Ask any wine writer why they do what they do, and you’ll probably hear a different answer from each person. Maybe they like crisp white wines. Maybe they fancy red Bordeaux. Maybe they harbour secret fantasies of one day owning a vineyard. And maybe they just love it all — new vintages, vineyards, wines and wineries.

One thing is certain: we probably didn’t get into this business just for something to do. In most cases, we started writing about wine because we’re passionate about it and its creators, and because we want others to care as much as we do. We want to know about the latest trends and news in wineries and vineyards around the world, and we want to know now.

So, with that in mind, we’ve asked several of our favourite Canadian wine writers to share with us what they’re passionate about in 2011. Perhaps it’s a favourite grape variety. Or a region. Or, well, volcanoes. Read on and share their excitement.

Exploding Flavours: Volcanoes add magic to soils by John Szabo

Chilean Whites: The new breed of Chilean whites is ripe with regional identity by DJ Kearney

The Reinvention of Syrah: This popular grape shines in cool-climate offerings by Rhys Pender

Great Grenache: Rhône's famous red is versatile and well-balanced by Craig Pinhey

Dry Rosé: Often overlooked, this versatile wine is food-friendly and delicious by Ben MacPhee-Sigurdson

'Grü-Vee' No More: Grüner veltliner is delicious, approachable — and phonetic by Kurtis Kolt

I don’t have a favourite wine. I do, however, really like volcanoes.

Indeed, like much of civilization since the dawn of time, I am attracted to the potentially lethal fissures that vent the immense energy trapped beneath the earth’s crust.

But it’s not the thrill of putting one’s life in peril. Rather, magical things seem to happen around volcanoes. And I’m obviously not alone in my belief: tracking the expansion of Greek and Roman civilization is like a connect-the-dots game, linking their outposts to the thermal hot springs that arise in volcanic zones.

Such baths have long been held to have healing properties and it was also soon realized that drinking the water from these highly mineralized sources did wonders for your health.

But more important to me are the magical things that grow in volcanic soil. Some of the world’s most intensely flavoured tomatoes, coffee beans, capers and aromatic herbs grow on the sides of volcanoes. Wine grapes, too.

How Soil Affects Wine

Precisely how soil types affect wine flavours is still somewhat mysterious, though some indirect impact on flavour can’t be empirically denied. Perhaps it’s the high levels of sulphur, calcium, iron and magnesium; perhaps it’s the pH of the soil. Whatever the case, wines from vines grown on basalt, pumice, tufa and other volcanic-derived soils always seem to taste like liquefied rock and have ripping acidity — two essential components of top-class wine, in my view.

Volcanic Soil

It doesn’t really matter what grape or particular region we’re talking about. It’s the dirt. No matter where in the world, vines that grow in volcanic soil seem to have another, or at least a different, dimension. And I love it. It may be the assyrtiko of Santorini, the cabernet sauvignon of Mt. Veeder in the Napa Valley, the pinot gris of Badascony or the furmint of Tokaj in Hungary, the rieslings of Rangen de Thann Grand Cru in southern Alsace, the nerello mascalese of Mt. Etna in Sicily or the aglianico of Taurasi in Campania: despite the dramatically different grapes and climates, all of these wines are linked by an extra degree of finesse, saliva-inducing acidity and a common, compelling mineral-saltiness that can only be explained by the dirt. (I have yet to taste the wines of Volcano Winery on the big island of Hawaii, but I’m hopeful.)

Though many of these growing areas are historic, with centuries, if not millennia, of winemaking history, they are just beginning to recapture our attention. These are the wines of the distant past and the near future, a future in which wines with elegance and a strong sense of place grab your attention like an exploding volcano.

Read about more of Our Favourite Things about wine.

The French call it Bourgogne, while the rest of the world knows this area — a string of pretty towns in eastern France nestled below tidy, pocket-sized verdant vineyards — as Burgundy.

The name sounds better in French, non? Complex and elegant, with a finish that resonates on the tongue, rather like the wines produced in this region whose winemaking tradition dates back to the 11th century.

Burgundy Winemaking

It was a hot, hot day last July and I was bouncing along, heading north from the city of Beaune in a tiny car with my guide, oenologist Jean-Pierre Renard, through the Côte De Beaune and Côte de Nuits, two of the most-revered wine-growing regions in the world. These sub-regions comprise a thin strip just over 50 kilometres long, and Renard was providing an overview of the viticultural history of the whole area, which was part geological, part historical and part political.

As we passed through such storied Grand cru plots as Le Montrachet, Renard explained how Burgundy’s history reflects a thousand years of winegrowing experience, beginning with the monks at Cluny Abbey in the Maconnaise region in the south of Burgundy. When the French Revolution came along in 1789, church properties were divided up, resulting in today’s 4,600 wineries, most with tiny vineyards of five to 10 acres.

As if on cue, Renard slows to a stop alongside the famous Romanée-Conti vineyard — which produced its first vintage in 1232 and whose pinot noirs are among the scarcest and most expensive in the world — to watch a worker manually cultivate the soil with a plough pulled by a horse named Mickey. They do this to avoid compacting the soil with use of tractors. Watching the methodical rhythm of the great beast, whose breeding dictates he not shake his head and jostle the vines, is mesmerizing. 

Burgundy’s rhythm is like that. Every experience is meant to be savoured, from the standard two-hour allotment for lunch to the unhurried tastings that take place in the cool, dark, enveloping humidity of the cellars, which are frequently conducted by third-, fourth- or even fifth-generation winemakers.

There’s little the people here don’t do with great finesse and, to that end, Renard takes me to a picnic spot overlooking the charming village of Pernand-Vergelesses, pops the trunk and produces five pinot noirs to taste. They’re all from the Côte de Nuits region, which is most famous for its reds, and all share the barnyard, mushroom, spicy, silky feel with hints of cassis that characterize pinot noir, but among them are subtle differences on the nose and the palate — expressions of the unique terroir that make these wines so revered.

Burgundy Terroir

As we tasted, he talked at length about terroir. It’s a word I heard more frequently than almost any other during my trip. It is the soul and the essence of Burgundy. Terroir comes from the French word terre, which means “land,” and it refers to the unique characteristics that the geography, geology and climate impart on the grapes specific to a region.

In Burgundy, there are 100 terroirs which have been defined and delineated, and form the basis for the different appellation categories, or AOCs.

Renard also talked about clos, climat, soil and sub-soil, and the mess in my head began to unravel — somewhat. The problem is that Burgundian history, geography, geology, politics and whatnot are maddeningly complex.

About the only thing that is blissfully straightforward are the grapes, of which there are only two principal players. White wine is chardonnay and red wine is pinot noir, and they are the ultimate expression of both — pure and unsullied, absent of any blending with other varieties.

With at least that much worked out, we headed back to Beaune and the Domaine Loïs Dufouleur. The Domaine produces, in particular, rich and subtle red Premier Crus, and owner Philippe Dufouleur guided me through a tasting in his cellar before I took to my suite in a centuries-old stone outbuilding that Dufouleur and his wife, Anne-Marie, have converted into a charming and luxurious bed and breakfast. 

Food in Burgundy

Dinner that night was at Restaurant Le Cheval Noir, and would prove to be the first in an unbroken string of exquisitely prepared and plated multi-course meals. Burgundians are almost as obsessive about food as they are about wine, and they cling to tradition with the same energy. As such, you’ll find no gastronomic trends. As for the oft-repeated phrase, “the French eat well but they eat tiny portions,” it certainly wasn’t my experience.

The cuisine of Burgundy is rich, in part to complement the region’s full-bodied wines and, in part, because it is home to one of the world’s finest breeds of cattle, the Charollais, plus Bresse chickens and France’s biggest herds of goats, from whose milk chèvre is made.

Lunch and dinner typically begin with a gougère — a delightful cheese puff — followed by a whimsical amuse-bouche like gazpacho in a shot glass or a slice of pâté. Escargots are a mainstay entrée, cooked in Chablis, stuffed with butter, garlic and parsley and finished in the oven. Oeufs en meurette — poached eggs in a red-wine reduction — ought not to be missed, nor should jambon persillé, in which chunky cured ham and parsley are suspended in aspic.

Perhaps the most classic mains of all are boeuf bourguignon and coq au vin. They are as they should be: robust, flavourful and meticulously prepared. Follow up with a selection of local cheeses, including the lusciously pungent cow’s milk cheese Époisses and the milder Cîteaux, made by the monks at Cîteaux Abbey.

Finally, though usually served before or in place of cheese, is dessert. Though not the norm, one afternoon at the restaurant at the Hôtel Le Montrachet I had the most decadent and delightful experience of being served not just dessert (strawberry gateau), but also pre-dessert (a macaron, a fruit jelly and a toffee confection) and post-dessert (a miniature fruit parfait). Whoever wrote about tiny portions must not have visited the same places I did. No meal in France is complete without wine paired with each course. Indeed, eating, drinking and touring the countryside are gloriously intertwined, and crumbly stone villages intermingle with meticulously preserved châteaux.

Burgundy Châteux

One of the most spectacular of these is the Château du Clos de Vougeot, built in 1551, which is the headquarters of the Confrérie des Chevaliers du Tastevin. Inside the cavernous cuverie, or fermentation room, are four massive 13th-century grape presses and a spectacular open-beam ceiling. The vineyard was founded more than 900 years ago, when monks started experimenting with grapes because nothing else would grow in the poor, rocky soil. The vast, 124-acre vineyard is the largest single vineyard in Côte de Nuits with a Grand cru designation.

Similarly well preserved and exquisitely restored is Château De Pommard, the largest private vineyard in Burgundy. The château’s museum showcases a rare collection of ancient tools used by winegrowers through the ages. It also has on display an excellent visual explanation of the domain’s terroir, as well as an original mechanical self-basting rotisserie in front of a large fireplace, which is a marvel in medieval slow cookery.

Another gem, considered to be one of the finest examples of 15th century architecture, is the Hospices de Beaune, a hospital built for the poor and needy in 1443. A charity wine auction has been taking place there on the third Sunday in November since 1851. The wines are auctioned by the barrel and last year the record price was US$526,080. 

Burgundian Farmers and Winemakers

As grand as these châteaux are, it was while exploring the crumbly villages, walking amongst the vines, feeling the dirt and hearing the farmers take pride in their wines (while giving all the credit to their terroir) that I felt most connected to the place. Typically, you can’t just drop in at the small wineries but, if you call ahead, and it’s not harvest time, you’ll be welcomed with friendly informality. These winemakers are generous with their time and expertise, and there are few places I’d rather spend an hour than in the cool humidity of a wine cellar, tasting wine with a barrel for a table, the way they’ve done it in Burgundy for 900 years. 

It is often said all wine lovers come to Burgundy in the end, as their wine education reaches its pinnacle. Certainly, when it comes to what’s in the glass, Burgundy red has a subtle, silky, sensuous quality, with a finish that makes you long for more. And burgundy white is generous and delicious, citrusy and mineraly, with wonderfully fragrant notes.

But, more than that, Burgundy is about the soil and the men and women who work it. Spending time with them, learning about winemaking, walking amongst the vines and learning the history and geography leads to a heightened enjoyment of the wine, the food and the place, and the synergy they create.

The French President Charles de Gaulle once said: “I have a certain idea about the Burgundians, and it’s that they are among the most pleasant people in the world with whom to spend a few days.”

I agree.

This article originally appeared in the April 2011 issue of Avenue Calgary magazine.

Find out where to eat and stay in Burgundy.

For years, winery owners and winemakers have been making me stand in vineyards, dig up dirt, feel the wind or, as the French would say, discover le terroir. Often, we are up a mountainside or near the coast where cool winds alter the immediate climate and grapes flourish in a way they never could on the warm valley floor.

Yet months, or even years later, when I come across the results from these precious sites, I’m faced with a label that doesn’t convey the story encountered in the vineyard.

Not Enough Geographic Information on the Wine Bottle

Sure, there is the name of the grape and the producer. And some labels feature words like “reserva” or “estate.”

But, for the most part, the name is the brand and we must make buying decisions with little or no precise geographic information.

In Canada, it’s mandatory to exhibit the alcohol level, colour and size of the bottle, in the two official languages, as if this information is necessary to shape our buying decisions.

But no one has to pinpoint exact locations on labels.

We need to rethink this strategy. Consumers are ready. In fact, we demand it. Our cellphones can already scan labels and instantly find reviews on any wine.

Branded varietal wine has had a 45-year run in the New World. But modern consumers are smarter, more inquisitive and, frankly, bored with labels that simply tout a grape varietal.

Recently, I tasted a fabulous bottle of Viña Santa Carolina 2010 Reserva Sauvignon Blanc from Leyda, Chile. What terrific flavours and style from grapes grown as close as four kilometres to the cold Pacific Ocean. I could go on about this wine for hours.

Let the Wine Label Tell the Story

But I will let the label tell its story: Santa Carolina 2010 Reserva Sauvignon Blanc. It barely mentions the coveted Denominación de Origén (Valle de Leyda) and, only then, microscopically at the bottom of the label.

If you could stand on a hill, four kilometres from the Pacific Ocean and let the cool early fog and breezes wash over you before the late-morning sun burned off the clouds and warmed the fruit across Leyda, you would probably never buy another sauvignon blanc again, unless it featured the specific coastal appellation of Valle de Leyda.

Emphasize the Terroir

My advice to the people behind Santa Carolina — they already know how I feel — is to drop the meaningless word “reserva” on the label.

Next, make the word Leyda as big as possible on the label.

Then I would find a word that actually describes a prominent feature of the wine and place where it’s made and place it and the region on the front label. For Leyda’s mineral sauvignon blancs, perhaps the Spanish word for oyster or oyster shell would be a good fit. Or how about “Ostrero” (literally the “oyster catcher”).

Now, when you stumble upon a “sauvignon-looking” clear bottle with a screwcap, and it reads something like Viña Santa Carolina 2010 Ostrero, Valle de Leyda, Chile, you have something that is both delicious and memorable.

And the label will match the story that’s being told in the vineyard.

Many wines that came out of South Africa after the apartheid bans were lifted did not have the polish we expect from New World producers. Strange aromas and flavours, which some said were “terroir,” were mostly faults due to poor vineyard and winery sanitation. Even as recently as three years ago, about 15 percent of wines I came across had a flaw.

But during my most recent visit, I tasted more than 600 wines and found not even one showed these faults.

South Africa has undertaken a massive replanting program and this, accompanied by winery equipment upgrades and winemaker education, means we can expect future Cape wines to be clean, fresh and pure.

There is a lot of new activity in cooler regions, which is helping to produce fresher, juicier sauvignon blanc and lighter, more mineral styles of reds, especially shiraz. Wines are being produced with higher natural acid, mitigating high alcohol levels, which is contributing to better-balanced wines. Oak is also being used more modestly, maybe because the fruit is purer and does not need to be covered with oak as much as was the custom.

South Africa has one of the most diverse ecosystems on the planet and much is being done by the wine industry to minimize the impact of grape growing and to maximize green and organic viticulture methods. Sustainable viticulture is widely practised. Moreover, many see social responsibility as essential. Visiting wineries, you see the results of education and social programs designed to employ more of the black population and bring them into management positions.

There is also a greater focus on allowing the terroir or origin of the wines to be more evident, with less winemaker manipulation and less blending from multiple locations.

This mindset has spread to the extent that regional styles are starting to become better defined even within established regions like Stellenbosch and Paarl, where subregions are noted on labels more often.

Prominent Wine Regions in South Africa

Stellenbosch, Paarl, Robertson.

South African Varietals/Wine Styles on the Rise

Sauvignon blanc, syrah/shiraz, rosé.

South African Varietals/Styles on the Decline

Pinotage; heavily oaked wines; dry, tannic reds.

Classic Wine Producers in South Africa

Graham Beck: Consistently making well-priced wines, with strength across the board.

KWV: High-quality wines at many price points, with some amazing values.

Fairview: The “Goats” producer, with innovative blending and labelling that encourages consumer experimentation.

Up-and-Coming Wine Producers in South Africa

Spier: Using highly advanced sustainable viticulture in a cooler part of Stellenbosch to produce wines with lots of character.

Waterkloof: New winery in a cooler coastal region, with the latest winery technology. First vintages in 2009 show great promise.

Creation: New winery in Hemel-in-Aarde Valley, producing elegant, fruity, structured reds and whites.

Check out 547 reviews of South African wine.

Photo courtesy of Wines of South Africa/Hendrik Holler