AI & Wine

        

For years, we have been told that our thought process is a matter of independent left and right brain. That is, the left hemisphere is for logical processing and the right hemisphere for creative thinking.  Scientists, however, say the real truth is the hemispheres work together not independently.

I don't wish to quibble with science, but I sometimes wonder if my hemispheres are working together, especially about tech innovations.  

My sons think it amusing and odd that their father talks like a tech denier, but writes a blog, using a computer.  It's a family joke that I don't try to squelch, so long as my sons are willing to help me with internet and software glitches. 

In the past, my troublesome relationship with technology has resulted in unusual collaborations that have me searching for answers.  At one time, my reluctance to embrace IT developed into a running gag with a friend and colleague.  He would jokingly call me a Luddite, adding, "Well, at least you're using a fax." 

I lost contact with that friend, but as this blog clearly shows, my sometimes difficult working relationship with computer technology, is on-going. Truth is, so long as everything is working, I hardily endorse the status quo.

Lately, my arrangement with tech has been comfortable, that is until I started reading about a new wrinkle called Artificial Intelligence or AI. 

Why am I straying from writing about wine to comment on AI?  And why is a technological development, promoted as having so much promise, personally troubling for me and potentially for wine? 

Wine is something I understand as one of life's great pleasures that can and should by shared. Sharing is what I do, through writing. Further, I understand that embracing technology is a necessity. 

The limits of AI have been debated now for a few years, but I sense that the argument about its pros and cons is gaining traction in wine circles.  Most of what I have been reading focuses on the application of AI in viticulture and sales and not so much, yet, on wine making and wine writing. 

In the last few months, I've read how AI is working wonders in the vineyard, and how AI is opening up new and creative areas in wine marketing and sales. 

Early this month, "Decanter"magazine reported that Kia Behnia, co-owner of Neotempo Wines, in the Napa Valley, told attendees at a seminar in London, that AI may be able to mitigate the impact of climate change in the vineyard. Behnia said that Scout, a vineyard management tool he co-developed, is "powered by some form of AI," and that it can "assist growers everywhere to be able to see their own vineyard, to spot disease and heat stress."

Still, the thought of AI intruding into the creative areas of wine making and wine writing troubles me, such as the appearance of AI in wine articles and blogs. This possibility is a concern for the 2025 Wine Writing Competition, from Jancis Robinson.com.  The second rule for entry spells out in part "...written without the aid of AI." (emphasis is JR's)

A series of blogs on wine I see frequently has text and a single colorful illustration, each with a different theme, but all with a monotonous sameness. Are the illustrations AI generated?  Could be, but I don't know. That's my point and I wonder if the blog author would be satisfied with monotony and sameness in their wine.

There is no disputing that AI has the power and promise to make life better, to solve difficult problems, and to introduce society to wonders we have yet to imagine.  But unregulated and uncontrolled, AI has the potential to cause havoc the likes of which we have yet to imagine. 

Imagine the possibility that what you're reading here has been generated by AI, or that the photo you saw in a story came from a bot and not a photographer with a camera. 

Does that make you uncomfortable?  It does me.

Among the many things we are asked to sort out today, things we know little about, is solving, or at least understanding, the mysteries of Artificial Intelligence. 

So, should I be worried, or just allow AI to wash over me and to influence my writing? It's easy to be paranoid, especially when you think of the harm AI can do and you wonder who's watching the store?  

Image by Freepik

 

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A Look at Zinfandel

Throughout the history of the United States,  Americans have enthusiastically produced and grown a lot of things.  And, we've  relied heavily on imports, including the grapes for our wine.

The history of American wine grapes is a mix of native North American varieties and hundreds of grapes carried to this country as "suitcase" imports by European immigrants.  

Zinfandel is one of those unique imports that have transcended its origins, to become known as California's own wine grape. 

Zinfandel in a basket

Today, Zinfandel is grown mainly in Sonoma County, Lodi, the Sierra Foothills and Mendocino.  As  Zin became popular, some did stray south of the Golden State to Mexico, and farther afield to Western Australia, South Africa and Chile.

It's not easy to describe the taste of Zinfandel because of the wine's stylistic versatility.  It helps, of course, to know where the Zin comes from and the age of the vines. Young Zin is all about blackberry, black pepper and aromatic spices including cinnamon and clove.  Older Zins, especially from old vines, are more concentrated, nutty, with cedar and mint.  Late Harvest Zinfandel takes concentration to another level, supported by a bit of sweetness.

Zin makers (who very likely could be Zen Masters) believe that Zinfandel has two lives. That is, once the primary fruit fades, after about eight years, there is, to use wine speak, a dumb period, followed by mature flavors of dark fruits, exotic spices combined with oak notes, that can happen after about 15 years in bottle.

I recently had a 1981 Ridge York Creek Zinfandel that was about as good a Zin as I've tasted, still very much alive with a deep ruby color, layered fruit, fine tannin and nicely integrated acidity.  Even after the meal had ended, the Ridge Zin was still a pleasurable drink.  

Coincidentally, a friend opened a 1974 Ridge Geyserville Zin that he described as "nothing short of spectacular."  Both Ridge Zinfandels are a testament to the mastery of Paul Draper then the Ridge winemaker, now retired. 

Plotting Zin History

Arguments have raged for years about the origin of Zinfandel, with some of the early accounts focused on  the spelling of the grape's name.  One version was "Zenfendel," while another claimed it was "Zinfindal."  We know today that research finally settled on Zinfandel. 

Thanks to DNA profiling, we also know that Zinfandel is related to two native grapes grown in Croatia and one in the southern Italian region of Puglia.  Croatian grown Tribidrag and the equally tongue-twisting Crijanak Kastelanski are both related to Zinfandel.  There was even some Croatian chatter about a local grape called Plavic Mali, that is, in fact, a cross of Zinfandel and an obscure local variety.

In 1994, DNA proved that Primitivo, from the Italian region of Puglia, was simply what the Italians call Zinfandel.  Apparently, the grape had somehow made its way west, across the Adriatic Sea to the heel of the Italian boot.   

Puglia: The heel of the boot

The story behind how these grapes from Croatia became associated with Zinfandel is one of dogged research and the application of modern science.  Zinfandel's lineage was initially tracked to Croatia by Carole Meredith, of UC-Davis in California and two Croatian researchers. 

But Primitivo's journey from Italy to California has a different itinerary.  One version has Zinfandel (or Primitivo) being imported from Italy by a nursery on Long Island.  Another claim says Agoston Harazthy brought the grapevine back to California on return from his native Hungary.  The more likely story, however, is that an unlabeled red grape was carried to California by prospectors, hoping to strike it rich during the Gold Rush of 1849.  

Throughout the 20th century, Zinfandel delighted and disappointed wine drinkers.  Fans were happy when Zin was on the rise, spurred on in the 1980s by the phenomenal success of White Zinfandel, even if some avid zinophiles claimed that White Zin was nothing more than a sweetish ersatz rosé.

Thanks to its expanding crowd of fans, supported by Zinfandel Advocates & Producers (ZAP,) the Zinfandel promotional group, Zinfandel continues to give Cabernet Sauvignon, its main red rival, stiff competition.  You can learn more about Zinfandel from the ZAP web site, at  www.zinfandel.org.

 

Next post: AI & Wine 

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Vino from Southern Italy

                                

For a fan of Italian wine, there are many choices to select from, even with looming tariffs. Italy is awash in vino, from the cool mountainous regions of the far north, to the warmer parts of the south. The range of Italian wine is truly impressive. 

A convenient way to look at Italian wine, is to divide the long narrow country into thirds. The northern tier has light fruity white wines and substantial reds. Drop down to the central part for iconic reds and unique whites. For the final third, south of Rome, savor Italy's equivalent of jug wine and a distinctive red created from ancient volcanic soil. 

The southern regions, Molise, Campania, Puglia, Basilicata and Calabria, are better known for wheat and olives than wine grapes, although Italy's major source of table grapes comes from the warmer south.  As with other areas of interest in Italy, where the north dominates the south, wine is no exception.  

However, the one thing the southern regions have in common, would be the wines are all made, more or less, from the same grapes.  Aglianico is widely planted in most of the regions.  Montepulciano d'Abruzzo and Trebbiano d'Abruzzo, named for the neighboring region Abruzzo, are also commonly shared. Campania's noted Greco di Tufo and Falangina are popular throughout the south. 

Here's a brief look at the southern regions and their main grapes.  For those readers who put stock in Italy's DOC and DOCG designations, as a way to determine vine and wine quality, I've added DOCs for each of the five regions.  In theory, a DOCG wine is better than a DOC wine from the same area, and both are better than an IGT wine.

In practice, though, there are too many factors, such as terroir, politics and the effects of climate change on local weather that have occurred since the awarding of DOC, to make a flat statement about wine quality. 

Molise is the second smallest wine region, after Aosta (Valle d'Aosta), the mountainous valley in Italy's northwest corner.  Many of the most widely planted grapes, such as the red Montepulciano and white Trebbiano, are shared with neighboring Abruzzo. The region has four DOCs, with the Molise DOC, which covers the entire zone, the most noteworthy.  Look for Molise wines from Di Majo Norante.

Puglia, with its long Adriatic coast, has a narrow border in the north with Molise.  The region is mostly flat plains, planted with olive groves and expansive wheat fields.  Change is underway, though, to more vineyards, reflected by the region's 30 DOC and four DOCG zones.

Puglia is hot and sunny, rivaling only Sicily for year-round sun days.  Red grapes, like Primitivo (related to Zinfandel) and Negroamaro, the most widely planted red variety in Puglia, thrive in the iron-rich soils.  Also of interest are Aglianico and the red version of Malvasia Bianca.

For whites, both Trebbiano Toscano and a variety with the delightful name, Bombino Bianco, are bottled as varietals and in blends, although Bombino is used mostly for blending.  Other whites include Chardonnay and the local grape, Verdeca.

Campania is famous for a handful of attractions: the chaotic sprawling city of Naples,  the nearby island of Capri, the towering Mt. Vesuvius and the Roman-era ruins of Pompeii.  

Old porous tufa

Campania is also known for the grapes of antiquity like Taurasi, Fiano, Falanghina and Greco, the latter reputedly of Greek origin.  Taurasi stands alone as Campania's premier red grape.  Fiano di Avellino is seen mostly near the town of Avellino, and the vines for Greco di Tufo, draw mineral nuances from the volcanic soils, around the town of Tufo.

Taurasi DOCG, is a full-bodied red wine with textured fine tannins and red fruit flavors.  Fiano DOCG, the Latin word for bees, is aromatic with honey and spice flavors.  Greco DOCG has lots of body and a dry full mineral flavor. There are 18 DOCs, including Falanghina, a  juicy and dry white with herbal notes.

Basilicata is emblematic of the enduring poverty of southern Italy, a stark contrast to the more prosperous north.  The region sits atop Calabria and is bracketed by Puglia and Campania. 

The most important wine, and the only DOC, is Aglianico del Vulture, a powerful rustic red from the slopes of Mt. Vulture, in the north across the eastern border with Puglia.

Basilicata bottles white wine, mostly from Muscats and Malvasia, that go into blends and sold locally. Little, if any Basilicata white wine is exported to the United States.

Calabria has the distinction of having 12 DOC wines, although the output of each is small, some even minuscule.  The reason none of the DOCs has yet been elevated to DOCG status is that, until about 15 years ago, modern advances in wine making had not yet made inroads into this ancient wine region. 

Few places in Italy experiment with indigenous grapes like Calabria.  A group of winemakers operating within an organization called the Ciro Revolution, are working with native grapes and organic and biodynamic viticulture.  Signs of innovative wine making are evident in blends of international varieties such as Cabernet Sauvignon and indigenous red Magliocco.

Calabria forms the toe of the boot, that almost  touches the eastern tip of Sicily. There's an interchange here with grapes, such as the Sicilian Nerello Mascalese and Nerello Cappuccio, that grow equally well in both regions and are components of blends and bottled as varietals.

Next time you're cruising the Italian wine section of your local wine store, look for the varied wines of Basilicata, Calabria, Molise, Campania and Puglia -- the vino of Italy's south.

 

Next post: A Look at Zinfandel 

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Wine & Wood

French oak forest  

For a long time, I've been curious about the relationship of wine and wood, more specifically wine and oak.  

Does wine taste better, or different, after spending time in oak?

The sensible answer, of course, is that it's a matter of personal taste.  Yet, there is an undeniable symbiosis that occurs, when wine meets oak.  Some consumers find that meeting attractive and others can take it or leave it, preferring the varietal personality and flavor of a wine sans oak.  

A very little history of wine and wood.  Thousands of years ago, tradesmen in Armenia, shipped wine down the Tigris river in palm wood containers.  In the years since, wine has been stored and shipped in all manner of wood, including acacia, chestnut, cypress, ash, pine, beech, oak, redwood, popular and eucalyptus.  

Winemakers used whatever wood was available locally: redwood in California, evergreen beech in Chile. Then, in the mid 20th century, the world wine community, led by France, settled on oak as the most compatible wood with wine. 

An often heard maxim is, "Good wine begins in the vineyard."  Vintage after vintage, winemakers prefer Chardonnay from the same vineyard, even the same rows, because they like the continuity they get, year after year.  That continuity is important, whether you're making Chardonnay in California or in Burgundy, or another wine from anywhere else.

Unfortunately, most wine making decisions and techniques are not known to the consumer.  What happens, though, is a sensory alert stimulates the palate, telling the taster that this style of wine is what I like.

Some wines seem to taste better with a little oak, such as Chardonnay.  The popular wine is the best (though not the only) wine to explain the conundrum of oak or no oak. Your senses would have to be dead not to be able to tell the difference between a Chardonnay that has not seen oak and one that has been fermented and/or matured in oak.   

Uncork a California Chardonnay and the scent of new oak rises from the glass and slaps you in the face, while the presence of oak in Burgundy is more subtle and integrated.  Racking a Chardonnay (or any wine) into a new barrel, with a toasted interior, and there's an assertive oakiness that is hard not to notice.

In recent years, over oaked California Chardonnays have taken a beating from consumers and wine writers. Winemakers met the criticism by backing off the percentage of new oak, but there still is too much new oak in many Chardonnays. 

 

California Chardonnays  are often fermented and aged in French oak, essentially delivering a double hit of oak to the wine, usually with some percentage of it new.  Burgundian winemakers are likely to use less new oak in white wine, which for the consumer means a more pleasing balance between oak and wine. 

 New oak has an assertiveness that masks the fruit aromatics and flavor.  It takes time for fruit and oak to come into balance.

 The length of time the wine stays in the barrel, plus the toast level, can make a big difference.  Or, maybe the difference is the winemaker's talent for matching the potential quality of the wine with the measurable quality of the harvest. 

There are other times when a wine benefits from contact with oak.  Fermenting in oak, rather than  stainless steel, gives the wine a more tactile mouth feel and texture.  Maturing a wine in once-used oak imparts an oaky nuance, allowing the essential fruit to show through.  

For the winemaker, it's a matter of balance between varietal characteristics, desired aging time and wine making skill.  

For you, the wine consumer, the question of oak or no oak, is a matter of personal taste. 

Pixabay photos

Next post: Vino from Southern Italy 

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