aspects that make up the wine’s flavour profile.

Then, in Harper’s, we read that Naked Wines, the online retailer, claimed that consumers ‘prefer’ bigger, bolder wines with more alcohol. If consumers want flavour, then surely going for a wine with more alcohol is counter-intuitive? I can only conclude that something doesn’t add up here. I’m going to suggest it’s the science involved. No matter how deeply scientists study the process of wine tasting, no matter how often they might conclude that there is nothing behind it, they are clearly ignoring the fact that there is, and it’s entirely sensory and subjective.

Think of it this way: there are no scientific reviews that I know of that have debunked the science film reviews. Many of the most celebrated films ever made received bad reviews upon release — think Vertigo, Citizen Kane, Casablanca and my personal favourite, The Big Lebowski — but no one has claimed that this was because film reviewing is junk science. Nor does anyone say it when the reviews are overly positive.

On the topic of science and subjectivity, let me make a very bad segue and write about Chilean wine. It is no secret that I have an irrational intense dislike of Chilean wine. Mostly, I have found it to represent a vague middle ground in the wine world, a sort of indecisiveness, neither here nor there of flavour and complexity.

If, for example, a merlot from St Emilion represents restraint and a sense of place while a merlot from, say, California, has a reputation for being the opposite of restrained, then a Chilean merlot, by and large, will inevitably land somewhere in the middle. And the middle is not where anyone wants to be, for being in the middle really just means that you’re neither this nor that. It’s the beige minivan of wine, offering as much excitement as a night out at the library.

Except. Except there could be another way. And I might have found it, in all places, at Marks & Spencer. Look beyond the cashmere scarves and the navy blue blazers with those gaudy gold buttons and head straight for the wine aisle, where the selection is anything but stuffy. Indian sauvignon blanc? Georgian orange wine?  A crisp, white wine from Tikves in Macedonia? Check, check and check. On the Chilean front, the usual suspects make an appearance in the M&S aisles.

But what’s this hiding near the bottom of the shelf? A dry pedro ximenez from Chile’s Elqui Valley? Pedro ximenez is a white wine grape best known for growing in southern Spain, where it is turned into a sherry of the same name, often labelled PX for short. PX sherry is dark and sweet, the result of grapes that have been laid out to dry in the sun to intensify their sugar concentration.

With M&X Pedro Ximenez PX, things are rather different. The wine is dry and crisp, not sweet and unctuous. It reminded me more of a wine from the Maconnais region of France, not an oddball white wine made in Chile from an oddball grape. For somewhere in the region of £7, this wasn’t just an acceptable bottle of wine, this was one of the first Chilean wines I’d enjoyed in a long time (a recently tasted bottle of very expensive still wine made in a Champagne style notwithstanding).

Now, this isn’t a perfect wine by any means. Its price is in the lower half of the M&S product suite, so it isn’t necessarily profound or complex. It probably won’t cause any epiphanies any time soon. But it’s interesting and satisfying, something few Chilean wines have achieved for me in the past few years.

And there’s more. M&S also sells a reasonably priced wine made from Chile’s signature red wine grape, carmenere, and it, too, stopped me in my tracks. M&S CM Carmenere also hails from the Elqui Valley and, while slightly more expensive than the PX, represents good value. I expected it to be fruity and innocuous like a generic merlot might be, but instead it was so much more. Oak, spices, excellent fruit on the palate and a solid backbone all make for a bit of a surprise. So PX and CM. Who knew? Until recently I had avoided Chilean wine out of caution. But perhaps I was wrong all along. What I do know is that it had nothing to do with science.

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