Sleepless in Tuscany
A summer storm serves as a reminder of the importance of weather
I woke up at about 3 a.m. the other day. My bedroom was hot and humid. I was perspiring even though I was sleeping under a light cotton sheet. The sound of thunder shook my room, like mortar fire on a battlefield. And then rain started to pour down.
My two dogs huddled under my bed. I could hear them nervously panting. They were frightened to death by the raging weather. It all lessened my chances of falling back to sleep until the tempest passed.
Without a chance of sleeping, I started to think about the weather and how we sometimes forget how very important the weather is for making wine. We enjoy our wines with friends and family and give little thought to what the growing season was like and how it affected the quality of a particular wine. We discuss the virtues of the bottle, noting the color, aromas, tannins and alcohol and perhaps even talking about the winemaker or owner of an estate. But seldom is there discussion about what happened from June to October in the vineyards. Rarely do we even know.
Perhaps it's just where we are today. Technology and know-how are often given more credit for wine quality than simple luck or Mother Nature. But in my opinion, the weather during the growing season accounts for a good three-quarters of the quality of a wine.
I remember back in the late 1980s when Bruno Prats, then owner and manager of Bordeaux second-growth Cos-d'Estournel, told me that he no longer needed to worry about bad weather ruining a vintage. "With modern technology, we can now counteract anything that Mother Nature gives to us," he said reassuringly.
It was ironic that such weak vintages as 1991, 1992 and 1993 followed our conversation. Sure, he was correct to some extent. Many wines produced by top estates in those years (as well as in other difficult years such as 1997 and 1999) were good to very good in quality—occasionally even outstanding. But the fact was that they were never equal to wine produced in years with better weather. And most of the wines from those tough years of the early 1990s are not very good to drink anymore.
The bottom line is that great wines are produced in great vintages, which are years when the weather during the growing season is mostly dry, with lots of sunshine, and with enough of a difference in temperature from day to night. This pattern assures that the grapes ripen in an even and complete way, giving wines with good perfumes as well as rich fruit, round tannins and freshness. It seems to me that high acidity is less of a factor for longevity or quality, but that's another column.
For example, I have been tasting many Tuscan wines from 2002 and 2003 this summer for a report later in the year. And I can't think of two more different vintages. The weather certainly left its imprint in the wines. While 2002 was a year when the summer was cool and wet, 2003 was blisteringly hot. As a result, many of the 2002s are meager and almost diluted, with slightly unripe tannins and lots of acidity. On the other hand, many of the 2003s are jammy, thick and rather clumsy. It's hard to find an outstanding wine in either vintage.
But that's what the weather was like in those years, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Winemakers have to play the hands the weather deals them. But no matter how well they respond, ultimately the weather marks the wines for good or ill. There's not much anyone can do about it, and there's no one to blame—a comforting thought that finally sent me back to sleep.
