Oak! It’s one of wine’s biggest status symbols, which makes sense given how much you have to pay for a good barrel—it’s like the 3 carats of winemaking. Wow, wow, wow. Then again, it seems to me oak is rather like an actor’s credits. They can have a lot, but depending on how good they are, those credits may or may not mean a lot (see my IMDb page…or don’t). All of this is to say more oak isn’t necessarily better. I first conceived an exploration of oak because I was wondering why we say “sees oak” when describing a wine’s élevage. And I have yet to find an answer. My best guess is that you can say things like the wine “spent time in” oak, and maybe it is quicker to say “sees”? But it is equally fast to say “aged” as “sees.” Although “aged” seems to imply a more ponderous time, so…y’all, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because “sees” is also rather non-committal. Like it saw oak, but the two were never in a serious relationship so you may not notice? It was also suggested to me that maybe it was a language thing, so I started looking at French and Italian wineries’ pages without the Google translation but didn’t notice any of them voir- or vedere-ing oak, which is by no means an exhaustive study. However…if you have any leads on this story, please clue me in, as so far my investigations (and endless Googling) have gone nowhere. Okay, all I know is that I’ve been thinking a lot about oak. After all, there comes a time in every bi girl’s life in which she questions the presence of wood in her life. Ahem. There are a lot of variables! French oak vs. American oak and beyond (e.g. Slovenian, Chile’s Rauli and even non-oaks like acacia), then all the other factors: age and size, toast level, seasoning, even the environment in which the barrel raises wine makes a difference. I started down such a deep, dark rabbit hole that I had to stop myself short of applying to apprentice at a cooperage. This is by no means a comprehensive overview of oak, as I don’t think you want to read a book about it here (I will write one if you do, though). First, your fun oak fact-y facts: There are hundreds of oak species under the genus Quercus, but only three species under that umbrella (sorry, science people, can we think of a species as being under the umbrella of a genus?) that are deemed good enough for winemaking, plus one species for cork. Of the wine-aging-worthy oaks, American oak (Quercus alba), European oak (Quercus petraia aka Q. sessiflora or Q. Sessifillias) and Quercus robur (found more in Slovenia) are most prevalent. Petraia is most prized for a tight grain and aromatics like vanilla and baking spice (cinnamon, allspice, etc), while robur is looser-grained and less aromantic, and can be used for wine, but is oft favored for brandy and whiskey…although! Plot twist—apparently, in cooperages, they don’t sort wood by the species but by the grain, which can be more affected by growing environs than species. You are most likely to encounter European oak, whether Petraia or Robur. The latter is often found in large cask format in Italy, where the format may or may not diminish its characteristics. Then we come to the American oak quotient, Alba. GOSH, I love it when alliteration makes things easy to remember. Alba+American. It is known for coconut and dill notes along with vanilla, and can have a sweetening effect on wine. It has a looser grain than Euro-types and lends fewer phenolics (oak tannins, anyone?). Though it is known for its ways in Rioja and Aussie Shiraz, I have to advocate for bourbon as an avenue to befriending American oak, because the coconut and vanilla play so nicely with bourbon’s sweet caramel corn notes. Let’s get into some cooperage decisions, shall we? Unseasoned oak can be rife with bitter phenolics. Seasoning prepares the oak staves to be pleasant barrel-mates. Reducing moisture is one concern, which can be achieved in a kiln, but then there is the matter of bitter phenols locked in the wood. To reduce the phenols, aka the bitter-makers, oak staves can be stored in the great outdoors, where rain baths and sunshine saunas bring down the phenols and, with the proper formation of fungi, can help build fun ‘n friendly aromatic compounds. Then there is the question of toasting, which comes in light, medium or heavyweight. The lighter toast heats the wood at a lower temperature for less time, the medium a bit more and so on and so forth. The heating process breaks down the wood and frees up volatile compounds we readily associate with oak, like vanilla, spices, cloves and caramel. Lactones, that coconutty compound, are also a result, but overheating oak can ultimately lower those compounds. Of course, one of the biggest barrel factors is age! A new barrel will most definitely influence the wine inside it. After several “fills” in play, a barrel may become “neutral,” prized for allowing delicate oxygenation without contributing aromas and/or flavors. However, apparently, oxygenation can also be lost with age. I could go on further about the size and the amount of time in the barrel, and the more you consider it, the more it becomes clear that figuring out what oak is right for a wine cannot be accomplished in a Cosmo-style quiz—like picking your aging regime based on which SITC character you are. But I’m inclined to say if you are a Samantha, you are American new oak, Miranda is stainless steel, Charlotte is European old money (oak, I mean old oak), and Carrie is an amphora. I’ll stop now. To wrap it all up, I was recently sent two bottles, both alike in vineyard and vintage, but one was aged in French oak and one in American; it was a pretty cool way to compare and contrast what the barrels can do. My thoughts on this exercise: 2019 Del Dotto St. Helena Mountain French Oak Taransaud Cabernet Sauvignon Taransaud is the cooperage! Gorgeous nose of blackcurrant cordial offset with lifted red plums, all playing nice with a hefty dose of vanilla and slight green peppercorn. The palate is silky and light despite being mouthcoating, and the tannins hang on like me to a crush: delicate and shy but stubborn as heck. Flavors in the mouth build on the nose, bringing violet and blackberry to the currant-dominant party. Allspice kicks in on the finish, which goes on so long you forget you were tracking it—then, a couple of minutes later, you find your mind returning to the pleasantly drying ripe fruit tastes that linger. This is easy to drink fast because it is DELICIOUS, but take your time; there is a lot to discover (slight sanguine notes eventually emerge) with patience (I have little, but I try). 2019 Del Dotto St. Helena Mountain American Oak Carved & Grooved Cabernet Sauvignon The difference between this and the French oak bottle is certainly nuanced and distinct at the same time. This is an interesting barrel: the American gives dustier vibes, sweeter fruit on the nose, and an interesting pang of sweet-sour on the palate. It’s all tangier and somehow sweeter without being sweet, more red-fruit-forward still with a strong vanilla current and a lick of bitter chocolate. It’s on the finish that the coconut says hi. As with the Taransaud, it rewards lengthy decanting—more herbal notes show their leaves if you give them a chance. Oak makes quite the difference but is one superior to another, or do the finer details make the real difference? I always thought I preferred European oak, but the Del Dotto experiment made me think it matters less what oak does for you than what you do with your oak. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Want to read more from Ellen? Check out her recent articles: [All I Want for Xmas (Solstice/Hannukah/Kwanza/Whatever You Celebrate)](Solstice/Hannukah/Kwanza/Whatever You Celebrate) Old World vs. New: GSMs Sugar and Wine and Everything Fine You can also listen to Ellen's [podcast](https://delectable.com/feeds/wine_situation_clifford), The Wine Situation [here](https://boardwalkaudio.com/thewinesituation/).