Terroir: Kind of a Big Deal Around Here
It’s sort of the Pandora’s Box of Wine Speak: once someone mentions terroir, the conversation can range all over the place.
The place is, after all, the focus: what, specifically, does one particular grape growing locale provide? Terroir is the science of soul, and the more you learn about it, the more you’ll see the wine world as a giant patchwork quilt. Veronica saves you a seat at the quilting bee.
Goes great with: a topo map, a farmer tan, a thermometer, a poetic palate.
Have you ever dated an architect? You’ll be walking in a field, enjoying the landscape, and things get quiet. He is looking at the slope of the land. Orientation to the sun. Thinking water drainage, seasonal timetables – all the variables unique to this very spot. It’s as bad as dating a winemaker, but you gotta love ‘em.
Terroir (tare-wah) is the catchall phrase (on loan from the French) encompassing everything a particular site contributes to a grape, and therefore to a wine. The mineral makeup of the soil, dew factor in the morning, exposure to various wind patterns – everything.
Some say the concept found full flower with the learned Benedictine monks of Burgundy (very scholarly, poor dating prospects) as they sought to categorize their now classic vineyards’ output. To this day, French labels still emphasize a wine’s region or vineyard over its grape content.
The terroir of one field can actually be specifically distinct from that of an adjacent field – I’ve tasted it! That’s where it counts, after all – in the glass. The important thing is to not be intimidated. The concept demands engagement: swirl, smell, taste, repeat.