Understanding Appellations and Wine Regulations: The Controversies
Chile just announced a couple of new DOs (Denominación de Origen, the Spanish-language equivalent of an appellation): Rapa Nui, aka Easter Island, and Chiloé, which is an archipelago deep to the south of country. I had no idea that vines were grown on Easter Island, but apparently viticulture has been practised since the nineteenth century. And I had never even heard of Chiloé, which has extreme growing conditions so far south. We may not be seeing these wines in the international market any time soon but the announcement is significant as making them DOs gives the regions financial and logistical support, a presence within Chile’s wine industry, and they also show the attempt to diversify the industry beyond Chile’s traditional heartland in the centre of the country.
This is why appellations, and their equivalents, matter, however frustrating they can be. They tell us about place, grape varieties, styles of wine, solidifying the identity of a region. Appellation bodies support and promote the region and individual producers who are members. Even though producers complain endlessly about appellation rules, they remain part of the regional bodies because doing so helps sell the wines and makes it easier for customers to recognise where they’re from.
Nevertheless, some producers get so frustrated they leave the regional body all together. Raventós i Blanc is one. They were founded in 1986 by the former director of Codorníu, one of the two biggest Cava producers. Although Josep Maria Raventós i Blanc sadly died a few months after the winery was officially opened, he wanted to produce wines on a smaller scale maintaining the style and historic quality of Cava rather than the generic wines which were dominating the market at the time.
The quality of Raventós i Blanc has always been high, and they are rightly considered one of the stand-out producers in the region. But they felt constricted by the continual focus on quantity over quality by the big producers, and left the DO in 2012. The stated ambition was to create their own DO, called Conca del Ruí Anoia, and invite other producers to join them. That’s never happened, in part because it would involve a lot of bureaucracy and also because they were sued by a separate regional body who already had the rights to the name. Raventós i Blanc aren’t actually allowed to put Conca del Ruí Anoia on the label, though they still refer to it on the website and use it in the USA and I encounter people within the industry who refer to it as a DO or as a DO in the making.
What does it matter? Quality is high, it comes from the same place most Cava does, and the wines taste like Cava. So why not just call it Cava, and be done with it? Well, they’ve deliberately and intentionally sacrificed the right to be called Cava. It hasn’t done them any harm, but it’s still wrong to call it Cava. Doing so means producers like them receive all the benefits of the name without having to pay their dues to the DO or follow any particular set of rules that other producers have to. There’s nothing wrong with what Raventós i Blanc do, it’s more that industry people who should know better are too lazy to distinguish between a producer who’s within the DO and isn’t.
And, sadly, that includes international wine institutes. Last year, my wife attended a MW blind tasting where Gramona—another producer who left the Cava DO—was poured; it was listed as Cava, even though Gramona made a very vocal point in leaving the designation. Last year too, for the Diploma sparkling wine exam the WSET chose Raventós i Blanc “Blanc de Nit” Rosé which is a very pale-coloured and excellent pink Catalan sparkling wine. The WSET just released the examiners’ report, in which it was listed as Cava and the examiners noted: “Wine 1 was a Cava from Spain, with only approximately half of the candidates providing a positive identification. Aromas of rubber and earth, and the moderate level of acidity were key indicators, but many missed these.” Technically, it’s not Cava, so it’s not surprising only half of the candidates said so. “Aromas of rubber and earth” is a very generic description of Cava, and not something I would associate with this particular wine either.
It’s disappointing that educational organisations who lead industry understanding of wine aren’t able or willing to appreciate why appellations exist, why producers stay in them, why others leave them. It’s a fundamental part of the wine industry. It may not seem to matter much to the consumer, but actually it does because name recognition is key to buying wine. And if a student is expected to correctly identify a wine, it would be helpful if the name of the region was actually somewhere on the label.
What’s in a name? Sometimes, quite a lot.
