Notes On Terroir, pt.1
Ξ January 11th, 2008 | → 0 Comments | ∇ A Day at a Time, International Terroirs, Wine History |
Mark Twain once observed, “The researches of many commentators have already thrown much darkness on this subject, and it is probable that if they continue we shall soon know nothing at all about it.” Terroir is such a subject. It simultaneously describes, mystifies, and annoys. Newbies fear it, wine merchants exploit it, professionals parse it. The chatter is considerable. So, then, what is it about the concept of terroir that generates such cultural noise? Precisely its ambiguity, which is also to say, its flexibility. Many a commentator will point out that no equivalent English definition exists. Yes and no. A quick glance at an early edition of the Oxford English Dictionary shows a sad little 15th century entry for terroir of a half-inch length, easily understood when placed against the multiple pages of definitions of soil, a historical synonym. Soil, in fact, comprehends terroir but only for the most philologically inclined. 
The French word terroir has perhaps been frozen in a pastoral avocation while the more inclusive English language juggernaut rolled on, allowing soil to accumulate centuries of scientific, cultural and poetic shades of meaning. Terroir remains, finally, semantically underdeveloped. Hence, I suggest, the concept of terroir, in its modern, discordant usages, is a consequence of its having been Balkanized by the academy, wine writers, and commercial interests, English-speakers in the main.
Indeed, terroir belongs to an abundance of modern lexicons including 1) the Scientific, specifically Geology and Enology; 2) the Historical, I would include select vignerons, some learned contemporaries, to be sure, though I’m thinking here especially of the attentive monks of Burgundy who, over hundreds of years found the finest sites; 3) the Cultural, our space; 4) the Experiential, everyday drinkers, our space as well; 5) and Everything else. For my purposes I will touch only on a bit of the Scientific material on the matter to illustrate my point.
Andrew Jefford, long a champion of terroir, writes in the introduction to his most excellent ‘The New France’ (see Books sidebar), Terroir “The Print of Place: Consistency, varietal character, depth of fruit, oak integration: these are qualities of absolute irrelevance to French AOC wine. Instead, its aim and its reason for being is to lend a sensual print to rock, stone, slope, and sky.” Contrast his remark to that of the great wine technologist Emile Peynaud, where in his ‘Connaissance et travail du vin’, he does not mention terroir at all, “The influence of climate, different varieties of grapes, picking the grapes at various stages of ripeness, vinification techniques, and methods of storing have all contributed to creating a considerable number of types of wine.” Neither does Marian W. Baldy PH.D mention terroir in her University Wine Course where she writes, “The composition of grapes is influenced by factors that modify their temperature and light-sensitive physiological processes [….] Some of the aroma- and flavor-modifying factors cannot be altered very much by cultural practices and have to be decided upon when the vineyard is planted. Grape variety, soil depth and texture, and climate are examples of these more fixed factors.” So what is the principle difference between Jefford’s position and those of Peynaud and Baldy? In Peynaud’s case, it is the omission of soil as a factor. In Baldy’s? Merely a shift to another semantic register.
To take two other academic examples. Geologist James E. Wilson writes in his book Terroir, (see Books sidebar) “Terroir has become a buzz word in English language literature. This lighthearted use disregards reverence for the land which is a critical, invisible element of the term. The true concept is not easily grasped but includes physical elements of the vineyard habitat - the vine, subsoil, siting, drainage, and microclimate. [T]here is an additional dimension - the spiritual aspect that recognizes the joys, the heartbreaks, the pride, the sweat, and the frustrations of its history.” Against this we have Dr. Ron S. Jackson, from his Wine Science, “[Terroir] has too often been misused to imply that it proves that regional wine, especially from famous regions, possess some unique and unreproducible sensorial character. [G]iven sufficient analysis, regional wines usually can be differentiated chemically. However… [e]vidence does not support the view that individuals can consistently detect or recognize such differences.” The contrast among these two authors? Dr. Jackson simply does not entertain Wilson’s “spiritual aspect”. It is not relevant to his understanding of the concept. Yet he does concede “regional wines usually can be differentiated chemically”, but are just not humanly perceptible(!)
And with respect to Jefford’s? Still from ‘The New France’, “[T]he only trustworthy wine tastings are those conducted ‘blind’, that is without sight of bottles or labels.” Again, no strong contradiction as such among authors, merely greater or lesser borrowings from the flexible semantic field of a shared word, terroir.
It has been rightly said that scientists are educated but uncultured and that those in the Humanities are cultured but uneducated. Terroir is a word that belongs to both worlds. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that, baring the welcomed ascendance of academic hybrids, the noise will continue.
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