Tag Archives: Nice Guy Syndrome

The Past and Future of Small Family Wineries

First off, I want to apologize for the radio silence the last couple of weeks. August is “vacation-month” in France and, perhaps, Paris is rubbing off on me.  My brain certainly needed some time away from the wine world to recharge. Still not quite back in the saddle yet but I’m getting there.

However, I do want to take the time to highlight this Kiva micro-loan for a small Georgian winery and what it means for the future of wineries like Tinatini’s.

KIVA loan https://www.kiva.org/lend/1812416

Kiva.org’s loan page for Tinatini and her son to modernize their winery so they can take part in Georgia’s growing wine tourism industry.
Please consider donating and sharing this page.

Most folks in the wine industry have heard this “joke.”

How do you make a small fortune in wine?

You start with a large fortune.

The response is usually a knowing chuckle followed by a small sigh because of how true that statement is. It’s not easy to make money in the wine industry. This is why so many winery owners nowadays are “second career” folks who have made their fortune elsewhere.

But the goal hasn’t always been to make a small fortune.

When you look at the history of wine on a global and historical scale, it’s populated far more by stories of small family wineries like Tinatini in Tsinandali, Georgia than it is by dot.com billionaires and shipping magnates living the “vintner’s life-style.”

Yes, there has always been the grand estates of the gentry like the Pontacs’ Ho Bryan and the esteemed Roman crus extolled by Pliny the Elder.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jacob_Gerritsz._Cuyp_-_Wine_Grower_-_WGA5850.jpg

Jacob Gerritsz’s The Wine Grower. (1628)

But it likely wasn’t all Roman DRC poured at the taverns of Pompei. Of the thousands of ships that have sailed from Bordeaux to London, the fabled classified growths only accounted for a small percentage of that cargo.

Throughout history, the backbone of the wine industry has always been families making wine for sustenance. Both personal sustenance and as a source of income.

Not to make a fortune and to buy a Ferrari. But to pay for a roof over the head.  Support for their children. And maybe buy a few more barrels.

As consumers and folks in the industry, we must never lose sight of this.

The vast, vast majority of people in the wine industry aren’t here to make a fortune. But instead to do something they love. Perhaps, with the hope that they’ll make enough to pass that love onto the next generation.

Photo by Jim G from Silicon Valley, CA, USA. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-2.0

If you see a tasting room sign of a winery you’ve never heard of, give it a shot. You never know, it might become your new favorite.

While no one is entitled to a sale (the “Nice Guy Syndrome”) on the merit of being a small family winery alone, I do think these wineries deserve respect and at least the chance to earn your attention.

Today, there are so many agricultural crops that are nothing but commodities. Do you know who farmed your corn? Who harvested the peaches you enjoyed at lunch? Do you know where the grain that went into your bread or the milk in your butter came from?

We’ve lost our connection to so many of our food items because we’ve lost sight of the people behind them.

I don’t want to see the same thing happen to the wine industry. Which is why when small family wineries like Tinatini ask for our support, let’s not lose our opportunity to give it.

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The Wine Industry’s “Nice Guy Syndrome”

I’ve been working with Kenneth Friedenreich on his follow-up book to Oregon Wine Country Stories about the Stags Leap District. He’s been sharing some of his drafts on the prologue and, not to spoil anything, he includes a remarkable moment we had on our research trip watching a hawk swoop down into the vineyard to pluck a vole out amongst the vines.
Photo by Michael Warnock. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-3.0

Friedenreich expands on this imagery as a metaphor for many of the themes that he’s weaving into the SLD book. But reading his prose and recalling my memories of watching the cold realities of nature in action,  reminded me of Lisa Perrotti-Brown’s article last year for The Wine Advocate called “The Big Parkerization Lie.”

Now I’m not going to rehash the old Parkerization debate or drill deep into this article. But the image of the hawk and vole struck a similar chord with me as Perrotti-Brown’s three-point rebuttal of the Parkerization mythos. While I disagree with her that Parkerization is a “useful lie”, I do think people’s response to Parker (painting him as a villain) and Parkerization (This is why I’m not selling my wine!) is symptomatic of the “Nice Guy Syndrome” poking its head out in the wine industry.

No, I’m not going to make this post about sex either.

Photo of Cabernet Sauvignon aisle

Passionate winemakers working with great terroir is behind every wine on the top shelf–or so the story goes.

That’s because it’s not sex that wineries feel entitled to when they make good wine, but rather sales. There is a sentiment that if you have great land, work it diligently and put your passion into making wine that it’s going to sell. That it should sell.

And if it doesn’t? Well someone is to blame. From wine critics who promote particular styles of wine to distributors and gatekeepers with a stranglehold on consumer channels, they all throw up obstacles. Even pesky consumers, themselves, can be an obstacle such as those maddening Millennials turning their noses up in boredom at the old guard wines and grape varieties.

Those are all valid concerns and serious impediments that wineries do need to deal with. However, there is an even starker truth that is just as raw and stinging as watching a hawk snuff the life out of another animal.

No one needs to drink your wine.

There is no entitlement to sales. No entitlement to attention.

photo by gdcgraphics. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-SA-2.0

Well the actual line is “If you build it, HE will come” so maybe you can at least bank on Ray Liotta showing up at your tasting room.

It doesn’t matter if you have the most blessed terroir on earth, tended to by the best viticulture and winemaking teams that money can buy. It doesn’t matter if you have generations of heritage and tradition. None of that guarantees that people are going to care, much less beat a path down to your door.

The wine industry has never followed the quaint narrative of “If You Build It, They Will Come.”  You can build the best and be the best, but in the end, it doesn’t matter if you are the hawk or the vole. You stand just as good of a chance of missing out and going hungry as you do of being dinner yourself.

That is the nature of life and the nature of capitalism.

And, really, there’s no villain here.

I did have a Bambi “Oh My God!” moment watching the hawk snatch up that little vole. But the hawk is not a villain. Heck, from a vineyard perspective the vole is a dirty little bastard wreaking havoc among the vines. There is a reason why wineries build nesting boxes to encourage birds of prey to patrol the vineyard.

Photo by Marisszza. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-SA-4.0

But he’s just trying to support his little vole family!

But, honestly, the vole isn’t the bad guy either. It’s just trying to survive in the environment that it was born into– a situation that humans have shaped far more than a rodent species ever could.

Likewise, critics such as Robert Parker and the frustrating web of distributors and gatekeeping aren’t truly villainous either. Though I’ll give you that many of their tactics can make them prime, juicy targets. But, in their own way, they’re just hawks and voles doing their thing among the vines too.

The lesson of the hawk and vole is that nothing is owed to anyone. In the wine industry, there’s always going to be some combination of luck and circumstance that leads to success or failure. Some of that you can influence. But a fair amount of it boils down to being in the right or wrong place at any given time.

Ultimately, all you can do is just be glad for all the dinners you get and grateful for all the dinners you’re not.

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