Wine Science: extreme edition

At the beginning of this past week, I did a post on some of the science behind the aroma of coffee, so I thought it would be fitting to talk a bit about wine as well. Not because I'm a wine afinionado (not even close), but mainly because I had the opportunity to write a piece for Maisonneuve which looked closely at the burgeoning use of genomic technology in this otherwise tradition steep profession.

As well, the process behind this piece getting published was interesting in of itself, since this was one occasion where I really experienced how heavy handed the editing process can be.

Anyway, the piece primarily started off because my own group (the Michael Smith Laboratories) is connected to UBC's Wine Research Centre, which essentially is a facilty mandated to explore the use of high throughput techniques to aid British Columbia's wine industry (we're talking about a variety of those 'omic' words you here about).

I should make it clear, that the vast majority of the work being done is more related to the prospect of using molecular markers and the like to "characterize" and/or "monitor" wine production (i.e. figure out diagnostic cues that would make viticulture less an an art, and more a science). This is not the same as using these technologies to literally "make" a better grape, or "make" a better yeast towards a similar end - that is making a better wine (although, to be frank, there is some work on "making" more useful yeast strains).

So I wrote the piece, and because the issue of GMOs weighs heavily in the debate, wanted to be sensitive to all sides of the issue, and the interests of both the magazine and the research centre. This was interesting, because since the research centre does very little on the GM front (and none in so far as studies on grapes), I had to make sure the piece didn't inadvertantly turn into something that painted the centre as a GM churning facility. At the same time, the GMO angle was still a topic that needed to be broached having obvious connotations to the research, indirect though they may be to this facility itself.

Anyway, because of all these nuances, and the amount of back and forth editing that occured, this piece was my first experience where what that eventually got published, didn't actually feel like it was my own. I found this a curious facet of writing, but I'm told it is a common and necessary facet in the world of freelancing.

Anyhow, since the final edit was so different from the original edit, I thought it would be fun to reprint the first edit here:

(keep in mind, this is a first edit - warts and all - and I'm not sure how reliable is the copy/paste feature from Word to MovableType).

WINE DESIGNS
By David Ng
(For Maisonneuve, 3013 words)

Recently, I learnt that words such as muscular, complex, muddled, broad, diffuse, rotund and winsome work beyond the context of describing your future groom (or bride), and function equally well to purvey reviews on how you might find a bottle of wine. On the other hand, the word ironic doesn't surface too often in this context, although it seems ideally suited to my involvement in this article. Let's be honest - I know very little about wine, even less when larger terms such as viticulture and cultivars creep into the picture. I do, however, know quite a bit about genetics and biochemistry, and the point I suppose, is that these particular words may themselves one day dictate those reviews.

Which, if anything, seems entirely surreal. After all, wine carries with it a certain aura and a profound sense of tradition that would arguably not fare well in the realms of techno-babble. Or would it?

In fact, this is a question that a group of scientists at the University of British Columbia, as well as others in wine producing countries, are happily exploring. In this respect, the UBC Wine Research Centre and its Faculty are part of a consortium of researchers that certainly know a thing or two about wine. And they realize that buried within the charisma of any bottle is possibly an order of biological note. It is this order that they are interested in. They want to understand it, and especially take advantage of it, even though it may carry that 'for better or for worse' manner that science is often notorious for. However, these scientists seek that order because they know that the whole point of wine culture is to experience enjoyment; to find that bottle, that year, that label which fulfills a simple act of satisfaction. They also seek that order because there is an inherent challenge to the task - they know that reaching this criterion is not going to be an easy thing to do.

At the front end, viticulture (or the practice of growing grapevines) is problematic in its own right. Simply put, wine grapes (usually of the Vitis vinifera varieties) are difficult plants from a farming perspective. Dr. Steven Lund, a grapevine molecular biologist and faculty member of the UBC Wine Research Centre, notes a few of the challenges, "When something like an apple is picked, that's the product in your hand. When you have grapes, you're dealing with a bunch, a cluster of 50 to 100, that don't necessarily synchronize well. On top of that, you're dealing with a mystique, and consequently an intense interest in the finessing of conditions used to get the flavours, the sugars, and the acids you need in the fruit for the wine." In reality, it almost sounds as if grape growers were more like artisans than farmers, a sensibility that is best believed since one does not call a grapevine grower a farmer, you call that person a viticulturalist.

But the back end is just as intricate. Here, one worries about the fermentation process itself. In this case, the organism of interest is the humble yeast (usually Saccharomyces cerevisiae), and although the yeast itself may bear no novelty to the layman, make no mistake that the biochemistry involved is prickly, very prickly. How the sugars are converted to alcohol and flavor inducing by-products is something that is convoluted enough to induce dizziness regardless of how many glasses of wine you limit yourself to.

Therefore, it makes perfect sense to use the best technology and information that biology can provide, all with the aim to help make a better wine. Why rely on conjecture, when science can literally tame both the grape and the yeast? Which is a point that Dr. Hennie van Vuuren, the Director of Wine Research Centre, clearly revels in.

During the interview, van Vuuren, is a figure of charm. He speaks with a soft Afrikaan accent, and although he comments precisely to my questions, he does so in a way that is both pleasant and with authority. Most of all, you can tell that this is a man who holds wine dearly, and truly believes in his work. "My feeling is that if you can study the grapevine or the yeast at the genomic level, you can get at what we want to know, which is a simple 'how does it work?' My analogy is with the Human Genome Project. Here you have the human DNA code sequenced in its entirety, and from it you gain insight and information on so many things. Things related to function, to diseases, to basic understanding. The same would be true with the grapevine and the same would be true with the wine yeast."

Genomics, to the unacquainted, is a newish breed of genetics. It simply infers the ability to look at DNA, genes, and the such, at a holistic level. Rather than looking at one gene at a time, to see (as if reading erotica), whether it is being turned on or turned off for activity, genomics relies on technology that allows the investigator to look at many genes, and indeed perhaps even all of the genes for a given organism in a given situation. In other words, it is akin to a "Hail Mary" strategy that has proven instrumentally powerful as illustrated in its use in medical research during the last decade or so.

However, to really appreciate its potency, it would do us well to first cover a little biology:

Suffice to say, every living thing on this planet adheres to a script of sorts, a biological language that is not unlike the overlooked instruction manual of a recently bought appliance. This script, of course, is genetic in nature, made as DNA, and composed of a limited alphabet of 4 building blocks, (letters if you will) A, T, C, and G. In fact, our own human instruction manual is just over 3 billion letters in length. Within this sea of letters, there are set words, phrases even, that denote a particular functional unit. These units are called genes and can be responsible for participating in how one looks, how one grows, how one defends, and when all is said and done, how one lives. If we think of our own bodies, this equates to the realization that the function of each and every cell in each and every tissue is dictated by the presence, absence, and activity levels of the 30,000 or so genes in the human genome. Genomics simply offers a way to look at each and every one of these, in a manner that allows one to obtain a profile for that particular cell in that particular circumstance. This affords two major strengths: first, that you now have an exhaustive profile that is based (in this example) on 30,000 queries; and second, you have the ability to compare profiles between different situations (normal vs diseased for example), which in turn, allows you to focus your attention on genes where a discrepancy exists.

Yet curiously, despite its prevalence in the research arena, genomics, at least from a public familiarity perspective, is also a quiet technology. It is still a term generally met with uncertainty when pressed upon the general public. In fact, even as recently as four years ago, a google search for the term genome would have resulted in a polite "Did you mean: gnome?" Of course, this represents an additional obstacle to the vision of the Wine Research Centre: especially as it pertains to educating the wine industry, which of course needs to be involved. Van Vuuren appeared generally optimistic about this. He finds that, "overall, the wine industry in British Columbia is on board. They may not fully understand it, but they are certainly intrigued by it."

And so they should be. Although notably young compared to the old world growths in Europe and even fledgling siblings like South Africa or Australia, the wine industry in British Columbia, comprising primarily of vineyards in the Okanagan, Fraser Valleys and Vancouver Island, is doing remarkably well. Gaining international kudos for excellence in icewines, and table wines crafted from classic French and German V. vinifera varietals, sales of local VQA (Vintner's Quality Alliance - a status that reflects certain standards) wines reached close to $113 million in March 2005 (12 month rolling sales) - a figure that continues to suggest rapid exponential growth. If anything, the youthful nature of this enterprise is a big reason why the Wine Research Centre exists at UBC. The BC Wine Institute, an organization born from provincial legislation and one with a mandate to create an internationally competitive wine industry, even has the following sentiment written in its documents:
"We are a young region. We are not bound, stifled and restricted by rules. We experiment. We play with wine in ways that regions steeped in tradition wouldn't dream and if they could dream, tradition wouldn't allow. We have freedom."
And this is freedom to do things such as genomic experiments - the sort that aims to observe profiles for grape ripening, grape sugar/acid content, or yeast fermentation, and do so under the context of the many different varieties available.

If we can go back to our biology lesson, how genomics is done exactly relies on certain attributes in the structure of DNA, which from anecdotal perspective is not unlike square dancing in an overly homophobic community. Let me explain. DNA is commonly referred to as a double stranded structure. In other words, you can think of DNA as two rows of letters coming together in a very intimate manner. Not only that, but the two rows happen to interact in a way that complement each other, such that specific letters will actually pair up in a strict chemical manner. Here is where the square dancing analogy helps. Imagine a row of square dancers lined up ready to face their partners. Because of the conservative nature of the dance hall, we can be rest assured that boys will always dance with girls and girls will always dance with boys. What arises from this is a neat little trick, in that we should be able to theoretically figure out what the second row of dancers would be regardless of whether we can directly see them. For example, if you have a row of four boys, you would expect the other row to consist of four girls. If you had a 'boy girl boy girl' row, then you would expect the other row to be 'girl boy girl boy.' These rows are said to be complementary and it's important to understand that DNA does something very similar.

Consequently a genomic experiment would entail something of the following nature: it would be analogous to having a dance hall full of rows of square dancers (maybe even 30,000 rows), and you are on the hunt to identify these rows. To do this, you send in your own lines of square dancers, and basically see if they can find their match. For example, if you send in a row of 10 girls and find out they have "interacted", you know that in that dance hall, there is a row of 10 boys somewhere. Hence, one of your queries has been answered. Now do this by sending in 30,000 of your rows (or in the case of most recent innovations, the capability to send over 500,000), and you get the idea. Or as van Vuuren would put it, "Genomics is so incredibly powerful these days."

Unfortunately, it is not quite as straightforward as it sounds. Despite the benefit that can be reaped from this expertise, there is still a high degree of caution in place. After all, technology, and biotechnology in particular, comes with it a certain amount of negative reputation in both the arena of food and mystique. Here, a Faculty member such as Lund is quick to point out that he is not doing GM (genetic modification) work. His research is squarely in the realm of using genetics to diagnose or monitor the grape for its most flavourful capacity - it is not an attempt to engineer a better grapevine. However, even he concedes that there are others tackling that route; and is quick to point out that "there is great potential for GM grapevines if and when the public accepts the technology as safe. But for now, there is no reason why anyone should be concerned about potential misuse of the technology in viticulture."

Misused or not, GM wine would be a most interesting beast. A statement I make because I know that the biology behind wine production has a number of intriguing features, which can ensure that no matter what, the final product can present itself as being essentially not tampered with. Such features exist for both the grapevine and the yeast. For the plant, the stalk is often engrafted on a separate root system, usually one with a more robust constitution against certain soil-borne pathogens. This essentially means that it would be possible to use a GM root, where the stalk (and therefore the fruit) would technically remain GM-free. For the yeast, despite its central role in the fermentation process, it is nevertheless an organism doomed to die and be destroyed before the final product is shelved. In other words, it would be possible to rely on GM yeast for this step, without subsequently being present in the wine itself. Altogether, it paints an uncertainty in the standard of food labeling required, which in turn, should this be an avenue they wish to actively pursue, could be of benefit to an industry intent on expanding even further. Still, Lund is adamant. As he puts it, "You don't produce a bike with square wheels, I think, if no-one is going to buy it."

Putting the possibility for GM concerns aside, it appears that people are buying into genomics, and investing into this strategy. As recently as February 2004, Genome Canada and UBC unveiled "a $6.2 million collaborative research project, between scientists in BC and Spain aimed at understanding genomic mechanisms controlling berry ripening and quality in wine and table grapes." In fact, the Wine Research Centre can count its blessings on many fingers, including those from government, industry, academic and personal coffers. They also don't have any problems in getting significant numbers of bottles of wine donated from interested vineyards.

Where these are kept exactly is remarkable in itself. van Vuuren tells me as we head into the basement that he thinks the "wine cellar" they have here is "one of the most beautiful in the world," a review I'm going to have to take to heart, since I have technically never been in a bonafide wine cellar. Moving through a series of secured doors, I step into the Wine Research Centre's Wine Library. Even for the neophyte like me, I can concur that it is remarkable, although the irony is not lost on me that the Frat houses are only 6 or 7 blocks away. Set up in 2002, and capable of housing 22,000 bottles of local wine, this library is operated under the auspices of a Board of Directors, who are tantamount to a happy and fortunate group of wine tasting experts. Their role includes an annual obligation to sample all newly produced local wines and select those deemed with potential to age. Those chosen are then solicited for a donation of 24 bottles (always granted), which on a year-by-year basis will be subjected, Star Trek Tricorder style, to a complete chemical profile. Furthermore, in the same space, there is an adjacent international Vinoteque, itself capable of guarding 8000 of the world's finest bottles of wine, which are also monitored for aging. In fact, many of these wines have been donated by the public, and van Vuuren makes it clear that any avid wine collector can themselves add a bottle to the diverse collection (a tax receipt is provided based on the current market value of the wine).

This "aging" project immediately piques my curiosity. To me, it again showcases an interesting contrast in that the descriptive lore, and historic romance of wine stand ajar to the scientific characterization of how wine becomes wine. More to the point, I also wonder how would a wine aficionado, a self processed connoisseur, feel knowing that the definition of a wine's "complexity" can be charted as a list of chemical compounds progressing through the aging process. When pressed, Dr. Ritch Younger, the Cellerier for the Vancouver Sous-Commanderie of the Confrerie des Chevaliers du Tastevin, offers this interesting insight. "To be able to determine what gives the 1947 Cheval Blanc (for example) its unique flavour characteristics would ultimately allow us to be able, as a wine consumer, to purchase a wine with a chemical composition that we know historically we like. Rather than read some vague prattle by some self-grandising wine critic or wine magazine, would it not be nice to be able to see that wine X has a similar profile to the wine Y that you already know and love? So I say go for it!"

On one of my later visits to the Wine Research Centre, I noted a windowed display of emptied bottles of wine, some quite old. I asked van Vuuren what those bottles were exactly, and he told me that they were some of finest wines in the world that were opened and sampled by the students within the centre. He said that in order to effectively train these future wine makers, he believed that it was of up most importance that they had the chance to sample the best. That they needed to be inspired. "When I began my career in science, I was studying beer fermentation. Then one day, my supervisor opened this bottle of 1970 Chambertin - Clos de Bèze and it just blew my mind. I'd never tasted anything like it before, and I just got so excited about wine. This is what it is all about. Really, we just want to help make the best bottle of wine."