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The Economist‘s recent story “Wine from China is finer than Western snobs imagine: Government support and French expertise have made all the difference” features some already well-covered themes about the China wine trade.
Like much mainstream media coverage, this story is heavy on interesting facts, anecdotes and arguments from authority, such as wine awards or high scores, but light on economic analysis and tackling the deeper issues of consumer acceptance. A 30-year China wine veteran wading through this grab bag told me, “I’m really wondering what they’re trying to say.”
Anyway, the mainstream media has lost some lustre in recent decades but The Economist still has cachet, especially with older readers. Thus, despite covering the same ground as others, this article will get attention. Much as when Chinese wine experts explain something a dozen times but ears perk up when a Master of Wine repeats the same thing. Such is life.
Below is my take on the article. And I don’t claim to write flawlessly about China’s wine scene. I just think we should expect plenty from a storied publication like The Economist.
The Economist starts by comparing the size of Ningxia’s vineyards to Paris. Is this supposed to be relatable? Why not compare it to Napa or Bordeaux, both referenced in the story? (If, as The Economist states, Ningxia has 40,000 hectares of vineyards, that is roughly double those of Napa Valley and two-fifths of Bordeaux.)
The Economist next notes that Ningxia’s vines must be buried for the cold winters. That the region’s capital is the same latitude as Napa (where they don’t bury vines). And that it has 3,000 hours of sunshine like parts of Spain (so does Mendoza, arguably more similar to Ningxia). These points feel random.
But what sticks out most is what comes next: “Today wine is a big industry: in 2024 China produced 118,000 kilolitres of wine, roughly equivalent to 160m bottles (or about the amount drunk at the average office Christmas party).”
Eye-rolling joke aside, this is where a magazine named The Economist might shine by noting that 2024’s production is less than a tenth of 2012’s production—1.38 billion liters versus 118 million liters—a huge drop. That’s not exactly a “big industry”, a point that could be further stressed by comparing wine to baijiu and beer, industries that deserve such a title.
What makes this lack of context frustrating is that The Economist does go into depth about how many awards China won from Decanter magazine—the “Oscars of wine”—from 2007 to 2025.
A chart compares Ningxia’s award total each year versus the rest of China, roughly a 40-60 split. That’s interesting but would be more so if we knew what percentage of China’s wine Ningxia produces and / or what percentage of Ningxia’s Decanter entries won awards versus those of the rest of China. (By the way, the chart was originally titled “Grape wall of China” but has been changed to “Grape haul of China.”)
Even better? Adding annual wine sales to that chart.
Contrasting rising medal totals and falling sales during the past decade would raise intriguing questions, including what benefits such accolades deliver. Not to mention that contest judges and the general China consumer might well disagree on what is drinkable.
In the same vein, the article states that China had fewer medals than France, Australia and several other nations but more than Austria and Germany. Again, more context would be useful. Maybe Austrian and German wineries see less value in Decanter awards?
As an aside, considering the awards as the “Oscars” of wine—which other wine contests have also been called—is somewhat dubious. The Oscars consider the best movies. Decanter considers the wines entered into the contest for a fee—the world’s elite producers rarely join. So, it’s essentially an Oscars where none of the best movies are in the running.
There is plenty more to this article.
The first substantial quote comes in paragraph five: “Berry Bros & Rudd, Britain’s oldest wine merchants, has observed that ‘China has the will and resource to become a very important player.’”
It looks like that, and another BBR quote, was simply taken from the bottom of the company’s sales page for Chinese wine. Nevertheless, that page is of interest as it has only one brand, Ao Yun, with six vintages: one at £188, one at £289, and four listed as “not ready” and “only available in bond.”
That doesn’t represent much progress given a dozen years ago Decanter reported BBR as claiming it was “the first major UK wine retailer to give Chinese wines a permanent place on its shelves.” The five wines then included two Ningxia reds and three Liaoning icewines from Changyu, priced from £19 to £65.
And in 2015, BBR itself was asking “Is Beijing the new Bordeaux?” I guess the answer is still “not yet” given it only carries one very expensive brand, owned by LVMH at that.
But do not despair about UK sales: “Plenty in China are sweet on its wine.” The evidence: citing China’s leader Xi Jinping and a sommelier—finally, a human is quoted—from Beijing. Again, some economic insight, such as stats or general trends about consumer acceptance of Chinese wine would help here.
The Economist then dives into the two reasons it believes China’s wine has improved.
One is government support, a section that covers Tang Dynasty poetry, a quote by Mao, the efforts by a Ningxia party secretary two decades ago and foreign investment in 2013.
More recent examples would surely help, such as China’s central government throwing its weight behind Ningxia, particularly since 2021. How much money does this involve? What are the production targets—there are always targets? And so on.
The other is the French influence on Ningxia, the article citing a delegation that went to France in the late 1990s to study viticulture. We learn that Ningxia leverages French techniques. That its vineyards feature French grape varieties. And that it has been called—please, don’t write it, please, please please don’t wri—”China’s Bordeaux.”
(I have two decades of “China’s Bordeaux’ examples from across the country. Yantai, Huailai, Yinchuan, more. A better question is what region hasn’t been called China’s Bordeaux. I’ve even heard Yunnan’s Shangri-la area, situated at a radically different latitude and altitude than Bordeaux, described as such.)
The Economist decides at this late stage to quote a winemaker and, as any Vegas oddsmaker familiar with media coverage of Chinese wine would have predicted, it is Emma Gao of Silver Heights.
This is a go-to for many articles. It’s true that a dozen years ago Gao was among a relatively small group of accessible winemakers with foreign-language skills. But given the amount of talent out there, arguably producing better wines, featuring more voices is fairly easy these days.
The article also cites another go-to, Jancis Robinson, to show the world isn’t ready for China’s wines: “In a blind tasting in 2023 Jancis Robinson, a critic, noted that Chinese wines ‘stand out as being less subtle’ than those made in other regions because the vines are less mature.”
Hey, anonymous Economist writer, I’ll see your Jancis Robinson and raise you a James Suckling. As noted here, a China vs The World tasting in Hong Kong last month found that the Chinese wines competed well against top international brands.
The article’s last four paragraphs do a pretty good job of explaining the challenges faced by China’s wine producers.
One, it is early days and people are figuring out what sites, grapes and styles work best. Yes. Two, baijiu and beer culture is stronger than wine culture, plus sales have suffered from economic crackdowns and slowdowns. Yes, again. Three, producers are targeting exports but face declining global consumption, hard-to-crack markets and, in some cases, tariffs. Yes, a third time.
Four, Chinese wine prices are too high, with The Economist posting: “Wines by Silver Heights cost up to $250; bottles of Ao Yun fetch more than $350” and adding “You could get your hands on a grand cru for a similar price.”
I’m not so keen about this point. The Economist could have easily checked jd.com and found plenty of wines that cost less and are more representative of local prices. (Or maybe they have an exceptional expense account, drink pricy libations regularly and are unaware of what is available further down the drink chain.)
Anyway, the article finishes on the issue of high prices, stating that if they don’t come down, “Chinese fine wine is destined to be drunk by few connoisseurs—no matter how seductive its plunges of fruit and spice.”
The thing is some low-production high-priced Chinese wines do sell well—and people like critic Shuai Zekun do equate them with Grand Cru. At the same time, imported fine wines are generally struggling and this shows tough sales are not only an issue for local brands. These issues go deeper than what is presented here.
On the positive side, at least stories about China’s wine scene now are far past the template of 20 years ago, which started with an anecdote about an official or nouveau-riche mixing Lafite with Sprite, then one about an art dealer, lawyer or white-collar worker taking a wine education class as part of a new wave of aficionados, and so on.
We’ve also moved on from the “Is there any good wine in China?” angle to general acceptance that such wine exists. The key question is how to sell it.
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