Oded Shakked is throwing down the gauntlet.

“When you go to most good restaurants these days,” writes the winemaker/owner of Longboard Vineyards, “you often hear the staff talk with pride about the fact that local produce is used to make your meal…You now can understand why I get irritated when I go to the grocery store and see a person wearing a ‘Slow Food’ t shirt putting a $5 Argentinean Malbec in their shopping cart.”

Oded blogged on the topic of talking local, then buying non-local, the other day, where he let his emotions out for a run. Give it a read, then come back here.

His point is that these are extraordinarily tough times for many wineries — not just little ones like Longboard, but even big, entrenched wineries. (You think Diageo would have sold Beaulieu and Sterling if times were good?) Wineries are in a Darwinian struggle for existence; when Oded concludes his post with a poignant, “So please, make you next purchase from us, your neighbors,” he’s speaking not just for himself, but for California winemakers from Temecula to Boonville, Murphys to Lompoc. Some wineries are as endangered as the northern right whale, and Oded is telling wine drinkers that they — we — have an obligation to support our local wineries.

I’ve known Oded since the early 2000s. I  put him in my 2005 book, “A Wine Journey along the Russian River” (which University of California Press has just re-issued, with a new preface) because he’s such an interesting guy, and his Longboard wines (mostly from Russian River Valley) are quite good. He used to be the winemaker at J Wine Co. before taking the plunge to devote himself fulltime to Longboard. That was before the recession.

Lots of winemakers with their own personal brands continue at their day jobs. It must be a terrific decision to go out on your own, especially if you have a family, as Oded does. Part of you wants the freedom and independence that go with running your own company, doing things your own way and not having to take orders from anyone. On the other hand, you covet the security of a real job. In Oded’s case, I think, he made the jump because the economy was booming, and it seemed like a hard-working young winemaker, with access to good fruit, could make a go of it.

The recession, of course, took Oded, and everybody else, by surprise. I don’t know how Longboard is doing, but from the sound of Oded’s cri du coeur, I’d guess there’s some wear and tear on the balance sheet. Hence his plea. “Next time you are in a restaurant and see no California wine…ask to talk to the wine buyer and give them a piece of your mind.  Understand that supporting your local winery helps preserve a heritage and make our local communities more diverse and therefore stronger.”

If you want to know what I think, it’s that I fully understand where Oded is coming from. In these tough times we should support our local businesses. It’s the patriotic thing to do, but it also helps our neighborhoods and, ultimately, ourselves, by keeping our spending money in our communities.

On the other hand, buying strictly local does limit your choices. There’s no Riesling, Tempranillo or Sangiovese in California that approaches its European counterpart. So what’s a consumer to do, especially one with a conscience? Next time you’re in the wine store deciding what to buy, do you go with that Argentine Malbec, or that racy imported Sancerre? Or do you take your locovore sensibilities and stick with California (or Virginia, or Texas, or Washington State, or wherever you happen to live)?

Easy question. No easy answers.

Although California winemakers had been making so-called “Bordeaux blends” for years — Inglenook and Martini pioneered mixing Merlot or Cabernet Franc in with Cabernet Sauvignon, and Joseph Phelps’ Insignia was a blend from its first vintage, in 1974 — it wasn’t until 1988 that a group of Napa Valley vintners decided the blends needed a collective identity.

The founding wineries included Lyeth, Flora Springs, Franciscan and Dry Creek Vineyard. “Back then, you’d see a wine labeled ‘red’ or ‘table wine,’ and since consumers weren’t very knowledgeable, they assumed it would be inferior. We needed a categorization that felt right,” Kim Stare Wallace, Dry Creek Vineyard’s second-generation owner, said.

The wineries launched a nationwide competition to come up with a name; the winner would get a case of wine from each member winery, on an annual basis, for the rest of his or her life. I entered that contest, but did not win. Instead, a young man who was the wine buyer for an East Bay supermarket won by coming up with the term “Meritage,” and the wineries eventually formed themselves into the Meritage Association.

The Association has always had marketing issues, always struggled to make “Meritage” a universally-accepted term in the on-premise, off-premise, critical and consumer communities. Some of the original member wineries have since quit the Association; some important wineries that make Bordeaux blends never joined; and although the 250 members today are scattered across six countries, including Israel and Mexico, most of them remain located in California.

The Association’s president is Kim Stare Wallace. Its treasurer is Bill Smart, a likeable young guy who is Dry Creek’s communications director. I ran into Bill at the Wine Bloggers Conference last week, where he reminded me that the Association is engaged in a renewed P.R. push to increase its visibility. Here’s a brief Q&A:

Steve: Why do you need a special word for Bordeaux blends? Why not just educate the public about blending in general, and that any wine with less than 75% of the varietal can’t be named after a grape?

Bill: Well, it’s a valid point if you’re saying “Meritage is a dead term, so why have it?” But the reason there’s no credibility there is because we haven’t been consistent with marketing and messaging. Why is Rhone Rangers and ZAP what they are? Because they do a really good job of promoting. And we feel this category is worth promoting.

How are you promoting Meritage?

In 2011, our dream is to have the first ever consumer tasting of Meritage. It will be in San Francisco. We’ll partner with Wine 2.0, and it will benefit the Multiple Sclerosis Society. Our hope is to get 50 wineries pouring.

Why wouldn’t they all come?

Well, there’s an extreme amount of apathy, because most members have less than 250 cases [of Meritage], so it’s not a focus. They focus on their 5,000 cases of Sauvignon Blanc [or whatever] they have to sell.

How come so many wineries that make Bordeaux blends won’t join the Meritage Association?

You know, it’s the old explanation, “I have a proprietary red wine and I don’t need ‘Meritage’ to promote it. I already have enough credibility, so I don’t need you.” I always reply, “Well, you can throw ‘Meritage’ on the back of your wine label. It’s not that big a deal.”

[This is Steve again, opining.] I have mixed feelings about “Meritage” and its usefulness or lack thereof. I am, of course, entirely in favor of Bordeaux blends, red and white, if that’s what a winemaker wants to do. And I do understand that some education has to be given to consumers, who might expect to see a varietal name on every bottle of wine. The object, I think, is to explain that Bordeaux itself — which everybody’s heard of — is never a varietal wine, but always a combination of certain varietals. You could tell people, “This is a blend using the noble Bordeaux varieties,” and I suspect they’d be impressed. So why saddle consumers with yet another complicated word to remember and understand, when they’re already overwhelmed with wine minutiae?

On the other hand (there’s the Gemini in me), it does seem reasonable to make the case that these Bordeaux blends should be independently categorized. A categorization is always a justification for existence; the justification, in this case, is that a winemaker might be tempted to make a varietally-labeled Cabernet Sauvignon (i.e., containing at least 75% of that grape) merely in order to put Cabernet Sauvignon on the label, and not necessarily because it makes the best, most rewarding and complete wine. Meritage adherents thus are in a position to argue that they have freed themselves from the addiction to varietal labels. That’s a simple message to deliver, and one the public would understand.

I’m back from the American Wine Bloggers Conference, up in Walla Walla, where they had invited me to give the Friday “keynote” speech.

A strange, archaic word, “keynote.” I worked really hard writing that 30-minute talk, because there were lots of issues I wanted to address. I also took seriously the fact that the organizers had invited me. I’ve heard many speeches that were total B.S., boring, irrelevant, and so devoid of content, they seemed to have been written on the way into the conference hall. I didn’t want to commit any of those sins.

I thought it went pretty well. I’d been warned beforehand that the audience — 300 strong, most of whom had been drinking — might be a little hard to control, but they were polite, even intense as they listened. Over the next two days, at least 60 came up to me to say “thank you” and tell me they’d been touched. Well, good. I wanted people to feel touched, because I reached out to them. Those thank-you’s meant more to me than I can put into words. I’m an emotional guy, and my swim in the Blogosphere Sea has not been without choppy waters. To continue the maritime metaphor, I’ve sometimes felt like my little boat was surrounded by maneaters.

Random notes

On Live Wine Blogging: I first saw this phenomenon two years ago, when the Conference was in Santa Rosa. LWB is where all the attendees sit around tables in the ballroom, 6-7 to a table, laptops in front of them, and Twitter away like crazy as winemakers wander from table to table like minstrels, each allowed 5 minutes to pour and deliver a spiel about their wine, trying to make themselves heard above the 120-decibel din, while the bloggers record their mini-reviews (in 140 words or less, of course) before sending them into the ether. When the 5 minutes is over, an organizer rings a bell, and the winemakers wander off to their next table.

Looked at from the outside, it’s a bizarre spectacle. It reminded me of the Bingo games they used to have at the temple when I was a kid. I felt like Margaret Mead, parachuting down to observe the Samoans perform their exotic rituals. I told Reno Walsh, from Zephyr Adventures, one of the conference organizers and a good-looking blond, that it seemed a little weird evaluating wine under such crazy circumstances.

Reno Walsh

“It is kind of weird,” Reno acknowledged, “but, you know, speed blogging at least exposes them to the wine, and if they want to know more about it, they know where to go.” A little later, a blogger further enlightened me on speed blogging. “It makes me focus my thoughts, under pressure, and quickly come up with a few words to describe the wine.” And I thought to myself, “Hmm. That’s not so different from what I do.” After that, I relaxed and started getting into it. Just goes to show how easy it is to judge something from the outside without bothering to understand it. So Margaret Mead went Samoan — or was it a case of Stockholm syndrome?

What everybody was talking about: That Starbucks store in Seattle that will start serving wine and beer this Fall. If the concept works, Starbucks across the country may do it. Lots of buzz among the buzz-hungry bloggers.

Drinking beer with the townies: Late on Friday night, after the downtown wine bar crawl (Walla Walla is said to have the cutest Main Street in America), all I could think of was beer. So I parted ways from the rest of the bloggers (who were headed off, far as I could tell, to an after-hours party at Hardy Wallace’s cottage) and went to the hotel bar for a brewski. The place was packed with rowdy young locals drinking beer and shots. I took a seat and waited for the barkeep to notice me when one of them said to me, “Hey.” I looked over. “You one of those bloggers?” he asked.

Uh oh, I thought, I’m about to get the crap pounded out of me by Eastern Washington State rednecks. After all, Walla Walla isn’t far from the survivalist camps of Idaho. But no. The kids wanted to hear all about the conference. In fact, they seemed to know a little about wine. One of them was heavily into tattoos (double sleeve), so we bonded. When the barkeep wandered over and asked what I wanted, I said, “Beer — but why don’t you guys pick something local for me.” This elicited a conference and Tattoo Man finally called for something in a mug that was pretty good. We drank and talked for the longest time, without a word about blogs or social media. It was all good.

Wine discovery of the weekend: Washington State Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc blends.

A wish: Please, Lord, no more panels on “The Future of Wine Writing.” (Why do I suspect this prayer will not be answered?)

A vow: To give Twitter another try, after my ill-fated attempt last Spring. This, even though I warned the bloggers that the more they’re online tweeting, Facebooking, etc., the less they’re actually writing, and learning to write. You can’t be a good wine writer unless you write good, spell good and have good grammer.

This was a tough week. Lots of mediocre wines. No really good Pinot, and too many wines, red and white, showed flaws: too sweet, too soft, too watery. Sometimes that’s the way it goes in this business. You’ll find my full reviews, with scores, in upcoming issues of Wine Enthusiast, or on the magazine’s website.

Chalk Hill 2007 Estate Syrah. Purists will take one look at the alcohol and think, “Not for me!” But this is really a massively flavored, opulent wine. The flavors start with red cherries, go all the way to dark chocolate, and include just about everything Syrah-esque inbetween. $60, 304 cases, 15.9%.

Ehlers 2007 1886 Cabernet Sauvignon. The winery’s top bottling, from the estate in St. Helena. It’s really lush, if a little soft. Where Oakville is dark black and blue fruit, this is about red cherries, violets and milk chocolate. $95, 800 cases, 14.5%.

Black Ridge 2007 San Andreas Red. It’s a blend of all 5 Bordeaux varieties that’s rich and minerally, with the concentration of a mountain vineyard. Nice to see the Santa Cruz Mountains put on a show. $49, 567 cases, 14.8%.

Rancho Zabaco 2008 “Toreador” Monte Rosso Vineyard Zinfandel. Not for everyone, with alcohol just under 17%. But we try to evaluate wine for how well it shows its stylistic typicity, and this Zin does that well, showcasing Sonoma Valley mountain Zinfandel on steroids. $60, 238 cases, 16.9%.

Gain Bay 2008 Cabernet Family. It’s a Bordeaux blend from Napa Valley, and it’s a nice, earthy one, with olives and herbs grounding the fruit. Pretty good price for the quality. $20, 850 cases, 14.7%.

Ancient Peaks 2007 Oyster Ridge. The producer is in a southern, cooler part of Paso Robles, and the blend is one of those interesting composites Paso is getting known for, in this case Bordeaux + Petite Sirah. Soft, peppery and delicious. $50, 293 cases, 14.7%.

Raymond 2007 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon (Napa Valley). From one of the most dependable producers in the valley. Young, vigorous and filled with blackberry jam. $32, 16,000 cases, 14.7%.

Ludwig 2008 Riesling. I could have drank the whole bottle. Dry, crisp and minerally-appley. $14, 336 cases, 13.5%.

Chatom 2006 Syrah. Nice to see this old Calaveras County producer doing so well. It’s a briary, earthy Syrah, with berry-cherry fruit. Food friendly. $23, 823 cases, 15%.

She Wines 2006 Red Blend. Two Calaveras County wines on the Top 10 list! How ‘bout that? It’s all about peppery bacon and red cherry flavors in this dry, affordable wine. $12, 1,417 cases, 14.9%.

This just in:

Renewed fighting broke out overnight in the streets of Walla Walla, as angry town folk and wine bloggers clashed for a second straight day.

Stores were looted and cars set ablaze, although it was difficult to tell just which side was responsible for the mayhem.

Local hospitals reported extensive injuries in emergency rooms. The Red Cross opened shelters for residents afraid to return to their homes. As the sun rose this morning, a pall of smoke lay over the ruined city.

Both sides blamed the other for provoking the violence. Sam van der Beek, a spokesman for Protect Walla Walla Now, accused the wine bloggers of invading the city of 65,000. “We was all peaceful and such, and the next thing you know, here’s all these drunken kids running loose.”

But one of the bloggers, Steve Heimoff, defended his colleagues. “I didn’t see anybody get drunk. Well, maybe late at night, in the hotel bar. But we certainly weren’t rampaging out in the streets.”

Washington Gov. Chris Gregoire called for a “Peace Jirga” later today. “All sides must come together and iron out their differences,” she said.

It is true, as Laurie Daniel wrote in the San Jose Mercury-News, that so-called “obscure” grape varieties are on the rise in Calfornia.

Ten years ago, there were two acres of Albarino planted in the state. Last year, according to the Dept. of Food and Agriculture, there were 108 (bearing and non-bearing). The equivalent numbers for Verdelho were 12 and 94; for Teroldego they were 14 and 79. Touriga Nacional saw 65 and 220; Pinotage, 16 and 53; Lagrein was 65 and 157, Carmenere was 8 and 57, and Muscat Blanc went from 758 to 1,698.

These numbers cannot be accounted for by the simple inflation of California’s vineyard acreage, which has increased since 2000 by only 11.3%. The real reason, as Laurie writes, is that “some winemakers like to step away from the mainstream and [so] the planting of alternative varieties is on the rise.”

Well, yes…and no. Although Laurie quotes vintner Ken Volk as saying, “I like diversity,” and there’s no doubt that people who are planting these “obscure” varieties are passionate about them, I suspect there are other reasons a winemaker would plant a variety and then make a wine from it with a name that few Americans have ever heard of.

One reason that comes to mind is because there must be many winemakers who take one look at the crowded marketplace for Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Sauvignon Blanc, Zinfandel and other mainstay grapes, and realize they don’t stand a chance in that bloodbath. As the old marketing dictum goes, if you can’t compete in the niches that are, create a niche that’s not.

The problem, of course, is that the American consumer is a very cautious fellow or gal. She doesn’t like to buy things she’s unfamiliar with. It’s risky. That’s why Tide, Crest and Comet cleanser still dominate their fields. People have grown up with them; they know what to expect, and don’t want any surprises the next time they wash their clothes, brush their teeth, or clean the toilet bowl.

If I came up with a new toothpaste — let’s call it “Sparkle! by Steve” — it would take the biggest marketing campaign in history to persuade anyone to buy it, and even after a $100 million campaign, it still might fail. Remember Edsel and New Coke?

So “obscure” varieties represent a double-edged sword to the vintner. They open up potential niches, but, as with political parties, it’s hard to sell something that’s outside the mainstream.

There’s another problem, too: judging from my experience, lots of these “obscure” wines aren’t very good. Most are okay, but nothing special, and if the vintner tries to charge too much for them, they’re bad values.

It’s not surprising why quality on an “obscure” variety shouldn’t be very high. Little is known about where to plant, how to grow and how to vinify Gruner Veltliner or Aglianico in California. Even vintners who are serious about them will need years to develop their technique. Also, to the extent those vintners won’t be able to get high prices for the wines, there’s a limit to how much time and money they’re willing to invest in the vineyard and in the winery.

Still, there is hope for these “obscure” varieties. The Millennials may not be as obsessed with traditional varieties as are their parents and grandparents. (I say “may not” but there’s an equally good chance that they will be.) Then too, sommeliers and wine stewards in restaurants, who seem to be enjoying an unprecedented period of visibility and power, like discovering new things they can hand-sell to their customers. And, with the growing popularity of wine clubs and direct-to-consumer sales, club members like to be sent things that are limited in production and hard for anyone else to get.

So I welcome these “obscure” varieties and I’m supportive of winemakers who are making them. The next thing for us to do is come up with an alternative word to “obscure.”

Tomorrow I’ll have another Top Ten Wines of the Week, but I’ll also try to get something in from the Wine Bloggers Conference.

Press release first lines we never read beyond: Dear Steve, Have you ever wanted to enjoy a night out with your adoring pet?