Bottles of Prosecco are photographed on Nov. 8, 2010. While champagne languishes in the doldrums – volumes are flat or declining in Europe – consumption of Prosecco is rising by 23 per cent a year.Fernando Morales/The Globe and Mail
Carl Mortished is a Canadian financial journalist and freelance consultant based in Britain.
Half a dozen bottles of fizz would be enough to get our Christmas-drinks party going, I reckoned, along with a cauldron of mulled wine, other assorted wines of different colours, plus beer and soft drinks. Six bottles of Prosecco were duly purchased – bubbly and festive but not too pricey and good for mixing with fruit cordials to make kirs and bellinis.
But by the end of the evening, I counted eight empty Prosecco bottles in the recycling bags and, bizarrely, another six untouched bottles sitting on the counter. Either too much of the Italian aperitif was coursing through my bloodstream or the bottles were self-replicating.
Fortunately, the truth is more prosaic: More bottles of sparkling wine from Veneto turned up at the door than I had supplied and, it turned out, more than our guests could consume. We had achieved Prosecco saturation in one evening, not just a surplus but a proper glut.
Meanwhile, across Britain, Canada and probably much of the civilized (wine-drinking) world, the same thing was happening. Rivers of Prosecco are flowing from the foothills of the Italian alps and forming ponds and lakes in countries far and wide. Italian wine makers have discovered a winning product and they are pushing it for all it's worth. While champagne languishes in the doldrums – volumes are flat or declining in Europe – consumption of Prosecco is rising by 23 per cent a year. In value terms, European sales are already worth almost €800-million ($1.13-billion) compared with champagne's €1.4-billion. In North America, too, Italy's peasant dogs are snapping at the heels of the snooty French poodles. American Prosecco sales are increasing by 30 per cent a year and already represent 14 per cent of sparkling-wine sales, while champagne retains a fifth of the market, increasing by a more stately 8 per cent a year.
It's mostly about price – the reasoning that pushed me (and my guests) to go for Prosecco rather than Veuve Clicquot. A decent bottle of Italian fizz, which might cost $15, sells for a third of the price of the French product. For the champagne producers of Reims, France, the eternal question is whether to respond to market pressure or maintain the price premium and ride out the storm.
There is no doubt Prosecco is expanding the market for sparkling wine. So much more fizz is coming out of the Veneto hills that locals are complaining that pasture is being planted with vines and trees are being sacrificed for Prosecco profit. Much of it is finding its way to Britain where drinkers, quick to fancy a new alcoholic fashion with hints of holiday romance, doubled Prosecco consumption in a year to 86 million bottles. Oenophiles turn up their noses at the stuff, suggesting it's a vulgar fruity drink only good for mixing, and Boris Johnson, the British Foreign Secretary, warned the Italian government that a bad Brexit deal might bring an end to the Prosecco bonanza.
So, the French barons may have little to fear if the Prosecco bandits are just selling a generic tipple, brewed in vats and piled high in discount supermarkets. Meanwhile, say the wine aficionados, superior champagne is fermented in the bottle, according to an ancient and regulated procedure and branded heavily – Bollinger, Moet & Chandon, Louis Roederer.
Yet, there is a danger in losing share in such a valuable market. Vintage champagne is an altogether different product for sophisticated palates, but you don't build a major export industry by cultivating a few dozen artisanal producers. The French wine industry is used to holding back product to keep prices at a premium during years of abundance. However, over the long term, there is no escaping the need for big investments in marketing and promotion. France has been adept at cultivating the exceptional culture of its food industries and the Champagne producing region has recently secured UNESCO heritage status, alongside the historic centre of Paris and the Palace of Versailles.
Any breakfast cereal manufacturer will tell you that keeping up the mystery appeal of a brand is a hugely expensive business. If you are selling luxury, the difficulty is made worse by the need to keep the illusion of exclusivity while at the same time churning out product as fast as snack food. Consider the plight of the Swiss watch makers; a major national industry supporting a plethora of brands, all targeting the top percentile of consumers with a product (the portable chronometer) that probably became redundant many years ago.
The vineyards of Reims will no doubt survive this assault from their Italian country cousins. But they cannot afford to be too complacent. Even if the world never loses its appetite for over-priced wine with bubbles, competitors keep on cropping up.
The English sparkling-wine industry is on a roll, winning plaudits at international wine competitions as vineyards proliferate. Climate change is keeping the weather temperate on the Sussex hills, which have the same flinty soil as the Champagne region. However, Britain's vineyards do have a marketing problem: No one has come up with a generic name for English sparkling wine, other than fizz.