Smooth Wine and the Death of Attention

In wine, “smooth” is a dangerous compliment. It sounds harmless. Who could object to smooth? It’s friendly and never interrupts dinner with an opinion about volatile acidity. It’s easy to like but that is not the same as being worth remembering. To be fair, there are wines in which smoothness is a virtue. A supple Merlot with polished tannins, a mature Rioja whose edges have softened with age, a well-made Pinot Noir that glides rather than grips. There is nothing inherently wrong with ease. Wine should give pleasure, and pleasure often begins with something ingratiating. But when smoothness becomes the dominant ideal, wine can lose friction and contour. It loses the little obstacles that make us pay attention. A smooth wine asks very little of us. The tannins are rounded off. The acidity is tucked in. The fruit is ripe enough to avoid sharpness, sweet enough to avoid austerity, familiar enough to avoid confusion. Oak may add vanilla, chocolate, or toast, but only in approved…