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Robert Parker: Les sept péchés capiteux
Robert Parker, créateur du "Guide Parker", est depuis 30 ans l'homme le plus influent de la planète vin. Le "plus grand dégustateur du monde" est aussi le pivot d'un système, le "Système Parker", qui exerce une influence déterminante sur la vinification des grands vins et leur commercialisation.
Cette enquête dessinée — la toute première en français sur la "Parker Connexion" — démonte l'engrenage infernal qui aura fait d'un dégustateur américain doué, le suppôt de l'uniformisation du goût et de l'inflation délirante du prix de nos belles bouteilles.
Imaginer " le procès " de Robert Parker, ainsi que celui de ses généraux français, est une entreprise de salubrité publique ! Il faut dénoncer la standardisation de nos vins, dès lors que notre vignoble est l'un des derniers domaines d'excellence française.
Cette enquête dessinée — la toute première en français sur la "Parker Connexion" — démonte l'engrenage infernal qui aura fait d'un dégustateur américain doué, le suppôt de l'uniformisation du goût et de l'inflation délirante du prix de nos belles bouteilles.
Imaginer " le procès " de Robert Parker, ainsi que celui de ses généraux français, est une entreprise de salubrité publique ! Il faut dénoncer la standardisation de nos vins, dès lors que notre vignoble est l'un des derniers domaines d'excellence française.
60 pages, Hardcover
First published October 7, 2010
About the author
Benoist Simmat
41 books20 followersBenoist Simmat, né en 1973, est journaliste économique. Ancien du Nouvel Economiste, de L'Agefi et du Journal du Dimanche, il collabore ou a collaboré dans nombre de pages "éco" de la presse nationale, comme celles de L'Express, Libération, Management, La Revue du vin de France, etc. Menant parallèlement une carrière dans l'édition, il est également essayiste et scénariste des nouvelles "BD-enquêtes".
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
June 6, 2013
Revenge is a dish best served...tard?
Thirty-odd years after the publication of the first Guide Parker, the ascension of the 100-point Parker scoring system to worldwide dominance, Parker has finally reached the apogee of his career. He has been immortalized in a brutally satirical bande dessinée.
Although wine is an agricultural product firmly grounded in the evolving traditions of the land of its origin, even French historians acknowledge the historical impact and importance of the foreign market, particularly in Bordeaux. Indeed, it can be argued that the demands of the English aristocracy shaped the market for fine bordeaux wine--easily transported up the Garonne, through the Atlantic, and into Britain. With the ascendance of the United States to global superpower, it can hardly be surprising that the demands of the American market would influence production.
Enter Robert M. Parker, Jr., a Baltimore lawyer who discovered wine whilst visiting his fiancee in Alsace. Parker became consumed with passion for wine and was dispirited at the dearth of "reliable" information (English critics were often cozy with shippers) on chateaux or vintages. Displaying a distinctly American penchant for evaluative metrics (see the MPAA system, Consumer Reports), he applied his quantitative acumen to what is perhaps the most subjective agricultural product of all, developing his 100-point system for judging wines.
As neophyte wine consumers from America to Hong Kong flocked to spend their money on top Bordeaux, they clung to Parker's guides as a reliable way to navigate the various houses and styles. Generally, Parker's taste has been for fruitier, hotter, more approachable wines. It is therefore telling that he has been less successful in Burgundy than in Bordeaux, California, or the Rhone.
It should surprise no careful observer why Parker's highly-rated wines are successful worldwide, and with wine-drinkers of varied backgrounds. Parker's palate, weaned on strongly flavored American and Asian food (one of his favorite informal tasting methods is to take a dozen bottles and as many friends to dim sum) is simply impressed by wines with the attributes I've mentioned above. However, one shouldn't lower oneself to cheap anti-Americanisms--one of the greatest champions of traditional terroir-driven wine-making is an American, Kermit Lynch, whose book I have reviewed on this site.
A Parker Score will still make or break a house or vintage; this has given rise to the various wine consultants who charge millions to apply scientific techniques to viticulture, guaranteeing a high Parker Score.
Now, to the book at hand. It is simply hilarious. The title is a pun on the "Seven Deadly Sins"--in French, capitaux is "deadly," while capiteux is "heady" or "intoxicating," and it all goes up from there. The French are known for their wry humor. The tongue is firmly in cheek. Lured to France for a purported 70th birthday celebration, Parker is called before a hooded tribunal and accused of his "sins" against French wine. The illustrations are brilliantly done and immensely funny. There are some lazy anti-Americanisms--Parker's accent, his Coke-trained palate--though if you've ever tasted one of those Parker-approved, over-oaked, 16% ABV California cabs reeking of vanillin, it does seem to fit--but overall, it is sort of tender. Parker's accomplices in Bordeaux do not get off lightly, either. In the end, it's all a dream, and Parker retires to drink riesling (ha!) in his yard in Baltimore.
At least the man is a good sport. Apparently, he loved the book.
Thirty-odd years after the publication of the first Guide Parker, the ascension of the 100-point Parker scoring system to worldwide dominance, Parker has finally reached the apogee of his career. He has been immortalized in a brutally satirical bande dessinée.
Although wine is an agricultural product firmly grounded in the evolving traditions of the land of its origin, even French historians acknowledge the historical impact and importance of the foreign market, particularly in Bordeaux. Indeed, it can be argued that the demands of the English aristocracy shaped the market for fine bordeaux wine--easily transported up the Garonne, through the Atlantic, and into Britain. With the ascendance of the United States to global superpower, it can hardly be surprising that the demands of the American market would influence production.
Enter Robert M. Parker, Jr., a Baltimore lawyer who discovered wine whilst visiting his fiancee in Alsace. Parker became consumed with passion for wine and was dispirited at the dearth of "reliable" information (English critics were often cozy with shippers) on chateaux or vintages. Displaying a distinctly American penchant for evaluative metrics (see the MPAA system, Consumer Reports), he applied his quantitative acumen to what is perhaps the most subjective agricultural product of all, developing his 100-point system for judging wines.
As neophyte wine consumers from America to Hong Kong flocked to spend their money on top Bordeaux, they clung to Parker's guides as a reliable way to navigate the various houses and styles. Generally, Parker's taste has been for fruitier, hotter, more approachable wines. It is therefore telling that he has been less successful in Burgundy than in Bordeaux, California, or the Rhone.
It should surprise no careful observer why Parker's highly-rated wines are successful worldwide, and with wine-drinkers of varied backgrounds. Parker's palate, weaned on strongly flavored American and Asian food (one of his favorite informal tasting methods is to take a dozen bottles and as many friends to dim sum) is simply impressed by wines with the attributes I've mentioned above. However, one shouldn't lower oneself to cheap anti-Americanisms--one of the greatest champions of traditional terroir-driven wine-making is an American, Kermit Lynch, whose book I have reviewed on this site.
A Parker Score will still make or break a house or vintage; this has given rise to the various wine consultants who charge millions to apply scientific techniques to viticulture, guaranteeing a high Parker Score.
Now, to the book at hand. It is simply hilarious. The title is a pun on the "Seven Deadly Sins"--in French, capitaux is "deadly," while capiteux is "heady" or "intoxicating," and it all goes up from there. The French are known for their wry humor. The tongue is firmly in cheek. Lured to France for a purported 70th birthday celebration, Parker is called before a hooded tribunal and accused of his "sins" against French wine. The illustrations are brilliantly done and immensely funny. There are some lazy anti-Americanisms--Parker's accent, his Coke-trained palate--though if you've ever tasted one of those Parker-approved, over-oaked, 16% ABV California cabs reeking of vanillin, it does seem to fit--but overall, it is sort of tender. Parker's accomplices in Bordeaux do not get off lightly, either. In the end, it's all a dream, and Parker retires to drink riesling (ha!) in his yard in Baltimore.
At least the man is a good sport. Apparently, he loved the book.
Displaying 1 of 1 review