So there I was the other day browsing though the San Francisco Chronicle and this provocative headline caught my attention: “This column is sponsored by the letter P.” Jon Carroll, a clever columnist with a wicked wit, was writing about space scientists converting urine and other liquids produced by humans and machines in the space station.
He was wondering about using this technology on earth, claiming 
that, “We have a lot of places that need water and we certainly have a lot of people producing urine.” Then, as he often does, Carroll wandered off in another direction with a relevant musing: “A decade from now, I can envision a tasting panel sampling recycled pee water, with expert participants noting a ‘fruity finish’ or ‘a hint of oak and blackberry.’ Anything can be a gourmet item. It’s all marketing.”
Carroll’s subtle poke at wine writing got me thinking about the current round of wine names and how marketing, the business activity that includes packaging, develops such appetizing producer names as Cupcake, Layer Cake and maybe Fish Eye, dangerous labels like “Running With Scissors” and “Big House;” tongue-in-cheek names such as “Chateau D’Og” (from, wait for it, Mutt Lynch Winery), “Twin Fin” (celebrating California and surfing), “Razz Ma Tazz,” “Screw Kappa Napa,” and my favorite, “Writer’s Block.” Off center wine names, of course, are not limited to California wines. From France there’s “Red Bicyclette,” as well as “Red Guitar” from Spain, “Polka Dot” from Germany, and “Yellow Tail” and “Little Roo” from the Land Down Under. What does any of this have to do with wine? I’d say nothing, but you’d have to ask a wine marketing person.
Then, I realize that I’ve just fallen prey to a duh moment! No connection is the point. What matters today is getting your wine 
on the shelf and getting it noticed. And that ain’t easy, especially in these difficult economic times when there is more wine than people willing to fork over hard-earned dollars to buy all of it. Still, I’ve always believed that one of the things that sets wine apart from other beverages containing alcohol is a respect for tradition and class. Something about the aristocratic agrarian lifestyle and the association of wine and food marketed by wineries with proud family names that says more to consumers than “Running With Scissors.”
Since I first started writing about wine in the late 1960s, there has been a persistent feeling that Americans do not take wine seriously. That attitude has been changing in recent years and today we see wine more commonly accepted as part of American table fare than ever before. Wines bearing oddball names are mostly products of niche marketing, moderately priced bottles intended to spend little time on a supermarket shelf and meant to be consumed on the day of purchase. But this dumbing down of wine’s image by marketing does not help to fix a firm place for wine in the wider culture, and this is what will be needed if we ever expect to change the attitude in this country that wine is not first alcohol and then food.
And so, perhaps the whole exercise about marketing wine with odd names is no different than marketing recycled pee water with a fruity finish and a hint of oak. Which reminds me of the old apocryphal tale of the winemaker who was puzzled about one of his wines, wanted a second opinion, and sent a sample to a testing lab. The report came back stating, “Sir, we are sorry to inform you that your horse has diabetes.”
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