Good wine, like life, can be from anywhere
When I was a kid, there were lots of scientific articles that purported to explain how lucky we were here on Earth to exist–how many miracles had to occur for us to be here. They explained how, if our planet weren’t exactly “x” miles from the Sun, and if it didn’t have just the right magnetic poles, and if the elements weren’t distributed in exactly the precise way, if pi didn’t exactly equal 3.14 and the laws of physics weren’t the way they were, and if the Earth’s atmosphere didn’t shield us from cosmic rays, etc. etc., then Life wouldn’t exist. It made it seem as if Earth was, after all, a pretty privileged place.
But even at the age of seven or eight, I would think, “Wait a minute. Who’s to say that Life can’t be based on an entirely different set of circumstances than our carbon-based life form is?” It seemed to me that Life–whatever it ultimately was or is–is sufficiently ingenious to figure out how to arise and exist in any environment it cares to, even one that would be noxious to us and every other form of life we know.
Well, now comes this fantastic NASA report that “life” can arise under circumstances scientists previously thought were impossible. “Arsenic-eating bacteria suggests extraterrestrial life possible” is how one newspaper headlined it. If “life” in the form of bacteria can “grow entirely off this deadly chemical,” then maybe life can exist anywhere and everywhere–on deadly cold Pluto, on the sunny side of deadly-hot Venus, or on some methane-cloaked rock circling some far distant star millions of light years from home. Maybe even in the vast, intergalactic spaces of the Universe.
My childhood fantasies were stirred by the NASA report, but so were my hopes for California wine. The connection? Simple. We think that great wines can exist only in certain areas along the coast. Too many of us tend to shuck off inland as some inhospitably hostile environment for great wine.
I will admit to occasionally succumbing to this opinion myself. The wines from places like Lodi, Temecula, Livermore Valley, the Sierra Foothills and much of interior California are California’s vin de pays, I have thought in the past. When Wine Enthusiast split the state between me, on the coast, and Virginie Boone, inland, I was not entirely unhappy. I tended to break California into east-west divisions much as France is divided into north-south divisions, with Bordeaux, Burgundy and the northern Rhône as “superior,” and the vast Midi being viewed as of lesser quality.
But I’m beginning to think this view was over-simplistic, for several reasons. There’s a new generation of inland vintners who are starting to work hard and figure out what varieties, clones and rootstocks do best in their soils. Also, how to train and manage the vines’ canopies to maximum advantage, and keep crop yields modest. This has been a far greater problem inland than it has been on the coast, for various reasons, and has been, in my judgment, the single biggest impediment to quality. But it’s fast changing.
If you think about it, there’s just no reason why fine wine shouldn’t be able to be made inland, just as there’s no reason (we now are learning) why life can’t exist pretty much anywhere. We think of inland as hotter than the coast, and it is; and while Pinot Noir, Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay (to name a few) may not be suitable inland, there are other varieties that thrive in hot climates. Their names may be strange to most Americans–Nero d’Avolo, Gaglioppo, Greco di Tufo, the various Tourigas, Tinta Amarela, Trincadeiro, Corvina, Coda de Vole, Graciano, Mando–but this need not always be the case. Meanwhile, heat-loving varieties such as Nebbiolo, Verdelho and Vermentino are gaining traction, especially among sommeliers, while more recognizable names, like Zinfandel and Petite Sirah, thrive in these warmer climates.
I do think it’s going to be necessary for inland vintners to eventually turn away from Continental varieties (the aforementioned Cabernet, Pinot, etc.), unless they’re content to compete with the Coast, and that’s a fight they cannot win. Their solution lies in these Mediterranean varieties that have had centuries to adapt to a warm, dry climate. But the new generation I earlier referred to is doing precisely that, and in a way I envy Virginie for being able to experience this exciting transition.
Meanwhile, the next time you’re tempted to diss inland, remember those bacterium that love arsenic. Anything, it appears, can be made to adapt to anything else, including wine to an inland climate.
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I’ll be at Rusty Eddy’s “Public Relations for Small Wineries” class Friday, Dec. 10, at U.C. Davis. My fellow guest lecturers will be Jose and Jo Diaz, of Diaz Communications. It’s a fun, instructive session. For more info, call U.C. Davis at (530) 757-8608, or email Julie Brinley at firstname.lastname@example.org. Hope to see you there!