Terroir. It’s time we had a chat about it. Is it complete marketing hogwash? Is it the holy grail of fine wine making, so, in fact, total hogwash? Is it a real thing that winemakers should strive toward? Wait, hold on Harry, WTF is terroir?

The Oxford Companion To Wine, (AKA Wine’s Bible) deftly describes terroir as “the total natural environment of any viticultural site”. The term is French, very French. It’s pronounced “TEH-WARH” and suggests the complex interplay of soil, macroclimate, mesoclimate, vine microclimate and topography will be reflected in wines; to some degree from vintage to vintage, regardless of changing methods of viticulture and winemaking. Despite the fact the French had not conceived of anything so barbarous as coffee Pinotage when they coined the phrase, it is an immediately attractive idea.

The French have made an art out of this. A whole system dedicated to saying what should be planted where, and that certain areas will produce wine of higher value than others because, of course, the terroir is better.

You can see all the opportunities for bullshit, right? I’ve had about enough of hearing local producers talking about their wines reflecting their unique terroirs. ORLY! AND PRAY TELL WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN. It seems as though every bloody place a vine is planted in this country is “excellent terroir”. I might as well advertise my goddamn English breakfast reflecting the terroir of my kitchen.

Making wine is a complex process with so many variables – both in the vineyard and in the cellar – that it quickly becomes obvious that most people singing the Terroir Tune in their marketing shtick, are talking right out their arses. When you tell me your terroir is so unique and magical, I’d like you to explain why and how and demonstrate this in your wines.

The thoughts of the ridiculous excess of terroir speak were on my mind after I attended a tasting of Elgin Sauvignon Blancs. Cathy Marshall (Cathy Marshall Wines) and James Downes (Shannon Vineyards) were in attendance, and Cathy Marston was running the show.

The hope when you taste 18 Sauvignon Blancs from a single region is that you’ll find an understanding of how that region expresses that particular variety. This might lead you to start understanding the terroir of that region.

But I can’t really write about Elgin terroir any better than I could before the tasting. You know why? Because while there was one flight of wines (Iona, Shannon, Paul Cluver) that I found very, ummm, Elginny; there were a bunch of wines that were quite different stylistically. Wines made from grapes from different vine clones, wines that had Semillon added, wines with a touch of oak, wines with longer lees contact, wines with shorter lees contact. I struggled to see a similar trait than ran through all the wines.

This doesn’t mean that terroir does not exist, but that it is way, way harder to get a handle on it than the marketers would like us to believe. Throwing the word around like breadcrumbs to hungry pigeons is a problem. Stop doing it winemakers, wine writers (*slaps wrist*), and wine marketing types. Just stop.

But what can I say about Elgin Sauvignon Blanc. Right now I reckon Sauvignon Blanc is the least hip variety around. It’s about as cool as Facebook becomes when you see your mom and gran posting stuff on your wall. There is too much Sauvignon Blanc. There is too much overtly green Sauvignon Blanc: think acres of cut grass, shedloads of green pepper, and searing acid – eugh. Thankfully Elgin is producing wines that are more elegant, more reserved, purer, cleaner and more flavorful. When they get it right, that is. When they get it wrong it can be very wishy-washy.

My find of the day was the Hannay Sauvignon Blanc 2012. Catherine Marshall made it, and it’s just the business. Young and primary now, I reckon it will age well. Its acidity was beautiful and reminded me of Loire Sauvignon Blancs but with a dose of South African sun. An absolute pleasure to drink.

Iona continues to make benchmark Sauvignon Blanc in Elgin, lots of focused and pure fruit. The same goes for Paul Cluver’s 2012 – very morish. Hot on their tails are Shannon Vineyards and Almenkerk, who I reckon will start competing for top Sauvignon Blanc honours in the region soon enough.

What do you think of the term terroir? Does it offer any use to you at all when drinking or buying wine?