Twisting the Night Away
A few weeks ago I went to a casual dinner party. There were couples, mostly 30- and 40-somethings, and we had lots of food and lively conversation, along with plenty of wine.
I brought a 2001 Whitehall Lane Napa Valley Cabernet with a twist-off cap. One of the guests, whom I'd just met, was intrigued by the Cabernet with the metal closure. He drank wine regularly, but hadn't heard about the woes caused by defective corks. Nor was he aware that more wineries were turning to alternative closures, and upon learning this he became even more curious.
In roughly 30 seconds, I briefed him on how corks tainted by 2,4,6 trichloranisole (aka TCA) ruined otherwise fine wines by imparting a musty character. He seemed to find that point mildly interesting, as if I were an associate professor of chemistry lecturing on the fine points of what happens when chlorine and mold commingle with a wedge of bark (i.e., cork) in a humid atmosphere.
To drive the point home, I said that there are days when 15 percent of the wines we taste in our Napa office are flawed and undrinkable, the result of bad corks. That seemed to trouble him. With that, I twisted off the cap and poured him a glass, and he quickly grasped the simplicity of it. While we were talking about the virtues of twist-offs, I noticed another twisty being opened and poured behind me -- a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.
Almost too conveniently, as if to underscore my point about the advantages of twist-offs, another guest was busy uncorking a lineup of bottles from his cellar. You know the drill. Twist the corkscrew auger into the cork and then pry it out. As I sat down next to him, he was easing the top half of a cork out of a bottle. The cork in this 1990 Napa Cabernet had split in two, with half still resting snugly in the neck of his prized bottle. We could only laugh at the absurdity of the process and result. He shoved the cork into the bottle.
Most wine drinkers are aware of the hassles caused by corks. Those who say they've never tasted a "corky," or spoiled, wine are undoubtedly mistaken. They just didn't know it, perhaps because they're not sensitive to the taint. Those who haven't lost a good, old, cellared bottle to a crumbled cork, well, that too is hard to imagine. I can only say their time is coming.
Every winemaker I know is aware of the perils of corks, and most are struggling with the issue of closures. The majority still cling to tradition and are sticking with cork as their plug of choice. But they know that in the long run, bad bungs can erode the quality of their wines -- and their reputations.
A few self-assured souls have opted for alternatives. The most popular are synthetics, which look like corks and require a tool to remove. Twist-offs, though, are gaining momentum.
Those who have chosen twist-offs are not only wise, and brave, but eventually they'll end up being regarded as heroes because they have your best interests -- not their images -- in mind. They won't risk having their wines tainted by bad corks, and, likewise, they want you to enjoy their wine in its purest form. They know it's what's in the bottle that counts, not what seals it.
These winemakers will also be champions to the next generation of wine drinkers, who, I think, will be able to separate the emotion and tradition of corks from the reality that, ultimately, what we want for our money is the assurance that the wine we buy won't be flawed by a piece of bark. The only way to give consumers that assurance is to stop relying on natural cork, and to that end many wineries are embracing alternate closures, some more vigorously than others. But I sense we're starting to see the tide turn, and it's separating vintners on a very simple, yet emotional and traditional, issue -- corks.
I've long advocated twist-offs, and when I'm shopping I've found myself gravitating toward them. One reason is that I'm assured the wine won't be corked. Another is that I want to taste how fresh the wine is. I also want to support those who are taking an important leadership role for the industry and consumers. And I'm curious as to when I'll encounter a twist-off wine that's somehow spoiled, or oxidized, or tastes like something I'd rather not drink. So far, so good. I'm even warming to the snap-crackle sound of the cap twisting off.
James Laube, Wine Spectator's Napa Valley—based senior editor, has been with the magazine since 1983.
