I always remember this one time when I tasted some very exquisite and rare wines from top Chilean producers. I sat at a table with Portuguese winemakers and we were slowly making our way through about 15 different reds from the vineyards of this South American gem.
It was quite insightful; the wines came from different grapes (Cabernet, Merlot, Shiraz, and Carmenere) and from wine regions spanning the entire length of this elongated country.
The Portuguese guys seemed to be like an introverted group, talking in hushed tones among themselves, and, curiously enough, passing glasses back and forth from time to time. Since we were all tasting the same wines, it didn't quite make sense as to why one would feel the need to taste or smell the wine from their neighbour’s glass.
As we finished the last wine, I couldn't resist asking, “Why did the four of you exchange glasses?” The slight smirk that almost immediately appeared on the person’s face clearly meant that I had uncovered something that they didn't really want to get into explaining. Nonetheless, and without me exactly persisting, he went on to explain: not entirely dissatisfied with the wines, and yet, not quite consumed by them, the boys had started blending the different wines in their glasses — a touch of Merlot, a dash of Shiraz, that sort of stuff — and were passing it back and forth to see whose version was preferred.
The reason they didn't wish to outright share this little ritual of theirs was that some may see it as insulting to the presenting winemakers. And rightfully so, for I have to admit that I too was flummoxed by this “anarchy”.
But my Portuguese friend proffered an explanation, for he could sense my unease. In Portugal, there is no concept of a mono-varietal wine. Like food, a wine is a recipe and needs many ingredients. Just like you can’t create flavour depth with one ingredient, you can’t make a truly complex wine with one grape. So ingrained is this philosophy, that in Portugal, not only do they blend grapes and wines in vats, different grape varieties are, in fact, often grown together in the same vineyard and then harvested simultaneously to be poured into the same vat to make one holistic blend. Unlike harvest charts in other parts of the world where the date for each parcel of land and each grape variety is precisely calculated to attain maximum ripeness without any rot or loss of acidity, in Portugal, their approach is more holistic: some may be under-ripe, some over, and some, just right. Together they shall make a balanced blend.
If you think this is crazy, well, it has worked for them for hundreds of years, so why swap the system now? And it was precisely because of this reason that the Portuguese pack was busy blending, for they saw the individual Chilean wines as super ingredients that could possibly yield a more formidable product. They must have been onto something, for when they made the Chilean winemakers try their little effort, the latter were visibly impressed.
Even today, many question the need for blending, citing that it was a way to hedge our risks back in a time when harnessing the weather was utterly unheard of. Today, with all we know and all we are capable of achieving, we don't need to drink a ‘safe’ stable blend but instead can try the pure unadulterated joy of a single grape, without having to bother with mucking about with other grapes to spoil this singular love affair.
And not just on that table, the blending debate ensues everywhere. Our own Indian winemakers seem to be making both styles: Fratelli makes an entire range of single-grape wines but their Sette is a blend. Australia makes blends starting from two dollars and all the way up to the several hundred, especially with wines like the Penfolds Grange. Bordeaux is all about blends.
And then, in contrast, there is Burgundy, which makes Pinot Noir and Chardonnay and the changing soil and climate provide all the variety that couldn't be tried in two lifetimes. The top Californian reds (such as the Robert Mondavi Reserve) are often pure Cabernet wines. Solitary Argentinian Malbecs and New Zealand Pinots enjoy similar exaltation. The best Austrian wines are Grüner Veltliner for whites and Blaufränkisch for reds, again both mostly single varietals.
In other words, there is no right way to make a wine. It is an application of science that allows for artistic interpretation and that is the ultimate cradle to nurture variety. Without this, the wine world would be drab and boring.
Whether you like it “straight” or “blended”, remember that it is always good to explore both sides equally and simultaneously; you never know what you might be missing. And with a beverage that is made out to be even more boring than it is, options can be a mighty saviour.
