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Grape RotThe new Wine Spectator's distinct aroma of fishiness.

By Michael Steinberger
Updated Thursday, Dec. 26, 2002, at 2:35 PM ET

Scroll down for Wine Spectator's response and the author's reply to it.

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As if the holiday season isn't enough of a fillip for wine merchants, December confers another gift: Wine Spectator's annual Top 100. The Spectator is the outsized glossy that combines lifestyle features with wine ratings—the Robb Report meets Consumer Reports. Each December, the magazine ranks what it considers to be the 100 "most exciting" wines to have hit the market in the preceding 12 months, a designation that invariably ups their prices. This year's top scorer, the so-called Wine of the Year, is Etienne Guigal's 1999 Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Given the amount of abuse the Spectator takes from serious wine geeks, the selection of the Guigal can only be described as an act of self-mutilation.

With a paid circulation of more than 200,000, the Spectator is by far the most widely distributed wine publication (full disclosure: I have contributed two pieces to the magazine in recent years). Its content appears tailored to attract two groups of wine drinkers: trophy hunters and people fairly new to oenophilia. For the uninitiated, the Spectator is a superb gateway product: informative, topical, easy on the eyes, mercifully light on the jargon. Especially useful are its primers on wine regions and winemaking techniques. It also counts among its columnists Matt Kramer, one of the more insightful and entertaining wine writers around.

To appeal to the poseurs, the magazine runs lots of unctuous stories about insta-billionaires and their custom-designed cellars, invariably stocked with a millennium's supply of swank wines. It is partly for this reason that the Spectator is considered a joke by many wine sophisticates; some call it the "Speculator" after the aforementioned trophy hunters. The magazine is also knocked for its ratings, which are seen as inconsistent and inflated relative to other critics, and for its coverage, which often tends toward the sensational (indeed, "Vintage of the Decade" and "Vintage of the Century" are common headlines). (Editor's note: The magazine's superlatives are phrased a little bit differently. Please scroll down to Steinberger's response for more.)

Then there is the issue of advertising. Unlike Robert Parker, who relies entirely on subscriptions for the Wine Advocate, the Spectator carries ads, the majority of them from wineries. It's never been proved that advertisers influence scores, but suspicions run deep, especially in wine chat rooms. Which brings us back to the Wine of the Year. In bestowing its highest honor on Guigal's 1999 Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the Spectator has effectively issued a gold-plated "Kick Me" invitation to its critics.

The choice simply cannot be explained in a way that reflects favorably on the magazine. The editors claim to use four criteria for the Top 100: quality, value, availability, and what they term the "x factor" excitement. The whole notion of a wine of the year is asinine, of course. And it is absurd that the Spectator continues to weight value and availability because once it's crowned, the wine of the year skyrockets in price and disappears from the market. Nevertheless, it is true that, up until its moment of triumph, the Guigal Châteauneuf-du-Pape was easy to find and relatively cheap: 13,000 cases were produced in 1999, and individual bottles were selling for between $20 and $35.

But quality and excitement? These are not the first words that come to mind. Guigal is a major producer in the Northern Rhône, specializing in Cote-Rotie. The firm also doubles as a negociant, purchasing grapes and brand-new wines from elsewhere in the Rhône and selling the finished products under its own label. This is what it does in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the Southern Rhône's leading appellation. Guigal owns no land there, and its Châateauneuf-du-Pape is truly a wine of last resort: You drink it if you're in the mood for a Châteauneuf and there is nothing else around. In his latest Wine Buyer's Guide, Parker, who is generally considered at his best with Rhône wines, rated more than 50 other houses as consistently making finer Châteauneuf-du-Pape than Guigal.

Moreover, while 1999 was a good year for Châteauneuf-du-Pape, it was hardly a resounding success; the great vintages for the Southern Rhône were 1998 and 2000. Here's where the plot thickens: 1999 was an amazing vintage in the Northern Rhône. If the Spectator was determined to pick an affordable Guigal wine, common sense would suggest Guigal's 1999 Cote-Rotie Brune et Blonde. The Brune et Blonde is Guigal's bread and butter; the 1999, of which more than 20,000 cases were apparently made, sells for between $30 and $40, and while I didn't love it—I found it a bit oaky and anonymous—it was a definite step up from the clunky Châteauneuf-du-Pape. To be fair, Parker liked the Châteauneuf a bit better than I did, awarding it a 91, his equivalent of an A-minus. To me, the only really interesting thing about the wine was its funky nose, which mixed cherry and tobacco aromas with what I swear was a whiff of men's cologne. I switched glasses three times to make sure the smell wasn't coming from the stemware and ran the wine past my wife and mother-in-law, both of whom also detected a little Paco Rabanne. If that were my wine of the year, I'd want to turn the calendar back.

Why would the Spectator choose as its wine of the year a Châteauneuf that is considered middling at best, from the Southern Rhône's least noteworthy recent vintage, made by a producer that doesn't even own a vineyard in the appellation? Naturally, Spectator-bashers smell a rat. (And not for the first time: In 1999, the Spectator gave top honors to a wine that hadn't actually been released, a Bordeaux blend made by an estate owned by a wine conglomerate that advertises in the magazine; needless to say, the conspiracy-minded milked that one for months.) With Guigal, the black-helicopter crowd would probably connect the dots like this: Guigal has a huge advertising budget, the firm is said to be on the verge of buying a major Châteauneuf vineyard, the Spectator has now put Guigal on the Châteauneuf map, and ... well, you get the idea. [In fact, Guigal has no advertising budget, as this Fray post explains.]

I think the magazine was simply trying to reflect two trends: People are economizing, and the Rhône Valley is hot. The problem is the Spectator is probably at its least reliable with the wines of the Rhône. Obviously, there is no accounting for taste, and wine criticism is subjective, but the Spectator spends a lot of time as a minority of one in the Rhône. Take the 1998 Beaucastel Hommage, a Jacques Perrin limited production Châteauneuf-du-Pape. It is, by common consent, one of the greatest Châteauneufs of the past quarter-century. Parker awarded it 100 points, a perfect score. I've had the '98 Hommage, and if I did wine by the numbers, I would have said 110; it was that good. (At $350 a bottle, it should be.)

The Spectator gave it a paltry 90 (it gave the '99 Guigal Châteauneuf a 93), a score so inexplicably low that I can only assume its Rhône critic brushed with anchovy paste that morning. When it comes to Rhône wines, the Spectator seems to inhabit a parallel universe, so perhaps the magazine really does believe that the Guigal is something special.

And it's entirely possible, too, that the Spectator just doesn't care about its image problem. Most of its readers are blissfully unaware of the slings and arrows it attracts in certain quarters. They didn't laugh when they learned that Guigal's Châteauneuf had been tapped as wine of the year; they raced out to buy the wine. I will confess that I laughed—and then I raced out to buy it. I generally don't speculate on wine, but with my wine-buying being a perennial sticking point on the home front, I couldn't pass up the easy money. I found the one retailer in the area who hadn't heard the news and grabbed his two remaining bottles of the 1999 Guigal Châteauneuf at $20 each. The one I didn't taste will be on the block shortly at Winecommune.com, where the Guigal is now fetching $60 a bottle. All of which just goes to prove that the Spectator can occasionally benefit even the most jaded wine drinker.

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Wine Spectator responds:

20 December, 2002

Jacob Weisberg
Editor
Slate

Dear Mr. Weisberg,

I write in response to "Grape Rot, Michael Steinberger's malicious rant against Wine Spectator magazine's Top 100 Wines of the Year, posted on Slate on Dec. 19.

This article is filled with errors, unsubstantiated allegations, unfair generalizations and slanderous innuendo. I am surprised that Slate saw fit to publish it, and shocked that your editors and fact-checkers didn't bother to contact Wine Spectator for response or rebuttal before you posted it.

First, the factual errors, in the order in which they appear in the story:

"a paid circulation of more than 200,000" Wine Spectator's circulation is 347,000, according to an ABC audit in June, 2002. Technically, this is "more than 200,000," but understating the true circulation by almost half is an indication of Steinberger's intent to malign the magazine.

"indeed, 'Vintage of the Decade' and 'Vintage of the Century' are common headlines."A search through our online archives (www.winespectator.com) reveals exactly one match for these headlines.

"In 1999, Wine Spectator gave top honors to a wine that hadn't actually been released..."The wine he's referring to is Chateau St. Jean Cinq Cepages 1999. The wine was in fact released during the year, although it rolled out over a four-month period. A call to Chateau St. Jean could have confirmed this.

"Guigal has a huge advertising budget…"Guigal has never advertised in Wine Spectator. In fact, according to Guigal's US importer, the company has a policy against advertising, and has never done so. This could have been ascertained by a phone call to Fred Ek, Guigal's long-time importer.

Concerning the 1998 Beaucastel Hommage a Jacques Perrin, "the Wine Spectator gave it a paltry 90."Wine Spectator scored this wine 94 points. This could easily have been ascertained through our Web site.

If these errors weren't bad enough, the allegations and innuendoes are even worse.

First, he tries to destroy our reputation for serious journalism and authoritative criticism. Who are the "many wine sophisticates" who consider the magazine a "joke," our ratings "inconsistent and inflated relative to other critics." Certainly not our 1.5 million readers, by far the largest readership of any wine publication in the world. If Wine Spectator were so untrustworthy, why is it that we have never had a year of circulation decline, despite charging $45 for a subscription, higher than virtually all other consumer magazines? (I might point out that we even have a substantial paid circulation for Full Access to our Web site – something Slate was unable to achieve!)

Even more destructively, he attacks our integrity and honesty. "Then there is the issue of advertising," he writes. Well, Slate also accepts advertising. Does that make you unethical and untrustworthy? And what about the issue of blind tasting? It's true that Robert Parker, whom Steinberger seems to revere, doesn't accept advertising. But Parker admits he doesn't always taste blind. We always do. Which approach offers more room for "adjustment" and "favors" to friends? I am not accusing Parker of lacking integrity. Why would you allow Steinberger to accuse us?

His use of the words "rot, ""fishiness," "the plot thickens" -- all these are code words to condemn us as corrupt. He tries to dance around the subject by attributing these "suspicions" that "run deep" to unnamed "wine chat rooms," but simply adds fuel to the fire wherever possible. This is not journalism. This is character assassination. Can he – or you – adduce even one verified example of Wine Spectator giving a favorable rating to an advertiser? Is it honest journalism to attack without a shred of evidence?

Finally, his argument that choosing the Guigal Chateauneuf-du-Pape 1999 as our wine of the year "cannot be explained in a way that reflects favorably on the magazine" falls apart under even cursory examination.

Choosing a "Wine of the Year" is indeed a subjective process; that's the point. Steinberger calls "the whole notion… asinine," but I notice Slate also indulges (in the "five best indie records of the year", for example.) But we do take objective elements into account. We make our choice based on four criteria: 1) quality (as reflected in our score, always arrived at in blind tastings), 2) value (as reflected by the release price of the wine), 3) availability (considering that it is more difficult and more admirable to make larger quantities of a wine than smaller ones), and 4) "excitement" (which takes into account the achievement of the wine and winemaker in the specific region and vintage).

Guigal's Chateauneuf scored 93 points from Wine Spectator in blind tastings, or "outstanding" on our 100-point scale. Steinberger may not like the wine, but what qualifications does he have as a wine critic? He tries to imply that Robert Parker doesn't like it, but Parker scored it 91, not so far from our score, and also outstanding. So it qualifies on the first count.

The wine was released for $30 per bottle. Steinberger found it for $20. The average price for wines in our Top 100 was $42.80. The Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape that Steinberger prefers cost $350. So the Guigal clearly qualifies as a value.

Guigal made more than 13,000 cases of this wine. That's generous availability, and large for Chateauneuf (only 415 cases were made of the Beaucastel Hommage a Jacques Perrin).

Finally, Steinberger tries to portray Guigal as some sort of mass-market merchant who produces wines of mediocre quality. Any fair-minded, informed wine lover knows Guigal is passionate, talented, modest, devoted to his craft, and a figure of historical importance in the Rhone Valley. This 1999 Chateauneuf is an outstanding effort by an extraordinary winemaker in a difficult vintage, made in heroic quantities for its quality, and sold at an extremely fair price. Steinberger may not think that justifies making it our Wine of the Year. We do. Did your editors even bother to read the Wine Spectator article explaining our choice? It's readily available on our Web site.

I am personally distressed that Steinberger – who has written for us, has benefited from my patient editing and happily taken our money – would write such a slanderous story without even calling me to check his facts. I have written to tell him so (and copied Slate on the email.) This suggests to me that he was less interested in a fair and truthful story than in pursuing some personal agenda at any cost.

I am professionally outraged that Slate's editors and fact-checkers declined to check the story or offer Wine Spectator a chance to rebut or refute his allegations.

Mr. Weisberg, if you have any sense of journalistic integrity, Slate will allow us to respond to Steinberger's malicious and inaccurate article – by publishing this letter, an Editor's Note correcting his errors, and pulling "Grape Rot" from your site. And if you are intent on maintaining the credibility of Slate, I respectfully suggest that you no longer accept Steiberger's unprofessional and potentially libelous contributions.

As a professional courtesy, I would appreciate a prompt response to this letter. The longer this article remains posted on your site, the more damage is done to Wine Spectator.

Sincerely,

-- Thomas Matthews
Executive editor
Wine Spectator

(To reply, click here.)


Michael Steinberger responds:

In a note I received last week from Tom Matthews, he accused me of "sacrificing truth for style points" in asserting that the Spectator awarded the 1998 Beaucastel Hommage a Jacques Perrin a 90. The magazine did rate the wine a 90; the review was published in the December 15, 2001, issue. It has now come to my attention that the Spectator revisited the wine five issues ago and bumped up its score by four points. Why didn't I know this? Simple: Apart from the rare Rayas or Jaboulet vertical, the Spectator does not do follow-up reviews of Rhone wines.

The 1998 Hommage is the only 1998 Chateauneuf that the Spectator has reviewed twice and the only young Rhone wine I have ever known the magazine to review twice within a year. Given the kind of praise that has been lavished on the 98 Hommage by the likes of Robert Parker, Steve Tanzer, Clive Coates, and Michael Broadbent, it's obvious why the magazine felt the need to reassess the wine, and I commend it for doing so (although it could have been a little more candid with its readers, some of whom were undoubtedly perplexed to find the 98 Hommage making a return appearance with no explanation offered.)

No only did Mr. Matthews fail to acknowledge that 90 was the original score; he failed to acknowledge that the score was changed only after the magazine took the highly unusual, perhaps unprecedented, step of re-reviewing the wine just eight months after the initial assessment was offered. I'll leave it to readers to decide who is sacrificing the truth here.

I did cite "Vintage of the Century" and "Vintage of the Decade" as common headlines, and the magazine does vary its language a bit more than I allowed. Here are some that I found in its archives: "The Wine of the Century" (Dec 31 '97), "Wines of the Century" (Jul 31 '99), "Sale of the Century" (Nov 15 '97), "California's Vintage of the Century" (Nov 7 '00), "Best Ever" (Oct 31 '97), "Best Vintage Ever" (Nov 15 '00), "Brunello's Greatest Year" (Nov 30 '96), "The Greatest Brunellos Ever" (Jul 03 '02), "Benchmark Vintage" (Nov 30 '01), "2000 Bordeaux—Looks Like the Best Vintage of the Decade" (Jan 02 '01).

I wrote that the Spectator has "more than 200,000" paid subscribers. This is correct. The number was cited in order to buttress my statement that "the Spectator is by far the most widely distributed wine journal." I am at a loss to understand how my phrasing maligns the magazine.

Unable to offer to a convincing explanation for the magazine's choice for Wine of the Year, Mr. Matthews is trying to make this a dispute about Marcel Guigal, claiming that I think Guigal is "just a hack negociant." Nowhere did I say anything of the kind, and nowhere did I show Mr. Guigal any disrespect. He is a brilliant winemaker and a superb businessman. But Wine of the Year is not a lifetime achievement award.

The issue isn't Mr. Guigal. He didn't crown his 1999 Chateauneuf the Wine of the Year; the Spectator did. I don't happen to believe that Guigal's Chateauneuf is a particularly good wine, and it is far from the best produced in the appellation. Shall we poll 100 wine merchants to see whether I'm in the majority or minority on this one? And since when is the difficulty of the vintage a factor in determining the Wine of the Year? Does this mean that after the disaster visited on Piedmont this year, we can expect a 2002 Barolo or Barbaresco to be a future Wine of the Year?

I did not say that Guigal advertises in the Spectator. In fact, prior to writing the article, I flipped through a number of issues of the Spectator and found not a single Guigal ad. I was making the point that those who are inclined to think the Spectator is corrupt will assume—indeed, they have assumed—that the selection of the 99 Guigal Chateauneuf as Wine of the Year was motivated by advertising needs. I attributed this claim to a group I derisively referred to as the "black helicopter crowd," and in the very next sentence I dismissed the idea that there was some sort of quid pro quo here. If I believed that advertising, either past or future, played a part in the decision, if I believed that Guigal's regular participation in the Wine Experience was a factor, I would have said so.

As a more general point, Mr. Matthews repeatedly claims that I've accused the Spectator of corruption. In fact, I stated that no one has ever produced evidence that the magazine rewards advertisers with higher scores. Again, I also said that I don't believe that the choice of the 99 Guigal Chateauneuf as Wine of the Year was dictated by business concerns.

Is Mr. Matthews seriously suggesting that the Spectator's selection of the 1996 Cinq Cepages as its Wine of the Year in 1999 wasn't a complete debacle? A token tranche—an invisible tranche, really—of the 96 Cinq Cepages was released in 1999. Most of the wine didn't hit the market until 2000, and at more than double the price it was selling for just six months earlier. It was a fiasco for the magazine, and for Mr. Matthews to now pretend otherwise is simply comical, if not altogether surprising.

The choice of the Guigal Chateauneuf as this year's Wine of the Year strikes many people, including me, as preposterous. One can debate the wine's merits. What is beyond dispute is this: The Guigal Chateauneuf is nowhere close to being the best Chateauneuf on the market—indeed, it's a nonentity as Chateauneuf goes—and 1999 was the weakest of the four most recent vintages in the Southern Rhone. How on earth is this the Wine of the Year? That's the question many serious wine drinkers are asking, and this was the point I conveyed in the article.

—Michael Steinberger

(To reply click here)

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