Why I Stopped Caring About Wine Scores

You’ve definitely seen it before — a proud little shelf talker that says “93 POINTS!” next to a bottle at the supermarket. Or a wine shop newsletter that name-drops Parker or Suckling with a big shiny gold badge, as if it’s an Oscar. Wine scores are everywhere, and for the longest time, I took them seriously.

They’re supposed to help you make better choices, right? An expert has tasted it, rated it, and declared it objectively good — so you can buy with confidence. At least, that’s the idea. And for collectors or investors? Sure, they make sense. But for the rest of us? The more I learned, the more I realized how limited — and limiting — this whole scoring system actually is.

What Those Numbers Really Mean

Let’s break it down. Wine ratings are basically a critic’s attempt to distill a sensory experience into a number — most commonly using the 100-point scale popularized by Robert Parker (because apparently, 20 points weren’t dramatic enough).

In theory, the score reflects a wine’s balance, complexity, aging potential, etc., tasted blind by professionals in ideal conditions. It sounds precise. Clinical, even. But at the end of the day, it’s still one person’s palate. One person’s mood. One moment in time.

Wine evolves. It changes in the bottle, in your glass, and depending on what you’re eating (or feeling) that day. A wine scored 89 points five years ago could blow your mind tonight. Or not.

The Parkerization of the Wine World

Here’s the thing: wine scores aren’t neutral. They shape the market, dictate prices, and nudge entire regions toward a certain style. Remember the “Parker palate”? Rich, ripe, oaky, full-throttle reds? His influence made waves in Bordeaux, Rhône, Napa, Rioja, pushing producers to chase higher scores by tweaking their winemaking style.

In some ways, this raised the bar. But it also flattened diversity. You ended up with producers in wildly different terroirs making wines that tasted… suspiciously similar. Because a big score sells. And buyers, importers, restaurants, retailers are watching.

So while high ratings can bring recognition and reward, they also encourage sameness. And personally? I like wine for the differences.

The Small Producers Left Behind

Another problem: the system is inherently biased toward those with access — to critics, to marketing budgets, to distribution channels. Think about it: most critics taste thousands of wines a year, but that’s still a drop in the global ocean. The majority of small producers, experimental winemakers, indigenous varieties, and lesser-known regions never get rated at all.

That doesn’t mean those wines are inferior. It means they’re invisible unless you go out of your way to find them.

As a wine consultant, I’ve tasted mind-blowing bottles from places that would never show up in Wine Spectator. No sticker. No score. Just pure joy, made by someone with muddy boots and a tiny cellar who cares more about the vineyard than the marketing.

Tasting Is Personal (No One Else Has Your Palate)

The biggest reason I stopped caring about scores? They’re not for me. And probably not for you either.

Taste is subjective. Wine is personal.

Wine tasting has both objective and subjective layers. Objectively, we can assess whether a wine is balanced, clean, well-structured, or age-worthy. These are the things professionals are trained to look for, in WSET exams, in sommelier certifications, across countless tastings.

But subjectively? It’s all fair game. We like what we like.

And most wine critics, no matter how trained, have a palate bias. Parker’s love for bold reds is just one example. Other critics may lean toward mineral whites or oxidative sherries but their preferences still shape scores.

That’s why I loved seeing winemakers at Karakterre natural wine fair wearing t-shirts that read “Parker gave me 50.”  A cheeky reminder that these wines, wild, living, unpredictable, often fall outside the traditional scoring system. They aren’t less good. They’re just not what the system is built for.

Many natural wines confuse even professionals trained in classic styles. They taste unfamiliar. But that doesn’t mean they lack quality or intention. It just means they don’t fit the mold.

And really, isn’t that the fun part of drinking wine? To discover what doesn’t fit the mold?

So… Are Wine Scores Useless?

Not completely. They serve a purpose. They can help you spot consistent producers. They can give you a nudge if you’re buying blind or gifting a bottle. And for collectors and investors, they’re a necessary evil. But for drinkers who want to explore, discover, and develop their own taste — they’re just one voice in the room.

Here’s what I tell people: read scores, but don’t worship them. Ask your local caviste what they’re excited about. Trust your palate, not just Parker’s ghost. Keep notes on what you love. And don’t let anyone tell you your favorite bottle is “wrong” because it only got 88 points in 2019.

A Better Way to Choose Wine

Instead of chasing numbers, get curious. Try wines from regions that haven’t been scored to death. Explore indigenous varieties. Be okay with weird. The joy of wine isn’t in finding “the best” it’s in discovering what speaks to you.

After all, the best wine isn’t the one with the highest score. It’s the one that is in the background of your best meomories.