By Al Drinkle
When the word “value” is used in regard to commerce, one can probably assume that its intended definition pertains to a perceived price vs. quality ratio. Considering its price, this bottle of Chinon offers great value, for example. Depressingly, a perusal of the sales statistics of wine in Alberta might cause one to conclude that quality hardly plays a role in the average consumer's definition of value, and that price alone is the decisive factor. However, an alternative definition of value, to quote Merriam-Webster, is “something (such as a principle or quality) intrinsically valuable or desirable”. I'd like to propose that in the case of wine, these different understandings of the word shouldn't be seen as mutually exclusive.
Everybody likes a good deal, and I’m no different. After all, stumbling across value of this sort releases a good hit of dopamine. But imagine that you're building a new deck and are shopping around for materials. Once you've established the precise cut and quality of lumber that you need, and that the materials are available from two suppliers, you're probably going to make your purchase from the purveyor who gives you the best price. It feels good, and who can afford not to? For most people this is where the point of consideration ends, but even regarding something as straightforward as lumber, the inherent “value” therein might be somewhat more nuanced.
Perhaps the two purveyors fall closer on the spectrum than this, but to make a stark comparison, suppose that the slightly more expensive one is an independently-run or family-owned operation, and that the other is a branch of a multinational corporation. Sure, most people don't care, or “can't afford to care”, but suppose further that the former, pricier purveyor pays their informed, friendly employees a living wage, whereas the corporate entity pays their workforce slightly more than the legal minimum, thus avoiding abject public criticism but engendering general disgruntlement among its inevitably rude and apathetic staff. Lastly, what if the corporation that runs the latter operation keeps their costs down due to egregious disregard for environmental responsibility, or is known to invest a portion of their profits towards the armament initiative of a morally-bereft political organisation?
I'm not trying to tell you how you should feel about such things, but hopefully it's clear that at least for some people, the pursuit of “value” could be at odds with their personal “values". Wine is different from building supplies in almost every way, except that some of it is as soulless and aesthetically inconsequential as a bag of nails. I assume there to be subtleties that would inform the actual production of building supplies, but I can state with confidence that some of the ways that wine comes into existence would surprise you—and might entail practices that would not resonate with your personal values.
As mentioned earlier, for a surprising amount of people the consideration of wine seems to end once they've identified a vinous product that sells for their very low ideal price point. To suggest that quality doesn’t enter the equation for such consumers may sound both elitist and judgmental, but as a wine professional I believe I reserve the right to admonish the public that below a certain fixed cost of production (and therefore below a certain corresponding retail price), it's simply not reasonable to expect that a bottle of wine could have any compelling virtues beyond that diminutive price—except, perhaps, for alcohol content.
Another category of consumers are inclined to include standards of flavour and some semblance of vinous authenticity in their idea of “value”. To me, that seems like the most basic reasonable starting point, but there's still more to the equation whether the wine drinker is willing to admit it or not. Every time we spend money we're casting a vote as to the kind of product, producer or purveyor we hope to succeed in this highly-competitive world. When we spend money in accordance with the values that we believe in, we're ultimately voting for the kind of world that we want to live in.
In a perfect world, wine pricing should be reflective of quality, sure, insofar as that term can be defined in any meaningful way. But the cost of a bottle should also be commensurate with other values that reasonable people could—and I would argue should—agree to be of importance. The world is far from perfect, and the wine world is no exception, but both are improved when winegrowers are rewarded for adhering to certain ideals that pertain to ownership structure, employee compensation, farming methods, and production techniques among countless other considerations. Many of these details and the way that they might appeal to our intrinsic values as wine drinkers are the topic of another lengthy essay, but just to cite one imperative example, and assuming all else being equal, who wouldn't want to support a producer who works in ecological harmony as opposed to one that’s blatantly environmentally befouling in their practices?
There are countless local independent producers, distributors and purveyors in Alberta whose products and/or services represent the apex of their disciplines—of which those in the wine industry are merely a small fraction. Such businesses strike me as offering incredible value in the most comprehensive and multifaceted definition of that word, despite cheaper options inevitably being available. When friends or family chide me for what they perceive to be my lavish spending or claim that they themselves simply can't afford to patronise such businesses (as if I'm the paradigm of financial success!), my riposte is that I can't afford not to. If products or services embody my personal criteria for estimable quality and are achieved through values that resonate with my own, I'd be a reprehensible hypocrite to instead support Costco, Amazon, or Walmart in order to save a couple of dollars—and in the process “voting” for the extinction of smaller, more specialized independent businesses.
Back to wine, my values might not be your values, especially as they pertain to a discipline that's so beautifully intricate and nuanced. In light of this complexity, how is the layperson to navigate a vinous sense of value beyond the ratio of price point and perceived quality? Well, it's not necessary for drivers of automobiles to know how to replace idler jets or cylinder heads, but their lives are much easier if they know an honest and informed mechanic who does. Similarly, it's unreasonable to expect casual wine drinkers to have an intimacy with the ownership structure, production methods, and distribution channels behind bottles that they're considering, but it's completely reasonable to expect wine professionals to possess such knowledge of the wines that they purvey. If you choose your experts carefully you can enjoy good value without compromising your values.
