Wednesday wraparound: World of Pinot Noir, and Hearty Burgundy
Once again the World of Pinot Noir is happening, the 14th annual. Pinot Noir producers and lovers will again gather for two days of sipping and savoring under the sun, except this year, for the first time, WOPN will no longer be held at its ancestral home, the The Cliffs Resort, in Shell Beach Instead, the event is moving south, to the Big City of Santa Barbara, and the luxury Bacara Resort and Spa. WOPN has outgrown its humble origins for fancier digs.
There had been talk for many years of migrating away from Shell Beach and “growing” WOPN. Not being on its board of directors, I wasn’t privy to the internal discussions. But I was close to the event (having gone from Day One) and close, too, to people within it. The move was delayed, I think, not because it didn’t make sense to find a larger venue, closer to a major population center, but due to simple inertia. The Cliffs was a really nice place to hang out for a couple days. Their staff did a great job handling the event. The weather almost always cooperated along that stretch of the Central Coast (which actually can boast the nation’s best weather in winter). It was nostalgic to return every year to Shell Beach, to the dog-friendly Cliffs, to have breakfast every morning at Marisol (I always sat next to the fireplace) and hang out on the terrace at night, drinking awesome Pinot Noir and Burgundy. It must have been hard for the organizers to say bye-bye to Shell Beach. But it had to be done.
And once again, this year I am “official blogger of World of Pinot Noir,” as I was last year. Woo hoo! In practice this means I’ll blog about it from time to time. Yes, this is a quid pro quo: They give me lodging (although not at Bacara itself) and waive the price of admission to all events.
The reason I like WOPN is because I like Pinot Noir. Not just the wine, but the culture it fosters. Pinot Noiristes are special people, different from Cabernet makers in important and not-so-subtle ways. Cabernet makers always seem a little snootier than Pinot makers. Maybe this is because Bordeaux–the city and its environs–is considerably more buttoned-up than Burgundy. In Bordeaux, the chateaux are elaborate Beaux Arts palaces whose sound construction suggests old, distinguished money. Burgundy by contract is a simpler place, more rural, less visibly defined by cash. This dichotomy has transferred to California. Pinot Noir winemakers seem less self-conscious, more connected to the earth, than Cabernet winemakers. They wear clothes more like mine. They’re no less serious than Cabernet vintners, but more approachable, and perhaps a little less sure of themselves. It’s almost as if Cabernet makers know they’re at the top of their game (I mean, where do you go from Harlan?), while Pinot makers have the attitude of, “Hey, I’m not even close to figuring this out!”
WOPN has grown up, and it’s been a pleasure to grow beside it. From a little Central Coast event it’s become a worldwide showcase. WOPN isn’t as big as the International Pinot Noir Celebration, nor will it ever be in all likelihood. But it is the biggest Pinot Noir event in California (and hence the second biggest in America) and I am glad to be able to return.
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Speaking of Pinot Noir–well, Burgundy–E&J Gallo has announced that this is the 50th anniversary of their Hearty Burgundy.
Surely HB is one of the most famous wines ever in America. Can you come up with another, home-grown? I used to drink a lot of that wine, and I’m sure lots of other people did. I didn’t know what grape varieties were in it and I didn’t care. All I knew was that it was cheap, dry and really good. To this day I have fond memories of it. Kudos to Gallo for that wine. By the way, thinking of it recalls an incident that happened in 2001, I think it was. It was the 100th anniversary of Beaulieu Vineyards. We were at a big event where then winemaker Joel Aiken presided over a tasting of every Georges de Latour Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon ever made. Robert Mondavi, who was among us, stood to deliver a stirring paeon of praise to the wines. Then Ernest Gallo clanged on his glass. We all fell into silence as he rose majestically from his chair. “These wines,” he said (and I paraphrase from memory) “are all dead. You want to drink a great red wine?” Here, he lifted up his glass and declared triumphantly, “Gallo Hearty Burgundy!”
Jaws dropped, but there was more amusement and affection than shock. That was Ernest Gallo, outspoken and direct. And who, after all, is to judge? Thank you, Gallo winery, and salud! for Hearty Burgundy!