The words primary, secondary and tertiary, with respect to aromas and flavours, are thrown around with gay abandon by a lot of tasters. Judging by some examples I have seen from people who should know far better, it is clear many do not have a solid grounding in what these words mean.
“Words are our servants, not our masters. We use them as we choose!”, my old tutor Richard Dawkins might well comment at this point. That is, of course, pure bullshit. The whole point of words is that they mean something. Otherwise, how could I be communicating with you now? (It turns out I do communicate with quite a few people as between four and five thousand people a day come to this site! Good heavens!)
I get my definitions of these terms from the two books from which I learned the beginnings of how to taste wine when I was 17 (in 1990): the peerless wine educator Michael Schuster’s Understanding Wine, and the top lover of Alsace and therefore all-around good chap Tom Stevenson’s Wine Atlas.
I fully recognise 1990 was a terribly long time ago. It is possible that definitions of words have changed; although from over three decades of conversations with winemakers from the two relevant regions I can promise you they have not. If, however, you have a reference for more updated definitions then do name them when you dispute my definitions.
No, “Because it is what I sort of think, innit – Trev from Peckham”, is not an adequate reference.
So, as far as my two foundational works go, there are two schools with thought with regard to primary, secondary and tertiary flavours.
The first, perhaps unsurprisingly, comes from Bordeaux. The Bordelais refer to primary aromas/flavours as the ones derived from the vineyard and winemaking. Given that they all grow similar blends and all mature them in oak it is perhaps not surprising that these two facets of wine are lumped together.
‘Secondary’ aromas/flavours are those that come from a wine’s time in bottle. As soon as a wine hits a bottle, primary aromas begin to lessen and secondary flavours increase.
‘Tertiary’ aromas and flavours are those brought about by extreme age. Namely, when all primary and (conventional) secondary aromas are lost and a wine just tastes like ‘old wine’. Anyone who has tried blind tasting a fabulously old bottle of wine will recognise this character – when they get really old, all wines tend to smell and taste remarkably similar.
The second recognised use of these terms comes from Burgundy. There are important differences here.
In Burgundy, primary aromas and flavours come from the grape and vineyard. In a region so wedded to single varietal wines and highly specific vineyards, this difference from Bordeaux is understandable.
Secondary aromas are those derived from winemaking techniques. Thus, a wine might have primary aromas of Pinot and Gevrey villages, and secondary aromas of cold-soaking (is Guy Accad dead yet?) and new oak barrel elevage.
Tertiary aromas are those derived from bottle age. As soon as a wine goes into bottle, in Burgundy at least, it starts developing tertiary aromas; one does not have to wait until it is forty years old for these to appear.
So, which to use? Burgundian for Burgundy and Bordelais for Bordeaux, obviously, but outside those regions is anyone’s game. Generally, choose one method, make sure people know which you are using, stick with it and do not flutter between them on a whim.
Your initial choice should be guided by the kinds of wine you normally drink. If you drink wines where specific vineyards, as demarked entities go, are less important and broadly similar winemaking techniques are practised (I would suggest Californian and Stellenbosch Cabernets as examples), then go for the Bordelais system.
Similarly, if individual varietals and vineyards are the focus of the wine region, and I would suggest Alsace or Germany as examples, then go for the Burgundian method. Now that varietal wines have long been in the ascendant, people generally think, if they think at all, in terms of the Burgundian system.
Which method do I use? As my long-term reader will testify, I hardly ever use these terms. People seem to have such a poor grasp of what they mean that I prefer to avoid the issue entirely and not confuse anyone.
That is a simple primary, secondary and tertiary aroma education! Easy, is it not?
Beautifully written and explained, as usual Davy
Thank you, Keith old friend. I realise you will know this, of course, I have just experienced some pretty whacked out uses of these terms recently and I thought clarification would do no harm.
I hope you are well and happy, old bean!
Probably better to avoid such terms when the meaning is so unclear.
Agreed. As I commented, this is my preferred strategy.
I do not think these terms add that much to the description of a wines character, anyway.
I agree old friend. The terms are too loose and vague to be used safely. However, throwing caution to the wind, I do use them myself occasionally, having developed my own hybrid solution. I also had the privilege of Michael Schuster’s wisdom, as we were both together on the Wine Society’s Committee for a number of years. He wasn’t just a peerless educator, he was also a peerless taster.
I use primary for the grape variety: I think of the grape as the primary vehicle for the expression of terroir or place.
To complicate matters, I also expect the place’s identity to be transmitted first, and therefore I also call that primary.
Ideally the interaction of both is the primary characteristic.
Secondary is always about what other, subsequent characteristics emerge from the wine. These can be the result of the interaction of the two primary (“foundational”) elements above, or particular decisions of the winemaker. I also think that vintage is a crucial secondary characteristic. The primary ones survive vintage variation, but vintages will give us different expression of the primaries.
How and why secondary characteristics come about is a separate consideration.
Tertiary to me is always about time. What time does to the wine.
This simple system serves me well. It’s like a shorthand. Whether or not it aligns with Bordeaux or Burgundy traditions is of no concern to me. Great wine can be found all around the world nowadays, so I need a universal guide. Otherwise we collapse into relativism, and that cannot be rationally maintained.
Where I disagree with the two traditional views you’ve so well described, is that tertiary characteristics somehow overwhelm or eliminate primaries and secondaries. And that by extension, all old wines taste the same. I think this is only true of bad wines, but not of good wines. The beauty of great wines is that their primary and secondary characteristics are not replaced by the tertiary ones over time. They layer on top of each other. When you can still identify the Syrah, or the Pinot, or the Cabernet, “beneath” or “behind” the aromas of age, you’re looking at the possibility of greatness.
As I said, I avoid using these terms unless absolutely necessary (ie. practically never) as they do not always make a description more transparent. This is particularly true if one uses the terms according to our own tastes that are inadequately telegraphed so they are understood whenever one uses them.
I am going to do a quick search of the Elitistreview archive and see how many times the term ‘tertiary’ appears.
More painkillers! I need more painkillers! I do not have more painkillers… I will try lying on a hot pad. It had better work, or I will give the hot pad a damn good thrashing!!