Every wine lover has certainly heard of mineral wines or – at least – of
the minerality of wines, possibly remaining completely confused or, perhaps,
imagining that they will somehow find in the glass pebbles or solid substances in
the form of fascinating crystals. Perhaps imagining – maybe for having heard it
saying – those particular and elegant minerals are nothing more than the
unequivocal sign of the soil in which the vine is grown, which generously donates
its bunches to make that wine. Personally, I have been reading or hearing about
the minerality of wines – or mineral wines – for over thirty years and, frankly
speaking, I have heard the most disparate and imaginative definitions. Including
the fairy tale of mineral substances – here intended as insoluble solid
and crystalline inorganic compounds, therefore not the salts we define as
nutrients – which, from the zealous root of the vine, magically reach the
grape and, from here, give all their beauty to the wine that will be. Let's
immediately clarify this point: the minerality of a wine has nothing to do with
the soil or the territory, much less with the concept of terroir.
In this regard, I need to make a necessary premise: when I taste a wine and I
happen to perceive those sensations associated to the concept of
minerality, I make use of this descriptor – and you can also find it in
some detail forms of our Wine Guide – but I certainly never allude to or intend
to support any olfactory or gustatory association referred to minerals in the
strict sense. With this I am not excluding some mineral substances are
characterized by a specific smell, which is actually subtle and light, after all,
it is enough to pass your nose over them to be able to perceive it. Or in the
case of the effect of a mechanical or thermal action: simply rub some types of
minerals vigorously together and smell. Then there are more generous minerals in
this sense, such as flint (especially after rubbing) or warm stone. In any
case, it is never about the actual presence of that mineral in the wine. For
the sake of completeness, neither those minerals nor any other type of mineral.
Much less those that, with a lot of romantic and impossible imagination, are
absorbed from the ground and are magically found in the glass, in all their
sensorial splendor, at the end of vinification and aging.
Around this sensorial descriptor, however, I notice a certain interest in wine
enthusiasts, in particular the will – or better, the need – to have some kind
of clarification and, last but not least, to know a precise definition. This is
what I can see in the majority of tasting classes that I have been organizing and
holding for decades: every time, punctually, at least one participant asks for an
explanation on the concept of minerality of wines. I have already written
in the past in the pages of DiWineTaste what is meant when the mineral descriptor
is used, although there is no common or widely accepted definition, neither among
tasters nor enthusiasts. The thing that can be said, without fear of
contradiction, is that the concept of minerality is anything but the
sensorial stimulus produced by substances belonging to the so-called
minerals. Stating that a mineral character is perceived in a wine – at least
and certainly for me – is not referred to the presence of any mineral substance
or, even less, to any imaginative and extremely impossible probability of mineral
substances absorbed by the vine directly from the ground.
If mineral substances, even those which are sometimes used as descriptors are not
found in a wine, why are they mentioned? After all, if there is no trace of
flint, of any warm stone in a wine – and without any shadow of doubt, there
aren't – why use them as a reference for the sensorial description of a wine? I
could answer by saying that, in a wine – any wine – there is no trace of banana
at all, yet this descriptor is widely accepted and used. However, isoamyl acetate
is present, an ester whose smell is reminiscent of banana. This is to say that,
in the sensorial description of a wine – as well as of many other foods and
beverages – are used terms and descriptors which, by analogy, define an odor.
Certainly, for the majority, the descriptor banana rather than
isoamyl acetate is easier to understand and associate. The same is
therefore true for most of the descriptors used in sensorial tasting, including
minerality, that is we make use of description by analogy.
Things are quite different, of course, for substances commonly known to anyone
and actually found in wines, such as ethyl alcohol and acetic acid, therefore
vinegar. In these cases it is not used a description by analogy and it is used
its name instead. As for the minerality, however, a proper clarification should
be made, noting that – in fact – there has also been a lot of confusion and the
term has been used, and is still used, with careless superficiality and allusion.
Above all, as already mentioned, with the intention of attributing supposed
sensorial characteristics to the wine which are believed to be a direct
expression of the soil where the vines which produced the bunches used to make
that wine grew. Let's be clear: climate, environment, trend of the season, type
of soil, cultivation practices and, last but not least, grape variety, are all
factors influencing the sensorial qualities of a wine, although not being the
only ones. To these must be added, undeniably, the operations performed by man at
the time of the harvesting of bunches up to the moment the wine is poured into
the glass. It is however and certainly excluded that the roots of the vine are
capable of absorbing the solid mineral substances of the soil and making
them reach the grape.
So what is the minerality of a wine? Or better, what produces that sensation
which is variously defined as minerality in a wine? In this regard, it must
be said there is no exact and reliable description of the reasons determining
this sensation in a wine. It must be said that, very often, this sensation is
generally perceived in white wines characterized by a strong acidity, often
produced – but not exclusively – in territories with a basically cold climate.
Furthermore, the sensation of minerality is often found in wines from vineyards
cultivated in basically alkaline soils, such as those with a high percentage of
limestone or chalk. The most probable reason or, at least, the one that seems to
have a quite accepted foundation, is that the sensation of minerality is produced
by the reduction of certain sulfur compounds and which is mainly perceived by the
nose. This condition – in fact – is conditioned by wine making factors and
practices as well as by the ripening of the grapes at the time of harvesting,
last but not least, by the type of closure used for the bottle and which directly
influences the creation of a reduced environment, that is, it limits the exchange
of oxygen.
For some, minerality is an unmistakable sign of quality, as well as the
expression of the territory through wine: in both cases, let me express my utmost
and convinced perplexity. It should also be noted, in fact, that a wine defined
as mineral, in case it is subjected for a sufficient time to the action of
oxygen, this characteristic gradually tends to attenuate, thus making one think
that it is – last but not least – a phenomenon linked to the reduction of
sulfur compounds. Back to the olfactory analogy of isoamyl acetate and banana, it
is certainly more understandable – even though nebulous – to define a
wine as mineral rather than stating it is being perceived a smell of
reduced sulfur compounds. Of the two, the former seems to me the lesser evil one
and probably more understandable despite the difficulty of having and using a
shared and reliable definition. There is no doubt the story and the fad
for mineral wines have been well exploited by producers and experts for
purely speculative as well as commercial and promotional purposes. However, the
fact remains that mineral is an organoleptic descriptor widely used for
over twenty years now, despite – it must be acknowledged – it has often been
used inappropriately and carelessly. So, while waiting for a valid alternative
descriptor to be found, and hopefully even the certainty of a rigorously
scientific definition and explanation, we can continue to use the term
mineral. Possibly, it seems appropriate to say, cum grano salis.
Antonello Biancalana
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