Is “Easy Drinking” Wine’s Most Misleading Compliment?

How a quest for smoothness and broad appeal often replaces structure, tension, and character

The other day I was asked to recommend a wine that was “easy drinking”. It is a phrase we’ve all heard and often gloss over, but for some reason it stood out to me, in part because I had a hard time understanding why this way of describing a wine tends to be perceived as a compliment. It is a phrase that appears on shelf talkers, tasting notes and on restaurant lists as a kind of reassurance, or if you will, a promise that there is nothing in the glass that will challenge, interrupt or offend your sensibilities. It is a descriptor for wine that neither demands, nor wants too much attention drawn to the qualities of the liquid. Yet though it is usually meant kindly, it is rarely clear what, precisely, is being praised.

Usually, the term easy drinking does not give many clues as to the flavour of a wine, but rather signals an absence of friction. This involves softened acidity, smooth tannins, often without much extraction having taken place, and a lack of any sort of bitter quality. The wine arrives already resolved, offering immediate comfort rather than any form of tension. The first sip is agreeable, the second reassuring, and the third much like the first. It is also something I feel many conflate with drinkability, though they are not really the same term at all. Ease describes how quickly the wine yields, while drinkability describes whether it continues to reward attention. A wine that is easy drinking is not necessarily one that sustains interest on its own merits, much in the same way a wine that resists slightly at first is not necessarily austere or severe. It is a distinction that matters because it encourages the production of wines that are drunk not with pleasure or particular appreciation, but rather with indifference.

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Winemakers have also become rather good at engineering this kind of ease. By filtering and fining out any potentially offending particles, using minimal extraction to avoid that tannic grip and making harvest and winery decisions that avoid high acidity, friction can be dialled down quite reliably. This ease is a design choice that reflects what we expect from modern consumers and the way they encounter wines, which is often without much time to consider it and often without any context at all.

Presumably something “easy drinking” - Photo by Zan Lazarevic on Unsplash

It is not really a question of whether or not easy drinking wines have a place. They undoubtedly do, hence why it is a trait that is frequently demanded. Rather it is about what is lost when ease becomes the default ambition. Wine has always been a medium defined by tension, whether it is between fruit and structure, youth and age, pleasure and restraint. When those tensions are systematically removed, what remains may be pleasant, but it is rarely compelling. Do we really want wines that ask nothing at all of the drinker? A mere alcohol conveyance system?

At this stage, I suspect there will be two main camps forming among you. One broadly agreeing that tension, and the way in which it resolves over time, is critical to the experience of wine, while the other thinking that not all wine is meant as an intellectual exercise and that sometimes it is simply meant to play a supporting role without drawing any attention to itself. Neither is wrong in my opinion. Yet as with any stylistic push that becomes too dominant, we’re at risk of losing something important if complexity and character are shunned for the benefit of mindlessly chuggable grape juice with the ability to induce hangovers.

What Characterises an Easy Drinking Wine?

As mentioned above, easy drinking is largely the absence of friction, describing wines that offer minimal resistance on the palate. While tastes are quite subjective, this quality of a wine tends to correlate with a fairly consistent set of measurable parameters that shape how a wine, or indeed any beverage, is perceived.

Chief among these is pH. pH is a logarithmic scale ranging from 0 (highly acidic) to 14 (highly alkaline), with 7 being neutral. Lemon juice typically falls between pH 2 and 3, while wines generally range from around 2.8 to 4.2. Because the scale is logarithmic, a one-unit increase corresponds to a tenfold decrease in hydrogen ion concentration. The sensory difference between a wine at pH 3 and one at pH 4 is therefore substantial, even if total acidity remains similar.

Wines that are widely perceived as being soft, round, or easy, tend to sit at the higher end of the pH spectrum for their wine style, as pH significantly reduces the perception of sharpness and tension, making a wine feel broader and more forgiving, even when the total acidity is similar to a lower pH wine. Lower pH wines, meanwhile, tend to register as brighter, more linear and more tensile on the palate. This is because pH strongly affects how acidity is expressed, not just how much acid is present.

Small numerical changes can meaningfully alter the perceived freshness in a wine, yet the effects of differing acidities are moderated by many other factors such as tannin structure, bitterness, alcohol, colour, aromatic profile, potassium levels and even the drinkers expectations. As a result, pH does not map cleanly onto perceived acidity in a linear way, nor does a higher pH automatically translate to dullness or a lack of freshness. Wines with elevated pH can still feel lively if other structural or aromatic elements compensate, while low-pH wines can appear sharp or austere depending on context. Nevertheless, the soft, rounded mouth feel most so-called easy drinking wines conform to, is consistent with overall higher pH, even if there are exceptions to this.

Similarly, residual sugars are critical in the perception of a wine. As little as 2-4 grams per litre of residual sugar is enough to noticeably suppress both acidity and perceived bitterness. It rounds out the palate, smoothing the transition between flavours. It, alongside the glycerol like quality of alcohol, acts largely as a textural agent, giving body to the wine while softening any edges that may emerge from its tannin or acid profile. This is also why many of the widely distributed bulk wines have relatively shocking amounts of residual sugar in them, compensating I suspect for flaws that might make the wine utterly undrinkable otherwise. The 19-Crimes Red Blend for instance has as much as 12g/L of residual sugar, and it is not alone.

Easy drinking wines also tend to have a lower overall phenolic load, particularly of the smaller, more reactive phenolic compounds that contribute to bitterness and astringency. Compounds like Flavan-3-ols such as (+)-Catechin, (–)-Epicatechin and Epigallocatechin, are the primary culprits for sharp bitterness and drying sensations. Originating in grape seeds and skins, they are highly reactive with salivary proteins and produce short, sharp astringency rather than what may be described as a broad, textural grip. Short-chain proanthocyanidins and ellagitannins from oak also contribute to sensations of astringency and bitterness. Through gentle extraction, early pressing, and selective fining, these compounds can be reduced with considerable precision. The result is a wine that feels resolved from the moment it is poured, offering minimal grip and little tactile interruption as it moves across the palate. Flavan-3-ols in particular are often quickly removed through the use of fining agents.

Taken together, these factors define a relatively narrow sensory corridor, and the wines that occupy it are not defined by what they express, but in many ways by what has been deliberately removed. Acidity is buffered, tannins are softened, bitterness is minimised, and textural contrasts are smoothed away. What remains is a wine that is immediately legible and broadly agreeable, but also one whose structure has been significantly simplified in the process, often at the expense of depth, complexity and the structure it needs to withstand ageing.

Potentially interesting wine in the making - Photo by Vince Veras on Unsplash

The stylistic choices made in the winemaking process to influence these characteristics are also why so many wines described as easy drinking feel strikingly similar across categories and regions. The ease being praised is less connected to qualities arising from terroir or variety, but rather the predictable outcome of a set of technical choices aimed at reducing friction as efficiently as possible.

If this stylistic convergence were merely aesthetic, it would be easier to dismiss. But it is sustained, and accelerated, by commercial reality.

But It Sells!

Yes. Yes it does. There is a clear market demand for wines that come front loaded with easy and pleasant fruit, and that remain consistent not only throughout the evening, but also every time you open a bottle form the same producer. It reflects a perfectly understandable desire to avoid disappointment, and to pay for wine that you actually like. A wine market that is in the midst of overcorrecting for the change in demand patterns following the Covid-19 pandemic, while simultaneously dealing with the fact that consumer purchasing power is at a significant low point, can in many ways not afford to ignore the demand for quaffable, easy drinking wines.

Yet I suspect that it has also shifted, at least somewhat, the baseline for what body and structure in wine means. It is not to say that you cannot find truly big and brooding wines anymore, but in my experience as a wine consumer in London, finding wines that offer body, depth and character is increasingly challenging. I have had wines poured for me that were described as full bodied, yet turn out to be anaemic, and while perfectly drinkable, lacking entirely in extract or character. In particular, this was a Cannonau di Sardegna, which is to say Grenache, a variety I know can make some truly sumptuous wines. Yet while it had 15% ABV, it was light, and with simple fruits shining brightly. Not inherently a bad wine, just not one that fit the description of full bodied in the slightest, despite the confident remonstrations of the server.

Final Thoughts

I am not advocating for some form of Parkerisation of wines, where heft should be sought at all costs over delicacy, but by pushing for “easy drinking” over complexity, we stand at risk of compromising the individual character and terroir driven expressions that make this drink something special to begin with. In my experience running and pouring at a wine pop-up, those asking for easy drinking wines will often favour more interesting alternatives when given the opportunity to taste them side by side. As such I'm not convinced that the term offers much value at all, seeking to pass off inoffensive and woefully dull wines to a consumer that, implicitly, is expected to not be able to tell the difference.

Like I say above, it is hard to argue with sales, and to a point, we should be glad that these wines reach as wide an audience as they do. Yet I suspect it is a double edged sword. People learn through exposure, and if all they come across is generic and highly uniform “easy drinking” wines, we risk both cementing the impression that this is what wine is, while potentially alienating those consumers that might have been turned on by something more interesting. The wine industry can adjust its messaging all it wants, but the fact that the majority of wines available to consumers at entry level prices conform to this easy drinking mantra, will I think prove problematic in the long run. Especially when wines in the £20-30 bracket also follow suit.

In the meantime, the term “easy drinking” will, in my book, remain shorthand for boring.

I appreciate that this has been a bit of an opinion piece, but hope that is has been interesting nevertheless and would love to hear your thoughts on this in the comments below.

Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all of you.

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