Episode Notes:

Welcome back to Unpretentious Eats! In this episode, I’m diving deep into what some might call wine blasphemy—exposing the flaws of Bordeaux’s 1855 Classification and the ever-influential 100-Point Grading System. These outdated, elitist systems have driven up prices, buried incredible wines behind exclusivity, and made wine feel unattainable for everyday drinkers. But guess what? Taste is subjective, and it’s time to stop worshiping these arbitrary rankings.

I break down how a nearly 170-year-old ranking system, created as a marketing stunt for Napoleon III, still dictates which wines are deemed “the best.” I also take on the 100-Point System, originally intended to help consumers but now weaponized to inflate prices and keep smaller labels from competing. If you’ve ever felt intimidated by wine snobbery, this episode is for you.

But it’s not all rants—I’m also sharing my latest restaurant obsession: Herb & Sea in Encinitas. From locally sourced rock cod crudo to a sumac-kissed chorizo pizza and an unforgettable cocktail called Surf & Swine, this spot is a must-visit for food lovers.

If you enjoy Unpretentious Eats, don’t forget to subscribe, leave a review, and follow me on Instagram or my website for more no-BS food and drink content. Grab a glass of wine (or whatever you love), and let’s get into it! 🍷

Transcript:

Welcome back, and thank you for joining me for Episode 5 of Unpretentious Eats!

If this is your first time listening—welcome! This podcast is all about breaking the hold of pretentiousness on food, wine, spirits, and hospitality. I love all these things, and I want to make them accessible so everyone can enjoy them, not just the so-called elites.

Now, in this episode, I’m diving into what some might call wine blasphemy. The snobs and collectors may come for me, they may try to banish me from their exclusive circles—and to that, I say thank god!

I’m breaking the rules today and telling you exactly why I despise the Bordeaux Classification of 1855 and the ever-so-illustrious 100-Point Grading System. These two sacred pillars of the wine world have driven up prices, turned certain bottles into untouchable collector’s items, and buried incredible wines behind a curtain of snobbery. All because of a nearly 170-year-old ranking system created by France’s last emperor and a grading scale popularized by an American banker with a love for wine. These outdated systems have kept wine on a pedestal, making it feel unattainable for everyday people—and I’m here to call it out.

But before we get into that, I’ll also be sharing my latest obsession of the week—my first experience dining at a restaurant in Encinitas that has completely stolen my heart. It’s not just a great spot—it’s a true community establishment.

If you’re enjoying Unpretentious Eats, don’t forget to hit that subscribe button to stay updated on new episodes. You can also follow me on Instagram or visit my website for more unpretentious food and drink content. And if you love what you hear, leaving a review helps spread the word and lets me know what you think!

Alright, grab your glass of wine, a fun-spirited cocktail, a cup of coffee, or whatever your heart desires—let’s get into it!

Transition Music

I’ve probably already lost a few listeners today with my earlier declaration of disdain for the 1855 Classification and the 100-Point Grading System—but honestly, those people shouldn’t be listening anyway. These two systems have been the main drivers of pretentiousness in the world of wine. One was created as a marketing tool to elevate an emperor’s image, and the other, though originally intended to help consumers, was quickly hijacked to inflate prices and make it nearly impossible for smaller labels to compete.

Let’s start with the 1855 Classification of Bordeaux. As the name suggests, it was established in 1855, when Emperor Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte—better known as Napoleon III—decided to host the 1855 Paris World’s Fair (Exposition Universelle de Paris). Just a few years earlier, he had betrayed the ideals of the French Revolution by getting elected president, only to stage a coup and declare himself emperor—just like his uncle, Napoleon Bonaparte. Obviously, this was not a popular move… at first. But over time, his various reforms won him public favor.

One of his early accomplishments was following in the footsteps of Prince Albert, who had organized the Great Exhibition in London in 1851. Wanting to showcase France’s dominance on the world stage, Napoleon III planned his own World’s Fair, but he needed a centerpiece—something that would symbolize France’s excellence. He landed on wine. Specifically, Bordeaux.

At the time, wine sales were already a massive part of the French economy, with Great Britain and Russia as the largest importers. Great Britain, in particular, had deep historical ties to Bordeaux. In 1152, Eleanor of Aquitaine married Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Normandy, who later became King Henry II of England. With that marriage, the Duchy of Aquitaine—and its prized wine region of Bordeaux—became English territory. Even after England lost control of the land, Bordeaux wines remained a staple import due to their historical connection. That love for Bordeaux wines even made its way to the Americas.

Napoleon III saw an opportunity to solidify Bordeaux’s reputation by creating a classification system that would elevate its image even further. He tasked the Bordeaux Chamber of Commerce with creating the Crus Classés (Classified Growths). But instead of doing it themselves, they handed the job over to the Syndicat of Courtiers—the wine brokers. And within two weeks, these brokers—who directly influenced wine prices—designed a system ranking Bordeaux wines into five Crus (growths), with First Growths (Premier Crus) being the highest tier. The original classification included 58 châteaux, with only four earning First Growth status:

• Château Lafite Rothschild
• Château Latour
• Château Margaux
• Château Haut-Brion

Notably, all but one of these were from the Médoc, and all were Cabernet Sauvignon-based wines. That’s significant because, thanks to this classification, Cabernet Sauvignon went on to become the most planted and most expensive grape variety in the world. The classification itself has barely changed in over 150 years, with the only major revision happening in 1973—118 years later—when Château Mouton-Rothschild was elevated from Second Growth to First Growth.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I respect traditional regional classifications, like those in France, Italy, Spain, and even Hungary (which actually pioneered the idea). These systems help consumers distinguish quality, small-production wines from mass-produced, heavily processed ones. That’s why you can walk into a wine shop in those countries and grab an incredible, family-made bottle for $5.

But the 1855 Classification of Bordeaux was a marketing gimmick. It started as a publicity stunt for the World’s Fair and, thanks to the influence of Napoleon III, Great Britain, and later, the United States, it became treated as the word of God. It declares, as an objective fact, that specific wines from specific estates are indisputably the best—as if taste isn’t completely subjective.

And here’s the kicker: Even if you wanted to dispute it, you can’t. These wines are insanely expensive and often require at least 10 years of aging before they’re even ready to drink. But the majority of them aren’t even being consumed. Instead, they’re bought, hoarded, and resold at auction—never to be enjoyed. The result? An endless cycle where only the wealthy and select wine critics get to dictate what’s “objectively great.”

It’s a system built on blind trust and exclusivity. Most people will never get the chance to taste these wines, and those who can often care more about status than actual enjoyment. They don’t question the classification because owning these bottles feeds their egos. And that’s exactly how this pretentious cycle continues—not just in Bordeaux, but in places like Napa, where “cult wines” follow the same formula.

Because, really—what’s more pretentious than claiming undisputed greatness, not because something truly is, but because most people can’t afford to challenge it?

The next biggest perpetuator of pretentiousness in the wine industry? Wine critics. Yes, you heard me. You rely on them for insight and expertise, but most of them are incredibly biased.

Before the 1970s, most wine critics had a financial stake in the wines they reviewed, which obviously skewed their opinions. Think about it—if you were financially invested in a particular region or label, wouldn’t you be more inclined to give those wines glowing reviews?

Enter Robert Parker Jr., the man who set out to change all of that. He was one of the first major wine critics who wasn’t financially invested in wine sales. He built his reputation as a so-called unbiased “Wine Advocate” (which also became the name of his publication and website). Parker was a talented critic, no doubt, but his biggest contribution—the 100-Point Grading System—has become one of the most controversial aspects of the wine world today.

The system ranks wines from 50 to 100 points, with anything below 80 essentially disregarded. Parker’s goal was to create a clear, structured way to help consumers and collectors make fair purchasing decisions. Sounds noble, right? But not long after he gained influence, his grading system turned into a marketing tool for other wine critics and industry players.

Even Parker himself has admitted that his scores are subjective and can be influenced by his mood at the time of tasting. That means the difference between a 96, 97, 98, 99, or even a perfect 100-point wine? Completely dependent on how he was feeling in the moment.

This phenomenon—often called the Parkerization of wine—has had some pretty wild consequences. It has drastically inflated wine prices, making it nearly impossible for new critics to emerge with real merit. Why? Because to be taken seriously, a critic needs to taste the most highly regarded wines, but those wines are now so expensive and limited in supply that only the ultra-wealthy or those with industry connections can access them. So, if you want to become a respected wine critic today, you pretty much have to be the apprentice of an already established critic—meaning your palate is shaped by their preferences, further perpetuating one narrow, subjective opinion rather than fostering a fresh perspective.

Wine critics have long been accused of bias, conflicts of interest, and even outright bribery in exchange for high scores. Yet, year after year, the market continues to be dictated by a small, elite group of critics who recycle the same talking points and reinforce the same hierarchy of wines. There are now more 100-point wines than ever, even though a perfect score was once meant to signify rare excellence.

According to Liv-Ex—an exclusive, members-only global wine trading marketplace—121 wines received a 100-point score in 2023. One hundred and twenty-one. And speaking of exclusivity, if you want reliable, consolidated data on the wine trade, guess what? You have to be an elite member. So much for transparency, right?

Whether Parker intended it or not, his 100-point grading system has fueled the systemic snobbery in the wine world. And while there are plenty of over-processed, mass-produced wines out there that deserve criticism, that doesn’t mean the entire industry should bow to an arbitrary ranking system that favors a select few.

Now, I don’t necessarily agree with the 1855 Bordeaux Classification still being used to rate wines today. But one thing I do appreciate about French and other Old World wines is their strict designation of origin regulations. If you see a controlled designation (AOC, DOCG, etc.) on a label, you know that—regardless of price—that wine was made under strict quality regulations.

So, here’s my advice:
✅ Find a designated wine region (for the U.S., this would be an AVA).
✅ Pick a price point you’re comfortable with.
✅ Look for a flavor profile and style that speaks to you.

That’s it! Don’t let some critic’s subjective score, a 200-year-old ranking list, or the marketing machine behind Bordeaux and Napa pressure you into liking (or buying) something. And definitely don’t let wine snobs who rely on other people’s envy dictate your choices. Taste, explore, and decide for yourself. That’s all that matters!

Yes, quality can impact price, but price does not dictate quality. Remember that.

And speaking of overpriced wines—California wines, especially Napa, have been struggling with sales for the past few years. Maybe, just maybe, if they stopped chasing 100-point scores and actually focused on making their wines more accessible, they wouldn’t be pricing out the next generation of drinkers. Because let’s be real—the wealthy boomers and billionaires all bought in, but younger generations aren’t falling for it… literally.

Now, I’ve had the opportunity to taste First through Fifth Growth Bordeaux and Napa’s cult wines. Are they delicious? Absolutely. Are they well-made? Without a doubt. But are they worth that much money, just to either wait 10–50 years to drink them or pay a premium to drink them now, only to pee them out in 10 minutes? I don’t think so.

And let’s not forget—there are thousands of wine labels worldwide. It’s physically impossible for the handful of critics out there to taste them all. So, take their opinions with a grain of salt and trust your own palate.

Phew! That was an intense rant, I know. But after years in sales, being forced to perpetuate this fallacy, I had to get this off my chest!

Do you agree or disagree? I’d love to hear your thoughts—but fair warning, I don’t take kindly to bullies, so think twice before coming at me sideways. I’m a lot more sinister than you might think. 😈

Now that you know my personal thoughts on this ever-pretentious topic, let’s get into my current obsession of the week!

I hope everyone listening enjoys eating out as much as I do! Dining out has been a joy of mine since childhood. I learned my love of cooking from my mother and great aunt, but my love of dining out? That came from my father.

He’s an interesting—some might even say confusing—man. Half Dutch, half Assyrian. A late boomer. An aspiring park ranger turned networking engineer. Frugal, yet he loves to dine out. I was lucky to have such an involved mother and father. As the youngest of three kids, I grew up watching my parents split responsibilities—sports events, school drop-offs, pickups. But one of my favorite traditions? Father-Daughter Coffee Tuesdays.

Every Tuesday in high school, my dad drove me to school, and we’d leave early to grab coffee together. I always tell people it’s his fault I’m so picky about food quality and have such high standards. He would do things like pick me up from a water polo game and take me straight to sushi—no fast food, no settling. He shared his love of dining out with my siblings and me, both one-on-one and as a family. Damn, I might make myself cry if I keep going.

But don’t get me wrong—he wasn’t a snob. If a fancy restaurant didn’t meet his standards, he had no problem saying his favorite local diner was better. I like to think this upbringing, combined with my time in hospitality, gave me high standards without the snobbery.

There are so many things to consider when choosing a restaurant, and while I love a place that’s a destination, why can’t a restaurant be both a neighborhood favorite and a destination for visitors? That’s exactly how I feel about a spot I tried last week: Herb & Sea.

Located in downtown Encinitas, just a two-minute walk from the beach, this place had been on my radar for a while. I spend a lot of time researching new places to eat—not just looking at menus, but understanding their stories. Funny enough, I first heard about Herb & Sea from the Instagram page of the Sunday Fisherman’s Market in Oceanside.

I love fish, and I’m strongly against mass fishing that’s devastating our oceans. But I wholeheartedly support local fishermen who use sustainable practices to bring us seafood that’s fresh, flavorful, and packed with nutrients. Turns out, Herb & Sea’s Culinary Director, Chef Aidan Owens, feels the same way. I came across a video of him making crudo at the fish market, saw the restaurant’s handle, and immediately fell down the rabbit hole. The menu, the décor, the commitment to sustainability—I was hooked.

So, Dillon and I took a chance, walked in with no reservation, and were welcomed warmly. The space has this moody, nautical, romantic vibe with plenty of tables for couples and larger parties, plus a vibrant, bustling bar area right near the entrance.

Now, let’s get into the food.

We tried three cocktails, a raw bar item, one appetizer, one main course, and a dessert. Our waitress, Rachel, was warm, funny, and so knowledgeable—genuinely passionate about the restaurant. One of the best parts? Even though we ordered everything at once, our meal was perfectly coursed out, giving us time to enjoy and savor each dish.

The Breakdown:

• Local Rock Cod Crudo – Fresh, bright, and kissed with a tangy orange vinaigrette. It tasted like the ocean met an orange grove. Absolutely stunning.
• Smoked Tuna Hush Puppies – I’ll admit, I get nervous when I hear “tuna” because bad tuna is bad. But these? No fishiness, just perfectly fried little bites of savory, slightly sweet magic. And when you spread on some honey garlic butter and chipotle aioli? Next level.
• Chorizo Pizza – Dillon wanted something heartier, so we went for this, and WOW. Neapolitan-style crust, the perfect amount of cheese, and the combination of spicy chorizo, tart green apple, and hot honey was a flavor explosion.
• Chocolate Mousse Cake – Imagine a brownie and a budino had a love child, and that love child married homemade pistachio ice cream. That’s what this dessert tasted like. Pure bliss.
• Favorite Cocktail? The Surf & Swine – A sweet-meets-savory dream featuring pork fat-washed bourbon, Hennessy, sweet vermouth, and bitters. It was like a Manhattan got a gourmet glow-up.

These are the kinds of restaurants that excite me. No Michelin stars needed—just a team of passionate people who care about what they do, and you can taste it in every bite. Even better? The crowd was diverse. I saw surfers in casual gear, trendy tech bros, and well-dressed older couples all enjoying the same experience.

And next time? I need to get there early to snag a seat at the bar for their legendary Happy Hour Happy Meal:
👉 Smashburger, French fries, 3 oysters, and a glass of champagne—for $20.
That’s right. $20. Pure joy, pure satisfaction. And best of all, it supports sustainable farmers, local producers, and the community.

I also have to shout out their use of sumac in several dishes—one of my absolute favorite spices. It brings back memories of my dad pulling out his little jar of sumac to sprinkle on rice and vegetables.

Final Thoughts

I can’t recommend Herb & Sea enough.

I hope you enjoyed this episode of Unpretentious Eats. Hopefully, it shattered any rigid beliefs you might have had about the 1855 Bordeaux Classification and the 100-Point Wine Rating System—because wine (and food!) should be about what you love, not outdated, snobby systems.

If you end up visiting Encinitas and trying Herb & Sea, I’d love to hear about your experience!

One small note: to ensure I can do quality research for this podcast (and keep up with other projects), I’ve decided to switch to new episodes every other week instead of weekly.

If you’re enjoying the show, don’t forget to subscribe, follow me on Instagram or the Unpretentious Eats website, and most importantly—leave a review! Your feedback helps me improve, and it also helps more food lovers discover the show.

Thank you so much for listening! Cheers!