My favourite moment in This is Spinal Tap, Rob Reiner's spoof 'rockumentary' about an appalling British heavy-metal band, is when Nigel Tufnell, the group's lead guitarist, is talking about his amplifier. The volume knob on Tufnell's custom-built Marshall is special because it 'goes up to 11', 11 being 'one louder' than 10 and therefore more likely to perforate your ear drums.
I thought about Nigel Tufnell as I was tasting my way through 200 unsolicited wine samples last weekend. Most of the red wines were over-oaked. As one termite-friendly wine followed another down the sink, I began to long for something fresh and fruity, where the character of the grape wasn't smothered with flavours of vanilla, coffee, coconut, mocha, cedar wood or chocolate. I would even have welcomed a bottle of Beaujolais...
A growing number of wine producers have adopted a Spinal Tap approach to oak. If one year in new barrels is a good thing, then, the reasoning goes, two years must be even better. If you think I'm joking, there is at least one producer in Bordeaux who uses a technique called '200 per cent new oaking'. Believe it or not, the bloke ages his wine in new barrels for 12 months, then takes it out and does the same thing again.
It may just be a sign of advancing middle age, but I reckon wines are oakier now than ever. Blame the Australians, or blame the powerful American wine critic, Robert Parker, who is a big fan of oak, but there are times when wine feels like a branch of the timber industry. The top superstar coopers are so in demand that they can charge as much as £500 for a single new French barrel. (Coarser American oak is half the price but it's still not cheap, given that barrels lose their flavour after five years or so.)
Before I get sawdust kicked in my face, I should say that I don't have a problem with drinking top red wines, whether from the Old or New World, that have spent 12 months or more in new barrels. I also like a bit of vanilla on lesser liquids, as long as they don't end up tasting like a mouthful of wardrobe. The best oaked reds have the structure and concentration to cope with all that lumber: by the time they're ready to drink, the oak has become a part of the wine rather than decking sitting on top of it.
The same is true of certain styles of white wine. I love unoaked Chablis, but I still think that new or nearly new barrel fermentation is what distinguishes most of the greatest white Burgundies. The same goes for the best white Bordeaux and many of the leading sweet wines, from Chteau d'Yquem to the sublime stickies of the Austrian Burgenland. That said, most white wines taste better without oak. Think Riesling, think Sauvignon Blanc, think Albariño, think (if you must) Pinot Grigio.
The problem with oak is that too often it is seen as an end in itself, a way of adding interest to wines that are short on texture and flavour. From Portugal to Argentina, South Africa to the United States, almost everyone is using oak in their reds these days. And when I say oak, I don't necessarily mean barrels. Given the price of the real thing, many producers have to find cheaper ways of imparting an oaky flavour to their wines, be it oak chips (dubbed 'Quercus fragmentus') or inner staves (planks attached to the inside of stainless-steel tanks). The result may taste OK for a few months, but tends to dry out before long, leaving you with a wine that is bitter and coarse. Would you have been better off with an unoaked wine to start with? You bet. But you'd have to be content with something that only goes up to 10.
Best cellars
Unsmoked
2002 Norton Malbec (£4.99, Safeway, Asda, Morrison's, Oddbins)
A comparative unoaked rarity in Argentina at the moment, this is consistently one of South America's best value reds, with flavours of mint and ripe plums, medium-weight tannins and elegant acidity.
2002 Thomas Mitchell Marsanne (£5.19, Oddbins)
Marsanne is one of Australia's undiscovered treasures - at least when compared with over-hyped Chardonnay. This rich, spicy, straw- and lemon-scented white will develop over the next few years if you can keep your hands off it.
2001 Leonardo Chianti, Cantine Leonardo (£5.99, Somerfield)
Proof that wines from Italian co-operatives don't have to be the sort that remove the enamel from your teeth, this is a juicy, aromatic, richly coloured Tuscan Sangiovese with cherry and black olive flavours and firm tannins.
1997 Bert Simon Serig Würtzberg Riesling Kabinett, Mosel-Saar-Ruwer (£6.03, Sainsbury's)
A light-bodied German Riesling that is just beginning to develop the toasty, petrolly characters that the grape often acquires with age. The peachy sweetness is balanced by green-apple acidity and zesty fruit flavours.
2002 Kaituna Hills Reserve Sauvignon Blanc (£7.99, Marks & Spencer)
Sourced from Montana, New Zealand's biggest producer (and one of its best), this is essence of Marlborough Sauvignon at a very respectable price, showing notes of gooseberry, guava and lime.
My best buy: 2002 California Viognier (Tesco, £3.99)
We may have the wine glut in California to thank for the amazing price of this impressive white, but then who's complaining? It's fresh and peachy with a swirl of stone-fruit flavours and aromas and a soft, creamy texture.
