“I really like it, but I wouldn’t serve it to most of my friends.”
The wine the respected British wine critic was talking about was an ultra-dry Champagne almost guaranteed to remove the plaque, and then the enamel, from one’s teeth.
Would he recommend it in a column or online? I wondered. And if so, how clear a warning would he give his readers?
Wine, as has been increasingly pointed out in the US by those taking a stand against the anti-alcohol campaigners, is a convivial beverage. I know there are collectors who are happy to sit by themselves, sipping their way through a single Zalto whose contents have been Coravined from a dusty treasure in the cellar. But that’s not how most people imagine wine drinking; usually two or more people are involved.
When these are wine geeks, some kind of collective and considered choice may have been made, especially in a restaurant. More often than not, however, one person, usually the host, will have ultimately decided what everyone gets to drink.
Each to their own
And, at a dinner party, when the host’s bottle has been emptied, it’s often time to move on to one that arrived with a guest. In the statistically unlikely event that he or she has a deep interest in wine and has spent time deciding what to bring, that person may be delighted to taste it rather than see it consigned for consumption on another occasion when they’re not present. However, it is just as possible that the bottle was grabbed from the rack at home or picked up hastily from a store en route. “We’re already horribly late. Just get something.” The thought of bringing a bottle that everyone will enjoy is unlikely to have crossed their mind.
Where, I wonder does wine recommendation fit into these scenarios?
I was prompted to write this by yet another earnest online discussion of whether AI could ever replace a human being when it comes to offering advice about wine.
For what it is worth, my contribution to this debate would be to say, firstly that most people never encounter a human wine advisor. They rarely if ever go to restaurants with trained wine servers and when they do, the discussion is most likely over what will be the best compromise for a table of four that has chosen to order duck, curried chicken, fish and a vegetarian dish.
They buy their wine online or in a supermarket or self-service store that doesn’t employ staff with wine knowledge. Any advice they get on these occasions probably takes the form of shelf-talkers that have most likely been funded by the producer or distributor.
AI works for music and dating. Why not wine?
Second, millions of people happily trust AI to help them decide which music to listen to, which books to read and whom to date and hopefully marry and have children with. How many really see wine selection as trickier or more important than any of these?
The quality of any recommendation relies as much on an understanding of the tastes of the person receiving the advice as on an encyclopaedic knowledge of wine. Spotify, Kindle and Audible are relatively efficient because they ‘know’ what has already been chosen and which books or tracks were abandoned unfinished. Dating sites similarly ‘know’ which profiles have been most keenly perused and for how long, and by whom.
Specialist wine stores with loyal, regular customers may have some insights into their preferences, but this will, in any case, represent a tiny fraction of the market, and they still cannot say how much of the wine they have sold ended up being poured away or used for cooking.
Last, and this is the nub of my argument, no human or AI bot will ever be able to provide reliable suggestions that will satisfy the potentially wide range of human palates that are going to experience the contents of a single bottle on any given occasion.
In the early stages of most social encounters centering around food, everyone present will be offered a choice of beverage: Gin and tonic? Beer? White wine? Something non-alcoholic?
In my experience, it is rare for them all to want to drink the same thing. Nowadays, allergies, intolerances, religion or personal ethics may also mean that at least one of the group then elects to eat something different to the others. Once, having to accommodate this would have been an annoying inconvenience. Today, thanks in part to the number of households with members who are vegetarians, on a paleo diet, or simply with different preferences, it's a fact of daily life.
Recommendations – by critics, peer groups, friends and family, panels of competition judges and AI bots – will always have a role to play in any sector. But, when it comes to a social product like wine, I think the usefulness of personalised advice is highly exaggerated.
I just hope I don't end up at a dinner party where the host has followed the critic's advice to buy that tooth-stripping fizz.
