I am an an avid collector of travel guides. And the Baedeker series occupies pride of place on my crowded shelves. Begun in the early 18th century by Karl Baedeker, by 1900 this little red book could be found in the knapsacks of poets and statesmen, artists and perpetual tourists. Virtually all of Europe, her countries, regions and major cities, as well as Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Asia Minor, Canada and the United States were covered by frequently updated individuated editions. Written by hundreds of pens, the guides were quite democratic in nature, providing precise info on everything from thrifty to expensive lodgings, museum entrance fees, front row theater and balcony prices, and train fares in first class or coach. Capturing the spirit of Nietzsche’s notion of the ‘Good European’, even if rather bourgeois, the Baedeker guides offered dignified commentary on the Western World’s shared history and culture, a common language for understanding monumental architectural forms and art, all for the ennoblement of the traveler wishing to learn as much about distant peoples and places as about themselves.
Then the world lost its mind. Two world wars made many a European Baedeker guide into an instrument of espionage and invasion, and transformed the excursion of a living city into a tour of ruins. But to this reader more than a half century later, this is also Baedekers great strength, what gives the guides their enduring value. They offer once living testimony of a vanished world.
Now this may seem an odd way to introduce David Downie’s Terroir Guides, but I am convinced that his work, the patient, herculean task he has successfully completed in three healthy volumes, Rome, The Italian Riviera and Genoa, and most recently Burgundy, is deserving of a similar admiration. And this is why. Focussing on food and wine, his Terroir Guides are generous and rich acts of resistance to globalization and homogenization. As he dryly writes in The Italian Riviera and Genoa,
The Italian Riviera has many excellent, sophisticated and some internationally celebrated restaurants. Most are not included in this guidebook…. [W]hen the authenticity, regional tipicity, and simplicity of the cooking are outweighed by the restaurant’s decor or setting and, above all, when the bravura of chefs focuses on innovation, creative or international cooking, the establishment does not correspond to the spirit of terroir.”
More pointedly, in the Author’s Foreword to his superb Burgundy guide he writes,
“The aim of the Terroir Guides is not to simply aid readers in the pursuit of hedonistic pleasure, but rather to encourage their appreciation of a slower, more meditative lifestyle based on respect for the soil, the seasons, and deeply rooted cultures capable of producing not only great food and wine, but also a saner and more tolerant world view and way of life.”
What may be found in Mr. Downie’s work are guides to cuisines and winemaking squarely at odds with post-modernist agricultural and marketing trends. Again from the Burgundy intro:
“[T]he battles continue against standardized, adulterated food, factory farming, growth hormones, fresh raw milk versus UHT milk, GMOs, vegetable fats in chocolate, trans-fats, and many other related issues, including the spread of hyper-markets and big-box discounters.”
Here my comparison of his work to Baedeker becomes a bit clearer. On every page is expressed the love Mr. Downie feels for each of the regions in which he travels. Never a harsh note, he writes entirely in the affirmative. His detailed explorations are always quiet celebrations of a vibrant, living food and wine culture he finds tucked away in corners of even the smallest, most decrepit village. There is always hope. Of the Northern Burgundy town of Tonnerre he wonders
“…how, in the second half of the twentieth century, Tonnerre was allowed to implode. Seemingly half of the houses in the upper city are abandoned, many in ruins. [....] With much effort, inner-city Tonnerre will rebound.”
He goes on to describe those dedicated to the work of the town’s re-energizing. And this is the general tone of the Burgundy book: for every sign of ruin or globalizing triumph there are plenty of counter-examples. For every collection of fast food joints and super-markets overflowing with standardized products mentioned, he offers well-described wine bars, restaurants, wineries and open markets. Where might artisanal cheeses and olive oils be found? Where are the best vegetables sourced?
Each of his remarkable 400 plus page Terroir Guides, Rome, the Italian Riviera and Genoa, and Burgundy, are the deepest, most exhaustively researched examples of their kind. I do not believe they will be outdone anytime soon. Further, I insist that as comprehensive gustatory compendiums of these regions, they each stand as a grand still-life, a moment in time. Future explorations of these regions, when a balance sheet is drawn up of their fortunes, the endurance of their multiple terroirs, such explorations will, I believe, require a return to Mr. Downie’s texts as a kind of standard history. Like a Baedekers guide, we need an accurate source of practical information to understand where we are. Mr. Downie’s work provides exactly that.
I contacted the author with a few questions. Knowing full well he was not a ‘personality’, that he did not seek celebrity, I did not hold out much hope for an interview. Neither did I really want one. Of the many haunting charms of guide books is the mystery of authorship. But I tossed a few his way.
Admin What project are you currently working on? Apart from your literary efforts, are you thinking of writing about another wine region?
©Alison Harris
Right now I am trying to juggle the three Food Wine books–meaning promote them–and decide whether to undertake another. These are very long-term projects, and require a great deal of research, foot work, energy, and investment. If I do another, it might well be of a winegrowing region, though I cannot say which just yet (I am talking to my publisher about this). It might also be Paris, which does have a couple of vineyards. Mostly, Paris has many fine wine shops, and wine experts (winesellers and sommeliers).
My other projects are my recently published political thriller, set in Paris: Paris City of Night. It requires nursing; all books are hard to get airborne, but when you’re known as a food/wine and travel writer and you write a crime novel, the odds are entirely against you.
Lastly, in terms of books, I am trying to finish and find a home for a quirky book about hiking across Burgundy (and much of France) along ancient Roman roads and medieval pilgrimage routes. The book is titled HIT THE ROAD JACQUES. It includes some commentary on food and wine, including an unexpected revelation about French winemakers and their “special” relations with Mr. Parker. I don’t want to steal my own thunder.
Do you have an opinion on wine scores and ratings?
DD Having worked for some years two decades ago on the Gault-Millau guidebooks to France, Paris and Italy, and having lived in France for 25 years, I have developed an allergy to numerical scoring. The French are obsessed with it, because they are traumatized as school children by the 20/20 system (no one ever gets 20/20 in school). Wines are living things, and we are too (most of us). Wines change, we change, constantly. Change is not possible, it is inevitable. That is why ratings of any kind are so approximate and ultimately not very useful. Also, Mr. Parker’s ratings–and those of many reviewers–would not generally be my ratings. Taste is highly variable. I do not worship fat, fruit-forward, oaky wines, and I am a mono-variety man (though I do love some wines made with multiples).
Do you take tasting notes above and beyond those provided in your book?
DD See the above for background. I am possibly less organized than you think. I take notes, in notebooks, and usually I can’t find my notebooks, and if I do, I can’t find my notes in them (I am par-blind, which probably helps me as a taster, but makes life hell otherwise). I also scribble notes on brochures, on wine labels, and so forth. And I realize that a wine tasted at the winery may taste very different at home, or in a restaurant. Winemaking, wine appreciation, and wine education, to my mind, are an art or a craft, not a science. Science and technology have their place in the world of wine, but they are also proving dangerous–like tools handed to the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. For me, when it comes to wine, the less “technique” the better. Romanee Conti has been making organic, un-technical wines for quite a spell, and people seem to like them. Many less trumpeted winemakers have too.
Are there wine books from any era, whether historical, popular or scientific, in or out of print, that you would recommend to the Burgundy enthusiast?
DD I will have to give that one a think. I am chaotic in my reading… most of my reference books (which I don’t always own, but borrow) are French…
What camera does the Food Wine series photographer, Alison Harris, use?
DD She has used/uses a variety of cameras. Now she uses a Canon professional digital camera with an EFS 17-55mm lens. By the way, here is her
website, (and she is my wife, of many years now).
If you could be a tree, what tree would you be? JUST KIDDING!
DD Actually, I am happy to answer: a live oak. Drought-resistant, tough, a loner, but also happy to dip roots into a river, and stand among other oaks (and any other tree–all trees are lovely). In fact, if I could, I would chuck in everything I do and plant trees. The best photo of me ever taken shows me attempting to embrace an ancient chestnut, in Burgundy. I will attach it for your delectation. Burgundy has some of the world’s oldest and most beautiful chestnuts….
Thank you for your time.
DD Thank you for yours!
———-
For more information on this gentleman, please see
this interview.
An additional review may be found on
Mr. Downie’s website, as well as notice of his other writing efforts.
And
this piece by Mr. Downie himself appearing today (3/09) in the Huffpost.
Admin
The volcanic islands of Graciosa, Pico, and Terceira, specifically the parish of Biscoitos, are the demarcated wine regions of the Azores, a Portuguese archipelago just over 900 miles from the mainland. Legally recognized in 1994, each area has, nevertheless, been producing wine for hundreds of years. The vines are grown in the near complete absence of soil and sheltered from the wind and salt water by walls of broken basalt painstakingly built over the centuries. The ’soils’, slowly in the process of creation (globally, depending upon a series of site-specific geo-physical processes, the generation of an inch of soil requires many thousands of years), may be broadly divided into two types: shattered, heavily fissured basalt and a slightly looser, sandy version, its additional material largely water runoff and wind transported. This is most strikingly revealed on Pico where the vineyards come within yards of the open Atlantic. Coaxing vines into healthy production in either matrix is nothing short of miraculous.
I will have much to say on another occasion about all of the above. For now I want only to touch on the narrow dimension of Biscoitos’ private bottle label art, this after a few preliminaries.
The agricultural center of Terceira, this small town is home to S.D.A.T., the Adega do Servico de Desenvolvimento Agrario de Terceira (the cellar of Agrarian Development Service), the wine-making cooperative where, upon deplaning at Lajes Airport, we were taken by winery representative, António Espínola.
Producing over 40,000 liters of wine per annum off of 60 hectares, the local economy of Biscoitos, the wine sector, took a severe hit in the aftermath of the terrorist attack of 9/11. All the islands did. With new international airline regulations banning all liquid containers with volumes in excess of 4 oz. from being carried onto airplanes, the many thousands of tourists visiting Terceira each year went from purchasing multiple bottles of wine to buying just one now secured in checked baggage. Wine sales plummeted 50% throughout the archipelago and the sector has still not recovered. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the wines’ price points, as our soulless business language puts it. Indeed, given the extraordinary labor required to work with all the elements of the archipelago’s harsh terroir, it is stunning to see any Azores wine sold locally for as little as €10. With sinew and muscle, the farmer’s near indestructible will to go on restores to respectability the idea of hand-crafted, a notion rather limply exploited in American wine marketing, for example. Further, the oft-repeated promotional concept of how inexpensive are Portugal’s wines in general, fails miserably to grasp that it is rather a question of a sustainable price. No better example of this critical distinction may be found than on the Azores.
It has become more urgent than ever, especially in light of reduced tourist numbers in these sour economic times, to find a way to lessen the great downward pricing pressure and get the many fascinating wines of the Azores into the international market at a fair, sustainable price.
Like all the demarcated regions of the Azores, grape growing on Biscoitos is suffering from a generational shift. No longer willing to struggle for a living in the same way as their parents and grandparents have, the young are increasingly drawn to cities. To be sure, it is a pattern repeated in all agricultural sectors throughout the world. But in the Azores it is painfully evident, the abandoned vineyards immediately visible as overrun thatches of tangled flora. The disruption of traditional family practice is a very real threat to the long-term survival of this viticulture unique in all the world.
While at the cooperative, we were given precious insight into Biscoitos’ recent vinous history. Located within an older portion of the adega, António showed us what qualifies as their ‘wine library, a wall of honeycombed masonry (situated at the right in the photo). From the rough, abrasive chambers, an echo of the vineyards’ basaltic walls just outside, he pulled bottle after intriguing bottle of private wines, some made before the existence of the cooperative. As a tribute to the farmers and vintners of these mysterious verdelhos, the dominant white grape throughout the Azores, I will close this post with their simple, mute images.
(File size varies.)
Admin
Donna writes:
I don’t do well my first days arriving in Europe, preferring to take some down time to regulate my sleep pattern, be a vegetable and do local stuff with locals preferably in local bars, down local old side streets and alleys.
But Sud de France had a full day of vinous activities scheduled and I am always supportive of all the opportunities they plan out for us. After all I am their guest and to do otherwise would be rude. And I’m probably going to say it about 20 times throughout my Vinisud reporting, but this organization is so top notch, so well organized. Doing these events is like herding cats with keeping so many importers knee deep in wine producers and French hospitality.
So, Saturday morning after a fitful nights rest, I stumbled into the Mercure Centre breakfast room and slugged down two espressos and sauntered downstairs to see the group. And what a group we had. Previous times the most I’ve ever traveled with is about 20 people. We were now about 100, two full coaches worth from all over the world. This year I was with Japan, China, Germany, Canada, Russia, Mexico, UK, and representing the states was California, Washington State, Washington DC, Virginia, Hawaii, Arizona and Texas plus probably someone else I left out.
I found out later the US contingent, normally together was split this time as there were other things going around France with wine in different regions and I think scheduling and timing made it impossible to have us all together. I prefer I’m with all USA importers because we form working relationships with each other and our portfolios, but I was pretty jazzed to be around so many different nationalities and for the opportunity to see how the rest of the world selects and imports wine.
So we piled into the busses, lots of languages buzzing in the air and set off for Cite de la Vigne et du vin Gruissan which the direct translation is “City of the Vine and of the wine of Gruissan”. This is the INRA or French Agronomical Research Institute based in Gruissan, France and a living museum for wine.
Gruissan the town is a very old coastal resort. Reminds me a little of Catalina Island, well except it’s a really old settlement and has an 800 year old watch tower to protect nearby Narbonne and it’s down from the AOC of La Clape and it’s all so very lovely and French.
It’s a really neat place. Sort of a natural history museum but for all things vinous and they have test rows of all sorts of grapes grown in the region plus examples of all the different types of trellising used in the region and inside lots of interactive displays where you can see/feel/touch/smell the good and the bad of wine making. I have only seen it in winter and to see this museum/research facility while the vines are in leaf would be amazing.
This was my second trip there and can’t say when I snagged where we were going I was all that thrilled as it was not in the good side of my memory bank. Nearly a year ago on January 24, 2009 I was on another trip to Languedoc and was caught up in a terrible winter storm at Gruissan. We endured 100 mph winds, were moving trees out of the road to get our van through, once we got to Narbonne we had to run through the streets to the CIVL with trees crashing and wind slinging huge clay roof tiles at our heads. I had tucked into a bar I saw was open (I thought most sensible at the time) and the locals are telling me, while I’m looking at the poor TV satellite of a serious storm with a good sized eye in the middle all the while 100 year old trees across the square were being ripped up and completely totaling cars to the thickness of baguette, that it’s just the winter storms. Which of course I reply, I don’t know where you come from but where I come from, if its got 100 mile an hour sustained winds, and it’s got an eye, it’s a hurricane.
Needless to say I didn’t see much of it and didn’t realize its significance the first time I visited. Anyway, so, we arrive at the Cite and Sud de France gave us a presentation about what to expect the next few days at Vinisud. Plus a brief talk about the new VDP rules now to be IGP and at the mercy of Brussels? In my first entry about this trip, I said I would attend some seminars and unfortunately they were entirely in French and while I can understand a bit, it was over my head.
We had some fine talks from the Sud de France group. It was a bit chaotic during the presentation because some were presenting in French or English and it all had to be translated in various languages by interpreters following our group. Looking back at the videos it was quite funny at the verbal chaos. The highlight of the presentation was the very charming Matthew Stubbs, MW who was the wine buyer for Safeway and is now a proponent of the region and now is running a wine school in the Languedoc. He didn’t go specifically into the terroirs of the region, but highlighted the 10 reasons why Languedoc-Roussillon is the place to be for wine in this day and age for France. I have this presentation on video and once we are up and running with video, I’ll do a highlight of Matthew.
We then retired to lunch, with such a large group, I decided to wander outside first, something I was physically unable to do my first visit and look at what the Cite was all about. I have to say I really was impressed. It’s not a huge place, but they have rows after rows of test grapes. Unfortunately it’s February and the pruning has just begun, so I am staring at gnarled sticks in the dirt, but the whole site is so interesting.
At lunch I met the lovely Henri Cases, a vigneron and president of the Carcassonne wine growers association. I forget the proper name. He was taking the group next to Carcassonne to visit the medieval walled city. This place is so famous. It’s been a settlement in one form or another for the past 5000 years and features proximately with the holy grail stories and saga. It was famously forced to surrender by Simon de Montfort in the 1200’s. Upon our arrival to Carcassonne a rainbow fell onto the lower town and it was a perfect afternoon strolling around the battlements. Though I’ve been there a few times, I get away from the center with all the tourists and shops and meander around imagining all sorts of fairy tale princess and handsome knight scenarios in my tired head.
Then Henri gave us all in the group a lovely bottle of wine which was so appreciated and off we set by coach to Boutenac. On the way we encountered terrible accident where a car was turned upside down. Luckily the driver was okay and after a very well managed rescue by the local authorities we were only delayed 45 minutes.
We arrived at Le Chateau home of Syndicat de Cru Corbieres-Boutenac and before us were multiple tables of producers to show us their products. Still a bit stunned by the accident I sat around and people watched for a while. Tasting in big crowded groups is difficult for me. Besides the wine being good, it’s very important for me to develop a relationship with a producer and when it’s very crowded it’s next to impossible to get a feel for someone. Not that I pick bad wines, but if I had to choose between a good wine to sell where the producer is a jerk and a wine that wasn’t so good, but the producer was wonderful and fun, I have to go for the latter every time. The relationship is what gets you through the hard times and creates stories to tell in the good times.
Anyhow, Corbieres Boutenac is an AOC from the Corbieres region specific to the town of Boutenac. Small low lying appellation of about 1400 Ha (about 2800 acres). It’s got rolling rocky hills with a soil structure mainly of molasse. It has 18 private producers and 4 co-ops. In writing this I realize I need to go into some serious geek stuff for everyone which I’ll do later in this series.
This was a rough tasting for me. This was shocking as there were some pretty heavy hitters in the room. One quite famous wine everyone gushes about wasn’t so good and was very expensive. Would it appeal to the big California lover palate? Yes. Do I think 90% of wine drinkers could finish an entire glass? No. And it definitely was a meal on its own. So heavily extracted it reminded me more of prune juice than wine. It was seriously thick, just not in a good way. Anyway, I’m not here to name names of the bad, I’m here to highlight the good.
I did find one wine in the room I got excited about. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the name (dork), and why it’s not written down I don’t know. Exhaustion is the only excuse I can think of. I’m making inquiries and I’ll let you know if I find it. It needs to be imported, and drunk, a lot. I think the retail price would have been about $21 which I think is an insane bargain. I’ll keep you posted and you guys do your bit by bugging your local merchants and together we’ll land this wine.
I then retired early into the dining area and scanned the room and chose a table at the back with a lone figure sitting at it, ask if the seat is taken next to her and was invited to sit. Engaging a conversation I am sitting with Lauren Buzzeo who covers Languedoc for Wine Enthusiast magazine. I have to say she was the trooper of the day and had flown in that day from the US and it was now 10pm at night and we were just sitting down to start eating. She was a real delight to talk with over a lovely dinner.
During dinner, a magician did slight of hand tricks for each table to keep us entertained and vignerons roamed talking about their products. It went well into the wee hours of the morning. We returned to the hotel around 1:30am and just as I staggered into the coach for the days events that morning, I staggered with half-shut eyes back into my hotel room, where after I got settled in the bed for a few hours sleep, my internal alarm clock woke me up. Ugh.
Donna
Soil science is a very complex, elegant discipline. And having everything to do with the feeding of the world’s hungry populations, it can also be highly contentious. Though not overtly political, rival research programs within soil science nevertheless often butt heads against one another. Witness, for example, the heated debates, still underway, over the consequences of the Green Revolution, a massive post-war transformation of agricultural technological practice that led to very significant, if short-term gains in the ability of developing nations to feed their populations. Though initially successful in Mexico and subsequently exported throughout the world, a look at the remains of that model today reveals a Mexico teetering on the edge of collapse, its agricultural sector further strained under NAFTA’s relentless weight.
Now, of course the reasons for Mexico’s economic and social troubles are as multiple as they are tangled, but it is undeniably true that the soil science, as understood mid-century, played a significant role in the optimism energizing the Green Revolution.
All will agree that the ’success’ of the Green Revolution relied a host of social and scientific technologies formerly limited to industrialized nations: the zealous use of broad spectrum pesticides, often without significant independent scientific review; the insistence on monoculture at the expense of indigenous polyculture, and biodiversity generally; a structural necessity of greater petrochemical inputs; irrigation projects resulting in both reallocation and massive new drafts on local water reserves; displacement of underperforming farming populations in favor of mechanization; the planting of hybrids at the expense of traditional varieties, hybrids the farmer needed to purchase each year. These were but a few of the technological requirements imposed upon developing nations in the post war era. The upshot is that food production, its promise, would eventually become an instrument of foreign policy. I will pass over in silence the profound environmental consequences.
More narrowly, on the matter of new hybrids, they were selected because of their higher yields. Higher yields require greater amounts of Nitrogen (N). In this way did heavy applications of synthetic N become the order of the day. I will limit the balance of my post to this topic alone.
Formerly farmers were limited in how much they could grow by the need to replace the N their crops removed from the soil. Even the gardener knows how important it is to grow cover crop, to hustle up manure from a local ranch, at the very least to turn the soil so as to incorporate seasonal plant waste. The basic tenant of organic farming is ‘feed the soil’. It is no different for the large scale operation, at least it wasn’t until the rise of the synthetic fertilizer industry many years ago. With the mass production of synthetic N it became possible to use this to supplement the seasonal reduction of N reserves, but now in a more limited combination with plant waste, green and other manures. Further, it has long been believed that with these appropriate Carbon, Potassium, Phosphorus etc. additions along with judicious applications of synthetic N, soil health, including ‘relevant’ microbial populations, could be maintained for the long haul. As Ron Jackson puts it in his industry standard text book, Wine Science,
“Until the use of inorganic nitrogen fertilizers, vineyard nitrogen supply was dependent primarily on the activity of free-living nitrogen-fixing bacteria in the soil, nitrogen fixed by endosymbiotic bacteria in the nodules of legumes, and the addition of manure. Unlike other soil nutrients, nitrogen is not a component of the mineral makeup of the soil. Its availability, unlike that of potassium, phosphorus, and magnesium, is particularly dependent on the effect of seasonal factors, such as soil moisture, aeration, and temperature, and on how these factors affect the activity of soil microorganisms and cover crops. [....] The lower cost of urea and ammonia salts, combined with ammonia’s ready sorption to soil particles, generally makes it the preferred form of nitrogen fertilizer.”
And this approach is consistent with the broad research program of established soil science since the post-war era. But there is another parallel research program of similar historical pedigree. Often called organic, though well developed before its eviscerating codification in our era, it is properly explained, with an updated lexicon, by Peter Schmidt of the Delinat Institute.
“Just one cubic meter of good soil is home to nearly 60,000 species of microorganisms. They are all interconnected in the so called soil-food-web. All have different functions and maintain through their functional biodiversity the stability of the soil-plant-system. Each plant is symbiotically integrated in this very complex system. The plant offers to the microorganisms carbohydrates through their roots exudates and gets phosphates, nitrate, oligo-elements and water in exchange. The whole process is in an ingenious balance between give and take, fixating and releasing. If we intervene into this process with mineral fertilizers, the whole system gets out of balance as we favour some few species over others. It’s in fact a negative selection. As the plant gets easy fast food through the fertilizers it has no need to maintain the symbiosis with the microorganisms and it stops nourishing those microbes that usually fix nitrogen, carbon, phosphates and all the other aliments for the soil-food-web.
“And there is another point. Mineral fertilizers are salty which means that the most of the 1 billion microorganisms that one can find in 1 gram of good upper-soil dry up and die. Those that survive feed on the nitrate and ammonium of the fertilizers and on the carbon of the soil organic matter. The function of soil-food-web is surely as complex as the function of the brain, but it does not need magic to explain why nitrogen-fertilizers provoke the diminishing of soil carbon and the increase of greenhouse gases.
“To increase the functional biodiversity of agricultural systems is the most efficient and cheapest method for sustainable agriculture and resistance to climate change.”
It is by design that I select these two comments centering, as they do, on the question of synthetic N. There are other pressing distinctions between organic and industrial farming, and Mr. Jackson cannot fairly be said to be squarely in the latter camp. The point is that the organic community, broadly understood, has been historically critical of synthetic N; the industrial community broadly supportive. And for the past three score years this is where things have stood. Until now. Very important new research has recently appeared, research from within the university establishment itself. In a paper, titled Synthetic Nitrogen Fertilizers Deplete Soil Nitrogen: A Global Dilemma For Sustainable Cereal Production [click on right sidebar link for free download] by R.L. Mulvaney, S.A. Khan, and T.R. Ellsworth of the University of Illinois, the evidence from a decades-long project shows, according to the fine gloss of the paper by Tom Phillpott writing for Grist:
“[T]he net effect of synthetic nitrogen use is to reduce soil’s organic matter content. Why? Because, they posit, nitrogen fertilizer stimulates soil microbes, which feast on organic matter. Over time, the impact of this enhanced microbial appetite outweighs the benefits of more crop residues.
“And their analysis gets more alarming. Synthetic nitrogen use, they argue, creates a kind of treadmill effect. As organic matter dissipates, soil’s ability to store organic nitrogen declines. A large amount of nitrogen then leaches away, fouling ground water in the form of nitrates, and entering the atmosphere as nitrous oxide (N2O), a greenhouse gas with some 300 times the heat-trapping power of carbon dioxide. In turn, with its ability to store organic nitrogen compromised, only one thing can help heavily fertilized farmland keep cranking out monster yields: more additions of synthetic N.
“The loss of organic matter has other ill effects, the researchers say. Injured soil becomes prone to compaction, which makes it vulnerable to runoff and erosion and limits the growth of stabilizing plant roots. Worse yet, soil has a harder time holding water, making it ever more reliant on irrigation. As water becomes scarcer, this consequence of widespread synthetic N use will become more and more challenging.”
I contacted the lead author, Prof. R.L Mulvaney, with supplemental questions specifically related to viticultural practice.
Admin Does the long-term degradation of soils with the use of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer also lead to other mineral deficiencies? I’m thinking of phosphorous, potassium, calcium, boron and manganese in particular.
Richard Mulvaney Yes, organic matter depletion will adversely affect numerous soil functions that impact nutrient availability. The most obvious effect is on the supply of mineralizable N, P, and S from organic sources, but most of the other nutrients are also affected. Because of its high cation-exchange capacity, organic matter plays an important role in holding Ca, Mg, and K in exchangeable forms that are protected against leaching, and has a similar effect in stabilizing the supply of micronutrients. There are important effects on the soil’s physical properties, such as water-holding capacity, aeration and drainage, structural stability, and resistance to erosion and compaction. Soils with ample organic matter provide a good rooting medium that promotes plant uptake of immobile nutrients such as P and K, and of course also water. Not surprisingly, the world’s most productive soils in such areas as the U.S. Corn Belt and the Ukraine are known for having a high organic matter content.
Would the accelerated loss of organic material associated with synthetic nitrogen play any role in increasing levels of salt in soils? I’m thinking of the Salinas Valley in California. Another question following upon the first: Would changing the soil profile exacerbate problems associated with salt water intrusion? And would additions of organic matter help slow the destructive effects of salt on crops?
RM By impeding drainage, a loss of organic matter would exacerbate salt accumulation through evapotranspiration. Depending on irrigation water quality, the salt buildup could reduce productivity and restrict cropping plans.
Do irrigation methods make a difference? Perhaps an obvious question, but I’m thinking of a perennial crop, such as wine grapes. Does drip irrigation, often the synthetic nitrogen delivery tech of choice for large and small scale grape growers, ultimately have a deleterious effect? With drip irrigation the vine root system is encouraged to remain near the soil surface. So I’m wondering for established vines, whether synthetic nitrogen fertilizer applications would, over the life of the vine, result in the selective degradation of it’s immediate soil, the few square feet the vine inhabits.
RM Drip irrigation is the most efficient option for supplying water, and would also increase nutrient uptake efficiency with lower fertilizer rates in close proximity to the rooting zone. Under these conditions, C depletion should be minimized by synthetic N fertilization. Without long-term data on drip irrigation, any further comment would be speculative.
What are your recommendations for the rehabilitation of degraded soils? I realize it varies from crop to crop. Corn is a heavy nitrogen feeder; wine grapes. less so. But given the recognition by a grower of a degraded farm soil, what steps might be taken to begin to re-establish soil health?
RM The Morrow Plots and other long-term experiments have shown that mixed legume rotations and the use of manure are conducive to soil C sequestration, as opposed to synthetic N fertilization for continuous grain production. The damage in the latter case will escalate if residues are harvested for ethanol production.
What is you opinion of biochar as a method of carbon sequestration in agricultural soils?
RM Biochar can be a valuable amendment for soils that are very low in organic matter, and has been particularly useful in managing tropical soils subject to deforestation and shifting agriculture. Soil C will be sequestered, and plant growth will benefit from deeper root penetration with improved soil structure, higher water-holding capacity, etc.
Thank you, Professor Mulvaney.
RM Thanks for your interest in our work on this topic. I hope these comments will be helpful.
—–
Apologies to the reader for the breezy, rapid presentation of such a complex issue. I will post additional remarks on this important topic in the coming weeks.
Admin
It rarely happens in life that one enjoys a perfect day, a day of balance, when both the intellect and body are equally engaged, happiness and sadness, noise and silence in equilibrium; when one is free to reflect on past and present; a day one briefly glimpses what it might mean to be immortal; when one’s body is lightly transported between ancient and thoroughly modern frames of mind, all bracketed by a sun that rises and sets over a green world. Such was my first day in the Dåo, a wine region in the north-central of Portugal.
From a stay at the Pousada in Ourém, we three lucid dreamers, the brilliant Virgilio Loureiro, cinematographer Nuno Sá Pessoa Sequeira and yours truly, set out to visit the varied typologies of rock presses in Parada de Gonta, Prazias, Paraduço and Vale do Salqueiro (among others), some used until the 1950s. I shall save those extraordinary visions, there is no other word, for another post.
On this occasion I mean to parse the day into discreet, manageable episodes. The first shall be the lunch and wine tasting enjoyed at the solid tourist destination, Paço dos Cunhas de Santar, just outside of Viseu. From Casa de Santar’s Alminhas (little souls) vineyard, the site of the Vale do Salgueiro rock press, a portion of which had been broken to provide a foundation stone for a recent outbuilding, we drove to the estate, our group including our guide, Alberto Sampaio, winemakers Carlos Silva and Mario Rui Ferreira (a very interesting and energetic individual), among others.
Leaving recent political history aside, the provided literature describes Paço dos Cunhas de Santar like this:
Paço de Santar was built by order of D. Pedro da Cunha in 1609. A large ancient farmhouse has stood on this site for hundreds of years. It’s sole purpose was to produce olive oil, fruits and wine for the grand and prestigious Oporto markets. Today, Paço de Santar has 32 hectares of traditional Dão varieties and 5 z (sic) of olive trees.
It was opened to wine tourism in 2008. And its restaurant, open everyday, provided us a spectacular meal. Indeed, our elegant host, son of the Comte de Santar, winemaker Pedro Vasconcelos e Sousa, sat us down to the following menu.
To Start
Bread Toast of Mushrooms, Emulsion of Tomatoes and Cardamon
Main Course
Codfish in Maize Bread, Potatoes and “Migas da Beira”
Second Course
Roasted Goat, Rice of Mushrooms and Spinaches
Dessert
Cheese Serra da Estrela, “Requeijão” and Sweet Pumpkin
—–
During this beautiful repast we tasted and discussed many of the wines of the Dão. Below is the list, largely in the order sipped, and my brief thoughts, if warranted, about each.
2008 Cabriz Bruto, Quinta de Cabriz, a blend of Malvasia Fino and Cercial. Refreshing and light. My understanding is that this sparkler makes up 10% of their sales.
2008 Comdessa, Casa de Santar, 14% alc. This white wine had a full mouthfeel, a little heat, lightly acidic; its all new French oak was reserved. Almost a Viognier character.
2008 Paço dos Cunhas de Santar ‘Nature’. A ‘biologique’ wine -moving toward Biodynamic certification- it had soft, rounded tannins. Vanished in the back palate; a light oak influence.
2007 UDACA (União das Adegas Cooperativa da Região Demarcada do Dão) Touriga Nacional, 13% alc. Twelve months aging in mixed oak barrels. Light, fragrant bouquet, simple body, sweet, smoky, but short finish.
2007 Vinha Paz Reserva (Antonio Canto Moniz), Touriga Nacional; American and French oak. Sweet, full body, masive mid-palate, round tannins, very long finish- oak present.
2007 Quinta da Falorca, T-nac, Touriga Nacional, 14% alc. Gorgeous nose, full body, beautifully structured; no oak. Brilliant expression of Touriga. A truly world-class effort. (As a side note, after I had made my feelings about the wine known, I was approached by folks associated with the parent quinta. They explained that a certain Mark Squires, Robert Parker’s hit man inexplicably assigned to Portugal, gave T-nac an ‘89′. As silly as that is in itself, Mr. Squires also recommended that they grub up all their Touriga Nacional and replant with Cabernet Sauvignon. Truly terrible advice, a disservice to the grape and to the Dão patrimony.)
2003 Quinta das Roques. 13.5%. Touriga Nacional. Just a baby. Needs time. Very well structured.
2004 Quinta de Cabriz (Dão Sul), Escolha. 14% alc.
2004 Quinta da Falorca, Garrefeira, Old Vines 14.5% alc, Touriga Nacional, Alfrocheiro Preto and Tinta Roriz. Full mouthfeel, very firm tannins, rich mid-palate. Oak present, a little unbalanced, hot on the finish. Thoughtful wine.
Also served was the 2003 Quinta das Roques Reserve Blend. From the Pessegueiro (peach) vineyard. 13.5% alc. A seamless wine. From mid-palate to finish, a beautiful elaboration. Quite elegant.
2004 Conde, Casa de Santar 14% alc. Very elegant, balanced. Holds the alcohol well, rounded tannins. Good quality, if not particularly memorable.
1994 UDACA 12.5% alc. Touriga Nacional and other, unspecified grape varieties. Extremely satisfying. Very deep, rich and mysterious. I will be fortunate to taste this wine again someday.
I should also mention a 2009 Quinta da Falorca, Rosé of Touriga Nacional (not pictured). 13.5% alc. A little candified, but with good acid. I am especially fond of Tavel rosés. I have had quite a few. So, my palate would need to taste many more Portuguese examples of rosé before I could even hazard an opinion as to the quality. I will say that I did not find Quinta da Falorca’s effort compelling, mindful of the caveat above.
Lastly, we tried to enjoy a magnum of 1970 Dão Garrafeira out of Viseu. Produced by the Federacão dos Viticultores por Dão with the greatest hopes, sadly the wine was quite medicinal. Its day has passed.
We finished the lunch in very good spirits. Thanking our gracious host, we departed light-headed, with much work still remaining this day, about which more later. Resting with the setting sun, we would find our way to the restored 17th century Pousada Santa Marinha in Guimarães.
Update It has come to my attention that a couple of the wines mentioned above also made the reputable Sarah Ahmed’s list of Top 50 Wines of Portugal.
Admin
The irrepressible Donna writes:
J’Arrive Vinisud!
Everyone who knows me, knows I love wines from the South of France. They are near and dear to me and I’m a firm believer it is the future of France as we see all the named and historically famous wines become prohibitedly expensive and disappear out of the hands of the regular wine drinker into the very wealthy and increasingly the Asian market.
Here you find amazing value to price ratios unlike most wine regions in the world, save for Spain, which is slowly creeping up and less the value it once was. Unfortunately as successful as the region is, there still is a wave of vine pull schemes which tug at my heart every time I see another report.
The Trade Office of France and Sud de France have very generously brought me to the Languedoc to experience Vinisud, the largest wine trade fair for wines from the Mediterranean. I have to give props to Marie-Helene Courade of the Houston France Consulate who never forgets how I love going on these trips, making fantastic connections and putting up with my indecision when making flight reservations. Also thanks to Sarah Nguyen the Director of the Wine and Spirits for the French embassy trade office in NYC,
The Sud de France organization gave us all a wonderful welcome gift with our itineraries plus small gifts and samples of regional foods. One really neat gift and excellent for quick reference in a fun way is a sampling of wine tubes. Each tube contains a sample of the different styles of wines from the region. The AOC’s are for each style are printed on the back of the tubes along with the authorized grapes of the regions. As a wine educator, I kinda feel like Martha Stewart when I say “It’s a good thing”.
There’s a very busy schedule at these events. Frequently there’s a different hotel every night in a different city, dinner until 1 am, back up at 6 am, on a bus by 8am, repacking every morning, bodies fatigued, palates broken down, livers distended no matter how much wine you spat out but the opportunity to be in an organized visit schedule to meet producers and potentially bring their products to the United States, is gold. This trip I am thankful to be stationed in one hotel and I was able to completely unpack my garment bag and take account of all the things I need which I forgot to pack, but I did remember my Dansko clogs and will decline competing with all the very fashionable French women so I can cover as much of Vinisud as possible instead of moaning about hurting toes.
In addition to all the wines from the South of France at Vinisud I understand there are some wines from Corsica (very excited), Italy and Greece to also be included. I also saw they have a blind tasting room which I’ll be sure to visit and find out what that is about to see how badly I can humiliate myself. For those of you wondering why I’m disparaging my decent palate, I’ll fill you in about two weeks what that’s about.
There is going to be about 12 Halls in total and I received the book on only Hall 1 which is about 350 wines. And looking at the map of the event, Hall 1 is one of the smallest. So potentially, looking at about 5,000 wines? It can’t be that many, although I was looking at the pictures from last years regular Languedoc trade tasting and yes it could be.
Here’s the video from the 2008 Vinisud to see how large this trade fair is.
There is so much to pack into 3 days. They are also doing 3 full days of conference programs. I have signed up for 3, including the International Federation of Wine Journalists and Writer’s roundtable and a course on the new quality labels which I just don’t understand why it’s been changed. I’ll let you know if I’m still cranky about the change after learning about it more from those who really know. I know I want to go to Ryan O’Connell’s presentation about using the internet as a marketing tool on the last conference on the last day. He gave me a shout out on Twitter and I want to see what this young gun and his family are doing to make their wines successful. First look at his website impressed me.
The schedule for February 20th tells me we’re going to Cite de la Vigne et du Vin Gruissan which is on the coast near La Clape and then Carcassonne in the afternoon and for the evening visiting Corbieres de Bourtenac.
Schedule for February 21st has me going to Montagnac then visiting area wineries and then dinner at the Restaurant Le Sequoia with wines from Perpignan hopefully including the famous vin doux naturels from the region. I understand 3 groups of importers are going to enjoying this even on 3 separate evenings and I’m thrilled to be included.
Then finally 3 days of the main event which I have no idea how I’m going to get it all in, plus hopefully do some interviews’ in the time allowed and then home. I still wonder if I turned my hair curler off before I left.
Donna
Friday night’s Dark and Delicious, the annual celebration of Petite Sirah and food, brought a friend and me over seventy miles to attend. Through slow south bay traffic, we finally crossed the Bay Bridge and picked our way through the bleak, melancholic expanses of the Alameda Naval Station to the Rock Wall Wine Company, our destination. Darkness had fallen by the time we arrived, and we couldn’t help wondering after the choice of venue; that was until, turning a final corner, we gasped at an unobstructed view of San Francisco skyline just sparkling to life this temperate evening.
Perhaps 6:15 p.m., the building was already packed. Arousing, rich aromas and a slightly harsh white light spilled over a long line of souls waiting to enter. And excellent live music could be heard. I mean, very good music, a superb band, the name of which I will post shortly. Of the crowd, I could see the dress code was casual, but some were decked out in their finest, including my companion. Dior mingled with Levis. Thankfully, very few wore perfumes or colognes. (Nothing kills the ability to taste wine more efficiently than perfumes.)
All ages were present. I was pleased to see a great many young people in the mix, twenty-somethings mingling with mature professional men and women. I would estimate the average age of the crowd to have been around 40.
The room was divided into three sections, long rows lined with winery and restaurant offerings. These rows were capped by yet another row of servers at one end, and tables covered with Silent Auction opportunities at the other. Although each row was crowded with guests, they were well behaved and polite, quite unlike the slow motion brawl of a ZAP event, for example. Indeed, folks at Dark and Delicious had ample chance to chat with winemakers and chefs; and more so as the evening rolled on, when the live music ended and the Bee Gees, Michael Jackson and the Commodores hummed over the speakers. Then the rows furthered thinned, many folks preferring to dance. This was my opening to more leisurely taste the Petite Sirahs I had come for.
I tasted extensively, sampling (and spitting) nearly every wine. But I do not think it fair to write notes in such an environment. There is simply no way one can credibly claim to have properly thought a wine. For wine is not about tasting alone. Petite Sirah demands careful attention, so varied is its terroir expressions. It is simply too easy to get lost in its mystery, to ‘rate’ in a purely reactionary manner what one does not immediately understand. I have held my head in shame at many of my blogging colleagues who write in this manner. In fact, one of the most fascinating aspects of Petite Sirah is how dramatically it changes in the glass, how it responds to humidity, the ambient temperature, the salt air, and most importantly, food. In addition, the finished grape’s great aging potential, routinely under-estimated in the traditional literature (witness Jancis Robinson’s faint praise), makes patience a necessity whenever a new bottle is opened. The finest examples are rather thrilling contests between the all-too-human, childish demand for immediate gratification and the immense rewards granted adult patience. Who has not been disappointed when finishing a bottle only to find the final pour to be far more sublime than the first? Like a selfish lover, no one leaves the experience any happier.
Of course, the wine of any variety may be so designed as to be ready by the time it arrives from the market to the table. And a heavy dose of new oak on garish display Friday night may fool some drinkers, but not me. The Petites I like best are mysterious, mercurial yet balanced . Now, because of both the cautionary remarks above and out of an abundance of respect for winemakers, their labor, heartache and unique agricultural challenges, I shall mention only two wineries of very special merit, in my opinion.
First up is the Aver Family’s ‘06 Blessings. This wine made from 100% estate grown fruit, wowed me months ago and it continues to soar. Mr. Aver, learning of the Dark and Delicious event late last year, was wise enough to set aside the few bottles he brought last night. His ‘07 was not ready so he made the painful decision to bring the last of his very first Petite Sirah effort. It is especially pleasing to know the grapes are grown in the Santa Clara Valley. The august California winemaking history of the area is perhaps taking a huge step forward with this wine, retaking its place as an important growing region. Petite Sirah growers take note! And drinkers, get your name on their list. As a small producer, they will sell out easily each year, as the ‘06 Blessings already had months ago. Great juice.
Next is a producer I know absolutely nothing about, a new discovery: Marr Cellars Winery. I tasted were the ‘05 Cal. PS Alger Vineyards, Tehama County(!), the curious ‘06 Cuvée Patrick PS, also from Tehama County, and the ‘05 Shannon Ranch, Lake County PS. I met the winemaker, Bob Marr, and shall interview him later this month. The prices are very competitive for such quality, between $18 and $20. Very well-balanced and focussed, the fruit quite pure. The higher acidity and the restraint of oak flavors won me over.
Finally, it was a great a pleasure to meet for only the second the man whose historical family-owned Concannon Vineyard is the first to have released single bottlings of Petite Sirah way back in 1964, an eternity by California standards. Founded in 1883, Concannon has long carried the torch for this lovely grape. Tireless in his promotion of the grape, this picture of Jim Concannon, too, captures the spirit of Petite Sirah itself, at once youthful, spirited and wise. It was an honor to have again shaken the gentleman’s hand. Good work, sir!
Hats off for Jo Diaz!
Admin
A report just published by the George Mason University Center for Climate Change Communication titled Americans’ Actions to Conserve Energy, Reduce Waste, and Limit Global Warming demonstrates the willingness of Americans to engage in a broad range of conservation practices even if they do not always follow through. Despite the recent body blows climate change science has suffered, it is clear from the report that the depth of America’s commitment to ‘green’ themes has only increased with time.
Conducted between the months of December, ‘09 and January of this year, 1001 Americans surveyed, 18 and over, readily agreed with the proposition that recycling at home, bicycling to work, using public transport, reducing energy use at home, among a few of the survey’s questions, were important personal pursuits and social values generally. However, the report also highlights the contrast between the motivation to act ‘green’ with the actual performance of the same. Now, what might prove of interest to the wine industry is that despite or perhaps because of shortcomings of the practical application of ‘green’ behavior of the surveyed, a large percentage indicated their willingness to reward companies perceived to engage in environmentally beneficial activities and to punish those companies perceived to be engaged in destructive behaviors.
From the report:
Consumer Behavior
Q201. Over the past 12 months, how many times have you rewarded companies that are taking steps to reduce global warming by buying their products?
2010 2008
Many times (6+) 4 5
Several times (4-5) 7 11
A few times (2-3) 17 22
Once 5 4
Never 68 58
Q202. Over the past 12 months, how many times have you punished companies that are opposing steps to reduce global warming by NOT buying their products?
2010 2008
Many times (6+) 5 7
Several times (4-5) 7 8
A few times (2-3) 13 14
Once 3 3
Never 72 69
Q203. Over the next 12 months, would you like to punish companies that are opposing steps to reduce global warming by NOT buying their products…
2010 2008
More frequently than you are now? 32 40
About the same as you are now? 58 53
Less frequently than you are now? 10 7
Q204. Over the next 12 months do you intend to buy the products of companies that are taking steps to reduce global warming…
2010 2008
More frequently than you are now? 34 40
About the same as you are now? 58 56
Less frequently than you are now? 8 4
Clearly, benefits may flow to a winery able to raise its ‘green’ profile. I have written about The Gort Cloud in precisely this connection. And Social Media, Facebook, for example, offers the winery an easy way to reach potential customers and other influencers. However, if we examine the otherwise excellent list of 50 Facebook update ideas for wineries from a recent post on the wine industry blog Fermentation, we find no mention is made of ‘green’ practices of any sort (as of this writing). I believe this to be an unreasonable oversight. I would strongly encourage wineries to add such a category to their Facebook update cycle as well as to their blogs, and any other public interface for that matter. It can do no harm, and may successfully tap into the incompletely realized personal ‘green’ ambitions of the American public.
2/18 Update. Please see the just released Drinks Business Green Awards for 2010.
Admin
It has been a very busy time for the Reign of Terroir. Your intrepid admin has just returned from a very successful adventure in Portugal. And like the deep well on Pico Island pictured, I have much to offer. Primed with a 1001 tales of that extraordinary wine-producing country, from the Alentejo to the Azores, I shall soon begin the very pleasant work of recounting as many as I am able.
Not meaning to shirk my domestic responsibilities, I also have planned a series of stories about wine events in both California and Washington State. And I will post a number of interesting pieces from the environmental and technological fronts.
Below, in no particular order, is a partial list of work to come.
— Portugal
I shall return to the subject of Colares with insight into the life’s work of Paulo da Silva of the Adega Beira-mar and a look into the Adega Viuva Gomes, an impressive stop along the Bucelas, Carcavelos and Colares winer route.
Off to the Alentejo, I will take readers to the Sõa Cucufate ruins, one of the largest Roman villae in Iberia. It is but a short drive to Vila Alva and Vila de Frades, both centers of clay jar wine production, a technology of great antiquity. Also recounted will be a visit to adegas in Amareleja, also clay jar wine producers.
Next up will be a look at the ‘urban vineyards’ of Fazendas de Almeirim while on the way to Ourém and a tour of the Espite Valley with the gifted Andre Gomes Pereira, president of Vitiourém, an organization deeply dedicated to the preservation of the local wine culture.
Then it will be the startling rock presses of the Dão region which will be described. Used until the 1950s, I will attempt an explanation of their practical application. So too will I relate a brilliant wine tasting at Paço dos Cunhas de Santar where more than a dozen wines were offered over the course of a leisurely lunch of traditional foods beautifully prepared.
Have you been to the Etrurian-style vineyards of the Vinho Verde, Bastos and Amarante regions? I will try to explain why you simply must make it a travel destination. The region’s brilliant mastery of vertical space and its associated biodiversity, with vines over 12 feet high, deserves to be much more widely known.
How can so tormented a landscape, so harsh an environment, for people and vines, give rise to one of the most amazing wine cultures in all the world? The Azores is an archipelago of extreme contrasts, as are its vineyards, at once seemingly impossible yet very productive. How to get such profoundly unique wines into the markets of Europe and America? I will show, among other places, the Biscoitos Cooperative on Terceira Island, and on Pico Island I will explore the thriving Cooperativa Vitivinicola and other cultural treasures situated beneath the active Pico volcano.
—California and Washington
This Friday I will be attending a PS I Love You event, their celebrated Dark and Delicious.
And generously sent to me from L’Ecole No. 41 out of the Walla Walla Valley, Washington, there will appear my take on some of their wines.
These are but a few of the pieces begging to be written. Many more will follow in the fullness of time.
To work!
Admin
Presented here is a detailed look into a historic winery, the Adega Regional de Colares outside of Lisbon, Portugal. It is also the conclusion of my thorough interview with Colares enologist, Francisco Figueiredo. He was very generous with his time, spending more than two hours indulging my curiosity. I would encourage readers to, well, read the first two installments: The Vineyards of Colares, A National Patrimony At Risk and From The Vineyards To The Adega Regional de Colares. It is a strange twist of fate that well after thinking I should not soon pass this way again, in two days I shall in fact be returning to Portugal for more wine work. More details to come.
Admin You were bottling the other day? This is your machine?
Francisco Figueiredo Yes. It is a little messy in here because we just got forty pallets of bottles. We were bottling some of the red 2004 Colares. And this is our bottling machine.
I’ve seen these guys before. Is this Italian?
FF Yes. Many are. So are the crushers and de-stemmers. The press is French. We have, more or less, modern machines. We still have some work to do. We have some walls to paint. We laid down a new floor about two years ago. We have to go slow with the investments. We will repair the roof and the walls soon, I hope.
These are the old lagares where the grapes used to be crushed and pressed. And part of the reds were fermented here. We don’t use the lagares anymore.
Does anyone still use lagares?
FF Yes. In the Douro Valley there are places where they still use them. And some of our own growers, they also do their own wine at home, they use them… Here are the old cement vats, fermenters also. We don’t use them anymore, either. And here is an old centrifugal crusher. And our new one. We use a pneumatic press for our wines. We also have two hydraulic vertical presses over there which we can use if we have a problem with the pneumatic press. And we have a machine to fill the ‘bag-in-box’. We use that type of package for our table wines. They are the boxes with the small tap. We use vacuum filling. The wine stays good for quite some time. And that is now our substitute for the glass jug. We are getting good sales from using the bag-in-box system.
So we ferment in temperature controlled stainless steel. Some of the red, because we don’t have enough room in the stainless steel, we still use those big wood vats over there. We call them ânforas; we still use them for some of the table wine. Of course, we have no temperature control with them. An interesting fact about those is that, as you know, for our steel vats we have to use the pump to circulate the juice, from the bottom to the top, to pump over to get the color out. But in the wooden ânfora, the process is done naturally because the carbonic gas pressure that builds inside is enough to push the wine to the top; and it fills that cup on the top so that the pomace always stays beneath the wine. We can do this without the use of pumps or electricity, just the carbonic gas pressure which build up naturally during fermentation. I have not seen these anywhere else in the world. The system is the same for the cement vats called ânfora Argelina, but I have never seen wooden ones.
Where did these come from?
FF They were built here. The wood is Portuguese Chestnut. Each takes ten tons of grapes. And later we then bring over the pneumatic pump and open a small door to take the pomace to the press. This has a tube inside. The cup on top has a hole, in the center, so the wine goes up, fills the cup, and the wine then drains back on top of the pomace.
It’s like a giant coffee percolator!
FF (laughs) Yes. Almost exactly like a coffee percolator. This is the same system as the traditional cement that appeared in the ’60s.
May I climb up?
FF Yes. As long as you are not afraid of heights!
We climb up a narrow ladder.
FF You can see the tube. This is really spectacular to see during fermentation because the cup is filled with wine and it bubbles! It is a pretty sight.
The doors are very small. How do you clean out the interior?
FF We go inside. Someone has to go inside to remove all of the pomace. We put a ventilator up here and let the vat breathe for some time because of the danger of suffocation. In fact, four people have died in Portugal during this harvest time because of carbonic gas. They die without knowing it. We are very careful about that. For cleaning we have a special device that sprays hot water. But it is very difficult to be 100% sure that it is perfectly clean. It is wood, after all.
But we don’t have a problem with Brettanomyces because our wine has a low pH. And we don’t have a lot of sugar in the wine. We produce dry wines, around 12% alcohol. All the sugar is consumed by the yeast. So it is not easy for Brett. The main problem for us is not having temperature control here; not the wood but the temperature control. The wine can heat up quite a bit, around 40 degrees celsius.
Really?
FF Yes. That is high enough for the wine to lose a lot of the aroma. The tube, by the way, is connected to the crusher so that the grapes come through here. We use two or three of these vats or ânfora, each year.
Whose initials are these, JVN? The maker?
FF That means Junta Nacional do Vinhos, the National Wine Institute [founded in 1937]. Since the fifties, until 1994, this cooperative was a kind of hybrid organism; it was half cooperative, half was intervention by the state, the agricultural minister. Because of that all of the wine had to be made here in order to use the Colares DOC. That is no longer the case.
And what are these tools?
FF We don’t use them any longer, but they are for pushing down the cap. They were used if we didn’t put in a full 10 tons of grapes inside the ânfora. With less grapes inside, the carbonic gas would not be enough to push the wine out of the top. These forks would be used to push the pomace, the cap, down to mix with the wine. We now use a pump for that if it becomes a problem.
These are beautiful. I trust they will eventually end up in a museum.
FF Yes, yes. Some of them already are. And they are not permitted for use these days. They are made of wood and iron. What was done at the time was to paint, to use special paints to protect the iron parts in the tools and machines. Now it is all stainless steel. But every year all of the old tools had to be painted with the special paint that protected the iron from contact with the wine.
We climb down the stairs.
So, to be clear, someone has to climb into the anfora from the top…
FF Yes, yes. You go up to the cup and climb in from there using a ladder. The center tube is pulled out and someone goes down.
Do you ever have any cork issues?
FF No. We use only corks. I have never received cork taint complaint. Never. I will always choose cork.
I agree with you completely.
FF Would you like to taste some of the wines?
Of course! You know, I have a odd thing to ask. Being from America, we like to collect hats or shirts of the places we’ve visited. I’m looking for something with the name ‘Colares’ on it. Do you know where I can find such a thing? A rather silly idea!
FF No. But it is not a silly idea. It is an idea I have given to the directors. Why not a polo shirt or something? Even for the workers!
Not to mention Gonçalo, the winegrower we spoke with earlier. He wasn’t even wearing a hat!
Francisco laughs while getting two tasting glasses.
It must be very satisfying work for you. You’re doing so many things at the same time; preserving a way of life, preserving a wine culture, preserving memory…
FF Yes. It is all very important. I am also afraid that things might not go well in the future. The vines are in danger. That’s the only thing that I regret.
He uses a thief to draw a barrel sample. This is the white Malvasia, sandy soil, 2008. We will bottle it probably in a couple of weeks. [Late November.] Malvasia has a very citric, very minerally, acidic taste, and an almost salty taste, I notice. It also has an oxidative character; I think of hay or honey.
Very oceanic… very bright and fresh. How is the water quality here?
FF We analyze it inside our HACCP plant: ‘Hazard Analyses and Critical Control Points’. (laughs) There is some paperwork that we have to do. We have to analyze the water. It is good.
That’s one helluva name. So when you’re doing bottling session how many people would normally be here?
FF Working? Around four. We do it with a small crew to get into the rhythm. We can do about 1000 to 1200 bottles an hour. That is a good speed for a machine like ours. One guy puts the bottle on the carousal, another one taking it off and putting in the cork, another one carrying the bottles, another stacking the bottles. It would be quicker if we had one of those pallet movers, but we don’t have one yet.
Do you use wild yeasts?
FF No. We inoculate. The reason is that I had some experiences making the wine with natural yeasts, the wild yeasts, but I had some problems with starting the fermentation. It is too risky for me to risk that when I do 7000 liters of Ramisco or 2500 liters of Malvasia. But I did make an experiment. It is a question of trying to select a natural yeast from the area; that would be a project that I would like to do.
So you have experimented…
FF Yes, with several yeasts. For the whites we use a Portuguese yeast; it was selected in the Vinho Verde region, in the north of Portugal.
How was it done historically?
FF Naturally. But the big difference is that it would have been in an open lagar. That makes a lot of difference from using the closed stainless steel vats. I have made wine at my parents home using, not a granite lagar, but a small plastic lagar, more or less; and I had no problem starting the fermentation. Sometimes we have a problem with it stopping!
It can stop at 12% ?
FF Yes, before the sugar is depleted. That is a risk for the wine. But the main problem is fermentation within a closed tank. That’s when it becomes difficult. We would probably have no problem if I did the Ramisco in the lagar.
Francisco draws a second wine.
Have there ever been experiments done with fortified wines in Colares?
FF No. Just for the workers. I have done one this year. (laughs) We call it jeropiga or Abafado. I have taken the juice out of the tank before fermentation started and added our wine distillate. I made five liters last year. We give a small bottle for each of the workers. It is for drinking now. We have a tradition of drinking it during Saint Martin’s Day, the 11th of November. That day it is traditional to release the young wine for the first time; and you also drink abafado. An abafado is when the fermentation has started a little bit, like a Port, it is the same. Port is a special type of abafado. We add the spirits before the fermentation has started. One is usually a little bit sweeter than the other.
He pours the second wine.
FF This is the Ramisco. This has been in the big wood vats for around two years. Then it was put into these oak barrels. This is not young oak. It is three year-old oak. Our Ramisco wine doesn’t go well with new oak. It is too strong for our wine. So we use a two to three year-old barrel. What we are doing now is three years in the big exotic barrels in the other room [another part of the adega] and one year in the small oak barrels. We now see that this is the best for the wine.
How warm does it get in the other room?
FF This room is much hotter than the other. Even during the summertime the other room only gets to 16, maybe 20 degrees celsius. Here, no.
We drink the Ramisco. This Ramisco is regional because it has not yet been certified. It becomes DOC only after certification. Before that it is regional. Six months before bottling we have to send the wine to a certification board and they will certify the wine as DOC.
What does certification involve? And who is on the panel?
FF It involves a chemical analysis and a tasting. The panel is made up of one representative of the city, there are the persons who represent the associations and cooperatives of the Estremadura region, and then there are representatives of the producers. The panel or board has about 15 people.
What wine do you use for topping off?
FF We use the same wine held in a different vat. We can mix a maximum of 10% of different years of Ramisco. If we have the need we can do that, to play with the volumes. When you use new oak, and I’ve this experience in other places, you often have to use 15%. The Australians usually don’t top. They put the barrel on its side and leave it there for a only a few months. They probably do that in California as well.
Just out of curiosity, what do you think of wine ratings, and wine descriptions, the tasting notes?
FF They are very exaggerated. Wine is simpler than that. I think that is the beauty of wine. Sometimes a wine smell like something, but the critics exaggerate. Sometimes the wine smells like something tangible, but….
We exit the adega and make our way to his car where I retrieve my personal effects.
What do you have here in the back of your car?
FF My mother-in-law sent this to my mother. It is a basket of walnuts and some chestnuts, and a bottle of jeropiga! (laughs) It is my mother-in-law’s present to my mother.
Thank you very much, Francisco. This has been an eye-opening visit.
FF It was a pleasure, Ken. Let me give you some wine before you go.
Does the adega keep a wine library?
FF Yes. Since 1931, the first harvest in the year of the foundation of the cooperative; the first wine we made.
Back to 1931? My goodness. So what is next for you, your next series of tasks?
FF We will bottle a few things. We always have a busy commercial time at Christmas. After that, in January, we usually transfer the young wines to the wood vats, take the lees out. Then we continue to bottle if we have the need. And I start in the springtime I get out of the cellar to give technical support to the vineyards. And then the cycle begins again!
Admin
The title for this second and concluding part of my interview with Morgan Clendenen, owner and winemaker for Cold Heaven Cellars, comes during her detailed discussion of the very real practicalities of farming grapes. Make no mistake. It is fraught with anxiety and uncertainty. Not that there is much anyone can do about it. She holds farmers in the highest regard. They are different. They know what is within their abilities. Indeed, having learned her lessons well, Morgan approaches winemaking with a kind of dispassionate Eastern quietism, an attitude she will patiently encourage, well, wannabe winemakers to adopt. It is all about a clear understanding of what is within one’s power, one’s control, and what powers properly belong to the world. Small miracles and potential disaster struggle for ascendance in the brain.
This attitude is equally important to cultivate in the winery. After making wine for more than a decade, three truths have emerged for Morgan Clendenen: Do not hesitate to do what you must to save a vintage; there is always more to learn; and winemaking is not for whiners.
Part 1.
Admin Could you say a little more about your earlier Pinot effort?
Morgan Clendenen I haven’t made one since 2002. In 2003 I was getting all of my Pinot from Au Bon Climat and we lost our entire crop that year. That’s when I started making Syrah. The 2008 and 2009 are the first Pinots since then. I love Syrah when it is from a great vineyard. So many people do Syrah, and Syrah usually is not something I reach for. My 2005, I’m absolutely in love with this wine, but it has a Pinot Noiresque quality to it. That’s probably why I love it so much!
Yes. Syrah has fallen on hard times here in California. I like Northern Rhone expressions in any case…
MC Syrah is a real tough road here. The only thing I’ll say is that my Syrahs tend to stand out, away from the group, not being so ubiquitous, because we do two years barrel, two years bottle before release. I come from…, I was raised raised in the house of Au Bon Climat cuvée; the acidity and restraint are definitely a number of the building blocks of my wine education for winemaking.
Yes. Would you say a bit about ‘green’ practices on the property itself? The vineyards? Do you have certain standards, certain requirements?
MC Not directly, because I don’t own the vineyards. Sanford and Benedict was for a period of time organically farmed. I have issues with some of the organic farming. I find that there is a lot more ‘product’ on the grapes themselves than some of the people who farm non-organically. I see more product! And I just can’t help but wonder how much of that is getting into the wine, and how that makes it ultimately ‘better’.
What do you mean by ‘product’?
MC Well, there are a lot of organic compounds that they use in spraying vineyards. I don’t know. I’m not vineyard manager or viticulturist. I make wine. So I really can’t tell you those kinds of things. I know that Le Bon Climat is farmed organically, and I will tell you that they are the ugliest damn grapes I get. (laughs) They are! We have a motto in the winery: “Ugly grapes make great wine.” (laughs)
And I had some ugly Pinot Noir this year and I had some beautiful Pinot Noir, and I have to tell you, the beautiful Pinot Noir tastes beautiful! The ugly is o.k. (laughs) Now I’m struggling to decide what I want to do, whether I want to blend it all together or keep it separate.
With organic preparations you are often required to use them more frequently. Their effectiveness is limited if contrasted with more industrial strength pesticides. They break down more readily, and so on. What kinds of pest pressures do you have there?
MC We have mealybug, I know that. White fly is a huge problem out at Sanford and Benedict over the years. The white fly basically shuts down photosynthesis, that it causes your grapes not to be physiologically ripe in the end. That’s a bad thing. Mealybug is really horrible because it kills the plant. We’ve really been watching the mealybug problem. We have a big mealybug problem at Le Bon Climat. And I think part of the reason we have a really big problem is because we are organic. What’s being applied over there is not proving effective enough to take care of the problem.
That said, I want to be greener. Hey, I moved my winery into Buellton and moved my house to within a mile of my winery. Before I was driving 45 minutes to get to my winery every day. That doesn’t feel green! Especially when you’re driving a big truck. In those terms, there is always something we’re trying to figure out; how to be a greener business, how to leave a smaller carbon foot print. And I have toyed around with biodynamics. It’s something I’ve read about, studied some… I’ve even gone as far as to procure the horn! (laughs) But I have never buried it in the ground.
Where do you keep the horn?
MC I have the horn at the winery, actually. It’s a buffalo horn; it’s not a cow horn.
Well, buffalo horns won’t work, of course.
MC I don’t know. The place where I was doing it, at the ranch, (actually it’s my ex-husband’s ranch, but we’re pretty friendly on that; basically, I let you keep your stuff. We’re cool.) So over at the ranch, because I was growing organic vegetables over there, I was extremely interested in biodynamics. Yves, my French partner, just laughs his ass off at biodynamicism. He says it’s a fashion, and then takes me to look at vineyards that he knows are biodynamic. And they are pretty sad looking. But I can’t say that they make terrible wine. You know? Biodynamics has some interesting things about it. It is rather archaic in some of its principles.
I remember meeting Telmo Rodriguez, a Spanish producer; and he said his vineyard was biodynamic. It was a time when I really didn’t know much about it. I asked him about it. He wouldn’t tell me! Finally I asked, ‘if you’re not willing to share with people what specifically you are doing in the vineyard, then don’t talk about it being biodynamic’. It is a vineyard he owns, after all. I think what’s going on is that Spain is a Catholic country. Biodynamicism is a little bit of witchcraft mixed in with some homeopathy and astrology. In that way it makes it interesting to me. But, I’ve never had the chance to actually see it in action. So… I’m almost dead certain that Beckmen Vineyards is all biodynamic.
I think that anything that puts you in your vineyard more frequently, that makes you more connected with it, is better for your vineyard. Period.
I think that is exactly right. But now, with respect to the mealybug problem at Le Bon Climat, it might be interesting to think about one of the major selling points of the biodynamic approach is that it restores a certain kind of balance. It would be interesting to see whether you could do like a test block.
MC It’s at a point where nothing, not even biodynamics is going to cure it. (laughs) It’s really bad. I’m sure the rains are not helping. Rain just spreads it around. It’s a constant battle. I have a total respect for farmers. How to deal with that kind of uncertainty in a job… you can’t predict what the weather is going to do. And even when you try to predict it, that doesn’t mean you can always do something about it. I can’t imagine how stressful it must be to be a farmer.
It’s funny. During harvest, when it starts raining, everybody around me gets all nervous an upset; and I say, ‘you know. I’m just not gonna’ because there is nothing I can do about it’. The best thing I can do is that when my fruit comes in see what the deal is and go from there. To winemakers I ask ‘Why cry over spilled milk?’ Now, I don’t hear the same bellyaching from farmers out there working their butts off.
Yes. I had a wonderful conversation with Bryan Babcock last year sometime. He is a hard core farmer, I’d say. And he is very outspoken in this regard, about the exigencies of farming. He’s a tough guy.
MC For Le Bon Climate vineyard, Jim (Clendenen) would be in total agreement with Bryan. And I think it is the same thing with wine. If you get wine that doesn’t have any acidity in it you’d be a fool not to put some acid in it, in my personal opinion. I had a guy at Morgan’s Halfway House for Wannabe Winemakers this summer (laughs) who was making some Syrah. I looked at his numbers. He told me how much acid he was going to put in, and I said, ‘you know, I would put in twice as much.’ He said that he was afraid to do that. I told him not to be afraid of the acid. As perfectionists, we want to produce the best wine that we can. That is very trying. In your mind’s eye you’d really love to have fruit and juice that’s perfect; juice you don’t have to add anything to. Everything is natural, and so on. But that is just not reality. Yes, you can take your natural fruit and just let it go, don’t do anything to it. Or you can hold its hand, make sure it gets to the end point, the right place, and still have it be commercially viable. If you don’t do that you’ll end up with wine that the public may not necessarily want to drink.
So, just as in the vineyard you have to address problems as they come up, sometimes you have to be a lot more pro-active than in your heart you want to be, whether it’s chemical or whatever. And in the cellar it is the same thing. You want perfect fruit, but that does not mean you’re going to get it. You have to work with your boundaries to make the best wine you can.
Last year at Le Bon Climat the grapes were absolutely perfect. The numbers, perfect. I didn’t have to do anything. It was a cakewalk. I loved the wine. But that only happens once every two of three vintages, that you get the perfect balance. So, yes, we’re going out there, we’re testing the sugars and such, but sometimes it’s a box of chocolates; you get what you get. This year was very odd for me, the 2009 vintage. The sugars were not very high. I don’t think I picked any Viognier above 23 Brix. Most of it was 21.5; but it was physiologically ripe. Very, very strange vintage. But they will have low alcohols; they will be fresh. It not going to be green, I can tell you that; which is what 21.5 would suggest.
I thought about additions and that sort of thing, but the fruit tasted good. The juice was yellow, with a green tinge. It was a very unusual year for Viognier. A friend of mine, Karen Steinwachs, who is the winemaker for Buttonwood, I met her for lunch right before Christmas, and she said she brought in, I think it was Sauvignon Blanc at 22 Brix, somewhere in there, and she still got 14.5 alcohol! We can’t figure it out. How does that translate? It doesn’t make any sense. There is something going on, but we can’t figure it out. And she is meticulous. She tested it at her lab and she sent it off for testing. Now, we know within 99.9 % that fruit, the Brix level, was at 22. We’re stumped. Perhaps different yeasts are responsible. There are so many different yeasts now, maybe that’s the reason. Some scientist may tell you that’s just rubbish, but in five years maybe some breakout scientist will say something different. There are certain things that I don’t know to be always constant. So I told her that I’ll tell her what my alcohol is in the end. I’m not predicted to have anything above 13.5% alcohol. It’ll be interesting. If it goes higher then she and I will definitely be contacting Davis! Houston, we have a problem. (laughs)
Is she using wild yeasts?
MC She’s using commercial yeasts. I use commercial yeasts. The Saints and Sinners is a wild yeast, however. I am not a big fan or wild fermentation because most of the time some of the wine gets stuck, it doesn’t finish. If you’ve ever restarted a fermentation I don’t think there’s anything more unnatural that you can do to wine. It made me sick to my stomach and I never want to do it again. When you have to take wine and heat it up, and then add 25 pounds of sugar… that does not feel good. It does not feel natural. It feels intrusive.
Strictly speaking, with the wild yeasts on the grape skins, and even though you may use a commercial yeast, you really don’t know which yeast finished the fermentation. There is no way of knowing. There are thousands of yeasts in there.
Yes. Indeed, a number of commercial yeast companies now include combinations of wild and commercial yeasts, Saccharomyces cerevisiae principally. The idea is that the wild yeasts get a toehold before the commercial populations overwhelm them. Some qualities are imparted before others.
MC That’s what we’ve been doing in my cellar. We’ll monitor the juice, and when it is starting we’ll let it go for a couple of days. And then we inoculate. I do like natural yeasts; I just don’t want to have to deal with restarting the fermentation. You’d then have to use commercial yeasts in any case. I think that is the dirty little secret of natural fermentations. People always talk about using nothing but wild yeasts, well, ya know, bullshit! I don’t believe you! Especially for California with the high sugar levels, if you then go with wild fermentations it is a recipe for a stuck fermentation, in my mind. You don’t really know what goes on behind closed cellar doors! (laughs)
And just because it’s ‘commercial’, that does not make the yeast unnatural. It’s yeast, for god’s sake. It’s not plastic. In the past I played around with making sourdough starters from red grapes. One year I did one from Sanford and Benedict and two other vineyards. And it was interesting! The sourdough starters themselves were so very different in the breads. I had one from Gold Coast vineyard that, I swear to god, tasted like cinnamon in the bread! And that was because of the yeast starter. I took some red grapes; I put some flour in at a certain temperature, and created a starter. Once I had it started it was like having a newborn. You had to feed it… I mean, ok, I can’t deal with this anymore! (laughs) So I really like my yeast that comes in a packet! I am very comfortable with it.
I actually use a Champagne yeast for most of my Viogniers because I like the clean expression; it is a clear expression of the grape without adding this fruit factor or floral factor, all these things that the different yeasts are supposed to do. If it ain’t broke I’m not going to fix it.
Well, wonderful. I have a lot of material to work with here. I want to thank you…. wait, one more question. What do you think of the usefulness of new Social Media for a winery’s promotion? Does it help? Can you see the benefits?
MC You know, I use Facebook for work all the time. I get accosted by my friends all the time. ‘Ah, you’re on Facebook all the time, blah, blah, blah.’ Well, it allows me to get in touch with people in San Francisco, New York, Chicago, France… boom, all from one place. I think if you’re smart and learn how to use it, it offers great benefits. And it’s free. How many things out there are free that you can also benefit from, certainly on a business level? It can be intrusive. At times I wonder what the heck am I doing. I do get stalkers! But for the most part it has really helped my business.
I’ve always been a little behind the scenes, a little bit underground. I am not, as my Facebook persona may suggest, as out front as you might think. I always been more of a ‘behind the scenes’ person.
Thank you very much, Morgan, for the opportunity to speak with you. Oh, one last question, did you really ride an elephant in a vineyard?
MC Yes, I did. That is totally true. A socialite that used to live here in the valley held very elaborate parties. She chose her guests based on their entertainment value and willingness to go along with her party ideas. For her 50th birthday she had an Indian themed party. All the guests, all women, were required to wear a sari. The party was held by their pond located in the middle of their vineyard. I actually ordered a sari from India and learned how to fold the layers of cloth; there were many! Nothing like being swadled in a colorful sheet when it’s 100 degrees out! But the surprise of the party were the three elephants… I must say it was a majestic feeling, lumbering slowly through the vineyard, slightly higher than an elephant’s eye. I will never forget that view, for a time an Indian princess riding in a California vineyard.
Very cool. Take care, Morgan.
MC Bye, Ken.
Admin
This post comes under the heading of ‘unfinished business’. Some months ago I wrote a piece that caught the attention of Robert Cartwright, the winemaker at Ponte Family Estate. I thanked him for his comment and asked after his work. He generously offered to send me some samples. I received the wines a couple of months later, but owing to the hustle and bustle of my schedule, they were set aside and forgotten. Entirely my fault! Recently rediscovered, I thought it best to revisit the conversation, the well-designed Ponte Family Estate website and, of course, the wines.
Now, I don’t usually write tasting notes, a detail I made clear to Mr. Cartwright; but it became clear from reading the excellent Environment portion of their winery blog that I had to respond in some way. Truth is, they are doing a commendable job on the ‘green’ front. From using light weight bottles, to sourcing locally produced ingredients in their restaurant, from using 100% CFL light bulbs, to the elimination of plastic bottles from their facilities, they are making an effort. And ‘green’ extends to home life. Even the winery owner, Claudio Ponte, had turned in his SUV for a Prius; he advocates replacing lawns with drought tolerant plants and planting a vegetable garden. Small steps, to be sure. Of course, no mention is made of solar power or water recycling. And some ‘innovations’ are just plain silly, such as this one: “Our winemaker and his team are harvesting at night whenever possible. This effort allows the must to be chilled without using much energy.” But by and large, the greenwash is kept to a minimum.
The Wines
– 2008 California Chardonnay 13.6% alc ($23.95)
I tasted this wine at room temperature on a stormy afternoon. The nose is very tropical, with peaches, bananas and a strong coconut. It tastes very similar. The coconut is much stronger. A bit too much sulphur for having been open for half an hour. A hint of sourness that someone else described as green apple, but it’s more like a green apple Jolly Rancher candy to my taste. Very unctuous, thick mouth feel. It is not my style or to my liking, but I can taste no obvious faults. I know many wine drinkers who would like this wine.
– 2006 Temecula Valley Meritage 13.5% alc ($34.95)
This wine is a blend, naturally, of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Petit Verdot and Malbec. The bottle notes list the varieties in that order. No percentages are given. The nose is very sweet, with bacon fat (yes, though a vegetarian I can still remember the smell and taste of bacon fat) and bright fruit. A bit of sourness on the nose as well. Quite nice. Good acid, smoky body (oak), I would guess the Cabernet Franc percentage to be quite high. An entirely agreeable wine. Perfumey after taste. Long finish. Good, solid bottle of wine.
– 2007 Temecula Valley Holiday Reserve Zinfandel 15.1% alc (2006 sold for $26.95)
One of the most unusual Zinfandel noses I’ve ever smelled. Very curious. Sweet, baked trout? Almost an ocean spray and very ripe fig. Baffling. Medium bodied, sweet and sour cherry. A bit green, perhaps. Uneven ripeness from a multiple vineyard blend, I’d guess. Hot. Acidified. For a California Zinfandel collector this wine should definitely be added to the cellar. I’ve had a hundred Zins from throughout California and this one is a puzzle. Warming in the glass, the wine has taken on more of a Zin character. A bit of cinnamon candy now. Oak. Very unusual. Weird, but I like it for that reason. Take it to a blind tasting and no one would easily identify it! I don’t detect any microbial mayhem, by the way.
Very high quality corks were used for each wine.
Great thanks to Ponte Family Estate and Robert Cartwright for their generosity.
Admin
How does one approach a wine largely made with a Roman technology hundreds of years old? How does one square the modern palate, though habituated to a broad range of flavors, but nevertheless structurally incapable of thinking such a wine on its own terms? How does one taste what is ancient without a historical memory? These are more than academic questions. Imagine a time traveler from contemporary Mexico City conversing with Cervantes. Or an American Christian fundamentalist suddenly in the presence of Giordano Bruno. In a similar manner, one may say what a wine tastes like, but one cannot easily enter into a productive cultural dialogue with an ‘ancient’ wine, one pioneered by monks, certainly not with one like the Vila de Frades clay jar wine sitting in front of me. How does one properly taste ‘the blood of Christ’?
Like many aspects of Portuguese wine culture, and, frankly, of the culture of Portugal itself, there is very much for this writer to learn. Yet this equally holds true for American wine enthusiasts generally. Since my November return to the states from the European Wine Bloggers Conference held in Lisbon, I can honestly say I have not had a single constructive conversation on the subject of Portuguese wines! The absence of knowledge has been a revelation. This must change. Portugal is an intellectual paradise for the restless mind. I encourage folks to visit and explore. And to drink widely.
Moving on. During the organization of the Alentejo Vinho Regional (VR) into DOCs and Indicação de Proveniencia Regulamentadas (IPR), the clay jar tradition, with Vila de Frades at its center, was somehow overlooked. A process has been underway for some time to provide the associated villages distinct government protections.
Vila de Frades, parish of the village of the friars, is located in the Alentejo, a few miles west of Vidigueira DOC and south of Evora IPR. The local economy is based upon the vine and olives, an agricultural economy maintained by many, many small landowners. Through attrition, the wearing out and accidental breaking of their distinguishing clay jars and the expenses associated with privatized winemaking, it happened that Vila de Frades became the region’s center of wine production. I will freely admit primary, local information is hard to come by, a condition I hope to partially remedy when I visit the region and villages this February. Perhaps the reader might, therefore, forgive me offering so few details! For now an interested reader may find something of value in an earlier piece I wrote a short time ago. Stay tuned to this space.
Of the wine itself, just what grapes are used to produce precisely this wine I cannot firmly say. I do know that at least these varieties are possible: Touriga National, Touriga Franca, Tinta Barroca, Rufete, and the white grape, Rubigato. (A search of Catavino’s deep archive would likely prove most rewarding.) The wine is a blend of red and white. Curiously, I have found contradictory information as to the percentages permitted. One site claims it is 85% white and 15% red maximum. Another source, lost in my browser ‘History’, claims the reverse, 85% red, 15% white. (I hope to clarify this detail in a few days.) In either case there is a law forbidding the blending of red and white wines. Just how this matter is locally dealt with I am not certain. But I believe it may come down to the antiquity of the blending practice. Yet another question to ask…
As may be seen in the picture above, the wine is quite a crystal clear pale red, almost pink, (though rosé would perhaps be most accurate were it not to give us the wrong idea). The nose is fruity, with strawberry and sweet cherry. A good sniff is difficult owning to the traditional plane drinking glass, also pictured above. I suspect this choice of glass has to do, in part, with how quickly the wine might oxidize in a larger vessel.
The wine is mildly acidic, very fruity, agreeable, with 13.5% alc., definitely detectable on the tongue. But all of this is completely irrelevant because the wine must be drunk with food! Indeed, the person from whom I received this jar and glass, Virgilio Loureiro, forcefully insisted in a private communication that there can be no proper tasting of this wine absent food. So it is that its historical character, its gustatory genealogy, makes of the modern gesture of tasting notes a perfect non-sense. This is a difficult notion to grasp in our age of the near-universal acceptance of evaluating wine in isolation, for example. And let us pass over in silence the stupidity of scores. But the question of how we moderns might think and come to appreciate such a wine on its own terms is, I believe, of broad interest to wine culture.
For what is the purpose of a horse now that we have engines? What is the purpose of love since soon we will soon have a pharmaceutical cure? A Kindle for books. And as for transubstantiation, now that we are rapidly refining the science of genetics, of what use is God?
Special thanks to Eduardo Segueira and Virgilio Loureiro for help with this fragment.
Admin
Coming on the heels of my review of The Wine Trials 2010 by Robin Goldstein and Alexis Herschkowitsch was a blind tasting in the Sierras with family and friends. I had planned a more conventional tasting weeks before. It was to have been with labels exposed and winery back-stories at hand. But after reading The Wine Trials 2010 I thought it would prove much more interesting to my non-expert friends were I rather to explore, unknown to them, some of the questions forcefully asked in the book. Is price correlated to quality? Can an expensive wine be sensed? Knowing only the price range of the wines, can folks ‘ballpark’ a price point? Further, is the evaluation of wine quality made easier or more complicated if the wines may not be discussed during the tasting? And what of defensiveness, intimidation, parroting the critics, post-tasting humiliation, all of the pleasure-robbing pathologies surrounding wine? Should the blind tasting be properly constructed, might this miasma of anxiety be displaced by, well, good, clean fun?
I did not follow the letter but the spirit of The Wine Trials’ Chapter 8 Drinking games for adults, the book’s instruction manual for blind tastings. My method was the following (and nearly all of these details were known to the participants): I purchased all of the wines from one store, Trader Joe’s. The price spread was from a few dollars to around $30. The wines were made of one grape, Cabernet Sauvignon, with one notable exception I’ll explain later. Four wines were domestically produced, in California. One was from Bordeaux.
I placed the bottles, five in all, in identical paper sacks. I then removed all of the tin and plastic on the necks of each bottle and pulled the corks. Only one cork was plastic. I concealed them. The bags were then taped closed at the neck. I left the room and requested that another soul randomly number the bottles which were promptly placed among the participants at the tasting table. I returned to the room and passed out notebook paper and pens.
Though unintentional, it happened that none of the wines I selected appear on the list of 150 recommendations in The Wine Trials 2010, though it may be that they were on the original gathering of 450 wines. I do not know. Neither is it particularly relevant.
Of the five participants (and I will be speaking of myself in the third person from time to time), there were three women, all mothers, and two men, both fathers. They range in age from the late thirties to the early fifties. All are college-educated; they think for themselves. Each soul is independent and will not hesitate to express an opinion. All are good-looking, talented and desirable. They are all middle to upper middle-class. All stick to a budget. None drink to excess unless provoked by the chafing coil of daily responsibilities. Four souls are avid, casual wine-drinkers; only one is an oft-times annoying student of the vine. All of their children were present, and, I should point out, quite amused at their parent’s behavior. Moreover, the secretive character of the wine tasting exercise interested them. Who doesn’t enjoy guessing what’s in the brown paper bag?
A simple series of questions was asked. “Which wine(s) tastes expensive?” “What is the taste of expensive?” “How much would one be willing to pay for a given wine?” Not asked was which wine was a favorite, though all were free to speak of such a thing only after the other questions were answered, or at least an attempt was made. Lastly, each soul was given the option to guess the grape. (It must be said that the questions were so designed as to shift the burden off of private reflection and onto that of a wine’s commercial reception.)
Dinner had already been eaten. The numbered wines were tasted in order. A single 12 oz. crystal glass was used by each taster, and each time the glass was rinsed with the next wine to be tasted. A spit bucket was provided. Its use was encouraged.
The results? The first wine tasted was from the general Napa AVA, a 2008 Spiral cab. This wine tasted ‘expensive’ by two participants. The tannin and acid was compelling. Too much oak (or oak flavoring?) was nevertheless present. Three folks said, rather emphatically, that the wine tasted like ‘just wine’, ’simple’, ‘thin’, ‘little depth, no story; Elmer’s glue’. Of the latter, they would not pay more than $6. This is a good thing because the wine sells for $4.99!
The second wine was a 2006 Napa Valley Robert Mondavi cab. No taster sensed that this wine was ‘expensive’. Indeed, after two folks volunteered that the wine ’smelled like rubbing alcohol’, tasted ‘metallic, like cherry cough drops’, ‘not complex’, no taster, it turned out, would be willing to pay over $10. Three tasters felt the wine worth less than $7! The retail price for this wine is $20.99.
The third wine, a 2001 Chateau de la Riviere Fronsac. The ringer. Mostly Merlot. But inasmuch as it was from Bordeaux I knew it would be a strict, harsh example. One thought it poor, hardly worth more than $3. The high acid and tannin was welcomed by others, though one taster felt it had but one note. Somewhere between $10 and $15 was the general consensus. Retail: $14.99.
One of the strangest wines of the evening, the fourth, was the 2007 California Pétanque by M. Schlumberger, Inc. Perhaps it was that it was tasted after the Fronsac. One felt it was quite cheap. Others detected chalk, roses, said it had a ’story’. The consensus that it was a medium priced wine. Most would pay $14 to $16. The retail? $4.99.
The fifth wine was a surprise. We had a near unanimous agreement that it was an ‘expensive’ wine, the 2004 Mt. Veder, Napa, Chateau Potelle. One taster said, ‘I would pay over $20 for this.’ Another said it was the ‘best of the evening’. ‘Bitter’ intro, but worth $15 at least added a third. A fourth soul agreed. One last voice, a fan of the Fronsac, said this wine tasted ‘powdered’. Like Kool-Aid, simply dump it into a glass of water. Retail: $24.99.
It is clear that a blind tasting exercise like the one described above, or that found in The Wine Trials 2010, ought to be a part of every wine enthusiast’s on-going education. Not only does it interfere with received commercial and critical opinion, but it makes short work of whatever expertise one may have felt they’re owed. What is interesting is the simplicity of the work. One need merely drink from a paper bag. And no one needs to feel disappointed. Tasting at cross purposes, finding mystery with the most modest of wines, it is a minor miracle that the human palate may draw distinctions from so small a sample. Five wines!
How strange is it that family and friends, first drawn together by a common purpose, a blind tasting, should nevertheless find themselves alone.
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The Wine Trials 2010, by Robin Goldstein and Alexis Hershkowitsch (along with scores of others), is a curious book. At once rigorous and slippery, honest and evasive, it is precisely because of it’s structural ambiguity that it is a good place to initiate a discussion of what might be called the informal cultural anthropology of wine. And the discussion may most properly begin among small groups of wine enthusiasts tasting blind. This is the book’s great strength.
Robin Goldstein, whom I’ve never met, is perhaps best known for an interesting experiment (some folks used harsher language) he performed in 2008 involving the Wine Spectator’s (WS) ‘Award of Excellence’ program, the details about which this space has written. He created an entirely fictional restaurant on the internet, composed a wine list of WS ‘under-performers’, paid his $250 entrance fee and, voila!, the Award of Excellence was his. Equally importantly for Mr. Goldstein’s purposes (and ours) was the solicitation for advertisement space. Full details may be found on his website, Blind Taste. It was an amusing coup.
The Wine Trials 2010 takes elements of this project forward. First of all, it is important to stress that the tone of the book is a kind of hopeful skepticism, a forceful, yet playful insistence that though the consumer’s conscious freedom to taste is muted by three distinct cultural obstacles, they might yet escape through the practice of blind tasting. (And, of course, with the help of the wine recommendations in this book!) This is a book for adults interested in the ‘big picture’. It is meant to provoke thought. But that it also interferes with thought I hope to make clear.
The first of the three obstacles is the wine press, generalized under the titles Parker’s Wine Advocate, Wine Spectator and Wine Enthusiast. The second obstacle is the ‘placebo effect’, a universal feature of the human condition. The third obstacle, an equally universal feature, is cultural training whereby everyone is introduced from infancy into a specific gustatory regime. I shall briefly examine each in turn.
The Wine Press How is it that a $12 Domaine Ste. Michelle Cuvée Brut sparkler from Washington State is consistently preferred in blind tastings to a $150 Dom Pérignon? Or a $9 Beringer Founders’ Estate Cab to its close relative, the $120 Beringer Private Reserve Cab? Or a $6 Vinho Verde from Portugal to Cakebread’s $40 Chardonnay? Precisely because they were tasted blind. And the reverse, choosing the more expensive wine in the full light of day? In part, this is because of the distortions the wine press. Through well-publicized tastings by established critics, advertisement and a battery of lifestyle-enhancement triggers, the consumer comes to believe a higher price is correlated to quality. To see is to believe. Of course nothing could be further from the truth, the book argues. And it tries to show the reader why.
The Wine Trials 2010 tells us that four hundred and fifty “widely available” wines were initially selected, all under $15. As distinct from last year’s edition, this time around “We have accepted nominations from professionals in many different areas of the wine industry, from producers to sommeliers, importers to retailers.” It was from this pool that after multiple blind tastings among dozens and dozens of contributors, one hundred and fifty wines made the cut. Part Two of the book is an alphabetical compilation, with details and notes, of these wines. Now, what is surprising is that every one of the 150 wines “outscored much more expensive bottles in our brown-bag tasting.” It is surprising because of what the reader never learns :
1) The identity of the “more expensive bottles”. Indeed, very few expensive wines are mentioned in the book. Apart from the Dom Pérignon, Beringer and Cakebread, the only other wines touched on are Veuve Clicquot and a Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru from Louis Latour. Were there others? What was the price spread? Were $20 bottles included? We just don’t know.
2 Neither is a definition of “expensive” provided. Is it $18, $25? (The least expensive of the wines mentioned comes in at $40.)
3) Lastly, though the Wine Spectator comes rightly under considerable fire for their very questionable methodology, readers are not informed whether the “expensive” wines were ever given especially high scores in that magazine.
These are important methodological faults of The Wine Trials 2010, in my view. Of course, the book’s principle argument is that value may be found at lower price points. I heartily agree. No one would argue otherwise, not in the real world. But I do not believe their case is properly made absent a full disclosure of the expensive wines’ identities, how the expensive were selected and how widely did the authors select. We do know that all wines had to be “widely available”. But that is the sole criterion, as near as I can tell.
The placebo effect The Wine Trials 2010 discusses very important developments in the field of Neuroscience concerning how it is that to believe something is true in fact physically alters one’s perception. The authors provide a fine, though limited bibliography for further reading. Recounting various historical and current experiments in which test subjects, from the sophisticated to the novice, were creatively mislead (shall we say), the book amply demonstrates the very real phenomenon of the placebo effect. In these experiments wine experts come to believe the same wine in different bottles, one expensive, one cheap, actually taste different; casual drinkers, when mis-informed that they are drinking a cheap wine said to be expensive, prefer the ‘expensive’, by significant statistical margins. New experiments are being formulated as I write, so rich is the field.
Perception and expectation do alter taste. About that there is no question. Mr. Goldstein calls this framing of experience “The taste of money”. This we know occurs. And it is a far deeper phenomenon than the casual drinker might be willing to admit. Or the authors themselves. Indeed, the clinical trials of new drugs are routinely abandoned because the pharmaceutical company is unable to show a statistically meaningful improvement in a patient over a placebo in blind trials.
Further, there is a large body of brilliant research on differing experiences of pain when a subject’s expectations are wildly distinct. Take, for example, a soldier shot on the battlefield. He is offered pain medication, but he refuses it, deferring to his fallen fellows. Why? With allowances made for specific details, it is because he knows he is going home; he knows he will see his kids and wife; he knows he will receive a hero’s welcome; he knows he will receive on-going medical care. He was wounded defending a cause. Clinical experience clearly shows the experience of pain will be attenuated.
Now contrast that series of expectations to the victim of a random shooting on the street. This poor soul has no expectation of proper, complete care; he does not know whether his employer will keep his job for him and whether, as a consequence, he will be able to pay the rent; or how he will provide for his family. He is the anonymous victim of a random crime. There is no ’cause’, just the brutal reality of the street. Again, clinical experience reveals a different experience of pain.
I’ve gone on this tangent because I think the authors of The Wine Trials 2010 grossly overstate the simplicity of consumers rising above ‘the placebo effect’. They provide what I would call a ’soft’ case. The research they cite, however methodologically flawed, still remains compelling. It is simply that neuroscience and anthropology, the hard research, provides stronger evidence of the persistence and durability of ‘the placebo effect’ than the authors appear to believe.
Cultural Training The Wine Trials 2010 offers some very valuable insight into modern wines, what they call a ‘globalized’ style. Recognizing the jeopardy much of the world’s wine diversity is in, they point to a plausible suspect. Robert Parker? No. For Parker is only the bearer of a cultural marker, a gustatory preference. The real culprit is sugar. From the book,
[...] the culprit for the style convergence might not be Parker himself, or his followers themselves; it might be the taste for sugar that he, and they, all acquired in childhood–a taste that an increasing percentage of the world’s children are now also acquiring. [....] Should we call Yellow Tail not ‘Parkerized,’ but rather ‘globalized’”?
I think there is something to this. And one might look no further than The Wine Trials 2010 list of wines itself for evidence of this increasingly important cultural factor. Sure enough, of the 150 wines selected a full 42 ‘Heavy New World reds’ (their category) made the cut in their blind tastings! Nearly a third, and by far the largest single grouping. Of course, they might argue that this is because the decisive factor for inclusion into the original 450 wines was that they be “widely” available. And Heavy New World red does not necessarily mean ‘globalized’. But it, nevertheless, begs the question. No discussion of this statistically significant result is entertained in the book.
And this takes us to a more difficult question about the value, you could even call it the philosophy, of blind tasting. Mr. Goldstein cites a lively discussion shared on Eric Asimov’s NY Times wine blog, The Pour, about the subject. Among the many topics touched on, Asimov insisted that “blind tastings eliminate knowledge and context that can be significant in judging a wine. [....] It is an almost anti-intellectual position. Obviously what’s in the glass matters. But the more knowledge you can bring to a wine, the better your understanding of that wine will be.”
In The Wine Trials 2010 Mr. Goldstein responds in a very curious, though similar, way. He writes, “Our descriptions do not rely solely on blind tasting notes. Without a doubt, a lot of the fun of wine is in all the stuff that’s not in the glass.” [emphasis in the original]
Now, I have not read all the original source material framing this exchange, but I will say that both gentlemen seem to agree that Knowledge, with a capital K, is extraneous to what’s in the glass. I couldn’t disagree more; for knowledge comes in many different forms. I would argue that viticultural and winemaking practice have a direct bearing on what’s in the glass. Whether biodynamic, organic, conventional, whether terroir-driven, practice and soil informs the wine. It is one thing to recognize it, it is quite another to claim, as Mr. Goldstein certainly does, that knowledge, this time with a small k, does not inform a wine.
Mr. Goldstein is equally dismissive of the notion that wine is meant to be consumed with food. Who would argue with what half the wine-drinking world holds to self-evident? Well, he erases entire libraries and cultures when he writes,
“It is true that information about your experience of a wine in the absence of food, or in a sequence of other wines, will not be perfectly relevant to a reader’s future experience of that same wine over a relaxing meal. But information about how the wine’s fruit character and tannins reacted with your next-door neighbor’s demi-glace might well be even less relevant”
Try telling that to a Spaniard! I guarantee that uttering such a thing will not get you invited into his family’s house.
It is almost as if he is claiming ‘knowledge’ of/about wine is limited to price, the eccentricities of the winemaker, label and prestige, only those elements that fall under the umbrella of wine marketing and ‘the placebo effect’. An astute student of socioeconomic folly does not make one a wine critic. Neither does he claim to be, to be sure. And as to that, it is a curious effect of this book that it leaves this reader with the impression that Mr. Goldstein does not himself drink wine. There is little passion for wine on the page. Intelligence, yes. I think he might be principally a creature of the behavioral sciences, perforce hamstrung by the multiple ways his freedom may be hijacked by subterranean cultural forces at work on us all. Or, perhaps, a touch of how the gynecologist might reflect upon the prospect of having sex. He’s just seen too much!
But I like the book, even though my point of view cannot find a home there. It is stuffed with ideas, too many to fairly discuss in a modest review. It forcefully puts forward a point of view, a series of challenges to a large part of the wine industry which deserve, no, demand to be heard. I like the book well enough to give Mr. Goldstein the last word.
“The aim of The Wine Trials–aside from seeking out good, widely available values under $15–is to question the institutional structures that govern the industry, to encourage people to learn their own palates through the exercise of tasting blind instead of trusting the numerical scores that Parker and the magazines assign. It is the economic power of these institutional structures that damages not only the wallet of the everyday consumer, but also the chances for a small, interesting, good-value producer–even one that makes a wine costing more than $15–to succeed on the store shelf or on the restaurant wine list.”
Please also see the spirited debate over at 1 Wine Dude’s site.
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I am an an avid collector of travel guides. And the Baedeker series occupies pride of place on my crowded shelves. Begun in the early 18th century by Karl Baedeker, by 1900 this little red book could be found in the knapsacks of poets and statesmen, artists and perpetual tourists. Virtually all of Europe, her countries, regions and major cities, as well as Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Asia Minor, Canada and the United States were covered by frequently updated individuated editions. Written by hundreds of pens, the guides were quite democratic in nature, providing precise info on everything from thrifty to expensive lodgings, museum entrance fees, front row theater and balcony prices, and train fares in first class or coach. Capturing the spirit of Nietzsche’s notion of the ‘Good European’, even if rather bourgeois, the Baedeker guides offered dignified commentary on the Western World’s shared history and culture, a common language for understanding monumental architectural forms and art, all for the ennoblement of the traveler wishing to learn as much about distant peoples and places as about themselves.
Now this may seem an odd way to introduce David Downie’s Terroir Guides, but I am convinced that his work, the patient, herculean task he has successfully completed in three healthy volumes, Rome, The Italian Riviera and Genoa, and most recently Burgundy, is deserving of a similar admiration. And this is why. Focussing on food and wine, his Terroir Guides are generous and rich acts of resistance to globalization and homogenization. As he dryly writes in The Italian Riviera and Genoa,
