Wilson Daniels, the marketing and sales company based in St. Helena, has been around since 1978, but they’ve finally done something they might have done years ago: they started their own brand, also called Wilson Daniels.

I’ve long been an admirer of Wilson Daniels, the company. They have, arguably, the most prestigious portfolio in the U.S., with wineries from some of the major wine regions of the world. Their claim to fame is, of course, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, of which they are the exclusive American importer, but their California wineries are also impressive: Clos Pegase, Schramsberg, Lancaster, Gainey, Roth and a couple of others.

It never would have occurred to me, even two years ago, to wonder why Wilson Daniels didn’t launch their own brand. We tend to think of producers, on the one hand, and businesses on the corporate side, like Wilson Daniels, as mutually exclusive. I can’t think of another sales and marketing firm that has its own brand. Generally, companies understand what they do well and what they don’t; they veer toward the former and tend to stay away from the latter. Wilson Daniels (and I haven’t spoken to anyone there, so this is just guesswork on my part) evidently decided they can walk and chew gum at the same time.

Their first wines are relatively inexpensive, ranging from $14-$19, ranged across five varietals (Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon). All bear a Central Coast appellation. They sent me only the Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, neither of which is great shakes. I suspect all five wines say “Vinted and bottled by” on the back label, which means, in essence, that Wilson Daniels picked up the wines at a good price from somebody down in that area of California. Question: Why did Wilson Daniels, whose winery clients charge a lot of money for their wines, put something so ordinary on the market? The first commandment of business is to make a profit, and Wilson Daniels figured they could, by buying cheap and selling a little bit dearer. Could Wilson Daniels have released more expensive, better wines? I’m sure they could have, with all their connections. Maybe they didn’t wish to compete against their own clients. The price range–again, $14-$19–is a popular entry point these days for new brands. It’s not cheap, but it’s not expensive either, and that range is the comfort zone for consumers in 2012, as America emerges from this awful Recession and start spending again.

Another iconic name also has started a brand: Bien Nacido. Everybody knows them as one of the greatest vineyards in California, if not the New World. The designation “Bien Nacido Vineyard,” on dozens of wines from some of the state’s most prestigious wineries, is as close to an assurance of a very good wine as any vineyard designation can be. But the Miller family, who own Bien Nacido, have decided to launch their own brand, under the same name.

They faced similar but slightly different challenges from Wilson Daniels. For starters, should they call the brand Bien Nacido, or something different? Calling it Bien Nacido could cause some confusion out there in the marketplace, and might be seen as competing against the clients they sell grapes to. But they decided to call it Bien Nacido, and who am I to argue with that? It’s a fine name, and it would have been silly not to take advantage of it, in my opinion.

The Millers, however, did what Wilson Daniels didn’t: they came out with expensive wines. I’ve reviewed only two so far: the Syrah and the Pinot Noir, both from 2007. Both cost $52. The Syrah is awesome; I scored it 96 points. I gave the Pinot 90 points, but the truth is, it could be better today than when I reviewed it, last March. Bien Nacido also took the bold, ambitious step of hiring one of the foremost winemakers in California, Trey Fletcher, whom they lured away from Littorai. I think that testifies to their ambition to play at the highest level of which they’re capable, which is a very high level, indeed. After all, they won’t have any problem obtaining the best Bien Nacido fruit! There’s this consideration, too: having decided to brand the wines under the Bien Nacido name, the Millers certainly could not have released ordinary wine; that would have tarnished the Bien Nacido name they’ve spent so long burnishing.

Might Wilson Daniels someday decide to come out with an expensive Pinot Noir or Cabernet to rival, say, Lancaster, Clos Pegase of Gainey? Who’s to say? Two different companies, two different points of view and business philosophies. I wish them both luck in their new ventures.

Those wacky ‘Bamans are at it again. Now, the Bible thumpers that run the former Confederate state have banned Cycles Gladiator, the wine brand, from their pious state, because the label depicts–Gasp!–a nekkid lady!

Only in America, folks!

This brings back memories of when the old BATF banned a David Lance Goines label on a Kenwood wine, arguing that “the drawing of the young lady must be deleted.” The lady, you see, had the misfortune to have, ahem, a pair of breasts that were not adequately and modestly hidden from covetuous view. But then, this is the same government bureau that banned an imported French Bordeaux, Chateau Haut Gay [irony duly noted], “because the label is ‘an incentive to debauchery,’” according to the blog of the well-known legal scholar, Jonathan Turley.

What is it about this country and prurience, anyway? We have some of the dirtiest movies in the world. Advertising agencies use sexy models to persuade us to buy furniture polish or have our rugs steam cleaned. Little girls go running around dressed like ladies of the evening, apparently with their parents’ blessing. Everybody’s doing it but nobody’s allowed to talk about it. And then a winery comes out with a tasteful image of a woman on the label, and all hell breaks loose!

A naked body! Gotta hide it; might cause the kiddies to go crazy. Don’t want Grampa seein’ that pervert stuff! This is the same instinct that caused our God-fearing ancestors to use drapery and bushes to cover the genitals of people depicted in Michaelangelo’s The Last Judgment, and made some self-appointed Protector of Family Values glue a fig leaf over the mid-area of the statue of Mercury, in the Vatican.

Hahn Family Wines, which produces the enormously successful Cycles Gladiator brand, isn’t taking this silliness lying down. Their company president, Bill Leigon, issued a statement saying “We were unaware of the new ruling until now when it was deemed pornographic” and vowing to comply with Alabama law, but the cheek has a tongue firmly wedged in it: At the bottom of its website is a new link, “Buy all of your Banned in Alabama Products here in our Banned in Alabama Shop.” As usual, all that this anti-nudity stupidity has succeeded in accomplishing is (a) driving sales of the very products they wanted banned, (b) depriving the good people of Alabama of a perfectly good, affordable wine, and (c) making Alabama the laughingstock of a nation with far more to worry about than “a person posed in an immoral or sensuous manner,” in the words of the Alabama Alcoholic Beverage Control Board. No wonder the official state bird of Alabama is–the turkey!

Let’s say you’re fairly educated about wine. (If you read my blog, you undoubtedly are.) I invite you over to my place for dinner and open a bottle of Lafite Rothschild. You’re suitably impressed. I decant it, then pour you a glass, telling you as the purple liquid drizzles into the glass that this is a very great Lafite, that if I scored it I would probably give it 100 points. After that buildup, you taste the wine. It’s a virtual guarantee you’re going to like it.

Now let’s say that a little while later, I offer you another glass of wine. Only this time, I tell you that it’s not very good–that I wanted you to see how my job consists, in large part, of tasting mediocre wine. Handing you the glass, I frown; you can tell by my facial expression that I’m sorry to make you drink something so bad. After that buildup, or maybe we should call it a build-down, it’s almost certain you won’t like the wine.

Now, what if I told you that both wines I gave you were the same wine? Would you be surprised? You shouldn’t be, especially if you’d come across this report about a new study out of Oxford University. Subjects inside a brain scanner were shown works of art, some of which were genuine Rembrandts and some of which were fakes. The subjects’ reactions to both pieces were identical, until they were told which pieces were fakes and which were real. In the former case (the “real” art), the revelation “raised activity in the part of the brain that deals with rewarding events, such as tasting pleasant food or winning a gamble.” In other words, the subject felt a form of pleasure. In the case of the latter (the “fake” art), “Being told a work is not by the master triggered a complex set of responses in areas of the brain involved in planning new strategies. Participants reported that when viewing a supposed fake, they tried to work out why the experts regarded it not to be genuine.” In other words, the subjects were troubled; confronted with a situation they could not fully understand, they were forced to improvise, to rationalize the discrepency.

The take home lesson of this little experiment at Oxford is a familiar one. People’s esthetic reactions to external stimuli are powerfully dependent on their expectations. They will look at a supposed Rembrandt portrait and, “knowing” that it was painted by the master, be suitably impressed. Indeed, this is why “people travel to galleries around the world to see an original painting.” Something in the knowledge that the painting is original arouses intense pleasure. It’s not so much the art work itself as that awareness that people enjoy. On the other hand, if people “know” that a painting is fake, they will experience far different, more complex and less pleasurable thoughts and emotions–even if the painting is, in fact, real.

Pretty weird, huh? Back to my opening example of offering you the Lafite. It almost doesn’t matter whether or not the Lafite is real, or just some little Sonoma County Cabernet that costs $14. It’s irrelevant. What matters, according to the Oxford study, is what you think you know about it. That, in turn, depends on what I told you–and that, in turn, has a lot to do with how much you trust me, since I’m the “expert” in wine, and you’re not.

It follows from this that blind tasting is the only objective way to come to a conclusion about wine, but something else follows, also, that isn’t generally discussed in these types of conversations: wines of a similar variety and style are more alike than not, even when their scores vary. If I show you an apple and tell you it’s a grape, you won’t believe me, even if I had a Ph.D in fruit sciences and owned an orchard and a chain of produce stores. That’s because apples and grapes are so different that anyone can tell them apart. You cannot fool anyone that an apple is a grape, or vice versa.

But if you can fool a fairly reasonable person into believing that wine “a” is Lafite and wine “b” is mediocre, when they may be the same wine (or if the case may be the opposite, that the “mediocre” wine is Lafite and the “Lafite” is the $14 Cabernet), then those wines must be more alike than not. They cannot possibly be apples and grapes: it’s more a case of apples and apples.

But wait, you say. What if the subject of any of these experiments were a trained professional? A great taster, formidable in the intricacies of wine, renowned for identifying vintages and chateaux in blind tastings, revered for his knowledge? Could that person be fooled? Probably the chances are less, but they never approach zero. As long as a person is human, that person can be fooled, sometimes spectacularly so, as we have repeatedly seen in blind tastings. I know that nothing I’ve written here will add significantly to the conversation about how to taste wine. But every little conversation advances the cause down the playing field, and besides, it’s fun to talk about this stuff. It never gets boring.

I know that Jay Miller’s resignation from The Wine Advocate will have a younger generation cheering that the blogosphere just outed another lying, cheating sleazebag, and that the old order is crumbling faster than a chocolate chip cookie at an Overeater’s Anonymous meeting. But somebody has to put this into perspective.

I tried to begin that the other day, when I said we didn’t have enough information to come to any conclusions, even though plenty of people were. Today, we know more, mainly from the Baltimore Sun’s coverage. To me, here’s the salient point, taken from the Sun article:

“Campo said in that exchange he wasn’t arranging a visit by Miller to any wineries, but rather that he was negotiating fees for Miller to host a seminar….The speaking engagement — not Miller’s first — had nothing to do with The Wine Advocate, and the governing body for the local wine region, not any wineries, paid for it.”

If this is true, and there’s no reason to think it isn’t, then Miller’s critics are saying that Miller shouldn’t be allowed to make extra money through speaking fees, beyond whatever remuneration he got from Parker. That’s my reading, anyway. But on what basis do the critics make this charge? Does Roger Ebert ever make money from speaking engagements? I’m sure he does (or did, before his stroke). I don’t hear anyone getting all steamed about that. I, personally, don’t see anything wrong with Miller, or any other writer, taking fees for speaking before groups that’ve invited him.

Now, if the wineries who indirectly pay for these speaking engagements believe their wines are going to get higher scores from Miller in exchange for the fee, that’s their problem. I would hope Miller made it abundantly clear that wasn’t the case and could never be.

In another version of the same article, which you can read here, Miller said, “What I write is totally based on what’s in the bottle.” Again, is there any reason not to believe that? I’ve said the same thing over and over again. It doesn’t matter what a winery does to me or for me: My reviews are totally based on what’s in the bottle. Not, I hasten to add, that I speak very much for a fee–it only happens a few times a year, Wine Enthusiast‘s policy is for the fee to be paid by third parties, not wineries, and the fee is never anywhere close to Miller’s purported $26,000 for a two day trip. (I should live so long!) But if that’s Miller’s market value, then he has a right to accept it, if someone is willing to pay.

I still don’t understand all the details of the relationship between Miller and this Campo fellow, but from my reading, there doesn’t seem to be anything lurid or particularly scandalous about it. Campo runs a wine organization; he occasionally arranges local events for Miller, and perhaps he [Campo] even makes a little extra money off Miller. Nothing wrong with that.

This blogger, Jim Budd, who busted Miller, came up with the clever phrase, “No Pay, No Jay,” implying that unless wineries forked over big money to Miller, he wouldn’t review their wines. I don’t believe that for a minute. Is anyone suggesting Miller refused to review a Spanish wine because the winery didn’t pay him? Or that Miller lowered a score because the winery wouldn’t fork over money?  No.

The more subtle implication Mr. Budd is making is “The reason why producers and their [organizations] were prepared to pay these sums was because Miller was going to review and rate their wines for The Wine Advocate.” According to this view, Miller would never have been in a position to charge money for a private visit, unless he was the famous Spanish reviewer for Robert Parker.

Well, duh! Do bears crap in the forest? That’s just reality. Name me a famous wine critic and I’ll show you somebody making money beyond his or her paycheck from the company, from speaking engagements, consulting, book writing, etc. We even have critics who own wineries: Robert Parker and Beaux-Frères! Does anybody not think that Beaux-Frères (which retails in the $60-$80 neighborhood) has cachet because of Parker’s part-ownership? If you do, there’s a bridge in San Francisco I’d like to sell you.

Now, we can have a discussion about the various lines that separate a true conflict of interest from the appearance of a conflict of interest. We can say, “No wine critic such as Miller should ever be allowed to make a penny from private arrangements, because a blogger says that would ‘fail to pass the sniff test.’” But that, quite honestly, is to let some bloggers dictate to professionals how they should run their businesses. A blogger has the right to his opinion, of course, and that applies to Mr. Budd. But from everything I’ve read, I just don’t see what Miller did that’s so wrong. And it’s soooo easy these days to stir up a shitstorm on the blogosphere.

Maybe I’m wrong. I know that my brilliant readers will show me the light, if I’ve misinterpreted this. If I’m wrong, I’ll gladly do a mea culpa.

Here’s the bottom line: there is absolutely no way to convince doubters of a wine critic’s objectivity, or that he’s being as honest as he can. Naysayers will always find something to criticize, and in this business, being accused of accepting money for reviews is like being asked “When did you stop beating your wife?” There’s no answer that can possibly satisfy the questioner, and no matter what the critic replies, he ends up looking guilty, even when he’s not.

Still, for all my misgivings about the Jay Miller case, I’m glad it arose, because we always need to talk about these important issues, instead of letting them fester.

Until we understand what really happened in Spain concerning Jay Miller and Pancho Campo, it would be the height of irresponsibility to take one side or the other. Miller/Campo have denied all suggestions of pay to play, Robert Parker is promising a full investigation, and in the meanwhile, we can only wait and see.

This is a good opportunity to reveal my own practices with respect to traveling in wine country and visiting wineries. Number one: I would never “charge” a winery for a visit. Against Wine Enthusiast policies, and against my own personal ethics. I visit wineries only for specific reasons: (1) when it’s relevant to a story I’m working on, or (2) as a favor to someone who’s helped me in one way or another. If somebody goes to great lengths to help me in my job and then asks nothing except for me to visit a client winery, I have absolutely no problem with that. There obviously are no guarantees for scores or reviews or coverage, just a friendly visit resulting in a win-win-win situation.

I do occasionally accept money for appearances, but never from individual wineries whose wines I review. I, personally, don’t believe it would be a conflict of interest if I did, since my reviews would be entirely separate from the acceptance of pay, and I don’t think my reviews (blind in any case) would be affected. But the appearance of a conflict of interest should be avoided.

Deep analysis time: Let’s consider this paragraph from Campo’s now-famous email concerning Miller visiting local wineries:

The fact that Jay has agreed to stay two days more, and for half the usual price, is a miracle…

Break it down. Jay “agreed to stay two days more,” this being “a miracle.” I understand this part. When a writer/critic is well known and visits a particular region, his visit tends to be big news in that region. Many more people want to see him than the writer has actual time for. If I stopped by to visit or have lunch/dinner with all the people who want to see me on a typical visit, I’d be there for 2 weeks instead of 2 or 3 days. That inevitably spells disappointment to some, which is why I suppose it is “a miracle” when a writer agrees to lengthen his visit (“a miracle” from the point of view of those who wanted to see the writer but couldn’t, the first time around). This is entirely natural: writers possess great power to help a winery (this isn’t an egotistical thing for me to say, it’s a simple truth), and so winemakers are grateful to host a traveling writer.

Then we come to that troubling phrase, “for half the usual price.” I have no idea what it means, but look: writers need to make a living. I don’t know what Robert Parker pays his reviewers. Whatever it is, wine writing isn’t the most lucrative career, and I would never blame a writer for wanting to make a little money on the side. Like I said, I occasionally accept fees from third-party entities, not wineries themselves. This seems to me a well-established precedent, especially in the case of independent contractors (such as me), as opposed to actual employees, who have employer benefits such as retirement accounts, healthcare and Social Security payments. I don’t know if Jay Miller is an independent contractor, an actual employee of Robert Parker, or what. That information would be useful in making judgments.

If Jay Miller’s “usual price” for visiting wineries is paid for by third party entities, would that make a difference in the ethics? I think so. Some bloggers seem to take the position that a writer shouldn’t make any money at all, except in the most direct way (selling a newsletter, a salary from an employer). But until we have a thorough understanding of just how every single heavyweight writer and blogger in the world makes money (something we’ll never know, because they’ll never tell us), we would be wise to refrain from being overly critical. This isn’t to exonerate Jay Miller, or to defend the practice (if that’s what it was) of charging wineries exorbitant amounts of money for a mere visit (£40,000!?!?!? Yikes, that’s about $70,000!) Personally, any winery owner who forked over that much just for the “privilege” of having Jay Miller (or any other wine writer) visit should have his head examined. I mean, that’s Bill Clinton territory–and Jay Miller is no Bill Clinton!

If there’s a takeaway from all this–and this isn’t speculation, it’s just my opinion–it’s this: as his tasters are replaced one by one, Parker’s empire shows signs of wear and tear. In California his brand has been weakened by his “retirement” and replacement by Antonio Galloni. This is to say nothing about Antonio’s talents or qualities, only that he will never be another Parker because there will never be another Parker. It is inconceivable that Antonio will have the relevance and impact Parker did in California. I could be wrong.

Anyway, can we please hold off on Miller’s lynching? He may be a scoundral but, as of this moment, we just don’t know.

Did you see the announcement yesterday that our friend Eric Asimov, the New York Times’ chief wine writer and critic, has been appointed the paper’s interim restaurant critic, following last month’s promotion of Sam Sifton as national editor?

That’s big news, and I’m happy for Eric, assuming he wants to wear both mantles for the time being. It’s a lot of work being a daily wine critic, not to mention writing a wine blog at the same time. That’s what I do. I’d hate to have nighttime come around–a time I cherish for resting and doing my own thing–and know that I have to report to work for my second job, restaurant critic! Exhaustion piled on top of exhaustion. Good luck, Eric. By the way, I wonder what Eric would say if the Times offered him the permanent restaurant gig, which, I have to assume, would mean he’d have to step down as wine editor. If I put myself in Eric’s shoes and fantasize about having that choice, I’d probably pick restaurant critic. Not saying it’s a cinch, because until you’re actually faced with these kinds of choices, they’re hypotheticals. But a part of me always wanted to be a restaurant critic. I tried my hand at it, once, in this blog, nearly a year ago, when I reviewed Twenty Five Lusk, a smokin’ hot place near AT&T Park. That was huge fun, but I will admit I felt a little out of my league. I know a lot more about wine, especially California wine, than I do about food and restaurants, and I realized it takes a lot of time to reach the point where you know enough about food and restaurants (which includes the prior history of the restaurant’s owners and chefs, and even of its space) to write authoritatively about them. One can fake it, of course. One can simply give one’s reactions to the food and the atmosphere, the way the guests do on Check Please! Bay Area, Leslie Sbrocco’s amusing show on KQED-TV. They don’t often have the background that a seasoned restaurant reviewer ought to have–not that that makes their opinions any less worthy or entertaining. But still, a critic of any kind, from cars and movies to wine and restaurants, should have a solid background in what she’s talking about.

Eric, fortunately, does. He’s done prior stints at restaurant reviewing at the Times, so this isn’t entirely new for him. It will elevate him, I should think, to greater power and visibility in New York. The restaurant critic at the New York Times is and always has been considerably more powerful than the paper’s wine critic. I don’t think a Times wine critic has ever been feared, but the Times restaurant critic is. So is the restaurant critic at any important American newspaper, like the San Francisco Chronicle’s Michael Bauer, one of the best in the business.

I do wonder how Eric will be anonymous when he dines out, given that his face is so well known. Will he wear a Groucho mask? A long wig? Eric, if you read this, weigh in and let us know! I don’t expect you to send a picture of your new secret identity, but tell us, in the interests of journalism, how you intend to get around being so recognizable.