It used to be, for most of my wine writing career, that I visited winemakers (and winery owners) to listen, not to talk. In the beginning, I had much to learn: about viticulture and enology, about the business side, about how they had gotten into wine, about the local history and terroir and so on.

I’m a good question-asker, with a natural curiosity, and since most people enjoy talking about themselves, the conversation between me (or the reporter in me) and my interviewees never flagged. But these days, I find myself talking to winemakers (and winery owners) more than I used to. Why? Read on.

During a typical visit, the winemaker, who’s been expecting me, has probably gone over in his mind what he wants to tell me. Maybe it’s about his over-arching philosophy. Maybe it’s about a new vineyard he’s developing, or a new winemaking team he’s hired, or a new cave they’re building. Usually, the winemaker wants to taste with me, which opens up whole new areas of conversation. Often, I’ll take out my old-fashioned pen and pad of paper and take notes. This is all in the tried-and-true journalistic tradition of a Q&A where I’m “Q”, the winemaker is “A”, and the result is that odd bit of literature called “an article.”

But I’m afraid I’m turning into a gadfly lately, which is turning the tables on the old way, but when it feels right — when it feels like the winemaker has given me an invitation — then it has to be done. Here’s how it might go.

Winemaker: So I hear your blog is pretty popular.

Me: Thanks. It’s a lot of fun. [Here, there might follow a bit of chatter about how long blogging takes, why I do it, etc. Then I might ask:] So do you blog? Do you do any kind of social media?

Winemaker: [laughing] Me? No. None of that stuff.

Me: Why not?

Winemaker: Oh, I don’t even have a computer! [or a cell phone]. I don’t have the time. It’s too hard; I wouldn’t know where to begin. And I wouldn’t know what to say.

Me: It’s not as hard as you think. You probably have somebody in your employ who’s working with computers, right?

Winemaker: Yeah. [In fact, it could be the winemaker’s son or daughter.]

Me: All you need to do is have them set up the back end, the actual format of the blog. Once that’s done, all you have to do is type in the words. It’s just word-processing. If you’re not comfortable working with a keyboard, just write your blog out in longhand, and have somebody transcribe it for you. It doesn’t have to be long. Maybe 400 words.

Winemaker: [thinking] Well, but what would I say? I’m not a writer.

Me: Well, for example, you met me here this morning, right? You greeted me as the sun was rising and the mist was lifting off the hills. It was cold. Then we piled into your pickup, and you drove me around the appellation, showing me the various vineyards. I asked you questions, remember? About the difference between the hillsides and the flatlands. You talked about alluvial soils, about landslide soils, about limestone outcroppings uplifted 20 million years ago from the sea. Then we drove back here to the winery, where we’re now sitting, tasting through your ‘09 Pinot Noir barrel samples: the 114, 115 and 667 clones, the Pommard, the Swan, the Martini. Don’t you think you could write up 400 words on that?

Winemaker: [frowning] I guess.

Me: So you see, you do have something to say. Every day you have something to say.

Winemaker: Well, who would want to read about it?

Me: Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t?

Winemaker: Anyway, I have a gal I hired who does that for me. She set up our Facebook page and our Twitter account.

Me: Do you even go there?

Winemaker: Not really.

Me: Look. Nobody knows if this “social media” stuff is going to matter for a winery. It may never move a single case; it may be the future. But I can tell you two things: One, it’s basically free, so why not play around with it? You have nothing to lose. And two, don’t let someone else speak for you. Speak for yourself. A P.R. person or a social media employee can never be you. The whole point of a blog is authenticity. Believe me, artificiality shows through a blog like patch of ringworm on a face. You can’t hide it. People want to read blogs written by people who are being themselves — who let it all hang out. They don’t just want to read about facts, which can be spun and manipulated. They want to feel your personality come through, with all its joys, uncertainties, fears, hopes, dreams, enthusiasms, humor. You’re a real person. You’re being real with me right now. All you have to do is write 400 words 3 or 4 times a week and get it up there on your blog.

Winemaker: Well, how would I know if it’s working?

Me: You won’t, initially. You might not get any comments for weeks or months. You might have not have any idea if anyone even reads your blog. But like I said, what have you got to lose?

That’s when I usually see the winemaker lose interest, and I wonder if maybe I’ve overdone it — if I’ve somehow been inappropriate and lectured (or hectored) somebody who was kind enough to be my host. But then I ask them the killer question:

Me: You say you’re increasingly relying on direct sales for your business, right? Like through your tasting room and wine club?

Winemaker: Right.

Me: I bet your direct sales customers skew older, right?

Winemaker: Yes, they do.

Case closed.

Yet another winery has hired a social media marketing manager. This time, it’s V. Sattui, known to generations of Napa Valley visitors for its picnic facilities right on Highway 29.

I don’t know how many wineries have created social media manager jobs. It all started with Murphy-Goode, of course. St. Supery jumped on the bandwagon soon after. Gallo recently posted a job offer for someone to “Utilize social media technologies/networks to listen, engage with, and converse with brand consumers in the digital space.”

But even if a winery doesn’t have a full-time social media director job opening, chances are that proficiency in social media is part of the job description for an administrative assistant or marketing manager or some similar title. For example, at winejob.com, Saddleback is looking for a sales associate who is “Proficient with social networking (Facebook, Twitter, Linked In) and the Internet.” Another winery, which wouldn’t name itself, is hiring a P.R. person who “Must be extremely proficient with social networking (Facebook, Twitter, Linked In) and the Internet.” Boisset Family Estates is looking for a wine club manager with a social media background, Opus One wants a marketing manager with “a strong understanding of…web conversation monitoring tools (social media etc.),” and an unnamed winery in Santa Rosa is seeking a winery operations person to manage “social media development.”

Surely the words “social media” would not have existed in a winery job description one year ago. You’ll forgive me for noting that there’s a sense of frantic catching up here, as though the managers responsible for pushing these job openings through are thinking, “OMG, I don’t know what to do, but I have to do something or else I’ll get fired, so let me hire someone who…” etc. etc. Of course, wineries aren’t the only companies looking for social media directors. Wrigley, the chewing gum and candy company, is seeking a social media manager, a “Self starter with an entrepreneurial spirit,” which most social media hounds I know seem to be. Right here in my home town of Oakland, Clorox is hiring a “Corporate Counsel- Social Media/Talent Rights” to protect the company’s advertising. Sutter Health, the giant health insurer, is looking for a communications coordinator for news and social media, someone who can raise “awareness, understanding, acceptance and/or preference of the Sutter Health network through high-quality strategic communications plans and activities.” (That person will have his or her work cut out for him; Sutter is frequently under attack by consumer groups.)

Most of these jobs envision social media as part of the company’s P.R., media relations and external communications divisions, and that’s exactly what makes me wonder if the successful applicants may not be setting themselves up for failure. After all, the essence of social media is transparent authenticity, right? People read my blog and Facebook postings because they know Steve has no reason to post things except for a desire to express himself, with no hope of gain. But if you’re blogging, Facebooking and tweeting about a company that employs you, the inference can surely be made that you’re not being particularly authentic, but are saying what the company, through your direct supervisor, wants you to say, or not saying what they don’t want you to say. I don’t see how a company can get around that inescapable conclusion.

Now, I hope people won’t interpret my remarks as social media bashing, although I expect some will. I am just making a very common sense point. Everybody knows that P.R. is never neutral. A paid spokesperson, whether it be the President’s press secretary, a celebrity endorser in an advertisement, or a blogger who gets a cut of the profits off products she plugs, never can have total credibility. If I owned a winery, I’m sure I would also hire a social media manager. I’m not blaming anyone who does; it’s the right thing to do, now; they’re all making a necessary move. But I’d like to know if, in 2, 3 or 5 years, these dedicated positions are going to exist. I have a hunch that social media managers are going to see their jobs morph into more conventional areas, and that tweeting, blogging and Facebooking will be incidental, not central, to their everyday work. And some of them will be laid off.

1.

I was not surprised to hear yesterday that someone is taking on the New World (Australia, Chile, California) for global wine dominance in the value tier. After all, we’re in a recessionary time when all the cards are being reshuffled and recut, and who knows who will emerge on top. Nor was it surprising to learn who the potential usurper is: France’s Languedoc-Roussillon! All the 2,700 winemakers in that huge district — which covers 35% of France’s vineyard acreage — will now be able “to label their wine for the first time with the grape variety, vintage and location.” That will enable them to compete in the New World, where consumers look for wines with varietal names, like Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s why a top Languedoc official said, “It will help us a lot with the American market.”

That’s hundreds and hundreds of millions of bottles of wine, and a lot of it is going to cost under $10, giving stern competition to inexpensive California brands and New World imports.

Let’s back up and get philosophical. Since the recession began, we’ve assumed that the most expensive wines are in trouble. They are, but that doesn’t mean the bottom of the market is safe. You have only to look at Australia to see that. Nobody knows if and when the recession will lift and recovery return. But we know this: this announcement from the Languedoc-Roussillon is a shot across California’s bow, a warning signal that powerful interests in the European Union are moving in for their share of the loot.

2.

Announcing the first ever Wine Bloggers Conference on Wine Writing

The world already has a Wine Bloggers Conference and a Wine Writers Conference, but what we don’t have is a Wine Bloggers Conference on Wine Writing (or WBCoWW, pronounced “web-cow”). I’m not sure how this ended up falling between the cracks, but it did. Probably because everybody’s so darned busy blogging, tweeting and monetizing, not to mention going to conferences, that nobody noticed.

Why a Wine Bloggers Conference on Wine Writing? Why now? And why me? Answers:

1. Because it’s needed.
2. If not now, when?
3. It’s my karma, which was never all that great.

I doubt if we can get Meadowood again — too pricey, and besides, the proctologists have it booked the third week of July (I checked), which is the only time I can make it. Even if we could afford a little room, I wouldn’t want to be sharing that Meadowood campus at night on those dark, creepy paths with a bunch of probing ass doctors, especially if I’ve been drinking, which I will. There are several AAA-approved motels in the Vallejo/AmCan area we could probably afford. And speakers. We need speakers. 1WineDude, are you free the week of July 15? I know you’re crazy busy, and we’ll need to book you months in advance. Have your people get in touch with mine. Alder Yarrow, any chance you’ll chair the panel on “How to chair a panel”? There may be a syndication deal. I think I can get you Jancis Robinson, or, at least, a Jancis lookalike (I know one from San Francisco). Parker said nyah, nyah, but he didn’t say nyah, nyah, nyah your mother wears combat boots, so maybe he’ll come. (Memo to Morton Leslie: please prepare for me a draft of winery-media relations as they have developed from the late 18th century into the digital age.) There’s some hope the Coppolas will come. Every wine conference needs a little glamor, which is why God created Karen MacNeil.

For our breakout session I suggest a rousing game of Truth or Dare, libations to be provided by whichever winery underwrites web-cow with the most funding. In this game, players ask embarrassing questions of each other, and challenge each other to do embarrassing things. For example, Heather John might dare Charlie Olken to lapdance in a bikini with Eric Asimov while blind tasting without spilling a drop onto Eric’s khakis, and The Hosemaster (should he attend the festivities, which is not at all clear) might raise the ante by daring all the bloggers to rate CO’s performance on a 100-point scale, or else risk having Charlie lapdance on them. (Try not to visualize.) It’s great fun, and could give new meaning to the word “Gewurztraminer.” By this time we should all be relaxed and harmonized enough to attend our second panel, which Jim Laube has graciously agreed to come out of hiding and chair. (Memo to self: Does he still look like his old WS picture? Find out.) It is entitled, “What would happen to the 100-point system if all the 100-point critics in the world suddenly disappeared, the way all the women did in Philip Wylie’s 1951 novel, ‘The Disappearance’”? When Jim proposed this topic, I thought it was a little un-P.C., but it does win the award for the world’s longest panel title, and should garner lots of media coverage, especially in Cigar Aficienado. It also raises the issue of: If Tish were armed with weapons of mass destruction, would he use them and, if so, upon whom? My personal opinion is that the 100 point system will not die with the death of its critics, but will long outlive them; and, in fact, numerically rate their demises. As long as I’m still here to participate in the debate, I’m content.

I returned home in a euphoric state of mind. (My therapist had to explain the difference to me between “manic” and “euphoric.”) All this stuff about monetization and ethics and “blogs into books” may be boring inside-the-beltway fare for 99.9% of the wine-drinking public, but it’s the meat-and-potatoes of the writer’s life, and it was so educational and pleasant to be able to explore these issues with our own kind.

Alder Yarrow did a yeoman’s job at coverage on his blog the other day. I had noticed him more or less continually pecking away on his laptop (Joe Roberts, too) and wondered how a mere human can be in 2 places at the same time, i.e., listening and paying attention to the intellectual give-and-take of a panel discussion, while at the same time twittering and/or blogging. But, as Alder and Joe and the others seem to be able to get away with this balancing act quite well, who am I to say it can’t be done?

I do take some — not a lot, but some — issue with Alder singling out Heather John’s statement

“Wine writers have some of the worst reputations for bad ethics in the business”

as “The most interesting.” After all, there were dozens of interesting, compelling and wise things said throughout the symposium’s three days. I could, for instance, cite Michael Bauer, to the effect that “A paid wine writer can afford to be ethical.” Heather may have simply been reporting on what she’s told by P.R. people, and I don’t doubt that the bad behavior Alder itemized is rampant among a certain class of “writer.” But the implication that malfeasance is more widespread among print writers than bloggers made me squirm. Well, of course it would be, for now; there are a lot more employed print writers than bloggers, they’ve been around for a longer time, the wineries have long histories with them, etc. So it’s not because print writers are sleazier or less ethical, it’s a question of numbers. There’s been this suggestion that bloggers are somehow purer and more noble than print writers; less capable of sin; less self-interested, and more interested in the greater good. That’s piffle.

Not piffle is this sentence from 1WineDude: “Both Eric Asimov and Steve Heimoff are practical, warm and charming in person (meaning that I have lost at least two bets and the week isn’t even over yet).”

Why would Asimov and Heimoff not be charming and warm? I don’t know what “practical” means, though. (And, by the way, nobody is more charming than Mr. Dude himself!) Somebody (okay, not just anybody, but the estimable Tom Merle) wrote in to the Dude’s website that:

“Of course your hosts would ~say~ this. They can’t ask you point blank to shill for them, even though…they expect it. Just as all entities who sponsor press junkets are morally right to expect coverage for their product, service of client. This is planet earth. If someone scratches your back, you better scratch back or you have violated the protocol.”

So let’s take a minute to talk about gratitude, and back-scratching, and who-owes-what-to-whom-for-what, and all that good stuff. The late, great California Secretary of State, Jesse Unruh (yes, the same guy who said “Money is the mother’s milk of politics”) once remarked, of lobbyists:

“If you can’t take their money, drink their whiskey, screw their women, and vote against ‘em anyway, you don’t belong in the Legislature.”

Those are words of wisdom, Mr. Merle, which I would paraphrase thusly: “If you can’t take their samples, eat their food, stay in their lodges and then trash their wines, you shouldn’t be writing about wine.” (I have deliberately omitted any reference to SWOTJ, or “screwing while on the job.”) I don’t mean “trashing” gratuitously, only as needed. It’s also, I may say, a little unfair to “them” to imply that “they” expect good coverage in return for their largesse. In my long career, they don’t. They hope for good coverage. They may even pray for it. But it would be tacky for them to expect it, and most winemakers — at least, in California — aren’t tacky. As for Mr. Bill Harlan, who, as the managing partner (or whatever his title is) of Meadowood and the proprietor of  Harlan Estate, if anybody thinks this man needs to have his back scratched by a blogger, you don’t know him.

Random notes

Eric Asimov and Karen MacNeil had a panel on “Sensory Analysis vs. Wine Reviews” in which Eric reprised an earlier topic about “the tyranny of the tasting note.” He calls tasting notes “pernicious” because it makes wine seem “unambiguous,” which it isn’t, and “rips the heart of out its mystery.” Well, yes…and no. Yes, because it’s awfully hard to summarize the experience of a wine in words. No, because if you’re reviewing a wine, you have to say something, so all you can do is your best. That is, after all, what writing is all about: doing your best.

Eric is right on about the laundry lists of descriptors many critics use. It’s too often pretentious, precious and downright silly, all those olalaberries and grilled asphalt and so on. I myself have vastly simplified my metaphors over the years, and moved more toward writing about balance, structure and elegance (or the lack thereof). My problem with some young bloggers is that they’re going back to the use of obscure fruits, flowers etc. Maybe they have to; maybe that’s something the novice wine writer has to do.

Earlier, my old colleague Jeff Morgan had a panel called “What wine writers need to know about wine” that was particularly welcome, I’m sure, by all us writers. There’s been much discussion, including here on my blog, about how much technical knowledge a wine writer should have. A little? A lot? Obviously, some knowledge is desirable, but I’ve always thought a lot is unnecessary and can even be a hindrance. A move critic doesn’t need to know all about digital film technology or lighting manufacturers or Dolby sound. If technical knowledge made for a better wine critic, the best of them would be viticulture and enology professors — which is patently not the case.

Jeff raised the question of watering back wines or musts to combat high alcohol — which he said 80% of Napa vintners routinely do. He said although this actually improves the wines, the winemakers are loathe to admit to writers that they do it. “It’s because some powerful columnists lambast anything they perceive as interventionist, and the public buys into that,” I said. Jeff, or course, agreed. I personally am not bothered by so-called “interventions” to make better wine. Everything about winemaking is interventionist. It’s a bogus controversy ginned up by some writers who don’t actually have to make wine themselves. If a winemaker waters down, or acidulates, or sulfurs, or uses R.O. — whatever — who cares, as long as the wine is good? So next time you read a critic ranting about “intervention,” understand he’s just looking to pick a fight.

Later that day, we did a blind tasting of 5 Napa reds with Ms. MacNeil and I completely wiped out. We all did. I don’t necessarily feel bad abut guessing Barbera when the wine was an old field blend, and so on. The important thing in these useful exercises is for your logic, your deductive process to be correct. I understand that in the M.W. tests they don’t care if you guess the wine correctly, they want to know that your reasoning was accurate.

In the evening Bill Harlan hosted a few of us for drinks, and then it was on to the Restaurant at Meadowood. The food was obviously great but for me the highlight was sitting (and drinking) with Eric Asimov and Alder Yarrow, both of whom I got to know much better than ever. Such smart guys, so savvy and brilliant in their own unique ways. Easy to see why they’re both where they are in their blog careers. We had what easily was the greatest conversation about blogging, social media and where it’s all going that I’ve ever had. (And I was so pleased to discover that Eric and I share a martial arts education.) Now, this morning, it’s on to the two big panels, Alder’s on Monetizing your new media writing (which I’m on) and mine on Wine writers, ethics and income streams. This is going to be hot stuff. I’ll report tomorrow.