Understanding Appellations and Wine Regulations

For the last eight years and counting, football has been engaged in internal controversy by the introduction of the Video Assistant Referee (VAR), an official who monitors on-field action from afar and alerts the on-pitch referee to a possible foul in the penalty box, a handball, or an off-side. Video replays have been used in other sports since the 1990s, but the belated introduction into football has been far from perfect. The implementation of VAR has been broadly criticised; its very existence has angered many football fans and commentators who complain that it interrupts the flow of the game and there aren’t enough wrong decisions to warrant using video replays. The fact that football rules are so open to interpretation means any decision in a game, whether made by the referee or his video assistant, is open to controversy.

Which leads us to the world of wine regulations. My first trade trip was to Languedoc, long the most anarchic of French wine regions. I was at a dinner with some local winemakers and they spent the entire evening (if you’ve never been to a trade meal in France, know that they’re long and there is a lot of food) complaining about the regulations for each appellation which they felt were confining and didn’t allow a true expression of where the wines come from. The bureaucracy had nothing to do with wine; the bureaucrats knew nothing about wine; the paperwork stopped winemakers from focusing on wine; the regulations meant nothing to the consumer; they inhibited innovation; and so on and so on.

It’s true that the rules of Languedoc’s many appellations are complicated and occasionally prohibitive. However, these regulations exist for a reason. Wine in Languedoc had for too long been high-volume, low-quality. Until the 1960s, Algerian wine was added to beef up the colour and fruitiness of the wines. The most planted variety was the forgettable—and now forgotten—Amaron, which was replaced by Carignan because of its high yields rather than a renewed focus on quality. By the 1980s, Languedoc was a significant contributor to EU’s wine lake as growers were guaranteed an annual fee for their grapes based on volume. Languedoc needed regulations to focus on quality which have resulted in wines which are far superior, even if the best producers feel the regulations are holding them back.

Visiting Priorat last year, Dominik Huber of Terroir al Limit complained vociferously about the rules that force producers to make wine that has a minimum 13.5% ABV regardless of vintage. Also in Spain, producers have left the Cava DO; Artadi have left Rioja DOCa. Late last year, I had lunch with Guillaume Pire of Fosse Sèche; he too complained about the regulations in the Saumur appellation in the Loire—to the extent he has left the designation and now labels the wines as Vin de France. His reason for leaving was the appellation body kept telling him the wines didn’t taste like Saumur even though they taste exactly like Saumur…

Just like VAR, when regulations are introduced it needs to be done well otherwise they do more harm than good. When Italy brought in the DOC system in the 1960s, it was a messy compromise between producers and the co-operatives who represented the many small growers. The creation of the Chianti DOC led to a sevenfold increase in plantings. Quality fell to such a degree that the top producers left the designation, leading to the unofficial Supertuscan category. Historic regions such as Valpolicella and Soave had similar problems. The Italian authorities reacted by creating new designations in an attempt to guarantee quality: DOCG, Classico, IGT. These new designations have mostly worked, improving the overall standard of Italy’s wines.

If these regulations are so often disputed and changed, why do we need them? The basic reason is that we as consumers need an assurance that the wine is what it says it is, and that we can drink it healthily and safely knowing its quality and provenance.

But how many layers of assurance do we need or care about? In California, a varietally-labelled wine only has to be 75% of that variety: Napa Cabernet Sauvignon is often a blend even if there’s no indication of that on the label. An AVA is purely geographical, with no rules on grape varieties, style, or yields. Is this liberty a good thing, or does it lead to consumer confusion and misunderstanding? If a wine is labelled as coming from Napa Valley when the legal requirement is that only 85% of the fruit has to come from Napa, is the labelling a lie or just an appreciation that producers need some leeway commercially and stylistically?

VAR was introduced to correct blatant errors, such as Thierry Henry’s double handball against Ireland in 2009 (still hurts), but has been used to correct incredibly marginal calls that otherwise wouldn’t have attracted comment. Likewise, appellation rules can be contradictory, sometimes quite open, other times very strict. The Languedoc appellations are an example of a myriad set of regulations: in St-Chinian, where quality is finally beginning to rise, the rules are a maximum of 40% of Carignan in the blend, a maximum 30% of Cinsault, and a minimum 60% of Syrah, Grenache, Lledoner Pelut, or Mourvèdre; in Minervois, there must be at least 20% of Syrah or Mourvèdre in the blend; in Faugères, Syrah, Grenache, and Mourvèdre are all mandatory, with a maximum 40% Carignan.

The list goes on, and it’s not difficult to understand why Languedoc producers complain. But wines from Languedoc are better and better, and winemakers across the country have an alternative: label their wine Vin de France and do what they like. Vin de France is a relatively new designation designed to allow competition with Australia’s multi-regional Geographical Indication system. That helps big producers to make wine on a big scale from grapes grown anywhere in France, which leads to a lack of authenticity. But it also allows small producers the flexibility to create their own personal rules without actually breaking any official rules.

Rules exist for a reason, it’s how society is contained. Officials in sport are almost always annoying, but they are necessary, and that’s true for appellations. But just as every sport has developed a different way of creating and interpreting rules, so too have all the different appellations of the world.