What is terroir, and does it matter?
Terroir is a French word without a simple English translation. The Oxford Companion to Wine devotes a couple of pages to the subject. However, my favourite explanation is much more succinct. It comes from literature:
“For nitrates are not the land, nor phosphates and the length of fibre in the cotton is not the land. Carbon is not a man, nor salt nor water nor calcium. He is all of these, but he is much more, much more, and the land is so much more than its analysis. The man who is more than his chemistry, walking on the earth, turning his plough point for a stone, dropping his handles to slide over an outcropping, kneeling in the earth to eat his lunch. That man who is more than his elements knows the land is more than its analysis. But the machine-man, driving a dead tractor on land he does not know and love, understands only chemistry, and he is contemptuous of the land and of himself”. John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath, 1939
A Sense of Place
Steinbeck nails it. Terroir is a sense of place. It can be an ingredient in wine, a signature of individuality, authenticity, identity, and, just sometimes, greatness. The grape harvest can capture nature’s expression, but it is up to the winegrower to reveal it.
For example, Burgundy shows astounding differences between adjacent vineyards and even within the vineyard itself. Because the winemaking and grapes are similar, the differences are down to natural influences at a local, even micro, level. So it is with many winegrowing places.
There are many natural influences in the vineyard. Climate governs the amount of warmth, water, and sunlight available. Geology determines the primary soil type and the structure of the landscape. The altitude, slope and aspect of the vineyard, the grape varieties planted, weather patterns, rivers and drainage all play their part. Soil is fundamental: made of sands, gravels, loams, or clays, the microbial life, depth, fertility, organic matter, mineral content, and chemical processes all count. Local fauna and flora complete the picture. You could call it provenance, but it’s more than that.
Humans are key to terroir.
However, there is another vital aspect of Terroir. Humans are the key because wine does not make itself. Great wine is made in the vineyard. The vine variety and planting density, trellising, rootstocks, clones, and pruning methods are influential, as are the winery processes used. In the right hands, humans act as the catalyst for nature, with the potential to create a wine that becomes a signature of the land that birthed it.
When humans attempt to modify nature’s gifts, wine becomes a mere beverage that can come from anywhere. Such wine may taste good, but it’s artifice. Any terroir potential is obliterated. This is usually due to industrial viticulture, the use of chemicals, or over-manipulation in the winery. Hence, terroir is also a philosophy based on human attitudes and actions.
Can you taste terroir?
But the existence of Terroir has long been a subject of heated debate. Is it an abstract idea, or can you taste it? Where is it? And does it matter when wine’s first duty is to be delicious?
The European wine-producing regions, for example, France, Italy, and Spain, have sophisticated appellation systems. These have developed to embrace terroir because wine identity is determined by geography rather than by a brand. These appellations often enshrine winegrowing that has evolved over centuries. Yet each has inconsistencies; some are over-complex, and some are not complex enough. And in any case, plenty of their wines do not show terroir!
In contrast, the young vineyards of (what was once referred to) as the New World were once a virgin territory without any wine-growing tradition. The soil was seen merely as a medium to hold a vine upright to the sun and give it water. Because no one knew with certainty, many different grape varieties were planted to see which might be best suited. There were few rules, and “modern science” attempted to correct deficiencies.
As these wines emerged, they gained market share at Europe’s expense because many tasted better. At the time, terroir was put on trial, accused of old-world protectionism. In response, France claimed that the terroir-deniers were an Anglo-Saxon conspiracy undermining French culture and values. Neither position made much sense. Hmmm, it’s time to take a step back.
Step back
Terroir can be an easy excuse for some damn mediocre wines. If I had a penny for every time I’ve heard “C’est terroir” uttered in defence of poorly made plonk, I’d own my Italian vineyard by now.
Take a classic case, the presence of Brettanomyces, a spoilage bacteria producing off flavours. Unhygienic wineries are usually responsible. A high level of Brett is always foul, although small concentrations can add a savoury dimension. Is Brett part of Terroir or just dirty winemaking? I’d argue the latter.
The terroir debate moves on.
Winegrowing has increasingly embraced the ideas of terroir as it works out its best vineyards. Meanwhile, winemaking has improved through the use of science. It is a fact that the overall standard of wine quality is far higher now wherever you go. But if most wines are technically better, why do so many still taste soulless?
For example, many winegrowers strive to find their terroir in California, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand. Most will say that while the vineyards are still relatively young, developing terroir is their goal. Moreover, some regions are creating geographical “appellation” systems to forge a unique identity. Californian AVAs, sub-regions of the Clare and Barossa Valleys in Australia, and the Gimblett Gravels Winegrowing District in New Zealand are just a few examples. In Europe, regions that previously produced bulk table wine now have terroir-obsessed winemakers. Just look at the successes in Sicily, the Languedoc, or Bierzo.
Terroir exists. Yes, it’s an abstract and intangible idea, but it’s about identity. The real question for me is whether winegrowing reveals terroir or obliterates it. Modern winegrowing has two poles: those who embrace terroir and those who sell the global industrialisation of taste.
It is a personal choice whether this matters to you. Many will read this article and not care, while others will feel deeply, one way or the other. I advocate terroir because wine can be more than just another beverage, no matter how good it tastes. For me, wine also has to communicate an authentic sense of place. Terroir is the magical, ethereal ingredient that turns a good wine into a great one.
Postscript
I wrote an early proto-version of the article 20 years ago, and this version was first published here in 2016. My views have not changed. If anything, they have deepened further. But why resurrect it now? Well, it’s my response to the recent emergence of red and white wines in the UK that are blends of wines from more than one country. Even more disappointingly, respectable wine people make and sell them. Expect more artificial ultra-processed wines to be foisted on the British public – they are not allowed in Europe. Shock headline: Modern wine is rubbish.
I predict enormous commercial success. You can call this innovation, product development, or business smarts. But then again, so are the abominations of intensive farming and chlorinated chicken. Heck, they’re not even cheap.
They are not welcome at my table.