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The center of our planet—a distance which, as the crow flies, is about the same as taking a flight from Pittsburgh to Paris in France—is about 11,000 degrees Fahrenheit (6,100 degrees Celsius), or about as hot as the surface of the sun.
That heat is partially responsible for creating a veritable rodeo of tectonic forces near the earth’s crust. Massive ‘plates’–between 10 and 125 miles (15 and 200 kilometers) thick smash and submerge, collide and create mountain ranges over lengths of geologic time we cannot comprehend—millions of years in comparison to perhaps a century of human life.
The book Volcanic Wines—Salt, Grit and Power by John Szabo reasons that the very complexity of volcanic soils can help create distinct wines. Szabo is a Toronto based Master Sommelier and wine critic, and his book is published by Jacqui Small.
“My goal is to shed light on darker cases…on singular wines of the planet,” Szabo said when we recently spoke together.
Although geologically different than the limestone underlaying many well known wine regions, volcanic soils share richness in physical and mineral complexity.
“Volcanic soils nurture the world’s most prized coffee shrubs and intensely flavored vegetables, and, to get to the point, wine grapes,” Szabo kicks off his book with, adding, “…I’d like to share my belief that volcanic wines represent a worthy collection of highly distinctive, individual expressions—stubborn holdouts in a world of merging flavors.”
This book is rich with photographs (from Oregon sunsets over vines, to ancient cellars near Mount Etna) and begins with a succinct overview of geology and volcanoes, then tours the world.
First, a clarification. “There is no such thin as ‘volcanic wine.’ There are, however, wines grown on volcanic soils,” Szabo states.
Many volcanic soils have not had time to transform into clay, which retains water, and these soils are often relatively infertile. These stresses can impact vines to produce smaller grape bunches that have less fruit with thicker skins. This can concentrate flavor and add structure to wines. Additionally, the distinct chemistry of different volcanic soils indirectly impacts flavor (examples include potassium levels in parts of Hungary, the Azores and Santorini, or iron in the soils in Washington State and Soave, Italy).
Consider Dundee Hills viticultural area (AVA) in the U.S. state of Oregon. Uniformly volcanic, this was first planted in 1966 with Pinot Noir by David Lett. Today, the region now produces, according to Szabo, “…many of the finest and most elegant, supple and succulent Pinot Noirs of Oregon.” The region’s rise to wine stardom was boosted in 1987 when renowned Burgundian négociant Robert Drouhin and his daughter Véronique arrived to set up their own vineyards on volcanic soils (Dundee and Eola-Amity Hills vineyards).
Northern California and Washington State wines also benefit from their tectonic heritage. Parts of both Napa and Sonoma valleys in California are underlain by the obsidian, pyroclastic tuff and andesite breccias that are part of a geologic formation known as ‘Sonoma Volcanics.’
Can volcanic soil (or any soil) impact the flavor of wine? This age-old question in the wine world constantly incites debate. The French concept of terroir implies that each plot of vineyard has a unique geographical fingerprint which impacts the eventual taste of its wine. Factors include soils, hill slope, climate and wind. The concept is both romantic and empirical. Do facts back it up? Though Szabo’s book is not intended to argue the merits of terroir, he inadvertently uncovers a few pieces of research that favor the notion.
For example, Szabo quotes Professor Kevin Pogue, who lectures on geology at Whitman College in Walla Walla in Washington State. He noted a high concentration of iron in many of the exposed fractured basalts in the state. The text reads, “…continues Pogue, ‘unlike most elements, the concentration of iron in grapes and vineyard soils has been demonstrated to be directly related,’ it stands to reason that wine chemistry, and by extension, texture and flavor, are affected by the high iron concentration, however circuitously. Proving that scientifically, however, is another matter altogether.”
A scientist in Germany, mentioned in Szabo's book, is more forthright.
Professor Dr. Ulrich Fischer, Head of Viticulture and Oenology and Sensory Evaluation at the DLR-Rheinpfalz in Neustadt (a town whose name merrily translates to ‘new town on the wine route’) noted that Riesling wine made from grapes grown on the same types of soil share similarities, even if the plots are far apart. He concluded, “…analysis showed a clear impact of terroir on the sensory properties of German Riesling, despite vintage and winemaking influences.”
Regardless of the impact of terroir on taste, many wine grapes grown on volcanic soils survived the phylloxera outbreak that decimated vine roots throughout much of the world in the 19th century. Such infertile soils are often inhospitable to these microscopic insects. The harshness of these volcanic soils, therefore, kept many lesser known grapes in production.
“Many indigenous wine grapes were saved because of a lack of phylloxera in volcanic regions, such as the Canary islands,” Szabo said when we spoke. Today some 80 varieties of wine grapes grow on the Canary Islands (which is home to El Teide—not only the tallest peak in all of Spain, but the world’s third highest volcano). He elaborates in his book: “The vineyards, left unmolested, evolved as though frozen in time, with many antique grapes still in production, while in many cases their peninsular ancestors have all but been abandoned and become extinct.”
The book takes us to Chile (a country with magnificent volcanic soils which many vintners pay little attention to as of yet) then to ‘Macaronesia,’ the European cluster of Atlantic islands that includes Portuguese Madeira and the Azores, the Canary Islands of Spain and Cape Verde. From there the book strikes off to mainland Europe, where German and Italian wine regions and specific vineyards are dissected in detail to provide the influence of volcanic soils on whites and reds.
Wines grown on volcanic soils often have high acidity, salinity and a savory character. Szabo adds, “Minerality and volcanic wines walk hand-in-hand.” For examples, consider the base of Mount Etna on the island of Sicily, Italy. There, Carricante is the principal white wine grape variety, “…defined by stony flavors and salinity,” Szabo notes. The dominant red is Nerello Mascalese, a grape that “features high acids and significant tannins, which can be somewhat fierce if not fully ripe, and marvelous perfume, full of wild strawberry, sour cherry and currants…” he adds.
The explorations of Santorini and Hungary include mention not only of wine, but of history—a facet that adds to the book’s intrigue. This is not a conventional tour of known and renowned wine regions of the world, but a journey through lush lands, wild isles and a few charmingly near forgotten rural landscapes.
Filled with striking photos, the book is attractive and comprehensive. For each region a list (with descriptions) of wineries is included. The text also provides incentive to travel—whether to the Zemplèn Hills of Hungary’s Great Plain, the ancient vineyards of Campania in Italy or through Washington and Oregon along the Columbia River Gorge.
For sommeliers and wine lovers, the topic of 'volcanic wines' adds a new dimension for exploring the impact of place on taste.
