A Bit of a Mouthful

There are those who entrust their cases of Domaine Romanée-Conti or Pétrus to Octavian for safe keeping (and who wouldn’t?). They might have strong opinions on en primeur sales, vintage variation and when to drink (or sell) the stuff. And then there is the rest of us, for whom wine is …well…wine, a product that, in the last forty years, has become part of what the weekend supplements call ‘lifestyle’, and yet one that we are expected to buy or order with the confidence of Robert Parker, while in reality knowing virtually nothing it.

A friend once told me he had been fascinated watching me look at a wine list. “It was as if you were actually reading it,” he said. What else was I meant to do with it, I asked. His reply was revealing and at the same time probably very commonplace. “Well what I do is I pretend to look at it and then order something I’ve vaguely heard of that I can afford. Normally by a name, that might be a grape or a place; often I have no idea.”

I have another friend. We’ll call him Tim. Tim enjoys what he calls a glass of ‘redders’, and when we go to the pub he invariably asks for a large Malbec. One day, I bought him a large Merlot and only told him what it was after he’d drunk it. He shrugged and mumbled something about it ‘all being the same’. Aha! ‘Malbec’, as I suspected all along, was merely shorthand for a full-bodied, approachable red.

He didn’t ask what region it was from, nor did he care about terroir, about who made it or what the grape was in it, or if it had seen any oak and if so, for how long and in what barrels. Did he know that most Malbec drunk in the UK was from Argentina? Well, now that I mentioned it, yes he did and that was why he liked it because it went well with steaks, ‘what with all that Argentinian beef being so good’. Fair enough. The beef factor, especially the Gaucho restaurant group, has played a role in Malbec, and Argentina’s popularity.

But I would also wager that apart from being hugely gluggable, the success of Malbec is also founded on the fact that it is easy to pronounce and therefore easier to order than say a Nerello Mascalese or a Maratheftiko.

In fact I’m happy to stake what little reputation I have on the idea that ease of pronunciation plays a bigger part in a wine’s commercial success than we might think. Ask a waiter at any pub with an ‘off-the-peg’ wine list, what is the most popular varietal on the list and they will invariably say Malbec, followed by Shiraz, Merlot (even with the silent T) and the trusty Cabernet Sauvignon.

When it comes to the whites it’s the safe-as-houses Sauvignon Blanc; Pinot Grigio, the airport lounge perennial, and Chardonnay, arguably the greatest grape on the planet, but one still seemingly unable to totally shake off its late 90s ennui. All three are global giants, but, crucially, also easier to ask for than for example, Viognier or Semillon.

I would also posit Gavi (which is a place) and Picpoul (which isn’t) are popular because they are safe, and again, easy to pronounce. And this is why the Cretan wine board should base any marketing campaign around the Dafni variety rather than, say, Thrapsathiri. As for Georgia, well thank heavens for Saperavi is all I can say.

And then there’s Prosecco. Need I say more?

Michael Karam is a journalist, editor and wine writer. He is the author of Wines of Lebanon and a contributor to Jancis Robinson’s Oxford Companion to Wine and The World Atlas of Wine.

Michael Karam’s latest book ‘Wines of Lebanon: The Journey Continues’ is available from Académie du Vin