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.