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Switzerland has just under eight million inhabitants, 6.5 million of whom are of wine-drinking age (18 and over), and (according to association statistics) a good 300 wine merchants. There may also be a few more. It is even said that Switzerland is the country with the most wine merchants in the world, but I have not found any reliable figures on that. Let's stick to the facts: Statistically speaking, there is one wine merchant for every 20,000 people. If we assume that only a quarter of them drink wine (more than occasionally), then there is one wine shop for every 5,000 people. If we now also take into account that a large part (estimates even speak of 60 percent) of the wine is sold by wholesalers, grocery shops and discounters as well as (a new development) in the internet mail order business, then there is little left for the "old school" wine trade. Often too little to survive. I am almost moved to pity.

Wine merchants and winegrowers present their wines (Photo: P. Züllig)

Isn't that reason enough to think or even write about the wine merchant? Does he exist, the wine merchant type, and what does he look like, how does he behave, what drives him, how does he live or survive? Of course, I can only talk about those I have already met, those I know. And there are quite a few. But not even ten per cent in Switzerland, and around zero-point-zero-zero-zero-x per cent worldwide. Can you talk about the wine merchant? You can't, but everyone does - including me - on the basis of their own experience. The philosopher, Nobel laureate and successful author ("Fast thinking, slow thinking") Daniel Kahneman comes to mind, who conclusively shows how we form our judgements, explaining the "law of small numbers". He takes the example of the librarian (what is he supposed to be like according to general opinion?), I make the wine merchant the example here: he is competent, friendly, forceful, serious, persistent, convincing, a man of pleasure, a jack-of-all-trades, quick-witted, eloquent and a lot more. Let's draw the reverse conclusion: two people, one competent, friendly, forceful, serious... , the other incompetent, unfriendly, superficial, unserious... Which of the two is the wine merchant? The first one, of course! Statistically speaking, however, this is completely wrong: it is most likely the second, because there are many, many more people who are not wine merchants. Voilà, the "law of small numbers".

Wine merchants and wine lovers in conversation; people meet at auctions (Photo: P. Züllig)

One of my wine merchants - to return to the topic of my column - seems rather shy, reserved, almost awkward. Even when he talks about his wines, there are only "good wines", maybe once very good, when he thinks a step up is in order. Although an excellent taster, the terms do not bubble up so quickly and easily when he is asked for a verdict. In short (see above), a whole series of wine merchant qualities seem to be lacking in him, at least those that are otherwise almost obligatorily assigned to the job description.

And now this: already on the cover with recommendations for his range of Rieslings an almost ultimate superlative: "One of the fullest, freshest and smoothest Rieslings I have ever been allowed to taste!" At least the verb "dürfen" still contains a remnant of the humility I actually know in this wine merchant. But the brochure continues drastically: "An absolutely exceptional year", "unbelievable elegance, paired with irrepressible power", "dreamlike", "a natural wonder", "Riesling like from a picture book", "sensual seducer", "paradisiacally complex"... It makes me earthly confused what all the top wines are on offer. Discovered and made available especially for me - all I have to do is grab it.

Ultimate advertising already on the envelope of the brochure (Photo: P. Züllig)

I no longer understand the world. What has happened to "my" so reserved, rather clumsy wine merchant? He has taken a seat on the train of superlatives that is always on the move in the wine trade, but now - when the new vintage is really being launched (in view of the winter season and the coming Christmas business) - it is roaring through the area in a particularly big, huge and loud way. 2012 is of course "an absolutely exceptional year, even better than the grandiose 2011 vintage". It may or may not be true, it is written year after year. It is always an exceptional year for one or another grape variety, for one or another wine region.

We have known this from the Bordelais for years. The vintage is always a little better - and a little more expensive. And if the vintage is not better, then it is the wines that are exceptional in their characteristics. Yes, the time of superlatives is in the schwang; the wine merchants outdo themselves in their word constructions, even find new or unusual word creations. To stay with Riesling, it sounds something like this "...a combination of noble simplicity, impressive precision and noble beauty... a super wine, a miracle of nature... a heavenly Auslese... a spectacle of nature... on the palate it goes 'boom'... steals the mind, puts you in a trance... bombastic aromas in a weightless wine... a heavenly acid structure..." At last I can imagine what awaits me in heaven - among many other things, an Auslese, yes, even an acid structure.

Attack of pleasure (Photo: P. Züllig)

At the moment - it is the time of superlatives - I am virtually covered by offers of unique wines at the best price, with the largest selection, the best service and the highest enjoyment. The superlatives are unleashed, stopping nowhere, neither on the street nor in the letterbox, nor on the internet. As I write these lines - beep, beep - a new message sloshes into my mailbox: "The Malbec of ... with its strong character combines all the advantages of its origin: dry climate, vineyard sites at over 1,000 metres above sea level as well as hot days and cool nights. The 6-month ageing in American oak gives the wine its wonderful aroma of fresh cherries and dried plums in beautiful balance with intense berries..." And of course the invitation to convince myself. In this case, the conviction costs me only 6.45 instead of 12.90 francs.

Advertising - as we know - has its own laws. 300 Swiss wine companies - that's my impression - have submitted to them unconditionally. And all for my happiness and enjoyment. There is a lot on offer: "Pleasure like in the old days... Pleasure hike... Pleasure on the steam train... Pleasure in the pleasure lab..." - and of course "pleasure wines", what else?

Always only the best (Photo: P. Züllig)

Overwhelmed by so many pleasures and superlatives, the poster on the roadside, where motorists, cyclists, hikers, even train passengers pass by incessantly, seems downright restrained and modest to me: "Swiss Wine Week. Best wine quality at the best price". Best quality at the best price: is that perhaps the key word? Curious and addicted to pleasure, I went to the discount store to study the wine shelves. But there were bottles and crates and boxes standing around as if it were a matter of emptying a warehouse. Wine at a discount price. The customers grabbed it from time to time. In the hour during which I observed the hustle and bustle, it was almost without exception the cheapest wines, probably on the assumption that they were also the best. The superlatives have an effect. They are arbitrarily exchanged, interchanged, equated.

I praise "my" wine merchant. When I meet him, talk to him, discuss wines, he seems competent, hesitant, modest, trustworthy. Then he is still the "old school" wine merchant. But as soon as he writes about wines, he hardly differs from the vast majority of wine merchants I know. He too is smothered in superlatives, which I can only avoid by refusing.

Sincerely
Yours/Yours

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