“Feminine” wine: Why are we still having this conversation?

I’d thought that “masculine” and “feminine” wines were on their way out. Or, rather, I’d thought that the use of gendered stereotypes to connote particular wine styles was on its way out. One small sign that my hopes were premature: Wine Enthusiast’s online feature on “Top Wine Terms Defined” not only includes “feminine” but asks me not to “automatically bristle at this gendered wine term.” Okay. Tell me why. Unsurprisingly, their reasons are unconvincing and point back to why we shouldn’t be using this term in the first place.

The article praises the term for being easy to understand and quotes a beverage director to the effect that feminine wines share a woman’s “best qualities,” being “light, refined, and delicate.” So, I’m being asked not to bristle because, first, everyone knows the female stereotype of womanly refinement and, second, because it’s implied that we’re paying women a favor, referring to their best qualities. After all, “feminine” wines aren’t moody, flighty, or hysterical, equally stereotypical but negative characteristics associated with women. Nope. I’m bristling.

We’re being invited to agree that women are supposed to be — or at least that the best women are — gentle, fair, and fragile. I don’t need to belabour the point. Women can and should be praised for being a lot more than that: strong, intelligent, capable, funny, and any other praiseworthy characteristic we appreciate in people. Heck, we have plenty of television ads of women getting muddy playing sports or brokering business deals but — stereotypically — at least some part of the wine community is being backward. It would be funny if it wasn’t damaging first. Asking to be mollified by the idea of being paid a compliment just makes it worse.

Men aren’t treated well by the gendered wine phenomenon, either; stereotypes of big, burly, strong, rich masculinity put them in a box just as much as do the female stereotypes for women. Suggesting so is hardly new. Steve Heimoff’s blog hosted a promising debate over his reference to the feminine aesthetic in winemaking last year, for example. Nonetheless, Googling “feminine wine” suggests that the term remains reasonably common. Backwardly.

What’s the problem? The short answer: stereotyping is bad. One better: stereotyping is bad because it limits individual’s identities in terms of who they feel they can be and in terms of who other people allow them to be, because it let’s us treat others as something less than human — because when we label them with a stereotype we apply and expect the contents of that category to how we see them and stop seeing them in their fullness as people — because we make categories and then fill them. Ideas don’t exist out there on their own. We construct them. And so every time someone uses the term “feminine wine,” they help build the cultural phenomenon of the associated stereotype. In a small way, sure, but large ideas are built of small instances. Castles and bricks.

I’d like to hand the editor of Wine Enthusiast some Michael Foucault (or Judith Butler, or pretty much any other late-2oth c. critical theorist). Instead, I guess I’ll just rail a bit and embody the outraged middle-aged woman. You know the type.

Does cross-flow filtration affect wine flavor? No easy answers.

Cloudy wine (mostly) doesn’t sell. Neither does (most) wine spoiled by spoilage microbes that produce off-aromas. And so, while it is entirely possible to remove floating particles that make wine cloudy and (most) microorganisms via careful winemaking without sterile filtration, most winemakers appreciate the extra insurance it gives. Filters are essentially membranes punctuated by lots of little pores: all good stuff should flow through the pores; bad stuff you want to keep out of the bottle should be too big to pass. To reliably remove yeast and bacteria, filters need to have really tiny pores, and the question always is: are those filters excluding stuff other than the microbes, good-tasting stuff that I want the wine to keep? We’re talking .45 μm pores here, an order of magnitude smaller than the diameter of a red blood cell; anything bigger risks allowing bitsy bacteria through.

Pro-filtration folks say that all molecules important to wine quality are much to small to get caught in even these super-stringent filters. Filtration-shy folks say that wine tastes different post-filtration; no matter what molecular measurements say should happen, something is happening. For an excellent discussion of the arguments on both sides, see Tim Patterson’s excellent review in Wines and Vines (updated here, but this one is still behind a pay wall). Bottom line: scientific evidence suggests that while some important molecules could get stuck to the surface of the filter, all the important stuff can pass through safely; dissenters can still taste a difference, and maybe that has something to do with big conglomerates of molecules.

So it stands for conventional filtration. But what about cross-flow filtration, they shiny new-ish solution to some of the conventional process’s major hassles? Conventional filtration points a stream of flowing wine directly at the filter membrane and waits for it to percolate. Enough push needs to be behind that wine stream to keep things moving, but too much push and the force of the flowing wine will rip right through the filter. And the wine must be almost entirely free of particles in the first place, else biggish stuff will cover the surface of the filter, block the holes, and slow down flow. Either way, the filter membrane will need to be replaced, and they’re expensive. Cross-flow filtration instead points the wine stream across the surface of the membrane. Liquid still flows through but with less direct pressure on the membrane, and the constant stream sweeps pores clean of junk, too.

So cross-flow is better than traditional filtration for a few technical reasons. Is it also better for wine quality?

A study addressing that question has just been published (as a provisional draft; it’s not yet appeared in the print journal) with work done by a team from UC Davis. A few published articles have shown chemical analyses of cross flow-filtered wines, but this study is unique and helpful in two ways: 1. The emphasis was on whether a trained tasting panel could detect flavor differences in filtered wine; and 2. Wines were tested not just immediately after being filtered, but from bottle samples taken at intervals out to eight months post-filtration. Kitchen-sink white and red blends were included.

Though the group’s experiments aimed at looking for sensory differences following filtration, their results uncovered something else. The flavor of the unfiltered red wine changed more over time — more earth, less fruit beginning at two months and continuing to the eight-month end point — while the flavor of the filtered red remained more or less constant; in other words, the filtered wine was more stable. The obvious explanation is that the unfiltered wine suffered from some kind of microbial growth after bottling, even though the idea of a UC Davis-crafted experimental wine having microbial spoilage issues does seem strange.

More to the original point: even though chemical analyses showed that filtration decreased phenolics in the wine — filtered reds had lower pigmentation and up to 26% lower tannin levels — the tasting panel didn’t pick up corresponding differences in astringency. That’s surprising. The only explanation offered in the paper is that the magnitude of the change mustn’t have been big enough to be detectable.

In the end, then, this study probably does more to fuel the filtration debate than to help resolve it. Pro-filtration folk can point to filtration’s apparent lack of sensory impact, and to the likely spoilage of the unfiltered wine. Filtration-caution folk can point to the color and tannin changes and say that, even if those changes didn’t affect flavor in this wine, similar changes might indeed be important in other wines. So instead, we have one more example of what may indeed be Rule No. 1 in winemaking: there are no easy answers.

Why playing music to wine may not be a cockamamie idea

When is a train like a jazz tune? When someone tries using them to improve wine quality. Recently, Wine-Searcher ran a piece on Juan Ledesma, a Chilean winemaker using waterproof speakers submerged in the barrel to – infuse? – his malbec and cabernet as they age. If you believe that some kind of spirit inheres in all living things even through their killed and processed forms, and also believe that music has spiritual effects, then it might also be logical for you to believe that music has some kind of metaphysical effect on wine that transmutes through its spirit into its physical form, affecting both the taste of the wine and, perhaps, the spirit of the person who consumes it. Fair enough logic. But when I think about music, I think about trains. Trains and music, both, are sources of vibrations which at least theoretically affect on wine quality. What kind of an effect has been a matter of speculation and maybe a little superstition or wishful thinking, but not much research. A few years ago, a winemaker contacted me to ask whether his barrel room being under a railway overpass – and, consequently, being subject to the rumbling vibrations of frequent passing trains – might have some kind of softening effect on the tannins in his reds. Had he consulted what turns out to be a century-long history of winemaker interest in train-derived rumblings, from  he would have found as much or more worry about negative effects as positive. His spiritual predecessors, 1920’s London wine merchants, hoped that their wines stored in barrel under the city’s railway arches would mature faster and to good effect. Sixty years later, a great vinous uproar occurred when the French government proposed a new TGV route to transgress Vouvray in the late 1980’s, not only for fear that vineyards might be destroyed but that vibrations from the train might disrupt cellaring wine. (The not-entirely-equitable solution: a tunnel under the vineyards and anti-vibration mats under the tracks.) The TGV folk purportedly did their own research and found that passing trains had no effect on wine quality, but they never published any details from their studies. Playing music to wine could be dismissed as new-aged nonsense and worrying about trains as old-timer technology resistance. But, both trains and music are sources of vibrations. Vibrations may not make wine “mature” faster, but they could do something. The obvious effect of vibration, at least on wine being aged before fining and filtering, is in stirring up lees. Sound vibrations jostle and stir up wine a bit — just a little, but enough perhaps to keep dead yeast cells that would settle to the bottom of an unjostled tank stirred up and suspended in the wine a bit longer. Interaction with dead yeast cells — lees, when they collect at the bottom of a tank or barrel — changes wine quality: as yeast cells die and decay, they release a slew of interesting cellular leftovers. Some of these add directly to flavor, some give weight and richness to mouthfeel, some we certainly haven’t yet figured out. Increasing “must turbidity” — stirring up the wine — increases the amount of these yeasty components in the finished wine. To date, research on wine and music has involved how shoppers respond to in-store playlists (French music improves French wine sales, German music improves German wine sales) or how ambient music alters our sensory perceptions while tasting (people’s ratings of the weight and sophistication of the wine they drank tended to match the weight and sophistication of the music they heard). We’ve yet to see research on playing music to the wine rather than to the customer, though that looks to change as the Chilean Agricultural Innovation Fund has, the Wine-Searcher piece reports, invested in studying the wine-plus-music phenomenon. Regrettably, no indication from Amtrak that they plan to participate.