Deja Vu – Jonny Goodhall’s last drop

I was immediately reminded of Punxsutawney Phil, the cute little rodent in the film "Groundhog Day"

WHEN THE rumours started circulating in early March that Robert Parker would not be taking his customary trip to Bordeaux to taste and rate the latest vintage, it seemed that the wheels of the Bordeaux wine trade wobbled and then fell off.

A few days later Parker gave his assurances that he would be visiting Bordeaux after all and the juggernaut was immediately back on track, well-oiled and ready to rumble.  Sighs of relief could be heard from the cellars of Bordeaux to the auction rooms and wine brokers in London, just because a single American wine critic had decided to make his annual appearance.

I was immediately reminded of Punxsutawney Phil, the cute little rodent in the film "Groundhog Day."  For the benefit of those who haven’t seen it, every year on Groundhog Day (February 2) the citizens of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, are joined by the world’s media to closely observe the movements of Phil, a small, furry groundhog.

On this day, regular as clockwork, Phil comes out of his hole after a long winter’s sleep to look for his shadow.  If he sees it, he regards it as an omen of six more weeks of bad weather and returns to his hole.  If the day is cloudy and, therefore, shadowless, he takes it as a sign of  pring and stays above ground.

For these few moments the whole world is spellbound by the behaviour of one solitary creature that is seemingly oblivious to the fuss and furore it is causing.  But heaven forbid if unxsutawney Phil should fail to show up one year.  Spring itself would most probably just be cancelled.

With the war in Iraq plunging US / French relations to an alltime low and resulting in unpleasant shockwaves to reverberate throughout the global economy – right down to predictions of plummeting prices for the 2002 Bordeaux vintage – Robert Parker’s indecision over his travel plans could not have come at a more frazzled and sensitive time.

And, with both our cuddly groundhog and the world’s most influential wine critic, the unhealthy obsession with the minutiae of their movements shares the same motivation – cash.  The hotels and restaurants of Punxsutawney are fully booked for most of the week, while the château owners of Bordeaux and, more importantly, the international commodity traders, get the chance to make a killing in fine wines.

In fairness to Robert Parker, he is the very first person to argue that his opinions are those of merely one man, and that his tasting notes should carry more weight than his numerical scores for each wine.  But since he got it right by tipping subscribers to his Wine Advocate newsletter to invest in the 1982 Bordeaux vintage when it was released in 1983, his pronouncements have been slavishly followed.

He has become such an important cog in the international wine investment machine because when he unleashed his simple 100-point scoring system, combined with his very sound judgement, he demystified a prohibitively complex world of foreign names, wine classifications, terroirs and vintages. 

Parker created an internationally recognised benchmark for rating wines while at the same time, unintentionally reducing them to the status of any other tradeable commodity.  Traders who could previously just get their heads around orange juice could start dealing in fine wines. In the United States Parker is known as the Million Dollar Nose.

So, for the time being, the Bordeaux market seems reluctant to operate without "Punxsatawney" Parker, even though he has expressed annoyance this year at the pressures put upon him.  "Why do I have an obligation to cover the wines en primeur?" he asked. "I think pushing wines as en primeur may be a thing of the past. 

The whole world doesn’t revolve solely around Bordeaux," he continued. " I am just one person and the Bordelais had better have another way to sell their wines because eventually I am going to retire."

What then? I have already offered my services but I’m beginning to suspect that my letter never arrived.  Maybe we could employ a celebrity taster to guarantee an unseemly media frenzy.  I recently discovered, for example, that our very own David Beckham is particularly partial to Château Pétrus at £575 a bottle when he pops into Selfridges with the missus.

Then again, the Man From Del Monte has been pretty quiet recently.  Remember how he could make the oranges jump off the trees just by saying "yes"? He’d have to learn to say "oui" instead, but I’m sure he could handle it.

Alternatively, perhaps each year’s winning wine writer at future Glenfiddich awards could be given the task on a sort of annual/honorary basis.  In theory, this should provide a different yet equally gifted taster for each vintage, thus removing the burden of the international fine wine trade from the shoulders of just one man.

Sadly, this wouldn’t work either.  In fact, I get such a strong sense of déja-vù when I look at each year’s list of nominees that I sometimes feel the Glenfiddich awards could be renamed the"Groundhog Awards."

Can you spot the saddo who’s never even been nominated for one?  I guess my entry forms, along with my job applications for astronaut, liontamer and Parker-substitute, just keep getting lost in the post.  Oh, well.