I should think the hardest thing for a winery business manager is to figure out what’s going to be selling years down the road.
I mean, you can look at almost any wine variety or type in America and quickly find a time when it wasn’t popular. Or when it was popular, and then wasn’t. Nobody cared about Pinot Noir twenty years ago because nobody ever thought it would be enjoyed by so many millions of consumers. Consequently, when Pinot started becoming huge, after Sideways, vintners couldn’t plant it fast enough. That was an example of sin by omission: wineries didn’t do something they should have.
Then there are sins of commission, such as planting stuff you think will be popular down the road, then finding out it’s not. That’s what happened with Moscato. We had the hip-hop-fueled Moscato craze, so a lot of people, from a lot of famous wineries, put it in as fast as they could. Today? Consumers are dropping Moscato faster than Kim Davis sheds husbands, so if you were stuck with hundreds of acres of it, you’re up the river.
What’s a winemaker to do?
One wine that’s really fallen out of style is Port. I mean authentic, Portuguese Port, not the domestic stuff. It’s too bad, really, because a good Port is a fabulous wine. I have some in my cellar, and am always looking for an opportunity to pop the corks. I love a good LBV, which doesn’t cost very much and is so delicious. But to tell you the truth, I haven’t had much Port for a long time. Nothing personal, but it just doesn’t fit in with the way I eat, drink and live.
And apparently I’m not the only one who’s drinking less Port. This article from The Guardian, in Merrie Olde England, describes how some Port companies are so upset about how seldom Millennials drink Port that they’re trying to figure out ways to convince them to do it: pop-up bars, winemaker dinners; Fladgate has even invented a “rosé Port” that’s all about “about attracting new consumers and also bringing down the price.” And then, of course, there’s the inevitable “Port cocktail,” something that would have blown great-grandpa’s mind.
I wish them well, but what is this idea that anything “pop-up” is automatically going to be of interest to Millennials? Or that all you have to do to convince a twenty-something to drink something is to put it into a cocktail? Or that calling something “pink” will make Mary Millennial love it? Aren’t all three of those concepts a little condescending to Millennials, who—we would hope—are about much more than pink pop-up cocktails?
I doubt that there’s any way to resuscitate Port’s reputation. It’s not that it has a bad one—it doesn’t. It’s just that Port hasn’t figured out a way to become relevant, and indeed, there may not be a way. Port was a product of post-Elizabethan England. Oxford dons drank it, and Lords with vast cellars underneath their castles who had forever to age it. Our own Founding Fathers liked it, along with other wines whose time has gone, such as Madeira. Not much of that sold in America these days.
And yet, what was possibly Thomas Jefferson’s favorite wine remains one of the top sellers in the world today: Claret or, as we know it, Bordeaux, and by extension, Cabernet Sauvignon. If Port and Maderia had been stocks on the market, you would have gotten slaughtered investing in them. If you’d put your money into a modest little Haut Médoc chateau 250 years ago, you’d have made a really good investment.
Which brings us back to those poor, beleaguered winery managers. What should they put their money on? Are Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay still safe bets? Will today’s 26-year old Millennial be drinking them when she’s 70? Probably. Those varieties have stood the test of time.