The Parker principle

This weekend, in San Francisco and the Napa Valley, Robert M. Parker Jr. will be honored at a series of events marking the 25th anniversary of his influential newsletter, the Wine Advocate. No doubt a slew of highly rated wines will be uncorked and participants will debate the relative merits of this 96-pointer and that 94-pointer.

In fact, the jewel in the crown of the multi-locale gala is a luncheon at the home of Ann and Gordon Getty featuring a dozen wines given perfect 100-point scores by Parker over the years -- a fitting nod to the famed critic and the popular rating system he devised.

In retrospect, it is unlikely that Parker could ever have envisioned the effect his simple numerical system would have -- not merely on wine criticism, but also on how wine is sold, bought and even made.

Early rumblings about the absurdity of attaching cold, hard numbers to a beverage whose appreciation is inescapably subjective faded quickly because consumers embraced the system -- most notably by heeding Parker’s naming of 1982 as the greatest Bordeaux vintage since Gauls stamped grapes.

Scores appealed to Americans craving guidance; numbers essentially reduced the complexity of wine to the simplicity of high school grading. They clicked with the cork-shy public. The trade heard the click loud and clear, touting high scores as endorsements to help move wine. So did publications: Over the course of the 1990s, every major U.S.-based wine critic and magazine adopted the 100-point scale.

The influential scale

Parker’s invention has even influenced winemaking itself, leading producers worldwide toward a more bold, “hedonistic” style. Some wineries go as far as enlisting the aid of labs that purport to analyze what prospective bottlings need to snare those lucrative high scores.

While Parker has remained consistent, indefatigable and decidedly unflashy (the Advocate, printed on tan paper, is still art- and ad-free), his 100-point scale has assumed a life of its own.

Ratings, awarded not only by Parker but also by Wine Spectator and a bevy of other sources, are excerpted from their original context and regurgitated with abandon in retailers’ e-mail promotions, searchable databases, catalogs, fliers and ads. In stores, ratings-driven shelf labels -- RP-94! -- tease shoppers.

Still, the 100-point scale holds value for many consumers. Numbers are an effective shortcut for those who feel intimidated by the ever-increasing morass of global labels, and for anyone who worries about plunking down good money on bottles that might embarrass them at the table. For collectors, solid ratings provide empowerment in a similar way, adding statistical authority to the prestige of their cellars.

But the cons of the scale are pervasive, beginning with the rating-game’s effect on the question of what constitutes “good” wine. In Wine Spectator’s Buying Guide, a score of 80 to 84 points represents “Good: a solid, well-made wine.” The problem is that most people pooh-pooh anything that scores less than 90. This is a shame because there are plenty of wonderful wines that wind up with ratings between 80 and 90.

The quality of wine all over the globe is inarguably better today than ever. But this reality -- perhaps the most important story in wine over the last two decades -- is getting lost in the 100-point sauce.

The presence of an unspoken caste system becomes even clearer when prices are factored in. Take, for instance, a recent Wally’s catalog touting wines “over 90 points, under $90.” Of the 215 selections fitting this criteria, a scant eight were under $20. In other words, the good stuff still costs the big bucks. What does this say to the average wine drinker? The cynical implication is that people who drink modestly priced wines with modest scores have mediocre taste.

Another danger lurks in the degree to which the 100-point tail has begun wagging the winemaking dog. When wines get lined up for blind critic tastings, it is often bigger and/or bolder wines that stand out from the pack and earn the higher scores.

Keenly aware of this phenomenon, winemakers tailor their vintages accordingly. High-end wines (especially from California) are increasingly characterized by the big body, intense fruit extract and obvious oak that tend to wow critics, often at the expense of elegance, balance and food-friendliness. Check out the alcohol levels on Napa Valley Cabernets over $20 these days; 14% and up is the norm.

European winemakers are aiming for more overt fruit at the expense of structure (tannin and acidity); as a result many experts fear that classic wines from Bordeaux, Burgundy and the Rhone are now less age-worthy than in past decades.

It’s common sense

Is there an antidote to the dominant role of ratings in wine evaluations? We’re probably no closer to ridding the wine world of numbers than we are to ridding the political world of slippery campaign promises. But on a micro level, common sense and a good retailer can go a long way.

Consider, for starters, the simple fact that wine ratings nearly always come from a single critic tasting multiple wines without food. Scores are awarded without regard to context, and yet context -- when, where and how a wine is going to be drunk -- is precisely the focus a good retailer takes when recommending specific bottles. An 88-point wine may be ripe and ready for dinner tonight, while a 98-pointer should not even be in the same room as a corkscrew.

Helpful merchants -- even those whose shelves are festooned with various ratings -- know the relative characteristics of the wines they carry, and all it takes to get past the numbers and cut to the context of what you are looking for is a couple questions.

Getting advice in the wine shop has another built-in benefit: The recommended wine will be right there. Wine ratings in national publications exist in a pristine universe that is way out of sync with the real world of finite shelf space; tracking down specific bottles often qualifies as an exercise somewhere between a scavenger hunt and a wild goose chase.

The whole point of wine criticism, even before the 100-point scale, was to help people find their way to wines they will like. Parker’s system once seemed like a welcome array of buoys on a vast and menacing sea. Unfortunately, the ratings have proliferated to the point where that sea is riddled with 83-point flotsam here and 96-point jetsam there.

Find a good store and shop there consistently. Chances are good that if you ask questions, choose different wines to try, and drink them with dinner, you’ll learn more about wine -- and above all, about what you like -- than you ever would from crunching numbers.

W.R. Tish can be reached at tish@wineforall.com.