Sardinian Wine Stories

You may have noticed that my tasting notes don’t include any type of wine score. This is intentional. While wine scores are very popular and widely used, I don’t think they align with the perspective I take in this blog.

Wine tasting, when performed professionally, should be as objective as possible. But objectivity doesn’t always translate perfectly into numbers. While scores can provide a quick reference, they cannot fully capture the nuances, emotions, and cultural significance that a wine embodies. My purpose with this blog and its tasting notes is to highlight these aspects, particularly in connection with Sardinian wines.

There is also the matter of personal taste. A wine with a very high score for one person might not resonate as strongly with another. Of course, there will always be wines that a taster personally prefers, but that shouldn’t necessarily influence a score, which, in theory, should reflect objective quality rather than personal inclination. It is easy to highlight and explain personal preferences in words, rather than reducing everything to a score. Instead of focusing on a score, I prefer to emphasize what makes a wine unique—its aromas, texture, evolution in the glass, and the sensations it offers.

Context plays an equally important role—one that fits even less with wine scores. Wine is about pleasure, discovery, and setting. A bottle of Vermentino enjoyed by the sea on a warm summer evening will evoke entirely different sensations than the same wine tasted in a formal setting. Can a single score truly reflect these differences?

That said, I am not necessarily against wine scores. There are situations where they can be useful, and I do refer to them at times. For instance, in a tasting comparison of the same type of wine, from the same region and vintage—say, several 2022 Vermentinos from Gallura—ranking wines may make sense, and scores can serve a purpose. However, once different vintages or wine regions are introduced (such as Vermentinos from different parts of Sardinia), scores become more problematic. And when comparing entirely different styles of wine—think of a delicate Marsannay Pinot Noir versus an opulent Châteauneuf-du-Pape—the usefulness of a score diminishes even further.

Numerical ratings tend to oversimplify what is a deeply complex product—one that provokes deeply complex emotions in those who taste it. Why should the nuances, aromas, and length of a wine be reduced to a cold, aseptic number? A wine’s value isn’t just in its balance or structure but also in its story, heritage, and the emotions it evokes. Some wines impress with their precision, others with their sheer character or their ability to transport us to a particular place.

Finally, my concern is that scores can sometimes create bias. High ratings often drive trends, overshadowing smaller producers who craft exceptional but less conventional wines. By not assigning scores, I encourage readers to explore wines with an open mind, appreciating them for what they are rather than how they rank. My goal is to share meaningful insights into the wines I taste, offering a holistic and engaging perspective rather than reducing them to mere numbers. Wine is a story—let’s enjoy reading and tasting it, not just measuring it.