Ah, yet another chapter in the never-ending saga of low-quality bulk wine that insists on invading our market, pretending to be genuinely Portuguese. And of course, only now does the alarm ring louder, not because anyone cared about quality, but because our winegrowers’ grapes are still hanging on the vines, with no buyer in sight. Funny how suddenly everything seems to be an emergency. But what really catches my interest, and not just today, is the panic that has finally reached the consumers' ears. Yes, because only now have they realized what I’ve been saying for years: on many supermarket shelves—and not just there—we find more than 40 wines whose real differences boil down to the label and the packaging.
Surprise! The vast majority of these cheap wines are nothing more than products of these questionable imports. And now, as if by magic, even those tasters who do nothing but find the perfect “makeup” to fool the consumer are starting to see what’s wrong. But what about the wine, the real wine? Ah, that, my friends, hardly anyone knows anymore.
This is where things get tricky. I point the finger at the certifying and training bodies that hand out WSET certificates like candy, creating armies of pseudo-wine critics, salespeople, technicians, and specialists of all kinds, exporters, and importers. These are the very people who perpetuate this charade, pushing these wines into international circuits. They train people who can’t tell the difference between lab wine and a magic potion, trained only to look for flaws that, curiously, these low-cost wines don’t have because they’re nothing more than soulless chemical products. Perfect for the market that consumes them, perhaps, but me? I happily decline.
I always say that the profile of the wines produced in each country reflects—and quite accurately, I might add—the profile of the market that consumes them. And in this case, what do we see? A market that loves these manufactured wines because it’s the only thing they know. As for me, who has the privilege of drinking small batches, often from a single barrel, I honestly can’t find pleasure in these wines. I much prefer savoring a serious wine on a Sunday than subjecting myself to these options during the week. Sometimes, I open one of these bottles, and it’s a real chore to finish it because, let’s face it, it’s too easy to "read"... It reveals itself immediately, like a robot without any emotion.
I, on the other hand, prefer a farmer’s wine, which may have a flaw, as long as it doesn’t spoil the whole, but has soul. I prefer to understand the origin of that flaw by talking to the producer and knowing his virtues rather than simply drinking an insipid liquid that is neither good nor bad, just something cool that slips down the throat without leaving a trace.
I have a “couple” of wines that I call “The One I Never Tasted Again…”. They are special wines that I have the pleasure of tasting directly from the barrels during visits to the producer. And then they ask me, “And when the wine is bottled, can you taste it again?”. Well, the problem is that these wines often end up changing—they get a percentage of more aromatic wine from stainless steel vinification to make them more “presentable” to the public, or the barrel is incorporated into a blend because, after all, it’s only 250 liters, or they’re simply sold off to compose the great wines of other estates. I remember well two whites, one from a 250-liter barrel and another from a 550-liter barrel, and a red… Ah, what a red! With that unique toasted touch, strong but not harsh, with well-polished tannins, dry yet luscious, a profile completely distinct from anything else I had tasted from that variety. But these are some of those… "The Ghost of the Lost Wine"
Text: Miguel Viana Vinhos
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