"Wine is like a tea bag, immersed in a broader cultural broth, a concept we can summarise with the word 'terroir': a territory inhabited by human communities that, over the course of their history, have built an aesthetic sensibility, choosing to characterise their products in ways that are often coherent, recognisable, and ultimately representative of those lands and those people. This cultural spark, this vision of wine as part of a broader context, we owe to Luigi Veronelli."
Armando Castagno is one of the most authoritative voices in the Italian wine scene, and he has just signed the brilliant "Journey through Franciacorta," published by Treccani. We asked him to tell us about the evolution of wine communication, between languages, trends, and future perspectives in light of his twenty-year career as a critic, writer, and communicator.

Armando Castagno
How has the way of narrating wine changed since you started your fieldwork?
"It has changed a lot in these 23 years. At that time, there were still the last remnants of very specialised communication dominated by the conventions and communicative protocols of sommelier associations, with a much more self-referential language on which the linguistic forays of Veronelli or the cultural connections of Soldati or Monelli had not had such an important weight, perhaps due to the inimitability of the inspiring figures. There was a communication that had been stagnant for at least twenty or thirty years. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the world, this parabola had already begun, leading communication to become prosaic, literary, synthetic, even to excesses like the hundred-point scores assigned without further explanations."
And then?
"Perhaps due to an endogenous reaction of the system, and without an evident link between the various phenomena, new areas of wine communication emerged, such as some magazines and forums, including those of Gambero Rosso, which I consider of primary importance in Italy: a true incubator. In these spaces, communication began to become more colloquial, introducing dissemination based on intelligible terms, progressively absorbed by spoken language. This led to a sort of 'technical vulgarisation' of wine language that contributed to its popularisation, extending also to the beverage world. From here derived phenomena like the boom of organic, natural wine, craft beers, and the growing distrust towards additive oenology and oenology in general, an extremisation of this trend. But everything goes in the same direction: the desperate search for genuineness. The language has also adapted."
The language of wine criticism is always perceived as very technical, sometimes cryptic, complex…
"The worst wine criticism continues to have, like the worst journalism, a very strong instinct for self-preservation and therefore a refractoriness to the new that I would define as statutory, congenital. The element of sectarianism seems ineliminable and obviously leads to the adoption of languages unattainable by others and therefore to the self-promotion of great experts. But this applies in all sectors."
Would simplifying it trivialise the subject? Is terminological precision really so indispensable in some aspects of wine narration?
"It is obvious that in a gathering of oenologists or agronomists, if we talk about techniques to combat excess quercetin or Drosophila Suzukii, we must be precise. In wine communication, from the critic's point of view, addressed to an audience that is curious but does not have technical preparation, using simple language is not trivialising the subject because wine is not trivial in itself. In any sector that touches the cultural sphere, we have witnessed a simplification of expressive means. The conquest of simplicity is in the history of many artists in all fields, from music to art."
With the increase in social content, can wine criticism still mediate between producer and consumer, or does it risk becoming marginal?
"Criticism is a beautiful word, deriving from the Greek krínein, which means to judge. Its original meaning was linked to agriculture: it indicated the separation of wheat from weeds. And if we want, this metaphor still holds: provided that criticism is exercised in the exclusive interest of the reader and with transparency, addressing those who need mediation. Part of the criticism, however, has become support for production, transforming into a collateral activity supported by the same production that considers it a possible advertising vehicle. This type of criticism will inevitably go into crisis. True criticism, carried out by credible people who express judgments whose independence is recognised, will never enter into crisis."
What narrative and aesthetic approach is needed to talk about wine to new generations seeking more immediate and immersive experiences? What messages work and what mistakes should be avoided?
"The first mistake to avoid is stating that wine is good for you. Wine is harmful, like all substances that contain alcohol, regardless of the quantity ingested. In a society that moves very quickly towards a search—sometimes illusory, other times real, but always understandable—for genuineness and healthiness, wine can only encounter difficulties. However, wine has an important card to play: it is a great, extraordinary cultural mediator. The message that should be conveyed, but which is too often neglected, is that by studying wine, tasting it consciously, in the right quantities and ways, one has access to a sort of textbook. Wine is a means to enrich one's knowledge: historical, geographical, aesthetic, and even philosophical. It is the only element of our diet with so many cultural reflections. Appealing to the imagination, curiosity, and intelligence of young people, we must make them understand that wine is not a simple beverage. It is not correct to communicate it as the 'drink of the party' or the aperitif, to be consumed lightly. Giving it the right importance, as I try to do every day since I started, wine can become something not indispensable, but certainly essential like books or films."
Can introducing elements of narrative disruption, perhaps inspired by disciplines like contemporary art, music, or cinema, work?
"Yes, absolutely. Wine is not an art form, but it stimulates the same receptors that allow us to activate our perceptivity. The aesthetic sense, in fact, is solicited and stimulated by wine just as it happens with art. So why not create cultural short circuits between these two dimensions? I think this is the key."
The sustainability theme is central in wine. Should communication include more ethical and cultural topics to engage with new generations?
"As long as competence and skill in making the final product are not lost. I believe that no ecological choice can justify a mediocre product. Sustainability, for many, has already become an obligatory choice, and for some territories, it has been for a long time. However, it cannot be a mere fig leaf. Preserving the environment is fundamental, because a certain way of conceiving agriculture—now, fortunately, obsolete—has in the past caused difficulties and in some cases real damage. But alongside agricultural sustainability, there must also be the search and refinement of an aesthetically interesting product. This does not mean creating a perfect product, but something capable of stimulating perception, aesthetic sense, and judgment, an object that engages the audience on a sensory and cultural level. This is what we call taste, and it is an essential component."
In a world dominated by social media, can wine storytelling still rely on the evocative power of written text?
"Undoubtedly. Written text, when of quality, has equal and sometimes even greater narrative strength than images. There are both fictional and non-fiction texts with such evocative power derived from a cultivated use of language that they make images almost trivial. A well-written text will always be read."
How do you assess the role of producers in wine communication? Do wineries communicate well?
I see a bit of everything: good, highly intelligent, and very sober communication; as well as communication that is aggressively effective, that stands out, with well-composed and structured content that hits the mark. On the other hand, there is also crude communication, and some that is even highly questionable, bordering on fraudulent.
For example, when a critic whose job is to assign scores is bribed—whether directly or indirectly—knowing full well that the score has been paid for, and then this critic grants you the "big score" you were expecting, the issue does not stop there. You then place a sticker on the bottle that says, "I received the big score X from critic Y." This amounts to an act of unfair competition that should be prosecuted by law.
In every Italian regulation, without exception, there is a clear prohibition against placing laudatory mentions on the label or elsewhere on the bottle. When those accolades have been bought, it becomes an "unsportsmanlike" act. This, in my opinion, is the worst example of communication in the wine world: it is ethically highly questionable and should be punished and never allowed.
How do you imagine the storytelling of wine in twenty years? Will it remain tied to the past, or will it evolve towards a more universal vision, detached from terroir?
I hope it never detaches from concepts like terroir. I must confess that I have absolutely no idea what it will be like in twenty years, just as twenty years ago, I had no idea where we would be today. I have always tried to avoid the arrogance of thinking myself intelligent enough to predict the future. I prefer to live it moment by moment, judging its innovations step by step. Any answer I were to give now would most likely be wrong. In fact, almost certainly.