Expertise in hedonic or aesthetic matters must always be trumped by personal taste.
The prestige of wine competitions is somewhat tarnished by the subjectivity — and fallibility — of the judges.
In 1976 a tasting in Paris saw upstart Californian chardonnays and cabernets trounce their aristocratic and apparently unassailable French equivalents
declared Bordeaux’s new vintage the best in living memory. But how can they judge wines that won’t be ready to drink for another few decades?
