2014 Claude Riffault “Les Boucauds” Sancerre, France
$32
Two Thumbs Way Up
Aromas of wet stones with bright, tangy citrus notes. Flavors of tart lemon curd, key lime and subtle grassy notes with a long, pleasant, crisp finish.
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Minerality. It is a thorny wine term I unfold very carefully in conversation and correspondence. It is an uber-geeky term that’s nearly impossible to explain and — as often as not when attempted — leaves listeners or readers flummoxed.
Nevertheless, I have a very good reason, which I’ll get to in a second, to try and define it again. Wines that have “minerality” tend to be white wines (that’s a key point to remember), although some red wines, especially pinot noirs, enjoy this quality, too.
What does minerality smell and taste like? A lot of folks get confused at this point because minerality does not really smell or taste like rocks or any particular mineral. I’ve never sniffed or licked a rock and I don’t suggest that you do, either.
Minerality is just a colorful word that wine folks have come up with to describe a quality in wines, kind of like raspberries, lemons or cinnamon. Do wines smell and taste like raspberries, lemons or cinnamon? Of course not, but even the most novice wine drinker immediately knows what I’m getting at when I say this wine smells like a lemon.
The closest things in the real world (as opposed to the wine world) that I can come up with as to how we perceive minerality are: 1) a room with an ozone air purifier in it and 2) a sidewalk just after a spring rain storm.
Like I said, flummoxing.
So if you can’t really describe minerality, where does it come from and why should we care? Minerality is a “thing” and generally a desirable thing to have in your wine glass, especially if it is from Sancerre, Champagne or Chablis. So, that’s why we should care.
As to where it comes from, grapevines struggle through all types of rocks and mineral-laden strata. Along the way, they absorb mineral notes and transfer them to the grapes. At least, that’s the romantic notion the wine industrial complex would like you to believe.
Kimmeridgian soils and alluvial fans aside, a wine's aromatic and flavor characteristics get nothing — let me repeat, nothing — from the soil their vines are planted in, according to a recently published study. The two-year inquiry was conducted by Excell Ibérica and Outlook Wine, wine research companies in Spain.
The first part of the study identified chemical compounds in 17 wines that typically express minerality. The second phase had professional tasters and winemakers identify minerality in a blind tasting. Unfortunately, their descriptions of chiseled rocks, boulders and flint (common aliases for minerality) lined up with certain chemicals, but not so much with where the vines were planted.
The researchers speculate that the nature of minerality comes from thiols and other volatile chemical compounds. White wines (remember, I told you to remember this), especially sauvignon blanc, riesling, semillon and gewürztraminer generally have a bunch of these chemicals in them. Sauvignon blancs and rieslings, particularly those grown in heralded “special places,” are hailed the world over for their minerality. We perceive these compounds as fruit and flowers and, as it turns out, minerals, when they are in the right combination.
All I can say is: “Aww, shucks.” The rationality of science trumps another fanciful, quixotic belief. What’s next? The Easter Bunny? It may be difficult to understand minerality, but are we better off knowing that the exciting aromas and flavors in our glass of Sancerre comes from volatile organosulfur compounds and not a vineyard planted in some ancient seabed? For me, I’ll take my wine on the rocks.
