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FOLLOW
YOUR NOSE MAN TO MAN Toucan's Doug Timewell (right) found a mentor in Benito Dusi (left), who still manages the Paso Zinfandel vineyard his father planted in 1923. Where do you begin when you want to plant the finest Zinfandel vineyard in California? I'd say start by befriending the man whose name is synonymous with rare, old-vine Zinfandel. In Paso Robles, that would be grower Benito "Benny" Dusi, who still manages the Zinfandel vineyard his father planted in 1923. After earning Dusi's respect, you could buy cuttings from those storied vines, tend them with a respectful hand, and you're off to a great start. It might sound like a wine aficionado's daydream, but that's just how Doug Timewell and his wife Terrie Leivers came to establish Toucan Wines in Arroyo Grande Valley.
"I've
been buying Benny's grapes over 10 vintages, and I always felt blessed that I
was getting some of the best grapes grown in the country," said Timewell,
formerly a high-tech marketer in Silicon Valley.
Dusi's 40-acre vineyard, mostly Zinfandel with about 1 percent Petite Sirah, has supplied a few local winemakers, including Cathy MacGregor and Piedra Creek in Arroyo Grande. But the majority of harvest has been sold to the famed Ridge Winery in the Santa Cruz Mountains starting in 1967. Paso Robles' prominence on the Ridge label brought cachet to a bourgeoning wine region few wine aficionados had heard of then. Timewell, a wine collector since his early 20s, lived near Ridge and visited frequently. Ridge winemaker Paul Draper, renowned for his Cabernets and Zinfandels, suggested that the aspiring winemaker meet Dusi.
"I
called Benny, who agreed to meet with me. I drove down in my Porsche and brought
along two bottles of old Cabernet Sauvignon from my cellar," Timewell
recalled of the meeting that changed his life. "He referred to my car as
'your Volkswagen,' and said, 'Keep the Cabernet let me know if you find any old
Zinfandels.'"
Dusi, who doesn't attend public events or seek the limelight, doesn't do interviews any more and rarely invites visitors to his legendary vineyard. According to Timewell, who visits his mentor frequently, at 73 Dusi still does all the tractor work and handles the bookkeeping with only one full-time employee.
Timewell's
story is a dream-come-true for both him and his wife. It began in 1992 when he
first made wine as a hobbyist. But it was sheer happenstance that presented his
first harvest of winegrapes. While visiting Lytton Springs in Sonoma's Dry Creek
Valley, he walked through the vineyard and leftover second and third crop still
hanging. When he mentioned it in the tasting room, they said he could have the
grapes if he wanted to pick them. "I
said no, but as we started to drive away, we decided why not? We bought bins,
clippers, and gloves and went back," Timewell explained. "We fermented
the grapes in two trash bins, so two cans became the name for our wines."
Before
the 1993 harvest began, Timewell realized he needed a source of grapes that
would be "a bit more regular."
Toucan estate is beautiful. Surrounded by oak-covered hills, they built everything from the ground up: their home, winery, 3 1/2 acre vineyard and fruit and vegetable garden. Their small estate would fulfill any wine lover's fantasy of creating a petite chateau. "Our friends imagine this glamorous lifestyle of drinking wine on the veranda all day, but I've never worked so hard in my life," Timewell said with a chuckle. "I could spend half of every day just trying to control the gophers. They're relentless. Then there's the paperwork, shipping issues, and extraordinary work the hard labor isn't just at harvest, it goes on year round. It's not the glory so many of our friends imagine."
A
huge advantage for this adventurous couple, however, was their connection to
Dusi, who visited their estate for the first time in July. Not only did he give them extraordinary cuttings,
Dusi had taught them how to farm a
"head-trained vineyard," for which there's little information
available. And he was impressed by the vineyard. Now, novice grape growers come
to Timewell for advice about his six-year-old vineyard. Toucan produces only 100
to 300 cases annually, the latter only in the best vintages. Although he could
grow the business to 400 cases annually, Timewell admits "the world of 100
to 300 cases is hard enough. We're not trying to produce a thousand cases. I
prefer to stay small and make the best wine I can."
The 2004 Zinfandel, with about 12 percent Petite Sirah, is beautifully colored, exhibiting bright cherry, raspberry, and wild berry notes that end on a lively, spicy finish. It will benefit from a few years in the cellar, but it's quite drinkable now and bright citric notes make it food-friendly. We also tasted his 2005, still aging in French, American, and Hungarian barrels, the latter of which Timewell said has a spice profile similar to the spice in Zinfandel grapes. This wine is deep purple, flavored with a blend of red fruits that meld with black cherry, plums, and briary blackberries. Although it's aged mostly in new oak and is higher in alcohol, the huge fruit flavors easily handle it and remain balanced, finishing with big spicy notes.
Toucan
Wines is a newcomer to Arroyo Grande Valley. It's off to an excellent start and
will become even better as the vines age.
BIRDS OF A FEATHER Doug Timewell's Toucan Wines only produces 300-400 cases each year.
TOUCAN WINES - ARTISANAL ZINFANDEL, by Alan Boehmer
Doug
Timewell's artisanal winery in California's Arroyo Grande Valley offers one of the tastiest Zinfandels anywhere.
It's
not often that we see a winery devoted to a single wine. Especially when the
very name of the winery suggests multiple offerings. This article highlights a
very unusual, small winery that produces one of the finest Zinfandels in
See more of Alan Boehmer's work
FIELDS
OF BLENDS.. Interplanted vineyards produce some of
When
you uncork one of California's great old-vine Zinfandels, you're likely to get a lot more than just
Zinfandel. The bottle probably contains some Petite Sirah, a little Carignane
and a whole lot of history.
The post-Gold Rush, pre-Prohibition vineyards that produce those old-vine Zins
are remnants of a very different era in American wine. Back then Zinfandel was
the most popular grape and Cabernet Sauvignon was still a minor player. Growers
throughout Wines
were made differently then too. Growers planted their vineyards as a "field
blend" of different grapes that they figured would combine to make a good
wine. Different varieties weren't always planted separately in distinct blocks,
as they often are today. In
old field-blend vineyards, there can be several different varieties in a single
row of vines, planted in a mosaic-like pattern. The growers would often pick all
of the grapes at the same time, even if they weren't equally ripe, and jumble
them into the same vat to ferment together -- a technique called
co-fermentation. By contrast, most of today's blended wines are made by fermenting varieties separately so that they can later be "back blended" by the winemaker depending on how the different lots taste.
Initially
co-fermentation may have been popular because it was easier and less expensive.
It required less equipment, from big fermentation vats to barrels.
Co-fermentation might seem old-fashioned, but some contemporary winemakers
believe that combining different grapes during fermentation can produce wines
that are better integrated, more seamless and perhaps more aromatic. Adding a
little Viognier to co-ferment with Syrah, a technique from Today
co-fermented wines made from those old field-blend vineyards still produce some
of California's most sought-after wines, including many of the coveted old-vine
Zinfandels from producers like Ravenswood Winery, Ridge Vineyards, Bucklin Old
Hill Ranch and Carlisle Winery & Vineyards. Scattered
field-blend vineyards survive all around
Joel
Peterson, founder of Ravenswood Winery, which makes several old-vine field-blend
Zinfandels, says that after 1880, virtually all Chateauneuf-du-Pape
in the Southern Rhone Valley of France is one region known for field-blend wines
made from as many as 13 or more grapes. In the Paul
Draper, winemaker and CEO of Ridge Vineyards, another producer of famed
field-blend wines, agrees. "They were planted by Europeans, but a lot of
them didn't necessarily raise grapes in their homes before they came here. They
found Zinfandel here -- they didn't bring it with them." Zinfandel
is a gifted lead, but the right supporting cast gives it star power. Zinfandel
has rich fruit flavors and peppery spice notes that add complexity, but it can
also be relatively low in acid and tannin and sometimes benefits from the
color-boosting qualities of darker skinned grapes like Petite Sirah, Alicante
Bouschet or Grand Noir. The supporting grapes in Zinfandel field blends can
include just about any grape imaginable, but they're usually varieties intended
to add some degree of color, acidity or tannin to the final blend.
"There's no question that the triad of grapes used primarily with
Zinfandel -- Petite Sirah, Carignane and Alicante Bouschet -- was intended
primarily to make better wine," says Peterson. "If
you thought you needed more color and tannin, you would put in more Petite
Sirah, and if you thought you needed more color or softening in your wine you'd
put in more Alicante Bouschet." Draper
was one of the first to recognize the wisdom of those old plantings, and his
wines helped revive their popularity in the 1970s. Ridge's Geyserville bottling,
made from an old interplanted vineyard on the western edge of
Tending
old vines By
extension, you could think of Will Bucklin as the Mother Theresa of grape
growers. Bucklin cares for Old Hill Ranch near Glen Ellen, one of the oldest and
most chaotically interplanted vineyards anywhere. Zinfandel
is the predominant variety in the dry-farmed, certified organic vineyard, which
was planted in the 1850s, but there are at least 26 different grape varieties
scattered around its 14 acres. The vineyard was diversified over time, with
individual vines replaced over the years with new varieties. Peterson says he
suspects that Old Hill might even have operated as a local nursery, providing
budwood for other growers interested in planting unusual new grapes.
Bucklin
was working as a winemaker for King Estate in With
help from UC Davis experts, Bucklin spent two years identifying each vine and
made a color-coded map showing where different varieties were growing.
"When I first started making the map, I didn't really understand how
complicated (the vineyard) was. Now that I have a graphic image of it, I
do." The map shows the mosaic of assorted varieties that make up the
vineyard and explains why the Bucklin Old Hill Ranch Zinfandel ($34) is more
complex tasting than typical varietal Zinfandel wines. Bucklin wants to retain
the historic composition of the vineyard, so as individual vines succumb to
disease or old age, he tries to replace them with the same variety. Half of the
vineyard's fruit is sold to Ravenswood for its vineyard-designated Old Hill
Ranch Sonoma Valley Zinfandel blend ($60), and Bucklin reserves the other half
to make 600 cases under his own label. Dividing up the fruit from interplanted vineyards like Old Hill Ranch is challenging. Zinfandel ripens early with a couple of other varieties, while most of the other grapes ripen a couple of weeks later. Each fall, Bucklin and Peterson agree on a picking date and then harvest the vineyard in two passes, usually 10 days or two weeks apart. To ensure that both wineries get a similar mix of varieties, the pickers alternate tubs -- one for Ravenswood, the next for Bucklin.
Both
Old Hill wines are aromatic, layered and complex with a great range of spicy,
brambly notes that seem well knit together upon release. Those are qualities
that you'll see in many field-blend wines regardless of the various different
varietal components. Bucklin's Old Hill isn't as dense as some other famous
Zinfandels. "Some describe it as claret-like, which I translate as having
lots of things going on at once," says Bucklin. "The field blend is a
wine that I can put in my glass, swirl and watch it evolve." Bucklin
makes another field-blend red from younger vines at Old Hill called Mixed Blacks
($22), as well as a white field blend of Gewurztraminer and Riesling from the
Compagni Portis Vineyard ($20) in Napa
Valley's Stags' Leap Winery makes a field-blend wine called Ne Cede Malis from
the oldest vineyard on the estate, a 70-year-old block of Petite Sirah
interplanted with lesser amounts of Carignane, Mourvedre, Grenache, Peloursin,
Syrah and Viognier. Varieties
add complexity Winemaker
Kevin Morrisey says the low-yielding mixed block just begged to be made into a
unique stand-alone wine. "It's like when you realize that your child is an
artist -- you just want to encourage it." The
different varieties ripen at different times and have to be picked over a period
of weeks, but Morrisey tries to co-ferment whichever mixed grapes he can to give
Ne Cede Malis extra complexity. "The earlier you are in the process when
marrying things together, the better they integrate," he says. Mixing
the grapes at crush means the fermenting grapes have different levels of acid,
tannin and sugar, and that in turn changes the rates and types of chemical
reactions that take place during fermentation. "When you combine grapes,
you change the pH, and that pushes the tannin reactions," explains Morrisey.
In the end you get a very different wine than you would by blending the separate
varieties later. "When
you blend varieties separately you get wines that you can control precisely, but
when you co-ferment you get some added perfume characters that are sort of a
melange of those grapes together that you don't get in wines that are blended
later," says Peterson. If
the mix of grapes is right, co-fermented wines can be brilliant. Strategic
pruning, vine training and irrigation strategies allow growers who really know
their vines to slow or hasten ripening by a week or more. "There are things
that we can do to ripen some of the varieties sooner, so maybe someday I can
harvest them all together and co-ferment everything," says Bucklin. New generation The
quality of these anachronistic field-blend wines is inspiring some growers and
winemakers to revisit old techniques. New vineyards will never be wildly
interplanted like old ones, but some growers are engineering single vineyards
with mixed varieties and co-fermenting the blend. Montevina Winery's Terra d'Oro
SHR Field Blend Zinfandel is made from its methodically interplanted Schoolhouse
Road Vineyard in Montevina
vice president and general manager Jeff Meyers says Hal Huffsmith, senior vice
president of vineyard operations, came to him in 1995 with the idea of planting
a new vineyard with a carefully planned mix of grapes to make a traditional
field-blend red. They agreed that Zinfandel mixed with smaller amounts of Petite
Sirah and Carignane was a tried-and-true formula, but ultimately substituted
Barbera for Carignane. Huffsmith
wanted to take the traditional approach of mixing the varieties in the vineyard.
Interplanted vineyards are trickier to manage, says Meyers: "But you can't
tell me that there isn't some interaction that goes on between those vines when
they're planted in such close proximity." So
Huffsmith came up with a clever solution. He planted every 7th row of the
vineyard with Petite Sirah, and every 13th row with Barbera, giving the vineyard
a makeup of 80 percent Zinfandel, 13 percent Petite Sirah and 7 percent Barbera.
The grapes are picked at the same time, but instead of picking down the vine
rows, the pickers move across the rows of different varieties so that every
fermentation tank gets a similar ratio of mixed grapes. Since
1999, Ray and Tammy Krause of Westbrook Wine Farm have made a co-fermented field
blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Malbec and
Carmenere from their recently planted estate in Madera County near the south
entrance to Yosemite National Park. Controlled
ripening "We
pick (the different grapes) on the same Sunday in September," says Ray
Krause. "There are those who will tell you that you cannot ripen all six of
these red Krause
says he prunes and waters the varieties differently to slow the maturation of
early ripening varieties and speed the ripening of late ripeness. The Krauses
make about 200 cases of Fait Accompli annually and sell it primarily through the
winery for $55 per bottle. David
Girard Vineyards in El Dorado County recently planted part of its estate with
separated blocks of head-trained Roussanne, Grenache Blanc, Rolle, Marsanne and
Viognier to make 142 cases of a co-fermented Rhone-style white blend called
Coeur du Terroir Blanc ($22). "I
don't think that (the vineyard) was actually planted to be co-fermented, but we
just found that it worked well," says winemaker Mari Wells. Etude
Wines in Carneros is introducing a new line of wines called Fortitude. The idea
behind Fortitude was to make wines from longtime family-farmed vineyards in
Northern California, such as the 2004 Frediani Field Blend, made mostly from
Charbono with some Zinfandel, Carignane and Petite Sirah culled from the
130-acre Frediani Ranch near Calistoga in The
Frediani Ranch isn't your typical manicured, uniform Vineyard
economics When
a particular variety is hot, the grower who has it cashes in. When it's not, the
grower takes a beating. It takes a long time and a lot of money to replant or
graft a vineyard over to a different variety. Diversifying their vineyards helps
growers ride out the trends. "Relationships between growers and wineries
have not always been cordial," says Frediani. "My dad, when he
planted, he wanted to avoid being in that position where you have the wrong
thing at the wrong time." Mixing grapes in the vineyard can be a headache for growers, but mixing them in the fermentation tank is a technique that still holds appeal for contemporary winemakers. Somehow marrying the flavors of the different grapes earlier in the process produces a more aromatic, seamless wine -- one that is more than just the sum of its parts.
The flavors of field blends 2005 Bucklin Compagni Portis Vineyard Sonoma Valley Gewurztraminer ($20) Bucklin makes only 313 cases of this distinctive field-blend white made from a 50-year-old vineyard planted with a mix of 90 percent Gewurztraminer and 10 percent Riesling vines. It's less fruity, but the old vines give it an exceptionally rich texture. It's made in a very dry style with apple, ginger and cinnamon flavors that finish long and spicy.
2004
Bucklin Old Hill Ranch Sonoma Valley Zinfandel ($34) A unique wine from a
historic vineyard, it's ripe and complex with a zesty core of blueberry,
raspberry and blackberry-flavored Zinfandel fruit, then all sorts of subtle
secondary notes, from flecks of rhubarb and brambly green notes to coffee,
chocolate and black pepper flavors. 2004
Carlisle Carlisle Vineyard Russian River Valley Zinfandel ($38) A deep purple,
plush Zin blended with 16 percent other mixed black grapes including Petite
Sirah, Alicante Bouschet and Grand Noir that's dense and beautifully ripened
with deep purple boysenberry, blackberry and black-currant pie aromas. There are
subtle raisin notes, but mostly just ripe black fruit and enough acidity to keep
it lively. 2004
Carlisle Two Acres Russian River Valley Red Wine ($38) Only 185 cases are made
of this unique co-fermented blend of 87 percent Mourvedre with some Petite Sirah
and a little bit of Valdepenas and Alicante Bouschet. It has a smoky nose with
dense blackberry, boysenberry, clove, vanilla and licorice flavors that open up
slowly in the glass as the nose turns more floral while the flavors stay sturdy
and rustic. It's a fun, one-of-a-kind wine. 2004
Fortitude Frediani Napa Valley Field Blend ($28) Etude makes 900 cases of this
blend of 66 percent Charbono, 14 percent Zinfandel, 15 percent Carignane and 5
percent Petite Sirah made from old vines on the Frediani Ranch near Calistoga in
2001
Montevina Terra d'Oro SHR Field Blend Amador County Zinfandel ($24) Montevina
methodically interplanted a new vineyard to make this co-fermented blend of 80
percent Zinfandel with 13 percent Petite Sirah and 7 percent Barbera. It has a
gorgeous, beautifully integrated nose of rose, blueberry, violet, coffee,
chocolate, raspberry and cherry aromas. In the mouth it flirts with plushness,
then twists toward a zesty Barbera-driven finish with tannic snap that suggests
it will age gracefully. 2004
Ravenswood Belloni Vineyard Russian River Valley Zinfandel ($32) A
cooler-climate field-blend Zinfandel from 2004
Ravenswood Old Hill Ranch Sonoma Valley Zinfandel ($60) Ravenswood's
top-of-the-line Zinfandel is wildly complex with aromas of currants, plums and
berries with added notes of violet, coriander, pepper and cinnamon. Its sweet,
slightly baked Zinfandel fruit flavors are silky in the mouth and finish with a
jolt of peppery spice and lingering alcoholic glow. 2004
Ravenswood Teldeschi Vineyard Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel ($32) This field-blend
wine from 2002
Stags' Leap Winery Ne Cede Malis Napa Valley Red Wine ($75) Very sophisticated,
very limited, a little rustic and sort of pricey, this field blend is made from
a single old interplanted block of Petite Sirah plus smaller amounts of Syrah,
Viognier and Mourvedre on the winery estate. This inky, dense red is seamlessly
integrated with floral aromas, intense blackberry, blueberry and cherry fruit
and coffee, spice and vanilla oak flavors that dovetail beautifully with its
grainy tannins. Tim
Teichgraeber Tim
Teichgraeber is a
When
Mark Herold and his wife Erika Gottl climb out of bed in the morning,
they carry their coffee cups from the kitchen of their modest wood- frame house
on a working-class residential street near downtown
To
a casual observer, that tin-roof structure seems suited to shelter a couple of
dusty pickup trucks, maybe a lawnmower. To Herold and Gottl, it's the home of
Merus Wines, where they produce less than 500 cases a year of one of the most
sumptuous, coveted Cabernet Sauvignons in the country. Wine critic Robert M.
Parker Jr. tasted it a few years back and fell madly in love. "Thrilling,"
he called it. "Brawny, but impeccably pure."
One
day a while back, Parker showed up at Herold and Gottl's doorstep. "Could
I see where you make this stuff?" he asked Gottl. For years, Parker and
other critics have praised wines crafted around the world by the most talented
"garagistes" -- a term coined to single out maverick micro- producers
whose bare-bones operations mark them as determined solo practitioners in a
rapidly consolidating wine industry where big is often mistaken for better. Throughout
The
most skillful garagistes have a cachet and and an influence within the trade
that far exceeds their meager output. Herold, for example, now consults for half
a dozen larger wineries that pay him sizable sums to do for them what he does
for himself -- coddle and coax Cabernet grapes to deliver up their most luscious
secrets. Herold is enology's version of a horse whisperer.
After
introductions, Herold and Gottl walked Parker to their backyard winery. Crammed
to the rafters with a bladder press, half-ton fermentation bins, a customized
destemmer, new French oak barrels, stainless steel punch- down plungers and a
variety of pumps and hoses, it also houses Mark's compact biochemistry
laboratory and a large dog-sized floor cushion for Hank, the couple's lank-eared
weimaraner.
"My
God!" Parker told Gottl. "You really do make Merus in your
garage." Garagistes
are a throwback to the Old West, or to the Clint Eastwood in all of us. More
often than not, the style of the tiny amount of wine they produce mirrors their
distinctive personalities.
Up
in Gold Country, a gregarious Croatian, Milan Matulich of Dobra Zemlja
(pronounced dobra zem-ya, it means "good earth" in Croatian) winery in
Plymouth makes about 600 cases of a monstrous, 18 percent alcohol Amador
Zinfandel that, like his edgy Syrah and Viognier, is an extension of his
outgoing disposition.
"It's
tough but with a good heart, like me," Matulich says with a laugh. In
"When
I'm throwing an amphora at my potter's wheel and I'm not perfectly centered
inside, it wobbles," says Hutchinson, who plans to bottle about 2600 cases
of wine this year. "I can't stand to make wobbly wines." Garagistes
share a passion in their approach to winemaking that often trumps profit.
Marketing and sales usually take the form of a basic Web site, a mailing list,
local restaurants and possibly a few small distributors. Gottl parcels out Merus
three bottles at a time to devoted customers willing to pay $105 a bottle. But
most garagiste efforts retail between $20 and $50.
Moving
such small quantities can be less demanding than, say, the 10,000 cases or more
that a small winery like Everett Ridge in Healdsburg is likely to produce in a
year, or the 200,000 cases produced by a medium-sized winery like Sebastiani in
Sonoma. Word-of-mouth -- or word-of-mouthfeel -- among wine aficionados does the
heavy lifting. There are no branding consultants. Although many of these
wineries make a profit and provide a comfortable living for their owners, a
considerable portion of their gross revenues typically goes back into buying and
repairing equipment, purchasing new barrels, and related expenses.
Touring
these garagiste operations, you see none of the elaborate high- tech gear that
larger wineries like Kendall-Jackson use to reduce the alcohol percentage or
correct acidity through reverse osmosis.
That's
not just a matter of finances but of personal choice, for a prime tenet of the
garagiste creed is to extol the supremacy of pure fruit by adroitly getting out
of its way. Less talented practitioners may deliver wines that, to paraphrase
Winston Churchill, have much to be modest about. Still, their intention is
noble. "Wine
and the people who drink it have more in common than they realize,"
"Too
much oak in a wine," he continues, "is like a man or woman splashing
on cologne to hide their body odor." "My wines speak for themselves," says MacPhail, 38, who makes about 500 cases a year.
Garagistes
Andy and Deborah Cutter have been employing a winemaker's ally, gravity, at
their whimsically named Healdsburg winery, Duxoup (say it aloud and think of the
Marx Brothers), since they opened for business in 1981. "We
don't want pumps running while we work," Andy Cutter explains.
Gravity
flow eliminates the need for machinery to ferry fermenting grape must and juice
from one container to another during production, and diminishes oxidation en
route. For the Cutters, that gentle approach translates to less intrusion, less
manipulation and more purity in the bottle. To realize that ambition, they built
their small, terraced, six-level facility on a downslope below their hillside
house. Crushed grapes arrive at the highest elevation. The whole berries go
through primary fermentation in specially designed stainless steel bins that
allow Andy to punch down by hand several times a day. When the thick particulate
matter has settled out, Andy opens a few valves and gravity carries the
fermented juice down hoses until it eventually winds up several levels below,
ready to be aged in oak barrels.
Garagistes
may share a passion for purity and a suspicion of safe-but- boring corporate
winemaking practices, but as the Cutters and others know only too well, the
trade-off is hard physical work. Sweat is the common currency. After every harvest Bill Frick, 58, owner and operator of Frick Winery in Geyserville, single-handedly punches down the cap on 20 tons of fermenting must with a metal plunger-like device. Rising to the top of a fermentation tank or bin, red grape solids form a cover that can be 2 feet thick and feel hard as concrete, and it needs to be submerged regularly to bring the skins into contact with the juice beneath it. Wineries of any size use hydraulics, but where there are no machines, there are biceps. Among garagistes, hand- punching is a badge of honor. "I discover muscles I forget I had," says Frick, a lean, fit man who climbs to the top of his tanks and presses down with all his strength. "There's nothing like going to bed at night being totally exhausted from work. It keeps you alive, healthy and sane."
The
quintessential garagiste, Frick owns and manages all the grapes he makes into a
few hundred cases each of his favorite
"Ninety-five
percent of winemaking is in the field," says Mark Herold of Merus. "In
knowing how to trellis, prune, exactly when to pick, and so forth." Is
there romance in garagiste winemaking? Not likely when you delegate all the
grunt work to yourself. But if it's not money or fame that motivates a garagiste,
there has to be a touch of divine madness.
For Frick, it's as close at hand as any bottle of his wine. On each you'll find a poem penned by the producer. The one he wrote for his 2002 Dry Creek Valley
Viognier reads: a
pear falls from the tree nesting
into the golden grass
In
addition to capturing Frick's appreciation of seasonal change, that hints at the
persuasive power of nature to pull urbanites out of their comfortable city lives
to seek meaning where things grow ripe.
Anne
Carver and Denis Sutro, a garagiste husband and wife in Calistoga, jettisoned
their cushy
A
dangerous gamble, perhaps. But for Carver and Sutro, as for many winemaking
couples, there was also a potential reward -- freedom. Denis is the
great-grandson of Oscar Sutro, who co-founded the venerable
Carver
and Sutro were just as green when it came to winemaking. But like the vast
majority of garagistes, Sutro went to school to learn what he didn't know,
enrolling in a UC Davis enology crash course. He came to understand that in the
end, great wine happens at the intersection of chemistry, intuition and
experience. With that in mind, he brought aboard winemaker Gary Brookman of
Miner Family Winery to provide the production expertise he lacked, and
concentrated his attention on vineyard management.
Now,
close to a dozen years later, Carver Sutro annually produces about 600 cases of
a wine that Parker says "ranks alongside some of the finest California
Petite Sirahs I have tasted." Parker
may love the wine, but Denis Sutro loves the Palisades Vineyard vines that it
comes from even more. He knows all 8,000, he says. He only has to walk a few
paces out his kitchen door to be among them. Like
many garagistes, Carver Sutro doesn't produce the wine in its own facility.
Instead, Anne and Denis lease equipment and warehousing space at Miner Family
Winery in
Still others, like Frick, own both.
Lane
Tanner, who makes small quantities of Pinot Noir with what she describes as
"feminine elegance" under her eponymous label in "At
our production level we pay all our bills, renovate the winery as needed, and
have some left for personal needs," says Andy Cutter of Duxoup. "Not a
great capitalistic plan, but a very good way to lead a life. Sometimes people
forget what they like when they get captured by the green monster." Not
these folk. The fortunes they seek are as close at hand as the clusters they can
reach out and touch.
Stephen
Yafa is a freelance writer in Mill Valley. E-mail him at
wine@sfchronicle.com
Global
Vintage Quarterly Wine Journal What lies ahead for California
wine? Surely not just more and more Cabernet and Chardonnay. Surely our days of
greatest growth and finest wines are still to come. But what will this glorious
future look like?
Reprinted with permission
Global
Vintage Quarterly-Annals of New Wine
Zinfandel has come a long way from the inky monsters of the past.
What's behind this
renaissance? Two main factors. The first factor is the knowledge among winemakers that the best "Zinfandels" are blends. They are following the example of the Italian farmers who settled the wine country several generations ago and added a few vines of other varieties to create field blends. Along with at least 75 percent Zinfandel, for its loads of luscious cherry and berry flavors, are blended small amounts of Carignane for body, Alicante Bouschet for color, Petite Sirah for an aromatic black raspberry component, Mourvèdre (called Mataro by the Italian settlers) for a firm foundation, and maybe a dollop or two of who-knows-what-else. I've even seen a couple of vines of white Chasselas grapes in some old Zin vineyards. The second factor is respect. Vineyard owners are harvesting Zinfandel at its peak quality, not ignoring it until the fruit becomes overly sweet and ripe. And winemakers are carefully fermenting it and aging it in quality cooperage. The result is a more elegant,
balanced style of Zinfandel. According to GV500 scores, the highest-quality and
most drinkable Zinfandels have between 600 and 1000 parts per million (medium)
tannin. Interestingly, just about 800 ppm-the center of this range-is where you
find the tannin levels of great French Bordeaux like Château Lafite and Caymus
'Special Section' Cabernet Sauvignon. That's where the drinkability
peaks-exactly where the highest-rated Zinfandels by GV500 scores are found. The national wine critics haven't realized this yet. Their Zinfandel scores don't correlate very closely with tannin levels. Their medium to high scores are spread fairly evenly through a wide range of tannin levels. They also don't rate many Zinfandels much above 90 points, whereas the GV500 ratings score the top-rated Zins up to 98 points.
Further research shows that the greatest number of tested Zinfandels are medium bodied-neither light bodied like a blush Zin nor inky monsters like the Zins of old. This medium-body range correlates very closely with the medium range of tannins that characterizes peak drinkability and quality. In other words, Zinfandel makers are getting it right. They continue to improve. And the future of this California variety will only get brighter as more knowledge in the vineyard and in the winery produces ever better wines.
Reprinted with permission |
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