Adventures on the Wine Route is part memoir and part manifesto.  In the book renowned wine importer Kermit Lynch gives us a tour of his career buying wines in France from the early 70’s through the mid 80’s.  In the process we get a dose of Lynch’s vision of what real wine is, and what problems are plaguing the wine industry—which Lynch believes is in dire straits.

The book starts off with the author remembering his first trip to France tagging along with an importer friend.  At the time Lynch owned a wine shop in Berkeley, and this trip and subsequent ones inspired a passion and a career that established Lynch as one of the most respected importers today.
It’s important to note the book was published in 1988.  I didn’t realize this when I picked it up, and it was surprising to me because I recognized so many of the themes in the book as themes in today’s wine dialogue: in wine articles, books, and forums.   Many of Lynch’s views are things you have probably heard before: there is pressure for winemakers to produce “bigger”, more alcoholic and fruity wines, because these receive high ratings and drive sales. Many of the points which the author treats as radical in the wine industry of the book, are, I would argue, orthodoxy today (at least in many circles). So as I read I constantly wondered what role this book has played in today’s wine punditry.  My guess is: a lot.
As you meet various winemakers throughout France and hear interesting stories, Lynch’s uncompromising vision of quality wine unfolds.  Kermit does not waffle on his view of wines, and he has a very distinct idea of what a Kermit Lynch wine is.
 
The conflict in the book is between the “natural wine” and the “processed wine”.  The natural wine is what Lynch strives for, and what proves so elusive.  Lynch’s Holy Grail is a wine that is unfiltered, hand-made, minimally sulphered, minimally chapitalized, and fermented in wood.  The result, he believes, is a wine that is more aromatic, flavorful, distinct, and traditional.   He searches for the Beaujolais that tastes like what Beaujolais has always tasted like. This wine is not what we are accustomed to seeing on the modern wine market.  Natural wines are living things, so they can be volatile: sometimes cloudy, sometimes slightly fizzy, and sometimes light-bodied.  They do not always fit into wine critics’ rubric of quality.  They don’t have mega body and alcohol with tons of fruit.  Sometimes they are tart.  But they are always elegant and balanced and exactly what they are supposed to be.  Poignantly, in the last chapter Lynch tells us, “The wine I liked enough to consume more often than any other during 1987, Domaine Tempier’s 1983 Bandol rouge, scored a measly 78 points in the Wine Spectator. So much for my palate!”
 
As this quote suggests, Kermit comes off in the book as fiercely independent minded.  He seems to run up against all the heavies in the wine world: respected wine critics and publications, negociants (including Guigal!), and a whole troop of French winemakers who change their winemaking process, forcing Lynch to drop them as clients.  And wine consumers too can be antagonists in this struggle—sometimes the most fearsome.  He often alludes to the fact that he knows his customers will snap up the vintages the critics have hyped up on their vintage charts.  What’s admirable is his confidence in his own view.  Most people would second-guess themselves when they see a famous winemaker do something, and have it endorsed by major publications and consumers who shell out big bucks for the wine.  But he is not phased, and is able to filter out all these different views and stick to his guns.
 
But this argument about the wine industry is only one facet.  The book is also a travelogue of French wine regions, offering us morsels of things to see and experience in the French countryside.    This is a man who is passionate about wine, but also passionate about savoring the special history and culture of the regions that gave birth to these celebrated wines.
 
I’m of the opinion that this book has been hugely influential.  When Lynch talks about unfiltered wine, I can’t help thinking his words helped spawn all these bottles of wine that today actually proclaim “unfiltered” on the label—which in his time was deemed so undesirable to the clients.
The same is true of his argument about alcohol levels being too high and the use of new oak run amok, masking the flavor of the fruit.  These are themes that seem to have exploded in the wine world of today, and held by many wine consumers and professionals alike.
 
I still return to the age of this book.  This book seems to me relevant to today’s new food movements, such as organic, local, whole, natural.  Tellingly, I don’t think Lynch uses the word “organic” once in the book, but highlights many winemakers who refuse to use any chemicals on their wines.  When I consider the growing popularity of natural foods, I can’t help thinking that Kermit Lynch’s vision is finally being vindicated 20 years later.  But if you're like me and believe the natural food movement has not completely caught on in wine yet, then really the author's vision is just beginning to be vindicated.