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That Was a Good Year*

By Sylvia Jansen, DipWSET, CSW, Sommelier

*Said no one about 2020.

For most of us, 2020 is a year to forget, to write off, or to be remembered as a time that showed us the frailty of the human family. But for wine grapes grown in 2020 in Champagne, or Bordeaux, or Tuscany, it is a different story: a vintage with some potential.

When grapes make their journey from harvest to fermentation, ageing, blending, and bottling, they are normally kept separate from the harvest of other years. The date that appears on a wine label is the vintage, the year of harvest (in the northern hemisphere, roughly September to October; in the southern hemisphere, March to April). The quality and quantity of the vintage depends largely on the weather during the growing and harvest seasons. Generally, the further from the equator, the more conditions vary from one year to the next. Influences such as spring frosts, hail, extreme summer weather (cold or hot), or a very wet harvest season can all inflict their own special torment on the vine and wine growers. Add to that variations caused by humans (vine management decisions, smoke and damage from forest fires, even war), and there are a lot of variables. When it works well, the very best wines let us taste warmth and sun, and invite us into a conversation with the people who pulled it all together.

Even though our collective attention to vintage is not new (Roman writers praised certain vintages over others), it took us a long time before we marketed wines this way. Before the 18th century, wine was stored and shipped in large containers, including clay amphorae and barrels. When glass bottles began to look less like black water balloons and more like cylinders, they could be stored reliably. Eventually we used paper labels on bottles to report what was inside. The vintage was recorded. Laws and rules were established, first to allow wine to be sold in bottles, then to ensure that what was said on the bottle label was accurate.

Not every wine label sports a vintage year. When a vintage is absent, it usually means that the wine is the result of blending from several years. Famous quality examples of this practice include most Champagne (where older “reserve” wines can give character and depth), Port (where “vintage” Port is only a tiny proportion of production, even if it grabs most of the attention), and Sherry (where its charm stems from older wines being blended with younger). In ordinary table wine, no vintage can mean the wine is bulkblended to taste exactly the same, year in and year out—something fine and fair if the price is also modest.

For those looking to age wine, vintage matters. Some years are better than others, and some years prove better for ageing than others. Research also matters: many vintage assessments are made shortly after harvest, and early predictions are not always borne out in the long run. Perhaps most importantly, the producer and the wine quality matter. For example, 2010 was widely considered a banner vintage in Bordeaux. Collectors will cellar a selection of top 2010 Bordeaux reds and make provisions in their wills in case the wine outlives the owner. But a 2010 bargain Bordeaux red is by now getting to be a good candidate for soup stock, not the cellar. Do not bother putting that one in your will.

As for 2020, will we ever think of it as a good year? Well, the grapes tell us we might. There will be a lot of conversations to have about the remarkable 2020. Some will be inspiring.

So here’s to a good year, for us all.