Live from Santa Barbara County: Day two
Short post today, as I’ve been down here in Santa Barbara County shooting videotapes (or rather, being shot) for a project for Cambria’s blog. It was a very long day yesterday, shooting from just past dawn until after sunset, because the videographer wanted to take advantage of the “golden hours,” when the sun is low in the sky and bathes everything in a 24-karat glow.
As a result, when the day was over, Ellen and I headed back to the guesthouse, instead of going out to eat. There was some pizza at home plus, of course, a lot of wine, including one of my favorites, Cambria’s Julia’s Vineyard Pinot Noir, so we just kicked back and went to sleep early. There were coyotes all over the place—at Cambria, at dusk, a large pack of them howled so loudly that the hair on the back of Gus’s neck bristled, and, later, back at the guesthouse, when I took him out for his nightly ritual, he refused to walk beyond the small circle of light provided by the front door light, but instead peered fitfully out into the shadows, his little nose quivering. There were beasts out there; I couldn’t see them or smell them, like he could, but I could sense them. Our in the country, I’ve been repeatedly warned to keep a close eye on my dog. If it’s not a coyote, it could be a hawk, or a rattlesnake. In Oakland, the main thing Gus and I have to worry about is cars. Vive la difference!
Cambria’s winemaker, Denise Shurtleff, and I talked a lot about the “Santa Maria Bench,” the unofficial name for the stretch of Santa Maria Valley where the best wines are made. This includes, of course, Bien Nacido Vineyard, which is right next to Cambria’s vineyard. I have written and blogged several times over the years about Santa Maria Valley, which is little known, not only to the general public, but even to the so-called gatekeepers, sommeliers and folks like that. They may understand that it’s in Santa Barbara County, but less well comprehended are its special qualities: the well drained, gravelly-limey soils, the long, dry growing season, the moderately warm days and, especially, the downright cold nights. This is Pinot Noir and Chardonnay country par excellence, as well as cool-climate Syrah. The near total absence of water makes for small grapes that result in concentrated flavors, which natural acidity brightens.
Part of Santa Maria Valley’s problem is that there’s very little infrastructure for tourists to enjoy, unlike the neighboring Santa Ynez Valley. Santa Maria Valley has almost nothing in the way of charming little towns, B&Bs, good restaurants, art galleries and so on, and so wine lovers don’t really know about it, or its wines. Some of us are thinking of putting together an educational road show; if anything happens, I’ll let you know.
Meanwhile, thanks as usual for sticking by my blog during these days of personal transition for me. I’ll continue to post five days a week insofar as that’s possible, and I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.