The mid-palate in a wine is what can make it complex, interesting, and desirable to drink.
In wine speak, the mid-palate is what one experiences after the initial taste and before the finish. The initial taste is sometimes referred to as the entry. The French call it the attack. I’ve always found it curious they use a military term to describe anything having to do with tasting. Like it’s a full-contact sport. Maybe I’m missing something. Regardless, the entry usually has to do with fruit. In white wines, some form of apple or pear and tart citrus like lemon and lime. In red wines, some kind of cherry/berry, either tart red or riper black, depending on the climate where the vineyard is located or how ripe the grapes got in a particular year.
As for the finish, it means the after taste. It’s what you’re left with after spitting out or swallowing the wine. If you’re in the business, you’re doing a lot of the former when tasting, and the latter only when you’re finished working and standing around exchanging industry gossip with your colleagues. Otherwise, the finish, specifically the length of the finish, is an important indicator of wine quality. There’s an old maxim that says, “the longer the finish, the better quality wine.” That’s usually true. However, you should also know that the most flawed wines have a way of making for a remarkably long and unpleasant finish. Which emphasizes how few absolutes there are in wine, and how there are always exceptions to the rules.
One more thing about the finish. It’s almost always driven by structure; the levels of acidity and alcohol in any wine—and phenolic bitterness (if present) in white wine, and tannin in red wine. In particular, wines with high acidity have a longer finish. Tannin in red wine can also contribute to a long finish, usually an astringent one with some bitterness taste-wise.
There’s something else I should mention at this point. My description of the entry and finish of a wine implies a neat and tidy package of experience, almost like a linear progression. In reality, the sequence of entry, mid-palate, and finish is like a series of sensations that take place rapidly on one’s palate. The more a wine has to offer in terms of number of aromas and flavors, the more challenging it is to follow what’s being perceived. Which is why it takes a good deal of experience, repetition, and time to become a competent professional taster. It’s also why complex wines have to be tasted repeatedly because they tend to change in the glass over time once poured.
To recap thus far, our experience at the beginning and end of a wine is described as the entry and finish. Now for landing the plane and finally making the point of this post. To me, it’s what’s in between the entry and finish of a wine that matters most. Further, it’s what makes a wine complex, interesting, and desirable to drink.
Once past the fruit, an entire secondary world of flavors potentially awaits. This includes non-fruit, earth/mineral, and oak. Let’s take oak first, because it’s often the most obvious. The use of barrels for aging wine—especially new barrels—adds a subset of aromas and flavors as well as tannin. Though it may seem counterintuitive, increasing the amount of tannin in a red wine can be advantageous. The idea being to create longer chains of tannin molecules in the wine sooner, which will make it taste smooth, for lack of a better word. And smooth happens to be the most common consumer descriptor for a favorite style of red wine. Longer chains of tannin molecules form naturally as red wine ages. However, adding powdered tannins before, during, or after fermentation (now common red winemaking practice), does likewise and goes a long way in achieving the smooth factor.
There’s also a downside to oak aging. Too much new oak, or leaving a wine in oak for too long, can result in the oak overwhelming the wine and even rendering it one-dimensional. No surprise many winemakers opt for a mix of new and used barrels.
Beyond oak, a world of complexity can be found in the mid-palate. Most of the aroma and flavor markers that define classic grape varieties, and their respective varietal wines live in the non-fruit category. There are chemical compounds like pyrazines, which make Sauvignon Blanc taste herbal and vegetal. Pyrazines can also be found in other Cabernet Sauvignon family grapes. Terpenes, or floral aromas and flavors, are an important marker for fully aromatic grapes like Viognier, Torrontés, and Gewürztraminer. Also, peppery notes from a compound called rotundone, which is found in Grüner Veltliner as well as wines from Rhône varieties such as Syrah, Grenache, and Mourvèdre.
Non-fruit markers can also involve winemaking. The candied fruit aspect of carbonic maceration, a winemaking technique commonly associated with Nouveau Beaujolais and Beaujolais-Villages (think Jolly Rancher Candy or Hawaiian Punch). Along with carbonic, the green stemmy quality from having fermented the wine with stems still intact on the grape clusters. There’s also the mighty duo of malolactic fermentation and lees contact used in making Chardonnay and other similar white wines. The former gives a buttery quality from a compound called diacetyl, and the latter a yeasty/toasty character as well as a richer texture.
Now to earth and mineral. Using either descriptor is still controversial to some. I should point out that scientific findings have proven that grape vines do not uptake minerals from the soil that end up in the glass. But it’s also been shown via DNA sequencing technology how the microbiome in vineyard soil, particularly the ambient yeast population, significantly impacts fermentation and the aromas and flavors in the finished wine. Which makes perfect sense given that wine is all about fermentation. Still, for some, the jury is out. For the rest of us, a pronounced earth and mineral character in wine is often a much sought after quality.
One more thing about non-fruit before moving on. Sometimes it’s reflected in the quality or character of the fruit itself. Fruit ripeness or various conditions like botrytis and raisination can considerably impact a wine’s character. In some cases, botrytis finds its way on to grapes destined to become dessert wines. To that point, most of the world’s great non-fortified dessert wines are made from botrytis-affected grapes. Sauternes, Tokaji, and Beerenauslese to name a few.
The sum total of all the previous is this: the non-fruit, mineral/earth, and oak elements that make up the mid-palate of a wine can significantly define its character and complexity. And the more they’re there, the more interest in the wine. Otherwise, many wines with significant non-fruit and earth/mineral notes also have higher acidity. Examples include Grand Cru Chablis, Santorini Assyrtiko, German Riesling, Austrian Grüner Veltliner, Grand Cru red Burgundy, Barolo, and more.
No surprise that quality in wine has a lot to do with the mid-palate. If the middle’s not there, the quality is probably MIA too. Like donuts, hence the term donut wine. More often than not, inexpensive mass-produced wines lack any sort of a middle. They just have fruit and some kind of finish, the latter usually having to do with added acidity and tannin. Both the acid and tannin are derived from grapes, by the way, so no need to get dangerously excited.
Finally, lest you think I’m getting on my effete wine high horse here, I’ll be the first to say that so-called donut wines are not a bad thing. We’ll always need well-made inexpensive commercial wines in a box, Tetra Pak, or can. The packaging doesn’t matter. It all works—and it’s all good. Ultimately, there’s room for every kind of wine. As for me, I’ll continue to look for wines with a middle. In the end, that’s where it’s at.