The French (as one might guess) have a word for it: terroir. There’s no adequate English translation, but terroir (pronounced ter-wah) encompasses all the basic biogeographical elements of soil, site and climate.

Perhaps writer/importer Kermit Lynch best explained it in the October 1998 issue of Food & Wine: "[Terroir] does not mean taste of the earth or of the soil. . . . Very simply, goût de terroir refers to the character or style or personality a certain vineyard site gives to its wines."

The late Peter Sichel, in his January Vintner’s Hall lecture for the Wine & Spirit Education Trust, spoke of the essence of terroir: "The ultimate achievement in wine is to discover a terroir with a character potential. . . . to understand the extraordinary complexities of which only nature is capable, and how this can be miraculously expressed from those little berries if man remains modestly satisfied with observing, understanding and assisting . . ." rather than attempting to "make wine to a style that conforms to a preconceived ideal."

There are opposing views among grape growers, winemakers and enthusiasts the world over when it comes to the importance of terroir. Some insist that the winemaker has the ultimate power over the wine’s character, while others view their role as one of guidance and guardianship—a respectful presence for the marriage of vine and terroir.

Bill Mosby is one of the latter winemakers: "Terroir supercedes a wine’s varietal character," he says. "Of course, some varietals are more terroir-sensitive than others." Nebbiolo, for example, is one of the most difficult grapes in the world to grow successfully. This is due primarily to the Nebbiolo’s need for a very specific terroir. Perhaps it was Nebbiolo the ancient Romans had in mind when they proclaimed "Bacchus amat colles": Bacchus (the god of wine) loves the hills. Alone, on a rocky, heavy clay soil hillside of the Mosby estate and vineyards, the Nebbiolo thrives, producing award-winning Mosby wine, year after year.

Sangiovese, another recognized Mosby favorite, is also terroir-sensitive—although less so than the temperamental Nebbiolo. "The Sangiovese requires more attention," Bill explains. "Producing a fine Sangiovese wine means resisting the temptation to allow the vines to over-produce. The [grape] clusters should never be allowed to touch [each other]." As clusters get too close, many of them must be removed. "Admittedly, it is hard to watch them fall to the ground by my own hand. But it is necessary to ensure the integrity of the wine." The diligent attention paid to terroir when it comes to Nebbiolo and Sangiovese is so because "we expect so much more from them."

Other varietals are less affected by terroir—Chardonnay, for example. Yet differences in chardonnays are noticeable if they’re not over-oaked, over-blown or over-styled. In California, for example, it seems that most Chardonnays are about "style," and much of the taste is determined by barrel treatments—oak, toasts of oak, aged sur lie in oak, residual sugar, etc.

Mosby Chardonnay (named one of the top seven by Bon Appetite magazine in June 1998) is, refreshingly and simply, Chardonnay. Bill Mosby is rapidly gaining industry attention for his allowing the varietal "essence" to shine though in all of his wines. If you want to know what Chardonnay, in its essence, is supposed to be, taste the Mosby Chardonnay.

Referring to the esoteric relationship between Burgundian terroir and the difficult Pinot Noir, Kermit Lynch writes admiringly: "Experience, not commerce, taught the ancients—first the monks, then the aristocracy—that the Pinot Noir grape, which barely ripens in Burgundy’s cool climate, produces wines of . . . beauty and interest, wines that can express more than power, more than ripeness and new oak. They can express what only the site in which the grapes are nourished can give: a unique goût de terroir."

The next time you drink a Mosby wine, close your eyes, release your senses and experience all the essence of the wine. Allow the mysteries of the wine’s terroir to possess your palate. Taste the wine and know the awe of the ancients.

There are mysteries surrounding the very nature of wine that modern science has yet to understand. We can send men to the moon, clone living organisms and engineer weapons of mass destruction, yet we have barely scratched the surface of the chemical nature of wine—the nectar of the gods.