The enigmatic realm of viticulture brims with questions seldom posed. Why is it standard to bottle wines, whether 5% or 15% alcohol, in 75cl containers when this is clearly not the ideal quantity for two individuals? Why, aside from a few imitators in Australia, is the Côte-Rôtie region in the Rhône valley virtually alone in co-fermenting black and white grapes?
Moreover, why do affluent oenophiles readily splurge on multi-vintage champagnes like Krug Grande Cuvée, Bollinger PN AYC18, and Laurent-Perrier Grand Siècle, but rarely consider investing equivalent amounts in non-vintage still wines?
Conventional wisdom champions the importance of vintages. While tasting a less impressive 2013 cru classé Bordeaux, I learned that wine enthusiasts supposedly value understanding how winemakers tackle the challenges presented by the year’s weather, which influences every wine bottle produced. Really, though, is this the same as diners wanting to judge how a chef deals with lesser quality meat?
Even if one accepts this argument about vintages, the supposed reverence for them can be misleading. Depending on local regulations, a 2022 vintage wine may include up to 15% to 25% from other years, which means roughly one out of every four to six glasses might not even be from the labeled vintage.
As someone who has transitioned from being a wine critic to a winemaker, I find myself conflicted. I appreciate the ability to craft wines that maintain a certain style and quality that might be favored by the masses, but I am troubled by the inherent deceit involved. It’s my belief that if vintages are blended, this should be clearly stated, and, ideally, the specific vintages used should be listed.
Moreover, why limit the practice to just 15%-25% of a blend? Why not fully embrace multi-vintage blends, as demonstrated by Penfolds in Australia with its pricey G3, which costs upwards of £2,500 a bottle? Or consider Vega Sicilia in Spain with its Unico Reserva Especial, and Italy’s own Pasqua with its ‘Hey French’ white from Veneto?
While these wines might be seen as unusual exceptions, they actually represent a historical tradition. In Spain, top wineries traditionally crafted special reserves by blending their finest vintages, a practice still upheld by Vega Sicilia in Ribera del Duero. Today, this tradition is seeing a resurgence, notably by Marcos Eguren with his Sierra Cantabria CVC Rioja.
The proposal to adopt multi-vintage still wines doesn’t imply abandoning single-vintage releases entirely, similar to how Champagne is produced. Such an approach would give winemakers flexibility to avoid launching wines that do not meet their standards, an issue that was evident with many 2013 crus classés from Bordeaux, a notably poor vintage. Given climate change and its associated risks—droughts, floods, hailstorms, and fires—more irregular and challenging harvests are likely, leading to more variable crop yields and quality.
I am creating a unique white Georgian wine named K’AVSHIRI, blending 11 different grape varieties from Imereti and Kakheti regions, using four distinct techniques: qvevri amphora, skin contact in stainless steel, third-year barrels, and stainless steel aging. My partner, Vladimer Kublashvili, and I had already planned for this to be a multi-vintage wine when a rare series of five hailstorms in 2023 severely damaged our Kisi grape vines, a particularly unique Georgian grape. Fortunately, we had Kisi stocks from 2022 and 2021 to use, along with a small portion of grapes from 2017 making up 10% of the blend.
As a wine enthusiast, vertical tastings and the historical essence captured in each vintage are among my passions. However, the creative freedom that multi-vintage wines offer is equally thrilling, challenging winemakers to exhibit their utmost skills and explore new territories in winemaking.
Georg Müller Stiftung’s Roter Riesling 2022 represents a wonderful example from the VDP of an exceptionally rare pink-skinned variant of Riesling which I encountered in a unique wine shop near Geisenheim University in Germany’s Rheingau region, following a lecture I delivered there last month. This grape, rescued from the brink of extinction by a local viticulturist, produces a bone-dry wine with luscious peachy-appley flavors and slightly more body than typical Riesling. Could this be an ideal candidate for adaptation to the evolving climate?