2010 Napa Cabs and how critics might review them
I was having breakfast at Boon Fly with Sean Foster and Michael Cruse, the winemaker and assistant winemaker at Merryvale, and I asked them about the 2010 vintage. Both said (as many other winemakers have said) that it will probably result in wines that are lower in alcohol and not as rich as previous “classic” vintages. Then I asked them if they thought the critics would be cruel to the wines if they [the critics] think the wines lack a little stuffing.
Sean spoke first. “I could see that,” he acknowledged. “I do wonder how they’ll reconcile the expectation of what Napa Valley produces — big, rich, tannic wines — compared with the expectation that Bordeaux produces wines of more elegance and finesse. How do you reward or punish Napa in a year when it’s more like Bordeaux?”
Good question. As Sean noted, it’s all about expectations. If you’re used to the kinds of wine produced in years like 2004 and 2005, with Cabernets that were stunningly lush in fruit, then a leaner year might disappoint you. You would “punish” Napa for 2010’s failure to achieve alcoholic ripeness. If, on the other hand, you prefer more structured, earthier wines, you might “reward” Napa.
Michael Cruse, a thoughtful man, had been listening, and then he jumped in swinging. “If a critic is going to punish a winery for having something atypical, but according to the vintage” he said — “atypical” meaning in this case a leaner, less opulent Napa Cabernet, but one that’s a reflection of the cool weather — “it opens up the question of how much collusion there is.”
Excuse me, collusion? Michael explained. “I mean, how much understanding does a critic have of what’s proceeding in the vintage?” I took him to mean that a critic should understand that a cooler vintage in Napa might produce a leaner, more focused wine, but one that nonetheless may be very fine. True, but I said that Michael had introduced a slippery slope into the conversation. If he’s ready to exonerate the record cold 2010 vintage as resulting in more austere, but equally wonderful, Cabernets, then where do the excuses stop? When does a vintage turn into an unripe disaster?
“That’s exactly my point,” Michael said. “You should be able to say ‘This is a disaster’ if it is a disaster. That’s everyone’s right. The broader question, I think in my heart of hearts, is that any critic worth his salt is going to [i.e. should] recognize quality, regardless of what form it takes.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “It’s to recognize the fact that, yes, maybe there’s a mintiness to this Cab, and maybe there’s an herbalness to it. But these are still quality wines. I hope,” he concluded, looking at me square in the eye, “that that recognition is occurring.”
Well, I haven’t tasted anything of the 2010s yet, so I don’t know if Napa Cabs are going to be minty and herbal or not. But I do think the vintage is going to challenge critics. If the wines are leaner, earthier, drier, less exuberant, more herbaceous, minty (take your pick), then how do you distinguish between a very fine minty/herbaceous Cabernet and one that’s merely green and underripe? That was the slippery slope I was thinking about. It’s going to take some good and experienced palates to deal with 2010, but it’s also going to require an open-mindedness, and a willingness to switch course, to embrace a style of Napa Cabernet that hasn’t been around for a while.
All this raises another question, one that was thrown around on this blog last week about tasting blind: When we taste the 2010s, should we know they’re 2010s and make allowances? I will in all likelihood know that I’m tasting 2010s when I begin reviewing them, in two or three years. But I like to think that I won’t have to make allowances for the vintage. I have a tolerant palate that can appreciate the span from superripe to earthy without bias. I’m hopeful that we’re going to get Cabernets and Bordeaux blends out of Napa Valley (and especially from the mountains and hillsides) that truly do attain the holy grail of ripeness at lower brix, with no compromise of flavor or complexity. True elegance and finesse may be the silver lining around the cloud of this bizarre and stressful vintage.