Wednesday, September 30, 2009
It's time to think beyond corkscrews
Gordon Kendall
Gordon Kendall's column, "Good Libations," runs monthly in Extra. He welcomes readers' questions and comments about wine, beer or spirits.
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The other night, I dreamed that I was walking a car lot shopping for a new car -- a sporty, high-performance model with luxury accoutrements.
"Want to take it for a spin?" a salesman queried.
"Sure," I replied, so he handed me the keys and I fired it up.
The exhaust had a nice baritone roar and the tachometer needle danced as I accelerated, but I noticed that my back was beginning to sweat and stick to the hot plastic seat. I turned around and drove back to the dealership.
"Are leather seats available for this model?" I asked.
"I am afraid not," the salesman replied. "The manufacturer has noticed that about 7 percent of the cars they equip with leather seats have a peculiar smell, like moldy newspaper," he explained. "Therefore only plastic seats are available."
I awoke from the dream in a pool of sweat, remembering my struggle with a plastic wine cork the night before. The cork was hard and resistant to the sharp end of the corkscrew worm.
When I finally got the corkscrew inserted, the friction between the cork and the glass bottleneck was about the same as two ceramic pieces that had been bonded with Super Glue.
Such is the state of wine stoppers today. I'm seeing an increasing number of bottles sealed with these plastic stoppers, which appear in every color of the rainbow.
Fine wine has been sealed with natural cork for centuries. Cork is a renewable resource because the outer bark is stripped from cork oak trees and it grows back.
Cork has a problem, however: About 7 percent of these stoppers are afflicted with cork taint. A chemical is sometimes produced when the corks are processed. The chemical, which is detectable in minute amounts, makes the entire bottle of wine smell like moldy newspaper.
Cork taint occurs randomly and does not discriminate on the basis of price. Wine producers got tired of random bottles stinking things up, so they sought alternatives. They tried various forms of plastic stoppers. A company called Nomacorc developed a foamed plastic cork that is extruded in such a way that it appears to be wrapped with a thin sheet of cork (it isn't). It allows a small amount of oxygen to come in contact with the wine. Whether wine needs miniscule quantities of air to age properly is debatable.
Another creative closure is the Zork, developed by an Australian company. The Zork has a plastic spiral around the neck of the bottle that can be peeled away by hand and then worn as a bracelet. The plastic stopper has a top that can be gripped by hand, so no corkscrew is required.
The enterprising firm Stelvin has developed a useful aluminum screw cap lined with a neutral seal that works great. Many forward-thinking wineries are using them now.
So, how come everyone isn't? It is all about perception.
About 20 years ago, any wine sealed with a screw cap was cheap swill consumed straight from a bottle swathed in a brown paper bag. Even today, screw caps carry the stigma of contemptible wine.
When people go to a fancy restaurant and splurge for a bottle of wine, they feel shortchanged when the sommelier twists off the top with a "crack!" With plastic, he can go through the ritual of using the corkscrew to pop the cork and then present it to you.
It will make a nice bobber the next time you go fishing.
People should learn not to be turned off by screw caps. Just because a pretentious ritual is performed to unseal a bottle does not guarantee quality. It would be fine with me if all wines were sealed with screw caps -- those fancy corkscrews can go on display in the Smithsonian next to a typewriter and a rotary dial telephone.
I will now slip into my car's leather seat and drive away.
Gordon Kendall's column runs once a month in Wednesday's Extra.
