Ch'ng Poh Tiong March '10 column: There's a Tiger in my wine(1)
Now, although I began by arguing that we should all mind our own business, the truth is that privacy is all well and good until what you say solidly on the one hand, you casually stray away from with the other.
Most of us don’t really mind (or at least, don’t care) when people who lie to us know that we know they are lying. But we get really riled when people go out of their way to deceive us, letting us imagine they are a goody-two-shoes when they are really expert practitioners of the Karma Sutra. Or preaching the word of God but then preying on small boys who go to receive God’s words.
The wine world, to be sure, also has its fair share of Tiger Woodses. You may not think so, because you only drink the stuff. But us journalists who speak to these winemakers or proprietors are constantly assaulted by their ‘passion’ (as shameless as the 30 utterances I once encountered in a 30-minute interview).
Let’s face it, how much raw passion does a corporate multi-millionaire or billionaire really possess who buys a château and doesn’t even bother to have a go at pruning the vines. I am not suggesting working an entire 20ha (hectare) block, but perhaps a row or two after a hearty breakfast would help boost the heartbeat and the staff’s overall morale. Or an owner who doesn’t even bother to follow (let alone take part in) the tastings for the blending of the final wine following the vintage?
If the deep-pocketed proprietor had merely confessed ‘I bought this estate as a pure business investment, but heck, wine is certainly more fun and enjoyable than trading in shares,’ then most of us, I think, would admire that kind of old-fashioned, vintage honesty.
‘Strive for elegance’ is another empty expression from the recesses of a brainless head when what you are offered to taste is as black as soot and has enough green, monstrous tannins to take out your recently installed denture work. I refer to such beverages (‘wine’ is an inappropriate descriptor) as ‘God-have-mercy-on-us’ or ‘vacuum-cleaner’ wines in my tasting notes because, quite literally, they suck.
Quite apart from the huge extraction these wines undergo, they are also baptised twice in brand new oak, the first time for the malolactic fermentation, the second for the ageing of the wine. I may have serially failed maths at school but even Dumbo here knows that when you do something twice over – like two clicks on the alarm-clock switch – the double action brings you back to zero.
