I wrote about my Finger Lakes wine pyramid theory a couple of weeks ago. I was hesitant to broach the subject because any conversation about a hierarchy implies that something is better than something else. Obviously, all of us have things that we like better than others, sweet vs. savory, light vs. dense texture, childhood tastes that follow us throughout our lives vs. new experiences and cuisines that are strange to us. This has puzzled and interested me, this natural inclination to assume a hierarchy from low to high, bad to good, slow to fast, etc. etc. How can I talk about things that are my favorites without giving them undue influence in a conversation with someone who likes something quite different? I suppose you do what I’ve always done with music or film critics; find one you agree with most of the time and then follow their lead. Trouble is, you’re inviting a gatekeeper to control what your experiences are. It’s a puzzle, for sure. I’m going to make an attempt to speak of wines that I do not usually drink, and argue that they are worthy of your attention and respect.
My pyramid has a peak, as mentioned before, 15-20 wineries that the world is watching closely these days. These are my personal favorites because they make complex wines with the structure and intensity to age well, at least on a good bet. The fact that I define “better wines” as having this ability to age, is a personal choice I share with many of the more “serious” wine drinkers of the world, but it doesn’t make us always correct. These wines are harder to appreciate, more variable from year to year, and invariably more expensive. Sometimes a lot more. Are they worth it? Not if you don’t like them, and if wine is not your usual thing, or is just one more beverage for you to choose from, then you may well not like them. It’s complicated, as they say. These wines depend more on what happens in the vineyard than the wines from the broader base of the pyramid, there’s a lot less chance that they will be heavily adjusted during their production. (That’s not a guarantee, the weather is capricious and a business with no product to sell will not survive long.) So the peak is harder to produce, harder to sell, harder to appreciate, and more expensive. Not a very good list of selling points. Why even bother? Many (most?) of you may never feel the need to bother with these wines, and that’s ok. Great, actually, since another common denominator for the “upper level” wines is that there aren’t all that many of them. And the world is watching.
The middle level was covered in my previous article, I would only point out again that this middle ground is where an awful lot of innovation and experimentation are occuring. Many of these endeavors will be blind alleys and dead ends, or mere fashion. Some will work out and be delicious or even inspiring. It happens all the time. I would add that by my definition, the middle tier are wineries with the desire and drive to make it to the top, they just need time and effort. I guess, though, it would be wise to point out that many of these wineries will keep one foot anchored firmly in the foundation, by way of one or two sweeter “pay-the-bills” wines. This is an entirely understandable, and to my way of thinking, acceptable way to fund the wines that may need a little subsidy from time to time. So there’s the middle ground, possibly anchored in the base, but with eyes on the minority, the pinnacle.
I will hopefully never have to buy another house, since our Finger Lakes abode will, in theory, be our last. When I do shop for houses, the first place I head for is the basement. Many of you are already nodding in agreement, let me explain for the rest of you. The basement isn’t usually glamorous, not like the sparkling allure of a modern kitchen, but you can tell all you need to know about the wisdom of looking at the rest of the house with five or ten minutes (sometimes much less) going through the basement. Without a strong foundation, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the house looks like, I’m not going to look and be tempted by makeovers and updates in the bathrooms. If the basement, the foundation, sucks, I move on. It’s a rule I have only broken once, to my chagrin.
With that not-so-subtle metaphor, let me sing the praises of the foundation of Finger Lakes wine. I spoke before about the approximate number of FLX wineries (let’s say 140 for our purposes here) and the small number of wineries garnering the world’s attention (say 40 in the other tiers). That means over two thirds of the wineries in the region are foundational, and they do a lot of the heavy work of attracting visitors to the region. Without them, there would be no Finger Lakes as we know it. Every tourist dollar is needed, whether it’s spent on a sweet red wine, a bottle of Riesling, a charcuterie board, or a locally distilled gin. It’s not just fine wine, or even wine in general, that makes the region special, it’s a culture of craftsmanship and care, of a slower, more hands on approach to life and work. You will meet many people that don’t seem to work at all, yet they accomplish much, it’s just that their enjoyment makes the work seem like play. Let’s not go too far, it’s not idyllic, there are cranky or dishonest farmers and winemakers, just like there are dishonest people in any business. I stand by the enlightened culture, though, the region is full of people who have a very big case of give-a-shit. And it’s infectious. Spend enough time here and you might start to give a shit too.
So, why does a pyramidal foundation that includes the majority of wineries, making the majority of wines, that the majority of people like to drink, why does that group need a spokesperson? Well, who does most of the talking about wine? Think about that. Is it the White Zin drinker, bragging about what eight bucks will get you, if you know where to go? Or is it the small producer of Pinot noir, doing everything by hand and barely scraping by on the thirty dollar bottle price. My bet is on the Pinot. There’s more to talk about, for one thing, more than just fruit and sugar lighting up the pleasure centers. This wine is likely to be more complex, subtler, more demanding time wise. Tougher to get to know, to perceive, to wrap your head around. Why pay extra to have to go through so much more effort? It’s a question I can’t answer for you, I can only encourage you to drink what you like, but try to maintain a certain openness for things you have yet to experience.
Damn, I did it again. Every time I try to defend the foundation, I veer off into a plea to attain the pinnacle. Forgive me, I did acknowledge it’s damn hard not to fall into the easy descriptiveness of hierarchy. Perhaps I can try another approach, perhaps an impassioned plea to ONLY buy foundational wines, to NEVER buy from the pinnacle. This is sacrilege to me, but I shall don my debating hat and take the other side. Here are just a few good reasons NOT to buy the wines that I love.
- There aren’t that many of them, not nearly enough to go around. The best ones might be way too hard to find. Why bother?
- They’re expensive. As these wines become rarer they will become even more stratospherically priced. It’s probably not worth it, better go with the cheap stuff.
- Most of them are dry, many are tannic, none of them are as easy to understand as a sweet, silky smooth red. Don’t waste valuable time trying to contemplate the mysteries of the universe in a wine that doesn’t have the balls to be sweet.
- You’ll lose friends. As soon as you spend more than thirty seconds describing a glass of wine, you will be labeled a snob, shunned at many parties, and will never again receive a non-wine related gift. Pinnacle wines are not only complicated themselves, they make life more complicated. Best just avoid them.
- You’ll be forced to also become a foodie. Since the obvious companion to a pondering wine is a plate of well prepared food, and since this will become an obsession after your first well paired wine dinner, you really should consider that you don’t have time in your life for such passion, for such wines. And White Zin goes great with any Stouffer’s frozen dinner. Life is hard, take the easy road.
- Consider the positives; foundation wines are less expensive, delicious, smooth and easy drinking, they light up a lot of pleasure centers. You could spend the rest of your life trying them all and never running out or facing a shortage. They will taste the same or similar with every passing year, they will satisfy on many levels and they will seldom disappoint. Never, ever, let anyone boss you into thinking you MUST move on, abandon these old friends and become more esoteric in your tastes and outlook on life. Yes, I’m telling you, you MUST not EVER, let people tell you what to do. Without irony.
There’s so much more to say about foundational wines (I’m pretty sure that’s the term I’m settling on, much better than entry level, or gateway wines.), but consider this first and foremost; in the Finger Lakes, the foundational wines are still hand crafted and made with a certain respect. Tank sizes might be measured in thousands of gallons, but not millions. There’s a lab in every winery, but most Finger Lakes wines are not chemistry experiments. Does it matter? I hope so, and with Millennial’s’ desire for a great backstory, I’m betting on it.
So, let’s set aside our pyramidal differences and revel in the diversity of Finger Lakes wine. Whether you’re drinking a dry red or a cheap (or sometimes very expensive) sweet wine, it is likely an artisanal bottle of wine, and that is a very special thing. Hand crafted, regionally diverse, Finger Lakes wines are delicious, perhaps even contemplative at every level of the pyramid. Drink up.
Cheers, Jerry