Socially, my favorite relationships are equal parts love, equal parts hate. It seems the one side cannot exist without the other. In my professional career, no single entity displays this duality better than Wine Spectator magazine (see also: Decanter, Robert Parker Jr., Wine Enthusiast, Wine & Spirits, et al.).

I love Wine Spectator.

Since its creation in 1972, few have done more to promote the wine industry. Other than the infamous wine movie "Sideways," no one else deserves royalties on my salary more than this magazine. By simply providing a journal of wine happenings, this publication created a form of solidarity for all American wine consumers. It was no longer simple farming and bottling, it had become an art form to be recorded, memorized and analyzed. The entire globe was contributing, the ante went up, and Wine Spectator would be ringside to tell the world who was winning. In the same way that Britney Spears would still be a backup dancer without OK! magazine, Silver Oak would never be on so many wine lists without Wine Spectator.

The greatest contribution of this publication is unquestionably wine education. In the past, knowledge of vintage quality, regional wine law and winemaker decisions was held close to the chest by snobby sommeliers, wine geeks and intimidators. Spectator placed this knowledge at the fingertips of the average consumer. With this increased power, the typical diner could make an educated selection from a wine list that was based on economy and quality. Akin to all industries: the more educated the consumer, the better the product becomes.

Their creation of a point scale to judge wines is nothing short of pure genius. Utilizing a 100-point system, with a score of 100 being perfection and a score of less than 80 being hideous, this magazine turned the wine community on its ear. Subjectivity was removed from the game. Someone, somewhere, knew a whole lot more about wine than you, and their opinion became the standard. In order to achieve influential high scores, wineries were forced to use methods now considered par for the course: hand-picking, green drops, vineyard selection, lower yields, etc. In essence, the rating system increased wine quality, especially in California, by approximately 10 points, give or take.

This magazine even managed to directly promote restaurants I have worked for, as well as my individual career. They have bestowed an Award of Excellence upon the wine program of each restaurant I have worked for, and dutifully removed them upon my departure. Heck, they even put my picture inside their publication. Moms love that.

I hate Wine Spectator.

Despite the benefits of educating the wine consumer, in many cases, it is the equivalent of handing a machine gun to a 6-year-old. "You don't have Silver Oak 1997 on your wine list. That wine scored 94 points. This is an outrage!" Secretly, we all want to tell such speakers: "Well, sir, we do not carry that wine because we think it sucks, considering the price, of course," but we never do. Instead you simply have to manage the situation and do your best to turn them on to the '99 cabernet from Sonoma County that scored low but tastes better than any vintage of Silver Oak. "And, yes, sir, this winery did not get hit by frost during flowering that vintage."

Spectator, with its extreme popularity, has engendered laissez-faire economics in the wine industry. Flipping through the pages, the ratio of high scores to advertising dollars seems exactly even. When asking Tom Rinaldi, winemaker for Provenance Vineyards and founding winemaker for the famous Duckhorn Vineyards, why he pays to feature his winery so prominently in such publications, his answer is illuminating: "An advertisement in Wine Spectator is like having a commercial during the Super Bowl. The only exception is that everyone reading loves the product to begin with. The ultimate captive audience. How can you not want a piece of that?" It is hard to argue with such convincing logic. Yet it is truly unsettling to read a 93-point score on one page and see a full-page advertisement for the same winery on the other. Luckily for Rinaldi, his wines are worth the praise; the same cannot be said for many of the flashy wineries adorning the glossy pages of the Spectator.

The most unsettling aspect of the Spectator is its God-like ability to make or break a winery. Although their scoring system has increased wine quality across the board, it also places the fate of a vineyard in the hands of a single number. Screaming Eagle receives a perfect score of 100 points, and now the wine costs $3,000 a bottle. On the other side of the coin, if an upstart winery with a ton of potential receives a 77, it is doubtful they will ever produce another wine to be rated. Unless their investors have extremely deep pockets, most wineries simply cannot afford to be attached to such negative press.

Wine Spectator, I love you and I hate you. Thanks for shining the limelight on the wine industry and driving me mad with your omnipresent opinion. I don't know where I would be without you; keep up the good (horrible) work.

Low-scoring wines worth tasting: