'Pocket Wine Book' slips into sloppy

NEW EDITIONS of seemingly indispensable wine books by British writer Hugh Johnson have appeared just in time for the holidays. Mr. Johnson is one of a handful of writers who have not only the knowledge but also the experience and sheer talent to make authoring such tomes viable. And yet I am afraid that the unbridled growth of the global wine industry, coupled with the publisher's need to add evermore tweaks and twiddles to the books in order to make them compelling buys, have outstripped even Hugh Johnson's abilities.

His annual "Pocket Wine Book" was, for many years, my constant companion. Originally published in 1977, the book was indeed pocket-size and cleverly packed with icons, abbreviations and other typeface tricks that magically squeezed massive amounts of information into its pages. The 2010 edition must be, I suppose, the largest ever. Certainly the typeface seems the smallest ever, though that may be attributable to my aging eyes.

A full page is devoted to a bewildering list of symbols used throughout. After you've waded through it, you feel entitled to some sort of merit badge, like a good Scout who has learned all 60 ways to tie a knot. There are vintage reports, a short list of "safe" brands (generally corporate plonk such as French Rabbit and 3 Blind Moose), grape varieties, food and wine, and an introductory rant about some upcoming change in European Union laws that will infuriate the Brits and annoy the rest of us, without really mattering.

A long list of contributors is identified, ostensibly taking Mr. Johnson off the hook for most parts of the world, for he is clearly most comfortable when solidly anchored in France and Germany. None have any particular expertise in the Pacific Northwest. Oregon, Washington, Idaho and British Columbia are squeezed into five pages. Oregon, we learn, specializes in pinot gris and pinot noir, and some folks in the Rouge (sic) valley are ripening cabernet.

Washington and Idaho are lumped together, as if they were equally important and somehow related. Just 45 Washington wineries are listed, including at least one or two (Sandhill, Glen Fiona) now departed. The one- or two-line winery entries, though brief, are stocked with mistakes. Barnard Griffin is not a "small producer." Bunnell Cellars is not an "estate winery." Buty does not make a wine named "Reviviva of the Stones" (it's Rediviva). Columbia Crest Grand Estates wines are not the reserves. DeLille Cellars does not have four labels. Hogue (at least in my view) does not produce the "quintessential Washington sauv blanc." The Milbrandts are not "longtime growers." Quilceda Creek's AVA is not "Puget Sound, Wahinton [sic]."

The book's star system proves to be erratic. Only a single Washington winery (Andrew Will) receives an unqualified four stars — the book's highest ranking — while New York can claim six four-star wineries and Virginia five! British Columbia, home to more than 100 wineries making exceptionally elegant, European wines, gets half a page — less coverage than Colorado.

There's a little box extolling the popularity of syrah in Washington (with Cadaretta the only winery named as a "Rhone specialist." Huh?). Also tucked into the Washington/Idaho section is a box headlined "Drinking local in Washington DC." Apparently, Mr. Johnson's editors have not yet been able to locate Washington state on a map.

Space does not allow me to dig deeply into the even more lamentable failings of Johnson's other release, a shrunken version of his "World Atlas of Wine," now co-credited to Jancis Robinson. Robinson has traveled to the Pacific Northwest on several recent occasions, and should be embarrassed to have her name on the cover of a book so replete with errors and long out-of-date "facts."

Paul Gregutt is the author of "Washington Wines & Wineries." Find him at www.paulgregutt.com or write to paulgwine@me.com.