Tonight, I’m opening a Masseria del Carmelitani Gavi di Gavi DOCG 2013 to drink with my modest Sunday night salad topped by a veggie burger. I expect this typically crisp and floral white wine from the Piedmont region of Italy, which is made from the Cortese grape, to pair nicely with the balsamic vinaigrette dressing in my salad.
Whenever I purchase wine these days, I recall the time when I was much less informed about how to read a label. How confusing these labels are! First, there’s the Old World wine emphasis on place names (appellation), often to the exclusion of varietal names, and then there’s the quality-control classification.
So my Gavi, for example, was made in Gavi, a place in the Piedmont, and is classified as denominazione di origine controllata e garantita (DOCG). This designation means the wine quality is not only controlled, but also guaranteed. That’s the highest level classification for an Italian wine – and a lot for a consumer to know and digest – but at least it’s something! Compare that to Columbia Valley Ste. Michelle Riesling 2011, an unclassified New World wine. It’s helpful if you know that Washington State is well respected for its Riesling, because no further information is available on the label to decide whether to take a chance on this wine.
Suppose you’ve figured out the notable wine regions for specific varieties and even know the most common Old World place names. What next? The required alcohol level is a clue to the wine’s body. My Gavi’s 12.5 percent is a medium-level alcohol level to pair with a medium-bodied meal. The wine specialist at my local state store recommended crab cakes. Definitely next time! In addition to knowing alcohol level, I bet most people appreciate a few tasting notes on the back label and even some pairing suggestions. I know I do! The producer of my Gavi has none, so I’m on my own.
I have another bottle in my wine rack waiting for a meaty roast leg of lamb or beef brisket. The Vallado Douro DOC 2011 hails from the Douro region of Portugal. Denominaçao de origem controlada (DOC) is the highest quality classification in Portugal. Like most Duoro wine, this one is blended from several indigenous red grape varieties. All of them are listed on the back label. Also on the back, in both Portuguese and English, is this: “Duoro’s vineyards are located in the heart of the Duoro Valley and have been for six generations in the Ferreira family, descendant of Dona Antónia Adelaide Ferreira.” If I’m trolling the aisles of the state store and unfamiliar with Portuguese wine, this family legacy doesn’t mean much to me.
Here’s what I learned about this winemaker online: “Vallado is an old estate, which since the early 19th century has been owned by the Ferreira family. Does the name sound familiar? It’s probably because Dona Antónia Adelaide Ferreira (1811–1896) is one of the most prominent figures in the history of the Douro. Widowed at an early age, she was evidently shrewd in business: at a time when the Douro was in an economic slump, she bought several Quintas [wineries] on the cheap and established a Douro wine empire that persists, in modified form, to this day. The sixth generation of the Ferreira family now run Vallado, with the Quinta in the hands of Guilherme Álvares Ribeiro and his wife Maria Antónia Ferreira.
Fascinating! Now I know the history, but I still don’t know much about this wine! (Stay tuned for more about the Duoro in a subsequent post.)
Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not looking for exaggerated and hyperbolic descriptors, such as “aromas of a lazy summer evening in the grassy meadows of the Virginia highlands.” Yes, we can dig out our iPhones and check our apps for details on many wines these days. But why have a label if it doesn’t provide a few useful clues? When I go to the theater, I get a Playbill that lists the actors and their bios. How about a label that includes the bio for a wine?