An obnoxious new wine list practice has invaded my city–one that stinks worse than five-day-old lobster. On the list, where you should see a producer name and a bottle price, it just says “Sancerre: MP.” (Or, the even more precious version: “Seasonal Sancerre: MP.”) I’ve seen this at two or three places now–and three is a trend.
Sancerre, of course, is a popular Sauvignon Blanc appellation in France’s Loire Valley. “MP,” of course, is short for “Market Price.” Meaning that the price changes at the restaurant’s discretion, and you won’t know it unless the server looks it up in the point-of-sale system–or until you get the bill.
In restaurants, market pricing has historically been used for rare and perishable menu items. It’s usually reserved for seafood delicacies like oysters and caviar and (sometimes) showy entrees like Wagyu and dry-aged beef.
There are practical considerations that justify market pricing. Namely, these dishes tend to have higher food cost than standard fare, and their wholesale prices can fluctuate so much that reprinting the menu to reflect them is a constant headache.
But market pricing has always been a bit of a signal, a piece of bait for those diners who want to flex their wallets in front of clients or dates. “MP” can also be short for, “If you have to ask, this item isn’t for you.” And that’s why it doesn’t belong on the wine list–especially in a cheerful, easygoing “White Wines” section.
Why this is happening
As a former restaurant worker who’s edited many menus and beverage lists, I do empathize with the Sancerre problem. Sancerre is a blockbuster. It’s great with most food, and it has enviable name recognition. It’s a prestige wine that you can sell and drink when the occasion doesn’t suit a big heavy Cab. Sancerre has been a red-hot item among affluent diners for years, and the recent Taylor Swift endorsement only added fuel to the fire.
Most bars I frequent can hardly keep Sancerre in stock. When they do get a shipment, it’s often a different brand than they were pouring last week. Wholesale prices are high, which means margins are tight.
The outsized demand for Sancerre is a bright spot in wine, but it’s also kind of a pain in the butt. No wonder some beverage manager decided to stick “MP” on the menu, pad the pricing enough to be safe, and be done with it.
Why it sucks
However, none of this operational chaos is the diner’s fault. And gatekeeping an already pricey white wine with an intimidating acronym is not customer-friendly behavior. It looks lazy–it feels cagey.
Being coy about pricing doesn’t make the Sancerre seem extra special. It makes it seem like a trap. It also collapses a historic, elegant wine style into a commodity–as if all Sancerre producers and styles are interchangeable.
That cheeky “MP” label also draws a false equivalency between a pretty standard bottle of white wine and real blackboard-style specials that offer seasonality and novelty. Sancerre is best enjoyed young, sure–but it’s not “catch-of-the-day” perishable. “Seasonal Sancerre” on a menu doesn’t say “creative” or “fresh” to a savvy restaurant-goer. It says that you’re having trouble managing the consistency of your inventory or pricing.
How to do better
Countless statistics have demonstrated that younger diners are abandoning restaurant wine service, often driven away by greedy pricing and uninspired lists. Everyone can Google wine prices on their phone if they want to–and they do.
It’s no longer easy to hide a hideous markup, whether it’s printed on the menu or concealed until the check comes. To earn the trust of wine-drinking customers, we need more transparency, not less.
Diners (those who are still willing to pay for restaurant wine) want quality and variety–and for your beverage program to do the work of curating their experience. By accepting whatever Sancerre your distributor sent you and marking it up to $110, you haven’t displayed any conviction or added any value.
I’m not saying restaurants shouldn’t menu Sancerre. It basically sells itself, and plenty of people who ask for it by name don’t care what it costs. It’d be stupid not to offer it if you can get it.
But, if you’re responsible for a wine list and you can’t find a good Sancerre for a price that informed customers will accept, then your challenge is to source alternatives and communicate them.
There’s oceans of Loire Valley whites that sit outside of the Sancerre appellation that are great values–and hard to distinguish, even for pros. Diners who drink Sancerre might enjoy Assyrtiko for its pronounced minerality, or Picpoul for its refreshing bite. Combatting a wine’s scarcity by hiking (or obscuring) prices is only one solution to the problem…and it’s totally rotten.
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