Tasting Notes

The tasting note should be a full-frontal analytical description of smell and taste.

  Hugh Johnson

Writing wine reviews after one sip and not drinking the wine, is like rating a movie by watching the trailer.

Tim Atkin

        And so, it goes. Of all the topics in this book, there is none more contentious than the origins, characteristics, elements, and influence of the ubiquitous wine tasting note. Master Sommelier Tim Gaiser suggested tasting notes are a blessing and a curse, but if you are in the wine industry, a necessity. Optimistically, Gaiser views tasting notes as a multilayered memory device used by professionals to record impressions of a wine in a particular moment. However, he has also written about the potential dark side of tasting notes primarily due to the florid language used that can be off-putting at best, and completely alien at worst.

Basically, a tasting note is a short description of a wine that has been tasted and evaluated by someone, using some procedure or method for analyzing the wine. Tasting notes have been traditionally written by expert tasters or wine connoisseurs to describe their experiences with a given wine. In a perfect world, wine notes offer information and advice to consumers directing their purchases and helping them navigate the extensive world of wine.

Tasting notes are also associated with other artisanal food and beverage industries. Producers and critics of artisanal cheeses, handmade chocolates, marijuana, craft beers, and exotic teas all provide extensive tasting notes designed to help consumers make more informed choices. It seems everyone is getting in on the practice of tasting. Critics are developing explicit vocabularies to describe their experiences with foods and beverages, and the descriptions get more elaborate and more abstract, spreading out across trade publications, product labels, and websites every year. Wine blogs, advertising campaigns, wine magazines, and wineries themselves provide tasting notes that describe, compare, or score millions of wines released each year. 

Robert Parker, arguably one of the most influential wine critics, favored individuals writing tasting notes by themselves rather than having them created by a committee of tasters. In 2000, he asserted, “The opinion of a reasonably informed and comprehensive individual taster, despite the taster's prejudices and predilections, is always a far greater guide to the ultimate quality of the wine than the consensus of a committee.” Other critics have criticized both Parker’s voluptuous writing style and his oversized influence on the wine industry. Some critics have even gone so far as to allude to his tasting notes as a form of soft-core wine porn.

In some ways, the tasting note can be compared to the work of a forensic scientist conducting an autopsy. The difference is rather than discovering and explaining the conditions of the vital organs in a cadaver, the wine critic is discovering and explaining the remains from the vinification process in one’s glass. The tasting note becomes a compendium of fruits, herbs, and other aroma descriptors coupled with a detailed description of the experience of tasting a wine.

There are those tasters that focus on scientific procedures and statistical reliability, and those that prefer to come at this process from a more aesthetic perspective, delving into a wine’s terrior and the artistry involved in creating the finished product. This is where the fields of science and art often clash, bringing different perspectives to what it means to taste a wine, the language that should be used to describe these experiences, and the expertise necessary for creating worthwhile tasting notes.

Jonathan Nossiter, wrote in Liquid Memory, “in a world that is oversaturated with overdetermined meaning, there’s something decidedly cheering about this mischievous drink that resists plausible description.” However, if wine resists plausible description, why are so many critics and experts trying to plausibly describe it? On the other hand, aren’t wine critics supposed to be creating more detailed, full-frontal, literal descriptions of wine that offer objectivity and scientific precision and predictability? The wine writing industry, in particular the authorship of the tasting note, has had a long and interesting history dating back to the early Romans. 

Jordi Ballester, a professor at the University of Burgundy in Dijon, France has suggested tasting notes simply contain another form of, “elevated language that plagues elite hobbies.” Ballester further contends that wine tasting notes are just another type of writing, associated with a particular social class, that requires a unique form of language used to set oneself apart from ordinary people and ways of talking. The fancier the wine, the fancier the language! More candidly, the American Association of Wine Economists, has suggested tasting note writers are “intrinsically bullshit prone.” 

Tasting Notes as a Genre

The modern tasting note is an interesting writing genre in and of itself that requires the use of a specific language or lexicon, is usually brief (100 words or less), and has become an essential form of writing for contemporary wine writers to master. As a genre, tasting notes are used to inform consumers of the qualities of a specific wine, relied upon to increase wine sales, and have become a form of writing that has elevated selected wine writers or critics to the upper echelons of the wine industry. However, there is much more to consider as one becomes familiar with this genre of writing.

Wine descriptors are common terms that one can use to describe a particular wine and the sensations the wine evokes; however, although their purpose is to clarify sensations, they often end up creating more of a problem as the descriptors are themselves not always clear.

Since tasting notes were intended to present subjective sensations of smells, aromas, and flavors through the use of a specific lexicon, complete objectivity is difficult to achieve, if objectivity is even the goal of the tasting note.

One of the biggest shifts in the past twenty years has been the shift from metaphorical and poetic language to more scientific descriptions used to distinguish one’s opinions as more objective. According to Hugh Johnson, contemporary wine writers are trying to include, “full-frontal analytical descriptions of smell and taste,” in their tasting notes. Where wine writers once relied on metaphors, poetic language, or glowing adjectives, these terms have been set aside in favor of scientific accuracy and objectivity. Wine writers have begun borrowing terms primarily used to describe flowers, fruits, and vegetables, attempting to use precise language to assess the technical properties of a particular wine. Descriptors like orange peel, honeysuckle blossoms, and green bell pepper have become the sine qua non of the contemporary wine writer. 

To give you a sense of the variety of tasting notes available, let me share with you two very different tasting notes. The first is a more scientific approach to writing tasting notes. This tasting note is from 

The second, is a tasting note included on a wine bottle from the producer Sanguis in Santa Barbara, California. The winemaker is describing one of his white wines. 

See Through is a thrill! It is like a gentle Indian-summer sun lowering its gaze from the depths of a sky-blue sky.I love how See Through embodies the opaque transparency of those thick late-season rays and the way it captures all the aromatics of that time - from ripe stone fruits to the dry grasses - with an air of that friendly indifference and underlying wild intensity.

No matter one’s opinion on the writing of these two tasting notes, the trail from the wine bottle to the tasting note is forged through a specific vocabulary that always includes a style of writing that ranges from the scientific to the poetic.

The writing of tasting notes seems to me to be a fairly incestuous endeavor. Wine writers keep writing tasting notes for other wine writers to read so they will be allowed to keep writing more tasting notes about wine. Does anyone really read all these notes outside the small community of wine writers? Do these notes really influence what wines people buy? I must admit, I am more affected by the limited access to particular wines provided by online and local wine stores than I am by the published tasting notes. Doesn’t matter how influential the tasting notes are, if you can’t find the wine or can’t afford the wines you find, tasting notes are of no value other than offering a self-indulgent romp through the world of wine writing.

Let’s try another avenue and consider the purpose of the tasting note? Here is a quick multiple-choice question to help us think about why tasting notes exist: 

Do tasting notes:

a)    Provide novice consumers with helpful information.

b)    Should only be written by skilled wine experts.

c)    Need to contain more objective, scientific, jargon to be effective.

d)    Are best when accompanied by a numerical score.

e)    Should be written after blind tasting to increase integrity.

All of the answers provided above were found in actual essays from notable wine critics and writers and published since 2013 in both print and digital formats about tasting notes. I did not have to make any of these answers up, I just had to search for them. And, they are easy to find. A Google search of the term “wine criticism” yields 36 million hits in a fraction of a second. It seems wine critics are talking about the way they talk about wine, and they are doing it all the time.

Other wine writers have been less generous with their evaluations and tasting notes. Some wine critics suggest tasting notes: 1) are dreary, untrustworthy, and contain arcane language, 2) allow wine critics a venue for writing fancy words they don’t get to use very often, 3) provide comic relief for a troubled wine industry, 4) could use a bit of cleaning up, 5) are thick, gooey, fudge-covered gobs of language, and 6) are used to conjure up unimagined nuances. There seems to be a growing divide among those that see the relevancy and utility of tasting notes, those lobbying for improving the genre by making them more objective and scientific, those that still advocate for the use of tasting notes but suggest writers need to pull back on the esoteric language, and those that believe millenials don’t give a shit about tasting notes and are hoping the genre will fade from existence in the not-so-distant future. 

Barry Smith in an article for the World of Fine Wine defends wine criticism and tasting notes, but links its challenges to language and writing as much as tasting when he writes, “there is no guarantee, of course, that those with great tasting skills will be able to articulate the reasons for their appreciation of certain wines. Having the linguistic powers to express what one finds in a young wine is an additional skill, and this is perhaps the key role for the wine writer.” Once again, we return to the fact that it is as much about the way we talk and write about wine than it is about what is actually in the glass or in our mouths.

Like all forms of writing, tasting notes cannot be objective, context-less, universally accepted descriptions of a wine in a glass safely protected from the context of the act of tasting and the processes of writing. Traditionally, the writers of tasting notes work to pare away all of the context of a wine tasting event to arrive at an objective tasting note. However, many wine critics taste up to a hundred wines in one day in an attempt to cover a particular region, vintage, or varietal. The setting for these tastings is certainly different than settings where people actually drink a whole bottle of the wine being described, scored, and recommended by these critics. Shouldn’t the context of the writing of a tasting note align with the context of the actual drinking of a wine? 

It seems the time-honored search for objectivity closely associated with the world of science stands in contrast to the subjectivities and aesthetics most often associated with the world of art. Is it better to use more scientific jargon, or more poetic, artistic language when writing tasting notes? On one hand the scientist revels in precise language, language that is designed to objectively describe as accurately as possible what constitutes a wine. In science, specificity, accuracy, prediction, and objectivity reigns king (or queen). In art, scientific description falls away to reveal figurative, sensual, language that compares a summer’s breeze to the beauty of a wine. Are we sure that one type of language is better than another? From a marketing perspective, is not the tasting note that increase sales the one more valuable from an economic perspective? Is it that simple?

Here is a wine description I recently came across in a tasting note I found intriguing:

On the palate, the wine begins with peeled Laraha orange skin, fresh lemon zest, dehydrated pineapple, fresh blackcherries, dried cranberries, chopped bell pepper, and something like the heart and crema of a good espresso shot combined. A snapshot of damp forest floor, mushrooms, black truffle, and wet rock remain on my palate for quite a while afterwards.

Really? Specifying the type of peeled orange skin? What does a wet rock or a forest floor taste like anyways? Should we as wine enthusiasts be licking wet rocks in our driveway to develop our palates? If this type of writing isn’t begging for some sarcasm and reconsideration, then you should stop reading this book now and start sniffing some Laraha orange peel so you really know what this wine reviewer is talking about. Can my palate ever be delicate enough to discern the type of orange and the orchard it was harvested from? I truly doubt it. 

I wonder if wine enthusiasts could work backwards from the two tasting notes above to identify the wine being described? Probably not. Some wine descriptions are so abstract that they seem to be detached from the reality of the wine drinker and the wine in the glass. Could you imagine asking a sommelier in a restaurant for a glass of wine that tastes of Laraha orange peel, granite pebbles, with just a hint forest floor? I don’t think the sommelier would have any idea what kind of wine you wanted to drink with dinner. Do we really want to drink wine that tastes like a barnyard or wet dog? Apparently, we do because these words are often used to describe some of the most sought-after wines in the world like Chateauneuf-du-Pape and Grand Cru Chablis.

Marissa Ross, the author of Wine – All the Time, is a self-proclaimed, craven slut for using abstract, weird metaphors and figurative language when describing wines. In fact, she has made her career as an editor at Bon Appetit magazine describing wines through abstract and poetic language. I love reading her poetic tasting notes, but I rarely understand how these notes relate to the wines in her glass. Her us of swimming pools and suburban lawns to describe a wine have little in common with the actual wine, but they seem apt in describing a context for drinking. Suggesting we should find some middle ground in the world of tasting note writing, Rajat Parr warns against tasting notes becoming encyclopedic-like entries or gushing bursts of lyric prose. As the tasting note continues to evolve from short, pithy quotes about gender, breeding, and potential ageing to flowery, elaborate descriptions that use technical, scientific language to compare wines to fruits, vegetables, minerals, and cigar boxes, the debate over what constitutes a quality, relevant tasting note will continue.

Language and the Tasting Note

Jordi Ballester suggests the language used in tasting notes should eradicate “fuzzy concepts” by being more specific and analytical rather than relying primarily on personal responses to a wine. It would seem critics suggest the world of modern winespeak needs to be reined in a bit to serve its intended audience. Do consumers really need to know a particular wine smelled of wet cement, and includes notes of graphite and pencil shavings to make informed decisions, or are tasting notes simply a way of establishing a cottage industry for future wine writers? 

For many wine critics, tasting notes depend upon developing a common lexicon that they can draw upon for describing and evaluating a particular wine, winery, vintage, or varietal. This common lexicon also requires a common understanding of the terms included, and this is where the whole industry may go off the rails. How can we be sure that words mean the same thing to everyone? If I say the wine in my glass tastes like strawberries, will that mean the same thing to every wine drinker that tastes this wine? And, if we venture into more complex, unique descriptors like wet cement, pencil shavings, and minerality, will we only widen the gap between words and meanings?

Coco Krumme, a member of the American Association of Wine Economists that studies behavioral economics at the MIT Media Lab, analyzed the language used in tasting notes and compared the terms used to describe cheap and expensive wines. Her analysis demonstrated that reviewers are more likely to create new vocabulary for more expensive wines than cheap ones. Her study also revealed it is possible to predict the price range of a wine based on the words included in the tasting notes. She asserted, there are three types of words more likely to be used for expensive wines: 1) darker words, such asintense, supple, velvety, andsmoky, 2) words for single flavors such astobaccoorchocolateversusfruity, good, clean, tasty, juicyfor cheap wines, and 3) exclusive-sounding words in place of simple descriptors, for example,old, elegant, andcuvee. Krumme’s work has called attention to the deep-seated connection between language and wine that is at the heart of learning the discourse of wine. No matter what we taste in our mouths or breathe through our noses, it is only through a specific type of language that we can share these sensory experiences with others. Tasting notes are simply a type of writing that has a questionable, some would say bullshit, relation to reality. 

Coffee, Beer & Wine

In reviewing thousands of wine tasting notes for this book, I became interested in how similar the descriptors were to other beverages. To demonstrate this, I have blinded (removed the type of beverage) from ten tasting notes taken from commercial websites and trade publications that described either a specific coffee, tea, beer, or wine. I invite you to tell me which tasting notes are associated with which beverage. It is harder than you think. I have included an answer key at the end of this chapter to resolve any conflicts that arise from this exercise.

1.    Citrus, cocoa and berries are a just a few flavors that strike you first. Some are obvious, and others are subtle. Notes of honey, caramel, and toast are available.

2.    The dominant flavors are generally floral, withhoneysuckle and bergamotstanding out the most.

3.    Nutty and toasty accents are present. This (type of beverage) can show a touch of caramel and roasted fruit, often displaying dried fruits such as raisins, dates and figs. 

4.    One will find notes of buttered citrus, pineapple, smoked meats, charcoal, and toast.

5.    Heavy body, and anearthy, woody flavor, at times acidity and complexity can be lacking. We have had some that present really nice tropical fruit flavors, cinnamon, and cola.

6.    Thick mouth coating quality with dominant flavors oftomato stew and raisin(or other dried fruit). Some of the best will also offer grapefruit and bubblegum.

7.    Honeysuckle, verbena, and chamomile aromas stream out first, followed by notes of yellow apple, white peach, honey and warm plum notes.

8.    The palate can expect a degree of sweetness and deep notes of toffee, caramel, toast and black fruit.

9.    This (beverage) offers a citrus profile with notes of tangerine, some pear and sweet cucumber, all framed by soft flavors of toasted bread and dried fruits.

10.    This (beverage) is chiseled and sharp with blackberry, ripe cherry, grilled herbs and barbeque spices.

As I researched the tasting notes across a range of beverages, I discovered that each beverage had its own version of a flavor wheel. Flavor wheels are graphic aids used to visually represent the range and categories of flavors presented in a beverage type. However, flavor wheels, like the one developed by UC Davis professor Ann Noble, are usually used by writers and critics that strive for scientific accuracy and detailed descriptions of smells and tastes over the gushy prose of previous eras. Noble’s flavor wheel contained six dozen individual descriptors for a wine, and was created by associating the bouquets, aromas, and flavors in wines with various vegetables, fruits, and other descriptors. Some of these are metaphorical in nature, while others are simply adjectives used to help wine drinkers name the sensations they experience when smelling and drinking wine.

    No matter whom you talk to in the wine industry, they probably have an opinion about tasting notes one way or another. Many wine writers love them and have made a living writing them. Others write them, but only begrudgingly. Still others think they should be eliminated from the wine industry entirely. I am sure this debate will continue for quite some time, regardless of what the hipster generation or the boomers say about them.

So What?

    Let’s begin by considering what could a writer possibly write in a tasting note that would: a) increase the likelihood someone would buy the wine being described, 2) help wine enthusiasts make better choices about what wine to buy and drink, or 3) increase a person’s appreciation of the wine being tasted? From this perspective tasting notes would be judged by their relative practicality and rhetorical potential. The question is whether tasting notes serve a purpose for the wine drinker or not? From another perspective, tasting noted could simply be evaluated as a form of writing susceptible to all the criteria of other forms of writing, practical utility be damned. Tasting notes that are just enjoyable to read and have not practical utility whatsoever.

    Still another way of evaluating tasting notes could be by level of specificity. The most general would be – I like it, or it is good. Not helpful, but pretty clear. The other end of the spectrum would contain the most elaborate, technical jargon one could muster. You will need to decide the point along a “spectrum of descriptions” you find valuable. 

Here is how it might go:

1.    I like it.

2.    It’s good.

3.    It’s a good red wine.

4.    It’s a good Cabernet Sauvignon

5.    It’s a good Cabernet Sauvignon from the Bordeaux region.

6.    It’s a quality example of a 2010 vintage of Cabernet Sauvignon from the left-bank, appellation of Margaux.

7.    It’s a quality example of a 2010 vintage of Cabernet Sauvignon from the vineyards of Chateau Margaux, but not as good as the 2009 vintage.

8.    It’s a quality example of a 2010 vintage of Cabernet Sauvignon from a particular block or vineyard at Chateau Margaux that will probably be worth aging for the next 30 years.

9.    It’s a quality example of a 2010 vintage of Cabernet Sauvignon from a particular block of vineyard in Chateau Margaux in Bordeaux that will age well for the next 30 years that includes primary notes of blackberry, cassis, black cherry, and bell pepper, and secondary notes of vanilla, cigar box, and graphite.

I think you can see where this is going. Does description #9 make you want to buy the wine (if you can find it and afford it) more than description #1? If I described the chemical makeup of a wine’s aromas and flavors, for example the level of pyrazines, thiols, or terpenes as suggested by certain writers at GuildSomm, would it make the tasting note more explicit and helpful or would it simply make it more confusing? Does the word pyrazine help wine tasters more than the terms spicy or green bell peppers? And, do these words work as an enticement to buy a particular wine? The purpose of the tasting note and the audience to which it is directed should influence how they are written, and rightly so.

My suggestions are as follows:

1.    If you find a critic that favors the same type of wines that you do, follow their writing, but take everything with a grain of salt.

2.    Try not to pay too much attention to numerical scores, focus instead on what the writer is saying about the wine. Ask yourself, “Do I like this kind of wine?”

3.    Remember that there is as almost as much bullshit in tasting notes as there is in any form of advertising. If the notes help, great. If not, don’t sweat it.

4.    Pay attention to the wines you like and see if you can find more of them at reasonable prices at your favorite wine store.

5.    Remember, most of the wines people are writing about will be difficult to get ahold of. Make friends with a salesperson at your local wine store and let them help you or order wines for you.

Eric Asimov advocates drinking over tasting. Sit down and enjoy the bottle of wine with good friends and good food and maybe you might enjoy more wines than if you taste 200 in one day and spit out each taste to help endure the challenges of over-imbibing. He also suggests evaluating producers rather than vintages and single wines. This may the best advice I have read about tasting notes.