Punch Drunk

High on alcohol, too many wines are losing their individuality

IN TINY TYPE, somewhere on every bottle of wine, the percentage of alcohol is listed. Although the actual alcohol content may legally vary somewhat from the figure given, I find that most wineries do their best to get it right. And that number has been rising rather sharply.

On average, both white and red wines are at least two percentage points higher today than in decades past. This is especially true in America. I first noticed this trend while tasting through hundreds of zinfandels some years ago. Most were listed as more than 15 percent; some were more than 16 percent and a few even higher!

"You can't make a decent zin under 13.5 percent alcohol," one winemaker confidently told me. Obviously, he hadn't tasted Paul Draper's 1974 Ridge Lytton Springs, labeled as 13.3 percent and drinking very well, thank you, at 30 years of age.

That old-style Ridge, with its mix of herbal and woodsy, tart fruit flavors, may be long out of fashion. But hot and heavy zinfandel is just the beginning of this unfortunate trend. Cabernets, syrahs, merlots and even pinot noirs (supposedly the most elegant of red wines) have all jumped on the high-alcohol bandwagon in recent years. And you can taste the same results in them all: jammy, sweet, concentrated fruit flavors packed in expensive new oak.

So what's the problem?

A lot of people like sweet, thick, fruity wines. They're "hedonistic," to steal a wine-writer phrase. Wineries pride themselves on the effort it takes, especially in the vineyard, to craft such wines. Critics often reward them with high scores and gold medals. Consumers fight to get on mailing lists for the privilege of spending $100 or more to obtain these "cult" wines.

Here is the problem: These wines are almost undrinkable. They bludgeon the palate with heavy flavors and thick tannins. They leave you woozy after a single glass. They obliterate any subtlety you might hope for in terms of a food-and-wine pairing. They do not age well. And they make all grapes taste alike. Howard Rossbach is fighting the trend. The Seattle-based owner of the popular Firesteed brand of value-priced pinot noir and pinot gris has launched a new wine, Cayalla. It's a red blend from Columbia Valley grapes.

"We worked hard to keep it under 14 percent alcohol," says Rossbach proudly. "If wine is something that goes with food, then 12.5 to 13 percent alcohol is great. If you go up to 14.5 or 15 percent, that's a 20 to 25 percent increase in alcohol. That's a bit of a wallop! We don't like foods that are unbalanced; why would we want wines that are unbalanced?"

This question of balance is key, because I often hear wineries defending their brutish wines by pointing out that, although they may be big, they are balanced. Some are, but it's the sort of balance that you might see in the circus. A bear riding a unicycle on a tightrope is balanced, but how long is he gonna stay up there?

Critics often get blamed for this relentless rise in alcohol content. These wines garner the high scores, the argument goes, so, of course, these are what wineries will make. And, it's true, when a critic or wine judge attempts to taste a hundred or more wines in a sitting, the bigger, jammier ones will stand out.

Ever try to listen to soft, complicated music with bells going off in your head? Trying to find the stylish, elegant little wines in a lineup of Hummers is no different.

But beyond all this, what I most regret about these wines on steroids is that they obliterate the very qualities that make truly great wines: nuance and terroir. When fruit is ripened to the extreme, the resulting wines show only overwhelming sweetness and concentration. Gone are all traces of mineral, leaf, herb and spice, along with the delicate and complex aromas that can be found in grapes picked earlier.

Grapes grown in the world's best vineyards have the ability to make wines that express what is termed terroir — the nuances of their soil, their micro-climate and that particular season. But grapes that hang until sugars skyrocket express two things only: fruit and alcohol. The new oak these wines are marinated in is simply the winemaker's attempt to provide "balance."

I think wineries can do better. On the previous page, I have listed some that do.

Paul Gregutt writes the Wednesday wine column for The Seattle Times and covers Northwest wine for the Wine Enthusiast magazine. Write to him at wine@seattletimes.com. Susan Jouflas is The Seattle Times' assistant art director, features.