I’m reading Benjamin Lewin MW’s new book, Wines of France, and as usual with his books, there’s more thoughtful information packed into almost every paragraph than most other wine books contain in 100 pages.
I’ll have a more complete review in a few weeks, but for now I want to comment on the role of geological faults in Burgundy and in Northern California. As Lewin writes, “Burgundy is a land of faults that create intricate variations in terroir.” The major fault, the Saône, runs down the length of the Cote d’Or; the famous Route Nationale 74 more or less marks it.
The major terroir features that the fault contributes to the Cote d’Or are the hills themselves that are oriented towards the southeast, from where they pick up that beautiful morning sun. The fault also has brought, through uplifting I would imagine, limestone close enough to the surface for the vine roots to touch it, especially mid-slope, which is where the Premier and Grand Crus are.
Yet, to a Californian, to say that the Saône Fault has created “intricate variations in terroir” is almost laughable. Compared to, say, Sonoma County’s, the Cote d’Or’s terroir is as simple as a child’s toy. Where the Cote’s soils are (as Lewin writes) a mixture of various types of limestone and marl (clay and shale), the soils of Sonoma County are complex almost beyond understanding, encompassing everything from volcanic debris to ancient bedrock, sand, pebbles, dust and clay. And where the Cote is geometrically simple to visualize (close your eyes and try it), Sonoma County is a mass of jumbled hills, valleys, swales, cliffs, riverside flatlands and orientations. It defies visualization.
Our relevant fault system in California is the San Andreas. My friend, the well-known wine writer Bob Thompson, once described these soils as a “slagheap,” a word that only begins to describe the cluttered mess. It is often said that Sonoma County contains more soil types than all of France—I may be mis-remembering the specific reference, and I’m hoping someone will point me in the right direction. But you get the point. Walk ten feet from any given spot, and the soils (structure and chemistry) under your feet will change, sometimes drastically.
So if the Cote d’Or displays “intricate variations in terroir,” we’d have to search for a word for the terroir of Sonoma County that means “intricate on steroids.” This is the main reason why the Russian River Valley will never be classified according to vineyards in the orderly, logical way that the Cote d’Or has been. It cannot be done, because there is no pattern to the soils.
The climate is another matter. It is relatively easily explainable throughout Sonoma County. But climate alone cannot be the basis of terroir; indeed, climate plays a minor role in Burgundy, where soil is King (or Queen). There is something decidedly American about the disorderliness of Sonoma County. It’s untidy, a mélange. The French dislike untidiness; it goes against their grain for organization and classification. Lucky they were to have, in the Cote d’Or, a place that really can be organized and classified by soils. They would go crazy if they had to deal with Sonoma.
I doubt if the notion of terroir would have developed the way it has, if the wine world had been centered on California, instead of France. The French not only are obsessive organizers and classifiers, they also possess a sometimes exaggerated patriotism that can verge on chauvinistic. They feel that France is the supreme nation (I am not prepared to disagree in some respects), and, once they realized that the limestone and slopes of the Cote d’Or were responsible for the fabulousness of the Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, they rightfully coined the concept of terroir to imply that no where else in the whole world—no country, no state, no region—could ever match the Cote d’Or in quality, because the Cote d’Or is, by definition, the place that it is, and no other place on earth can be identical to it. This is a redundant truth, and it is not entirely false. But it also is not entirely true. Great Pinot Noir and Chardonnay can be grown elsewhere. And it also is not entirely true that California cannot produce Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs that rival those of Burgundy, and can be very difficult to discern from Burgundy. What, then, does this do to the very notion of terroir? It suggests that all terroirs are equal (in a political sense, like the members of the United Nations all are equal), although, to torture George Orwell, “All terroirs are equal, but some terroirs are more equal than others.”
And what a fabulous tasting it was. This was really one of the most interesting sessions I’ve been to in years. For one thing, the level of wineries was exceptionally high, as it tend to be in this sprawling appellation. We’re also dealing with two very good years, 2012 and 2103.
As usual—and as we saw in our tasting of Russian River Valley Pinots last week—two styles of wine emerged: one paler in color and generally lower in alcohol, and the other darker and more full-bodied. It was quite impossible to rule one style or the other out: both succeeded. Of the fifteen wines we tasted, I scored each at 91 points or higher.
Here are my notes, from highest on down. They generally accorded with the group’s findings. All the wines were tasted blind during our 2-1/2 hour session, which included plenty of spirited conversation.
Williams Selyem 2012 Precious Mountain, $94, 13.6%. Over my years at Wine Enthusiast, this bottling became my favorite of the winery’s many vineyard designations. Once again, it didn’t disappoint. Gives off a tremendous perfume of aromatics: spices, sandalwood, toast, persimmon, sassafras. In the mouth, delicate but intense, bone dry, with masses of sweet fruit and a long, spicy finish. Such sophistication, so high-toned. A real beauty, and will age. Score: 97.
Hirsch 2012 Block 8, $85, 13.4%. The official appellation beginning with the 2013 will be Fort Ross-Seaview. The wine has a beautifully clear, prismatic translucence. It is delicately perfumed with strawberry and pomegranate jam, black tea, rose petal, smoke and dusty spices. Rich, spicy, complex, bone dry, with great acidity. Shows the wild, feral quality you often find in these Fort Ross Pinot Noirs. An intellectual wine, with mystery; feminine. Score: 96.
Hartford Court 2012 Seascape, $70, 14.4%. The vineyard is west of Occidental. The wine is young and fruity, with tons of raspberry jam, wild mushroom, root beer, black tea and exotic spice notes. Shows smooth, complex tannins and great balancing acidity. A dramatic, compelling wine, with a very long finish. Will certainly age. From Jackson Family. Score: 95.
Wild Ridge 2012, price unknown, 14.5%. A brilliant translucent ruby color. Absolutely luscious. Delicate and silky, with fabulous spices and raspberry-cherry fruit, cocoa powder, mushrooms, forest floor earthiness. Great acidity. This is a Jackson Family Wines brand that I wasn’t all that familiar with. The vineyard is in Annapolis, at an elevation of 900 feet. Score: 95.
DuMol 2012 Eoin, $79, 14.1%. This was the only wine in our tasting that was grown east of the 101 Freeway. The vineyard is east of Petaluma, influenced by the Petaluma Wind Gap. The aroma began with oak, and the first impression was of a jammy wine, with persimmons, blackberries, cherries, root beer and orange zest. Smooth tannins, great acidity. Later, a peat moss tang emerged. A lovely wine for holding until 2018, at least. Score: 95.
Littorai 2013 The Pivot, $70, 13.1%. The estate vineyard is between Sebastopol and Freestone. The wine is very dry and tart with acids, with some floral notes. The lowish alcohol shows in the light, delicate mouthfeel. Very pretty and supple, with complex rose petal, tart strawberry, black tea and brown spice notes. I couldn’t help but think of charcuterie with this wine. Give it another 5 years. Score: 95.
Joseph Phelps 2012 Quarter Moon Vineyard, $75, 13.8%. A darker color suggesting greater extract. Tremendous fruit, almost sappy: raspberries, cherries, cola, sassafras, cocoa dust. Showed an iodine, peat note, like an Islay Scotch. Tons of spices: clove, star anise, pepper. Rich, heady, dramatic, full-bodied. A great overall impression The vineyard is in Freestone, at 500 feel in elevation. Score: 95.
Hartford 2012 Far Coast, $70, 14.8%. The vineyard is up near Annapolis. This was a substantial wine, darker in color and full-bodied. Erupted in freshly ripe cherries and persimmons, with an earthy, mushroomy note. Feels rich and harmonious, with fine tannins and brisk acidity. Certainly a wine that needs time to evolve. Best after 2018. Score: 94.
Siduri 2013 Hirsch Vineyard, price unknown, 14.1%. One of the more delicate entries, and quite similar to the Hirsch Block 8, although of course the vintage is different. Lots of black tea, licorice, sweet raspberry, rhubarb and even some leather flavors. Exotic and savory. Feels elegant, spicy, complex, but needs time. 2018 and beyond. Another Jackson Family Wines wine. Score: 94.
Martinelli 2012 Blue Slide Ridge, $95, 15.2%. Good ruby color, with tremendous aromatics: violets, rose petals, raspberries, cola, black tea, cinnamon, clove and cumin spice. Lots of charm, with zesty acidity and rich tannins. Fancy and complex, but I found a touch of heat in the finish, which must have come from the relatively high alcohol. Still, Score: 93.
Lynmar 2013 Terra de Pormissio, $70, 14.3%. A darker wine, made from grapes purchased from this well-known Petaluma Wind Gap vineyard. Big, rich and full-bodied, but a little heavy, with extracted, jammy raspberry fruit and some meaty bacon. Delicious, but could be defter and more delicate. Almost like Grenache. Hold until 2018 and see. Score: 93.
Wayfarer 2012 Wayfarer Vineyard, $90, 14.5%. One of the darkest wines in the flight. At first, the aroma was muted. It took a while for the black cherries, black tea and persimmons to emerge. Quite full-bodied and tannic, a bigger, bolder style that needs time to develop. Despite the power, there’s plenty of harmony. From Jayson Pahlmeyer. Score: 93.
Hartford 2013 Land’s Edge, $50, 15%. The wine is a blend of the Far Coast and Seascape vineyards. I found some heat from alcohol, but otherwise, the wine is rich and exotic, with sassafras, raspberry, gingerbread cookie, cinnamon and clove aromas and flavors. Some sweet glycerine around the edges. I would certainly love this with a grilled steak. Score: 92.
Peay 2013 Pomarium Estate, $56, 13.5%. From way up near Sea Ranch, in Annapolis. I called it a “pretty” wine. Tons of sweet red fruit and berries, very spicy, with nice oak application. Some earthy herbs add interest. Polish, supple, easy to drink, with great harmony. I may have missed something; others liked it more than I did. Score: 91.
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Last week I blogged at my disappointment by the S.F. Chronicle’s wine coverage, or lack thereof. I got an email from the newspaper’s managing editor, who felt that I had done The Chron a disservice. She wrote that her team is “doubling down on our wine coverage, have a new critic/writer starting next week and plan several new publications around our wine and spirits journalism.” The new wine writer, whom I do not know, previously was at Wine Spectator.
Well, as Donald Rumsfeld famously observed, there are unknown unknowns in life. I did not know that the Chron is planning on this greatly-expanded new wine coverage, because how could I? I subscribe, I read the paper every day, and I saw nothing to alert us readers to these new realities. I welcome them: As I wrote, the Chron is Northern California’s biggest newspaper, at the gateway to wine country. I’ve read it daily for close to 40 years. No one can be more pleased than I that they are once again going to cover wine.
It’s really sad how the San Francisco Chronicle’s wine coverage has dropped off the cliff since the paper and Jon Bonné parted ways.
I didn’t always agree with Jon. I hated his attitude towards alcohol and thought he was unfair in his treatment of California wineries. But at least Jon was a true wine writer: passionate, opinionated and with the means to taste broadly and deeply.
Now that he’s gone, the Chron—which is not only Northern California’s largest-circulation newspaper but is based in the gateway to wine country, San Francisco—is barely covering wine at all. I’ve read the Chron for more than thirty years, and this is the worst its wine reporting has ever been. It is, to the best of my memory, the first time in decades that the paper hasn’t had a fulltime wine writer/critic.
The need for having one is obvious. Wine is huge in Northern California. Nearly everybody drinks it. Food and restaurants also are huge in Northern California; people love to eat out, or tinker in their kitchens. The Chron does a very good job of covering food and restaurants. And what beverage is more intimately connected with food than wine?
I suspect, although I can’t prove it, that the Chron canned its wine coverage because wineries don’t advertise. I understand that ads, not subscriptions, are what keep print publications afloat. I suppose it made sense, in a green eyeshades way, for the Chron’s management to ditch wine. But it doesn’t make sense from the standpoint of being a great newspaper.
* * *
I’ve been thinking of that winegrowing area east of Petaluma in Sonoma County where the Sonoma Coast, Carneros and Sonoma Valley AVAs all sort of come together. It’s a weird little place whose most significant terroir impact comes from the Petaluma Gap. Up until fairly recently, we hadn’t seen many vineyards or grapes grown there, but that’s fast changing, especially with the growing popularity of Pinot Noir. Later today, I’ll be driving up to Hartford Court Winery, where we’re doing another of our weekly tastings, this time of Sonoma Coast Pinots. Among them is DuMol’s 2012 Eoin, made from grapes grown in the Sonoma Stage Vineyard, which is right in that funny area. It’s a cool-climate region, not as cool as, say, the Santa Maria Valley, but almost. There aren’t many new Pinot-growing areas in California that are interesting these days, but this one is. Stay tuned.
And have a great weekend!
Back when John F. Kennedy was President, Helen Thomas, the White House correspondent and, at the time, the only woman to hold that post, asked JFK what he was doing to help women.
“Not enough, I’m sure,” smiled Kennedy, in his wry, bemused way. The implication was that, of course, no American President can ever do enough when it comes to the great issues, like women’s rights. All he or she can do is to try and make things better.
I thought of that long-ago incident when I read The New Yorker’s latest article on wine, called “Is there a better way to talk about wine?”
My answer? Borrowing from JFK, I’m sure there is a better way to talk about wine. I’m just not sure that I, or anybody else, knows quite what it is, or how to get there.
The New Yorker article breaks no new ground for readers of my blog, who are thoroughly familiar with these complaints about “extravagant tasting notes” that ooze “overwrought and unreliable…flowery, elaborate flavor descriptions” aimed at “wealthy men.” Familiar, too, are my readers with the various forms of experimental subterfuge of recent years, wherein studies report on how wine consumers, even educated ones, can be bamboozled if the wines are tasted blind, or if the labels are switched, or if information about them is deliberately distorted. The New Yorker article refers to these studies to bolster its case, and then reiterates that overblown wine vocabularies contribute to the “confusion” experienced by so many consumers. (You can almost hear the writer, Bianca Bosker’s, joy as she quotes a Wine Advocate descriptor: “liquefied Viagra.”)
It is of course easy as falling off a log to criticize anything in the world, as long as the person doing the criticizing doesn’t have the responsibility for coming up with something better. Bosker’s deconstruction of “minerality,” and the near impossibility of defining it, testifies to this fact: Just because something is hard doesn’t make it silly. She toys with the alternative of a “chemistry”-based descriptive vocabulary (fat chance) rather than an “obfuscating” one of poetry and metaphor. She even turns to Matt Kramer’s new book, True Taste, but completely misses Matt’s point: he’s not saying (as Ms. Bosker writes) that “only six [sic] words [actually seven] are necessary to evaluate a bottle’s essential attributes.” Matt himself writes that his book “is not, of course, about a mere seven words. Instead, it’s about those values that involve actual judgment,” and “is about tasting wine with discernment.”
Well, who could be against judgment and discernment? Matt, who has made a living of being a wine wordsmith (same as the rest of us), was looking for a new angle for a new book, and came up with True Taste: it’s a little frothy, but no harm, no foul, and plenty to think about. There’s nothing wrong with talking about “insight, harmony, texture, layers, finesse, surprise and nuance”—Matt’s seven words. But am I wrong in thinking that those concepts, if not explicitly spelled out then at least broadly described, have underlain good wine writing forever? They certainly lubricate the writing I know, from my own books and articles to Parker’s, Oz Clarke’s, Jancis Robinson’s, Steve Tanzer’s, Antonio Galloni’s, Benjamin Lewin’s, yes and Matt Kramer’s, and so on. If writers want to add things about raspberries and peppercorns, so much the better. I think Matt, who enjoys an adroit pen (can we say that anymore?), would be the last to condemn metaphorical wine descriptors. His grudge—mine, too—is when they go over the top.
But where is the line? Nobody really knows, and this is where Ms. Bosker’s article is so frustrating, in the way these “on-the-one-hand, on-the-other” New Yorker articles can be. The title seems to imply that, if the reader will just wade through the 2,098 words of text, he or she will be enlightened, and discover that there truly is “a better way to talk about wine.”
Alas, nothing of the sort happens. And, if you think about recent attempts to make wine writing “better,”–I’m talking to you, Twitter, and to a big part of the blogosphere—you’ll have to admit that failure is no success at all.
But perhaps I am too harsh on Ms. Bosker, for at the very end, she seems to change tone and switch over to a belief that “a little mystery” in winespeak is not such a bad thing. She even wonders “what a Baryshnikov in a glass might taste like.” Now, that’s good wine writing—and a good way to think about wine–but it’s also exactly the kind of “overwrought, flowery” metaphor that critics, including Ms. Bosker, came out swinging against. Happily, by the end of her article, Ms. Bosker apparently has undergone an intellectual metamorphosis in which she realizes that her initial concept was, if not erroneous, at least hopelessly incomplete to describe the challenge of talking about wine. As a writer myself, I’m familiar with that evolution: Writing makes you think, makes you analyze simplistic thoughts so that you realize they’re not as simple as they might have seemed at first blush. You end up, in other words, in a different–and better–place from where you started. This is a very good thing.
So is there a better way to talk about wine? I suppose there is, although I don’t think the best wine writing, from any era, including ours, needs improvement. But I welcome this chit-chat, if for no other reason than that it stimulates this sort of discussion.
In anticipation of our tasting this Friday of wines from the “true” Sonoma Coast, I’ve been going over in my mind my understanding of this American Viticultural Area, which was declared an A.V.A. in 1987.
That was 28 years ago, but I don’t recall the controversy surrounding it until sometime in the late 1990s, when people began to point out that, at 480,000 acres, and stretching from the Pacific beaches to the Napa County line, it was not only one of California’s larger appellations—bigger than Napa Valley or the Santa Cruz Mountains—but containing so many different climates that to call it a single appellation was senseless.
Conventional wisdom was that the Sonoma Coast A.V.A. was pushed through and largely paid for by a single individual, who wanted to be able to label his Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays with something other than Sonoma Valley. Although the Sonoma Valley A.V.A. extends right down to Carneros, the popular view is that it’s a warmish to hot place, which, northwest of Sonoma Town and along the Valley of the Moon highway, it is.
There have long been a handful of vintners, though, who chose to grow grapes along what eventually became known as the “true” Sonoma Coast: an area just a few miles inland from the beaches, encompassing the first two or three mountain ranges. The unrest caused by the gigantic Sonoma Coast A.V.A. eventually grew so fierce that, in 2012, the government was compelled to recognize Fort Ross-Seaview as a sub-appellation of Sonoma Coast. At a mere 27,500 acres, most of it wildland. Fort Ross-Seaview represented an intelligent approach to detailing Sonoma Coast, one that I entirely supported. When it was finally approved, I was hopeful that additional “true” Sonoma Coast appellations would follow. Annapolis, in the north, seems logical. So does Freestone in the south, and possibly Occidental, although who knows what the names will be, because these things require agreement amongst warring parties, and the names often are compromises reached through lawyerly negotiations.
For me, the question concerning the “true” Sonoma Coast is, What are the differences between, say, Annapolis in the north, the done deal of Fort Ross-Seaview, and points south, whatever they’re called? It can’t be as simple as temperature, because if anything, the south is cooler, being closer to the Golden Gate; and elevation plays a crucial role on the far coast, with vineyards in the north higher up in the mountains, and thus above the fogline and more exposed to the intense solar radiation.
It will take us many years to really figure out the “true” Sonoma Coast. I hated the original appellation because it was so huge and amorphous, but I will give it credit for sparking the imaginations of writers, many of whom thought the only credible place for Pinot Noir in Sonoma County was the Russian River Valley.
The far Sonoma Coast is, and always will be, a place only the wealthy can afford to plant vineyards. I think the days of pioneers like Daniel Schoenfeld (Wild Hog) and Ehren Jordan (Failla) are gone. But I also reject the contention that major players, like Joseph Phelps, Jackson Family and Jayson Pahlmeyer, cannot succeed, with diligent and thoughtful approaches. The far coast, more than any other Pinot Noir region in California, will be a testing-ground for winemakers who aspire to greatness and are willing to gamble with disappointment. This is grapegrowing at its extremities, where an off vintage, much less a winemaking mistake, can result in catastrophe.
Despite my Ph.D. in meteorology and the fact that I successfully predicted both the drought and the most recent lottery number*, I have no idea if this El Nino that seems to be brewing in the Pacific will have the desired impact here in dry, dry California, where we’re currently in the midst of a horrible fire season, and the worst months lie ahead.
No wonder everybody got so excited when predictions of a new El Nino started surfacing some months ago. I’ve been watching the media on this, and the drumbeat is getting louder and louder. Now, the San Francisco Chronicle (which has been covering the drought quite closely) is forecasting that this winter’s El Nino will be “worse than ‘97-‘98” and could in fact be a “monster.”
That is great news, but if you really pay attention to these things you know that El Nino, in and of itself, is a very poor indicator of coming precipitation. Just three days ago, the same Chronicle noted that “some of the state’s wettest winters have occurred when no El Niño was present, or during the opposite condition, La Niña, in which the Pacific Ocean is cooler than usual,” and they added this kicker: “Fact is, out of 23 El Niño events over the past 65 years, only nine resulted in wetter-than-average winters.”
Still, NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, is bullish. In their most recent update, they predict “a strong [El Nino] event” that will achieve “peak strength” early this coming winter, followed by “a 90% chance that El Nino will continue through [the] Northern Hemisphere winter” and then “last into early Spring 2016.”
What does NOAA think it means for rain? Here’s a map showing the current prediction status for next December, January and February, traditionally California’s rainiest months.
You can see that NOAA is thinking the big rains will be in the far southern part of the state. According to the map, Northern California, from about Mendocino down to San Luis Obispo, might be slightly higher in rain than normal. From SLO down to about L.A. the chance of higher than normal increases, although not by much. It’s not until you get from L.A. south to San Diego and Mexico (where the darker green is) that there’s the greatest chance for significantly higher rainfall.
That’s too bad. The majority of California’s water comes from Northern and Central California’s reservoirs, water tables and Sierra snowpack, so even a ton of rain and snow in the San Gabriels and the deserts will make barely a dent in the drought. Still, one can always hope.
* Actually, none of these claims is true, but it was fun to say them
There are very few common Pinot Noirs in the Russian River Valley. Certainly, given the number of producers (in the hundreds), the level of quality is extraordinarily high, especially when we have two vintages in a row—2012 and 2013—that both were very fine, although it looks like ’13 has the edge in terms of consistency.
This was brought home to me following the tasting of RRV Pinot Noirs I arranged last week. In general, I found two different types of wines: darker, more robust and fuller-bodied ones that also tend to be higher in alcohol, and paler, more delicate ones. And yet, some higher alcohol wines can be delicate, while some lower alcohol wines can be dark and heavy. In wine, as in life, beware of generalizations; and don’t go drawing conclusions based merely on alcohol level!
All the wines were tasted blind; identities weren’t revealed until the very end. (Note: I am currently paid by Jackson Family Wines, which owns Hartford Court and Siduri.) We had six or seven people, and the conversation was lively. Not everyone agreed on everything, but I think there was plenty of unanimity in the room, especially concerning the overall quality of these dozen fine wines.
Here are my notes, with scores:
Peirson Meyer 2012 Miller Vineyard. $40, 14.9%, 150 cases. Loved this wine. Complex nose of red cherries, cocoa, sandalwood, cola, persimmons, orange zest, cinnamon and clove. A little heat from alcohol, but not too much. Very high quality. The vineyard is south of Graton, at an elevation of 500 feet. The winemaker/co-owner, Robbie Meyer, has worked at Peter Michael, Lewis and Jericho Canyon. Good for a newish winery to score this well against far more famous veterans. Score: 93.
Paul Hobbs 2013 Ulises Valdez Vineyard. $70, 14.1%. Darker in color, richer and denser than A, despite lower alcohol. Go figure. A bit soft and over-extracted, with cherry pie, cocoa and pruney flavors. Ripe and voluptuous, but a bit too thick for my tastes, and some hard, bitter tannins in the finish. The vineyard is in the Green Valley, near Sebastopol. Score: 88.
Merry Edwards 2012 Meredith Estate. $57, 14.5%. Rich garnet-ruby color. Very aromatic, lots of crushed cherries, rose petal, tea, dried herbs, baking spices. Quite tannic at this time. Complex, layered, but very young. Give it at least six more years. The vineyard is in the Sebastopol Hills area. Score: 92.
Joseph Swan 2012 Trenton Estate. $59, 14.3%, 447 cases. Pale, translucent ruby color leading to delicate, complex aromas of golden tobacco, cranberries, persimmons, cola, cinnamon and clove, sandalwood. Feels delicate and silky, but quite intense in fruits and spices. Nice toast. Good finish. Gentle and lovely now. I thought it will age well, but others disagreed. Score: 93.
Siduri 2013 Keefer Ranch. $46, 14.2%. Pretty ruby color. Fine quality wine. Tasting a bit one-dimensional now, but it’s a pretty dimension. Classic Russian River Pinot: dry, silky, good acidity, nice cherry-cranberry fruit. Lovely to drink now. If I were teaching a class in Pinot Noir 101, I’d use this. Score: 91.
Rochioli 2013 Estate. $60, 14.5%. Good color. Jammy pie flavors (raspberries, cherries). Nice dusty tannins, good acidity, smooth finish. Somewhat oaky and a little rustic. A bit on the light side. This is Rochioli’s basic estate Pinot Noir, not the block bottlings which tend to be superior. Score: 89.
Hartford Court 2012 Fog Dance. $65, 14.7%. Big aromatics: baking spices, smoke, masses of cherries, raspberries, blackberries, plums, sweet vanilla, balsam, wild mushrooms. Ripe, flashy tannins, good acidity. A flamboyant, showy wine that drinks well now and will improve. Also, ironically, an intellectual wine: I kept coming back and finding more. Score: 94.
Failla 2013 Keefer Ranch. $45, 13.7%. A pretty wine, polished and supple. A little disconnected now in the mouth: the oak, raspberries, tannins, acidity and spices haven’t knit together yet. I suspect most people will drink it now, but you really should age it unti 2020. A few tasters found it a bit hollow, but not me. Score: 92.
Dutton-Goldfield 2012 Dutton Ranch Freestone Hill Vineyard. $58, 13.5%, 613 cases. Pretty dark. Feels big and full-bodied despite the lowish alcohol. Dense, glyceriney. Could be more delicate, but it could be an ager. Oodles of black cherries and blackberries, orange rind, cinnamon, smoke. Considerable oak is evident. Hold until 2020, when it could easily be a 93-94 point wine.
Gary Farrell 2012 Hallberg Vineyard. $39, 14.2%. Nice to see this venerable winery doing well despite all the ups and downs of ownership. Combines delicacy with power. Intense flavors, firm tannins, some minerality underneath the bitter cherry candy and mushroom flavors. Very complex and layered, but needs time. Best after 2020. The vineyard is in Green Valley, near Sebastopol. Score: 93.
Dehlinger 2012 Altamont. $70, 14.8%. Oak wood and spice notes dominate, along with strong tannins. Buried underneath is raspberry compote, sour cherry Lifesaver candy and exotic baking spices. Supple mouthfeel, very high class wine, noble, but young. Altamont is from a hilly section of the estate vineyard, which is south of River Road, in the cool, foggy Laguna Ridge section of the valley. Wait until 2020. Score: 94.
Hartford Court 2012 Hailey’s Vineyard. $65, 14.6%. A wonderful wine. At first I was suspicious of the tremendous extract (raspberries, black cherries, kirsch liqueur) and considerable oak (44% new French) but then the innate strength and elegance hit me. A flashy, sexy wine that grew complex as it breathed, giving off notes of balsam and tamari. There is a core of iron-driven firmness I associate with Gold Ridge soils. Very impressive for drinking now and will age. Score: 94.