These Are the Most Misunderstood Wines We Sommeliers Wish People Would Drink More

If you think all Chardonnay is oaked, think again

When it comes to wine, people have long memories.

They remember what wine was like back in the 1980s. They remember a nugget of misinformation someone told them 20 years ago.

Changing the reputation of certain grapes or regions can be the work of a lifetime. The PR power of the Sherry wine authority trying to persuade people that Sherry can be dry! has nothing on someone’s memory of their grandma drinking sweet Sherry at Christmas.

It’s a shame because there are some grape varieties and regions that don’t deserve their bad reputation. And when you go just one step into that region’s world, you can find your preconceived ideas are completely wrong.

In fact, the reality is probably the complete opposite…

The ABC — Anything But Chardonnay — crowd has got it wrong

What the world thinks: All Chardonnay is oaky and buttery enough to be spread on toast

The reality: Chardonnay is one of the most versatile varieties in the world and winemakers capitalise on that.

Poor Chardonnay. No one will let it forget its awkward 80s and 90s phase (like we didn’t all have one of those back then). This is when over oaky styles of Chardonnay took over the marketplace. Suddenly drinking Chardonnay felt like licking the inside of an oak barrel.

But it’s not the way of most Chardonnay.

First, if Chardonnay sees a judicious amount of oak it can be as elegant as wine can get. Just ask Burgundy. They make some of the most expensive wines in the world from Chardonnay aged in barrels.

Second, Chardonnay is what I call a shape-shifter grape. It reflects where it’s made, how it’s grown, and what it’s aged in more than most, thus it can be made in almost any style you can think of.

Chardonnay is a big component of Champagne for instance. It can be steely, it can be smoky, it can taste like green apple and flowers as much as hazelnut and toast.

Few varieties can boast such versatility.

Give Chardonnay a chance and perhaps — like me — it’ll become your favourite grape variety of all time.

Sherry is for life not just for Christmas

What the world thinks: Sherry is a sweet wine drunk by your grandma at Christmas.

The reality: Some Sherry is literally the driest wine in the world

I’ll counter this by saying there are some sweet styles of Sherry. They’re called PX, Cream, and Moscatel. Think Harvey’s Bristol Cream.

But the rest of Sherry is dry. Bone dry. Feels like drinking saltwater dry.

The Sherries that have aged under a layer of yeast (as is the way for Fino, Manzanilla, and Amontillado) are the driest wines in the world because that yeast eats up any morsel of sugar left in the wine.

Non-yeasted styles like Oloroso are not far behind.

One of the dirty little secrets of wine is that some winemakers use residual sugar to bolster the body of their wine. A fat Californian Zinfandel could have plenty of sugar in the bottle without you even knowing.

Impossible with dry Sherry.

Yet the only people who know about dry Sherries seem to be the wine trade and those who live in SherryLand in Southern Spain. There you’ll see old dudes out at 10 am with their little glasses of Fino, setting themselves up for the day.

And if you bring a decent bottle of Sherry to a wine trade meetup, you’re in the inner circle.

Everyone else however is stuck on the idea that Sherry is sweet.

Find a bottle of Fino, Manzanilla, Amontillado, Palo Cortado, or Oloroso. For sure you can call it weird. Yeasty. Savory. Salty. Unlike any other wine you’ve ever drunk.

But not sweet.

Cava > Champagne

What the world thinks: Cava is a cheap, sweet sparkling wine

The reality: Good Cava is dry and can rival Champagne in complexity

There is a geeky caveat here.

Yes, there is a HUGE amount of sweet, badly made Cava sold for five bucks across Spain (and not much more elsewhere).

This pissed off the best quality Cava producers in Penedès (a region close to Barcelona) so much that a few years back, they broke away from the name Cava and formed a new classification called Corpinnat.

Because Cava is a regulated name, Corpinnat wines can no longer call themselves Cava, even though five years ago that’s exactly what they were.

Welcome to the batsh*t world of wine classification.

This is confusing for most consumers (most of whom don’t know about the new classification anyway) so Corpinnat sparkling wine is still thought of as Cava by the rest of the world.

And it’s freaking glorious.

We’re talking great viticulture — Corpinnat wines have to be organic. We’re talking about long aging periods. We’re talking about no added sugar whatsoever — you can’t be part of the cool Cava (sorry, Corpinnat) gang if you add sugar into the mix.

And it’s cheap compared to Champagne.

One of the best Corpinnat wineries is called Recaredo. They are a biodynamic and organic estate and their entry-level wine sells for around $40 in the US (and $25 in Europe). It’s aged for nearly four years and is Brut Nature, which means they don’t add sugar at bottling, unlike most Cavas or Champagnes.

Compare that to Moët et Chandon’s entry-level Champagne which does not boast the same attention to viticulture, is aged for less time, and has nine grams of residual sugar per litre. It’s also closer to $50+.

Good Cava is nothing like you expect. And everything you want.

I say Beaujolais, you say Nouveau

What the world thinks: Beaujolais is cheap, thin and watery, and poor quality.

The reality: The best Beaujolais is age-worthy, concentrated and incredible.

If there was a moment in wine history that did the dirty on a wine region, it’s Beaujolais Nouveau.

Back in the 1800s, winemakers in Beaujolais celebrated the new harvest by supplying local establishments with that year’s wine in November and December (in other words, very early after harvest).

What used to be a local celebration of that vintage turned into a marketing ploy in the 1960s through 1990s. Beaujolais named the third Thursday of November as Beaujolais Nouveau day. Restaurateurs from places like Paris or London would set off from Beaujolais at midnight and race to be the first to plonk Nouveau on the tables of their establishments.

Fun? Absolutely. But it’s hard to make good wine in just a couple of months.

Thus most Beaujolais Nouveau was of poor quality which bolstered its reputation as a region making cheap, light-bodied, thin wines.

That’s not Beaujolais’ whole story.

Beaujolais is my spiritual wine home having harvested there for two years. And I will tell you now, the best Beaujolais are concentrated, complex, and age worthy.

But there is one good thing (from a consumer POV at least) about Beaujolais’ poor reputation.

The wines are amazing value.

It’s hard to find a top bottle of Beaujolais for more than $50. Compare that to neighbouring Burgundy or Rhône Valley where top wines can be $5-$10k (or more).

Forget what you think you know about Beaujolais. Find the good stuff (start with Jean Foillard, Lapierre, Guy Breton, and Jean-Paul Thevenet aka the gang of four) and be prepared to have your mind blown.

Repeat after me: Riesling is dry

What the world thinks: Riesling is sweet.

The reality: Most Riesling is dry.

Much like Sherry, there are sweet Rieslings. In Germany, they’re classified by impossible-to-pronounce words like Auslese, Beerenauslese, and Trockenbeerenauslese. Find these on the label and you’ve got a dessert on your hands.

But most Riesling is dry. That includes examples from Germany, Austria, Australia and the US.

Not only that but it’s freaking delicious. I’m talking the zippiest, freshest, tangiest white wine you can think of.

And similar to Beaujolais, it can be incredibly good value.

Riesling is another secret handshake wine. One of the icebreakers I use with wine trade folk is to ask them about their top three grape varieties.

9 times out of 10, Riesling makes an appearance.

Whilst most of the world doesn’t want anything to do with it, the wine trade is guzzling the dry stuff like it’s going out of fashion. Which of course, it has.

A tip — if Riesling is 12%+ in alcohol it’s going to be dry. Try it.

Sometimes I don’t want to give away this sort of information for fear of spilling the beans on some of the best kept wine secrets.

But then I remember — I love these wines. I want them to succeed. And for them to succeed, more people need to know what they are.

Misunderstood. Often undervalued.

Incredible.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wine trade dinner tonight and I need to choose which bottles I’m going to take.

I can tell you one thing — at least one of the above will make an appearance.

I’ve launched a remote wine consulting service called SommAnywhere. Tell me what you like to drink and where you live, I’ll send you a list of the best places local-to-you and online stores and what you should buy from each of them. You’ll also get my little black book of wineries. Book the service here.