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Anytime you have an opportunity to talk with a winemaker it's a special experience. Here is "The" person directly responsible for making the wines you love to drink. And . . .you can now ask them any question imaginable...
By Robert Farmer
Forward-thinking Napa vintners Susan and Duane Hoff have searched for ways to bring the experience of making wine at their bucolic Spring Mountain property closer to consumers since they founded Fantesca Winery (fantesca.com) in 2004. An industrious pair, the Hoffs ran through the typical canon of winery marketing shtick: they built a web site, hosted lavish harvest events for club members, and even created a MySpace page.
It seems that the state of California sometimes is fighting
its own personal battle against global warming. The Golden State enacts
initiatives that are separate and apart from the national programs - or
even the national objectives. As the 8th largest economy on the
planet, I suppose it's important that the state makes an environmental
policy that sets the bar for the planet. The same can be said of
California's wine industry, which has provided the standard for
environmentally friendly wine-producing practices for years.
I've long suspected that there might be an upside - at least a temporary one - to global warming when it comes to wine production in some parts of the world. Marginal climates, after all, yield some of the world's most sought-after wines (think Champagne, Bordeaux and much of Germany), but these areas are also known for their penchant for producing lackluster wines in years when the weather doesn't get warm enough to make decent juice.
As reported in Decanter, Château Margaux general director Paul Pontallier recently spoke to this phenomenon when he announced, "We are so fortunate with global warming. Look at the number of great vintages we have had [in Bordeaux] in the last 12 or 13 years. It is absolutely amazing." Counterintuitive though it may sound, Pontallier's statement speaks to the benefits of warming temperatures in spots like Bordeaux, where vintners often struggle to obtain fully ripe fruit each year. However, a far more chilling effect of global warming was proposed by renowned viticulturalist Richard Smart at a recent climate change workshop in Spain, where he asked attendees, "Have you thought about the fact that in Bordeaux, we may have already seen the best vintages of Cabernet Sauvignon?"
Weighing In
Chilling, indeed. Not to mention the implications of this news for wine regions on our own shores, many of which have warmer average temperatures than their European counterparts. We'd love to hear from vintners stateside about the onslaught of global warming and how it's changing their wines and making practices. Could there be - as the Bordelais suggest - an upside to our own battle with the phenomenon? Or is the future of wine in our own backyard at serious - and imminent - risk? We hope you'll take a moment to comment.
You've read in this space about my efforts to espouse the benefits of living "green" whenever possible. And when that can include drinking green, all the better. The wine industry has noisily been getting into the act, cleaning up their vineyards to reduce environmental impact, and putting wine in bottles that are being called "organic" or otherwise good for the environment.
In Ukiah, Parducci Winery is not just talking the talk; they are walking the walk - in a big way, apparently. The winery, which has long been a leader in biodiversity and organic grape farming, announced recently that they have become "carbon neutral" in their wine production process--the first U.S. winery to achieve the status. That's very impressive, in my view, and not easy to do, from what I know of it. To get "neutral," Parducci worked closely with the California Climate Action Registry, which enabled the winery to calculate greenhouse gas emission helped them take step to offset or mitigate that harmful output. It took three years to accomplish and included such arduous steps as increased use of solar power, use of bio-diesel in farm equipment, and simple steps like switching to compact fluorescent lights in the winery.
But the results have been impressive and I commend Parducci on the effort to set higher standards for the wine industry. Perhaps I'll toast to the effort with a biodegradable paper cup full of their always-zippy Signature zinfandel--one of my personal favorites.
I feel sorry for those of you who – like me – have been attempting to follow the US Alcohol and Tobacco Trade and Tax Bureau’s controversial proposed amendments to American Viticultural Area (AVA) regulations. I feel sorry for anyone, for that matter, who is sorting through the piles of legalese and angry banter being circulated about the matter in newspapers and online, not only because it's all terrifically confusing, but also because the proposals at the center of the controversy shouldn't even be up for debate at all. 
Harvest Tales - Part 2
by Robert P. FarmerIt's easy enough to feel like you're part of the wine country harvest simply visiting in the fall. But there are ways to truly be part of the action. Short of pulling up stakes and moving here, you can act like a local by getting involved with one of the many programs designed by wineries to make guests feel right at home. These events and programs don't only take place during harvest, but there's no better time to take advantage.
There are a number of excellent behind-the-scenes programs at wineries throughout wine country and in all of California's various wine regions. They range from full-fledged, yearlong grow-your-own courses to afternoon-length grape stomps. The programs are fun, educational ways to get to know wines first hand.
By Courtney CochranWe rose at five the next morning to pick Kenny's Zin. As I emerged from the guest room I was greeted with a large mug of coffee and pressing questions about how much beer I thought we would need when we finished picking. Unable to think with perfect clarity at that hour, we all agreed to err on the side of "more is better." Amply plied with caffeine and with our beer in tow, we departed a few minutes before 6, giddy with excitement about what was to come.
By Courtney CochranFriday dawned crisp and cold in the Russian River, where I was staying with Kenny and his family. Although Kenny had left for the winery before 6 to supervise early morning harvest-related activities, I'd been given the go-ahead to sleep in and catch up on a few emails before heading out to meet him. I wondered briefly if the folks back home would call me a fair-weather-crusher for sleeping in, then got over it: I wasn't on payroll here, after all.
Besides, the dreary weather wasn't exactly welcoming at the crack of dawn. It registered to me at that moment that you have to seriously love what you're doing to work until 10, then rise again at five to head out and do more of the same - in icky weather, at that.
By Courtney Cochran
f I'd kept a diary as a teen, it surely would have chronicled many a crush. After all, the anthem of adolescence is, without a doubt, unrequited love.
But, given my current profession (and age, I must grudgingly add), crushing has everything to do with wine, and little to do with romance. Unless, of course, you believe the general splendor of wine country nets it a spot in the romance category, in which case you might make an argument that this diary chronicles an adult crush of a very serious nature.
However you see it, read on for the story of an exciting adventure in crushing.
The
federal government late last year approved the establishment
of the San Bernabe American Viticultural Area (AVA), located
in southern Monterey County. Delicato Family Vineyards applied
for the 24,796-acre area that includes its famed San Bernabe
Vineyard property.Recently got to be a fly on the wall – make that the trellis post – while a grower I know interviewed candidates to purchase his wine grapes.
With maturing Pinot Noir vines in a unique site in a name-drop appellation, he was in a good position physically. His grapes had also gone into vineyard-designated wines in a couple of recent years, so there was evidence of their quality. But he was still a local secret, because that wine was made in the appellation by a small producer. Now he would find out if his vineyard was ready for prime time.
The first prospective purchaser arrived on the stroke of 8:00 a.m. as appointed. A winemaker with his own label, he already makes wine from two other vineyards in the appellation as well as four vineyard-designated bottlings from a neighboring appellation. All are svelte, supple and delicious. He listened mostly, but occasionally asked practical, pertinent questions – the kind you would ask if you were going to be making the wine yourself in six months’ time. He was particularly respectful in asking about the local vineyardists who had planted the vineyard and were taking care of it now.
When I sensed it was time for money to come up in the conversation, I moved off a ways and studied a swale in the vineyard that ensured it stayed well-drained even through the recent weeks of daily rain. The interview ended, the winemaker departed, and soon it was time for interview number two.
This time the purchaser was more than half an hour late. A wine marketer who had recently moved out of the corporate suite, he was seeking his first grapes from this appellation. His young label had produced one Pinot Noir from another appellation, apparently to good notices. He had a lot to say about the wine industry, wine marketing, and wine sales. Much of it was interesting and amusing.
It became clear that while he was the face of his brand, others would actually make the wine (and the vineyard management decisions) behind the scenes. One clue to this was his questions about the vineyard: more about its perceived position in the local pantheon than about its practical aspects relative to wine production.
As he got the answers to his questions, it dawned on me that the very qualities of the vineyard that had intrigued the winemaker – its unusual clone and unusual location – seemed to be liabilities in the marketer’s eyes.
Yesterday the word came that it will be the winemaker, not the marketer, who gets the grapes. I’m sure both would produce good wine from the vineyard, and that the grower would be getting fair compensation either way. But I had to admit, I felt happy that the punctual, practical, down-to-earth winemaker would be the one to control the grapes’ ultimate destiny.
Certainly we need smart marketing to help make wine more affordable and accessible to more people. But when it comes to exceptional small vineyards in exceptional places, it’s good to know there are still exceptional winemakers attentive enough to find them and express their essence as wine, not product positioning.
- Thom Elkjer
Check out my regular wine coverage at www.winecountry.com.
When I first began reading about wine, it was always fun to come across statistics about “acres under vine” and things like that. Made me feel like I was present at the making of history, particularly as vineyards unrolled across the western coastal states like a carpet.
So when I started writing about wine, I made sure to find the sources of the stats and use ‘em too. One of my favorite topics was how fast Syrah was going into the ground (high double-digit percentage growth throughout the 1990s). Another was when California hit the half-million acre mark – and wine grapes glutted the American wine market.
After a while, though, the acreage thing started to get squishy. The best state statistics, for California anyway, had a sizable margin of error between how many bearing (i.e., productive) acres the grape growers reported and how many the state thought were really in production. In 2004, for example, the growers reported 93,431 acres of Chardonnay, but the state estimated the number was really touching 100,000. The gaps were similar for other grapes, too.
So I started looking at the statistics for how many tons of grapes were crushed for particular varieties. This was better, because either the ton’s crushed or it's not. Someone might decide that an acre with two-year-old or three-year-old vines is not really “bearing” compared to how it will produce in a couple of years, but if she crushes the fruit and sells it, it’s counted.
From this new perspective, I started to notice new things. For example, Wine Spectator reported this month that Syrah acreage is up from 4200 acres in 1997 to roughly 18,000 acres now. (Oops! The state of California’s agricultural statistics service says the 1997 total was 1,256 acres, but never mind – the point about fast growth is still accurate.)
If you look at the tons crushed in recent years, however, you see a more interesting pattern.
The number of tons has started to level off even as the number of acres has continued to climb. In 2002, 11,909 acres of Syrah produced 101,541 tons of crushed grapes. A year later, in 2003, the bearing acreage was up 23%, to 14,680, but the tonnage was up only 8.5%, to 110,250. In 2004, acreage went up to 16,335 but the crush actually went down 9,000 tons.
In other words, in this three-year period Syrah in California dropped from 8.5 tons per acre to 7.5 tons per acre to 6.2 tons per acre.
What was going on? A few immediate explanations come to mind, most of them good. For one thing, it’s likely that the easy flat-land acres are already planted, and now the frontier for Syrah is in places like Sonoma Coast, Anderson Valley, Santa Rita Hills and other rugged places where it’s hard to get anything to bear more than four or five tons.
For another, people are now interested in Syrah as a stand-alone varietal wine. There are hundreds of Syrahs on the market now, with more to come. That means it has more value as a feature grape, so farmers don’t just pump it full of fertilizer and water to get all the weight they can. They farm it for what’s going into the bottle, and in this day and age that means getting the plant to produce fewer grapes of higher flavor intensity.
Now, a couple of caveats. In 2005, the state reported that the Syrah crush was 146,818.5 tons. That’s a huge leap upward. The acreage went up too, but not anywhere near as fast, so the tons-per-acre number jumped up to 8.2. Probably this means that a lot of baby vineyards (which the farmers reported as bearing in prior years) hit their stride and produced at their mature capacity. For any individual vineyard this is a one-time event, so we should not see another big aggregate leap like that one.
Also 2005 was a freakishly productive year for almost all grapes. Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay also saw their statewide tons per acre climb sharply compared to 2004: Cab climbed from 5.0 to 7.1, and Chardonnay went up almost as much, from 5.6 to 7.5 tons per acre.
Finally, some perspective. I (and other writers) have spilled a lot of ink talking about the New World style of Pinot Noir coming out of California’s coast areas. It’s super-intense, leaving our old notions of the grape in the dust (or should I say, in the rocks), and it’s super-expensive almost across the board.
Wanna guess why? Well, it starts with statistics.
In 2002, 2003, and 2004, Pinot Noir in California averaged three tons per acre. Even in wacko 2005, Pinot Noir was under four tons per acre statewide – less than half what Syrah put out. It’s why the price of Pinot Grapes is double or triple the rate for Syrah, and at least part of why most good Pinot Noir costs that much more in the bottle, too.
Doing the math on the grapes doesn’t make the wine better or cheaper, but at least it helps us understand what’s going on behind the scenes.
- Thom Elkjer
Check out my regular wine coverage at www.winecountry.com.
I’ve recently been drawn into a blogosphere discussion about terroir, which I think is largely empty of meaning. Some points I made in an email string got sent around, and you know how that goes: pretty soon people were chewing on me without having the whole enchilada.
So here’s a simple summary for anyone out there following the discussion. Appellation and terroir are related in one way: vintners can use both concepts to describe (and therefore sell) their wine. Otherwise, they are fundamentally different.
Terroir is abstract, undefinable (even the French love to say that), and personal. Anyone can tell you anything about their terroir, and you would have to do some direct empirical digging before you could even know what they mean, much less believe in it. Terroir is a human concept, which means it’s inherently malleable and spinnable. In the U.S., the term “terroir” is, in my humble opinion, an empty cliché. People throw the term around without understanding it, mostly because they hear other people throwing it around. We are a herd of terroirists. Mooooooooo.
Appellation is geographically concrete, legally defined, collectively determined, and very tough to alter once it’s set. Along with varietal and producer, appellation is the only hard fact people always ask about when they encounter a new wine: "where's it from?" If the new wine is Pinot Noir, and its origin is an appellation like Russian River or Willamette Valley, we can feel fairly confident about the wine. If the appellation is “California,” however, we might wonder. You can’t fake a Russian River Pinot Noir. Either it is or it isn’t.
So that’s one way to tell terroir and appellation apart: one’s spin, and one’s fact. Here's another test: What do you learn when people use the terms?
Let’s say we meet someone a party and he tells us that his new Cabernet is from a "terroir" with well-drained soils, south-facing slopes and little rain outside of winter. What did we learn from this? Almost nothing about the wine, or about him. The wine could come from the high plains of southern Arizona. He could be a wacky dreamer on two acres in Tennessee or a corporate chieftain with 500 acres in Paso Robles. He will say that his wine "reflects its terroir" or that “the terroir is ideal for Cabernet” because every web site says that about every wine. Translated, this means that all terroir is ideal for whatever is growing there – because the people growing there say so. But if all terroir is ideal, all the time, everywhere, then what is it besides pure hype?
Now let’s imagine that we meet someone who says their that their new Cabernet is from Napa Valley. Unless he is a crafty negociant, we instantly know many things about both the wine and the vintner: his level of wealth, his vinous aspirations, the likely weight and style of his wine, what it probably costs, and why it’s priced that way. There is a limited set of places he could be growing fruit or buying it. There is a tight, narrowing band of quality that his wine must fit within for a whole set of reasons. We would be able to guess who this person knows, where he eats, and how he socializes.
Terroir is what vintners want others to think about them and their wine. Appellation is what's true about them and their wine, no matter what they say.
Which do you want in your glass?
- Thom Elkjer
Check out my regular wine coverage at www.winecountry.com.
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