It’s not that I’m uninterested in the replacement of Robert Parker by his protege, Anotonio Galloni, in reviewing California wines. I am interested. If Jim Laube gave up California, I’d be interested in that, too. If I gave up California, or rather my coastal part of it (I happily share the rest of the state with Virginie Boone), I assume that would be a fairly significant story for the wine press to cover. However, what I have no interest in is what some of my fellow wine bloggers are doing: treating this Galloni thing as some sort of epochal shift that’s making History, like a Presidential election. They’re interpreting every move Galloni makes, every word he writes, with the mesmerized fascination of a Kremlinologist, or a Vatican watcher trying to make sense of some newly elected Pope, or the scrutiny of a Supreme Court reporter discerning which way a new appointee leans.

People, get a grip! Galloni is not the new Pope! He’s a nice-looking dude covering California wine, the new kid in town. We should look forward to welcoming him to the Golden State, if we get the opportunity to meet him, as we never did with Parker, who traveled here as though he were Mick Jagger. But he’s just another one of us, no more or less important than anyone else.

Yet I have read, with astonishment and bemusement, the fevered speculations of certain wine bloggers in covering Antonio’s first Cali reviews. Here’s Terroirist, deconstructing them as if they contained clues to the existence of life on Mars. Here’s Blake Gray, breathlessly combing through the scores, like a mathematician in search of the solution to Fermat’s Last Theorem. Here’s Alder Yarrow, admittedly a little less discombobulated, but still trying to have it both ways by arguing that–while Galloni’s coming means “nothing”–he’s going to headline it anyway.

As Macbeth might have said of all this hyperventilated reportage, “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Not that I am calling the three aforementioned fine bloggers idiots! Highest respects! Blog on, brothers! But we bloggers collectively have got to get past the pall that Parker/Wine Advocate threw on the California wine scene for too long–one that the industry accepted too blithely. It was unhealthy, a dark, smothering cloud of choking soot that kept California wine from evolving normally. What we need in California, as the state and the country emerge from the Recession, is a free, fair, open conversation about California wine: what it is, what it isn’t, what it should be, what it could be, if only it were allowed to develop unimpaired, in a free market. Unimpaired is exactly what it wasn’t during the Parker era. One voice, for the most part, defined reality, thus paralyzing the free market into a talibaneque stylistic monopoly.

I was hopeful, when I heard of Parker’s impending retirement from my state, that multiple voices could be heard. But what happens when multiple voices now conspire to all talk about the same thing? Same old same old: The Wine Advocate, written by whomever, continues to dominate the chitchat.

You won’t find me deciphering Galloni. I don’t care what he says. I didn’t read Parker and I won’t read A.G. It’s not that I’m ruling out any mention of Galloni forever. I’ll write about him on an as-needed basis, the same way I’ll write about Jon Bonné or Jordan Mackay or Charlie Olken or Laube or Joe Blow, if I feel like it. But I’m not going to obsess on Galloni any more than I will on 1WineDude. (Happy new year, Joe!)

Make no mistake, the old order in California is as dead as 2011. If it was bizarre for bloggers to suffer from Parker Obsessive Disease, it’s even weirder for them to come down with a self-inflicted case of Galloni Obsessive Disease. So bloggers, if you want to take the cure, just let Dr. Steve know. He’s here to help you.

Wilson Daniels, the marketing and sales company based in St. Helena, has been around since 1978, but they’ve finally done something they might have done years ago: they started their own brand, also called Wilson Daniels.

I’ve long been an admirer of Wilson Daniels, the company. They have, arguably, the most prestigious portfolio in the U.S., with wineries from some of the major wine regions of the world. Their claim to fame is, of course, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, of which they are the exclusive American importer, but their California wineries are also impressive: Clos Pegase, Schramsberg, Lancaster, Gainey, Roth and a couple of others.

It never would have occurred to me, even two years ago, to wonder why Wilson Daniels didn’t launch their own brand. We tend to think of producers, on the one hand, and businesses on the corporate side, like Wilson Daniels, as mutually exclusive. I can’t think of another sales and marketing firm that has its own brand. Generally, companies understand what they do well and what they don’t; they veer toward the former and tend to stay away from the latter. Wilson Daniels (and I haven’t spoken to anyone there, so this is just guesswork on my part) evidently decided they can walk and chew gum at the same time.

Their first wines are relatively inexpensive, ranging from $14-$19, ranged across five varietals (Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon). All bear a Central Coast appellation. They sent me only the Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, neither of which is great shakes. I suspect all five wines say “Vinted and bottled by” on the back label, which means, in essence, that Wilson Daniels picked up the wines at a good price from somebody down in that area of California. Question: Why did Wilson Daniels, whose winery clients charge a lot of money for their wines, put something so ordinary on the market? The first commandment of business is to make a profit, and Wilson Daniels figured they could, by buying cheap and selling a little bit dearer. Could Wilson Daniels have released more expensive, better wines? I’m sure they could have, with all their connections. Maybe they didn’t wish to compete against their own clients. The price range–again, $14-$19–is a popular entry point these days for new brands. It’s not cheap, but it’s not expensive either, and that range is the comfort zone for consumers in 2012, as America emerges from this awful Recession and start spending again.

Another iconic name also has started a brand: Bien Nacido. Everybody knows them as one of the greatest vineyards in California, if not the New World. The designation “Bien Nacido Vineyard,” on dozens of wines from some of the state’s most prestigious wineries, is as close to an assurance of a very good wine as any vineyard designation can be. But the Miller family, who own Bien Nacido, have decided to launch their own brand, under the same name.

They faced similar but slightly different challenges from Wilson Daniels. For starters, should they call the brand Bien Nacido, or something different? Calling it Bien Nacido could cause some confusion out there in the marketplace, and might be seen as competing against the clients they sell grapes to. But they decided to call it Bien Nacido, and who am I to argue with that? It’s a fine name, and it would have been silly not to take advantage of it, in my opinion.

The Millers, however, did what Wilson Daniels didn’t: they came out with expensive wines. I’ve reviewed only two so far: the Syrah and the Pinot Noir, both from 2007. Both cost $52. The Syrah is awesome; I scored it 96 points. I gave the Pinot 90 points, but the truth is, it could be better today than when I reviewed it, last March. Bien Nacido also took the bold, ambitious step of hiring one of the foremost winemakers in California, Trey Fletcher, whom they lured away from Littorai. I think that testifies to their ambition to play at the highest level of which they’re capable, which is a very high level, indeed. After all, they won’t have any problem obtaining the best Bien Nacido fruit! There’s this consideration, too: having decided to brand the wines under the Bien Nacido name, the Millers certainly could not have released ordinary wine; that would have tarnished the Bien Nacido name they’ve spent so long burnishing.

Might Wilson Daniels someday decide to come out with an expensive Pinot Noir or Cabernet to rival, say, Lancaster, Clos Pegase of Gainey? Who’s to say? Two different companies, two different points of view and business philosophies. I wish them both luck in their new ventures.

The best thing about prognostications (a fancy word for “guess”) is that nobody can prove you’re wrong in advance, and by the time the future comes, it’s unlikely anyone will haul out your predictions and show how massively incorrect they were. So here we go: my prognostications about what we can expect next year in the world of wine.

The big news is that the wine industry will improve economically. The conventional wisdom of the last three-plus years is that wine at the high end has been slammed, as consumers, wary of spending too much, cut back on the amount they’re willing to pay for a bottle of wine. This has supposedly been good for companies like Bronco, Gallo, The Wine Group and others who can manufacture a sound bottle of wine and retail it for under ten bucks. But it’s been very hard on premium wineries. I’ve heard it time and time again, from owners and/or winemakers at these wineries, who tell me, off the record, that they’d be lying if they claimed everything was hunky dory.

But the U.S. economy seems to be recovering, and I have the feeling 2012 is going to be robust. I think the GDP will be up sharply, the housing market will show signs of life, the unemployment rate will go down, and personal income will rise, albeit modestly. We’ve seen, in the latest economic cycle, that consumers are spending like they haven’t spent in three years. They’re sick and tired of frugality. They haven’t treated themselves to very much since 2007, and they’re reading to start living again! That means a $12, $15, $18, maybe even a $20 bottle of wine.

I don’t see any major trends erupting in 2012, but hey, I missed sweet Moscato! The sweet red wine trend will pick up steam, but who cares? (No disrespect to anybody, but I’m into fine wine, not plonk.) I can guarantee you Chardonnay will continue to sell like crazy, and don’t look for lower levels of oak anytime soon (despite the oak-free phenomenon), because all those consumers with a sweet tooth (Moscato, reds) will find oaky California Chardonnay to their liking, with its sweet, simple vanilla and butterscotch flavors.

Cabernet Sauvignon and Pinot Noir remain red hot. I think the Cabernet market from $12-$18 will be particularly healthy, and for sure there are a lot of good wines at that price. There’s nothing going on in Pinot Noir below $18, but once you get up to $25-plus, your options increase. Pinot will be seen as a luxury wine, Cabernet as the everyday standard, and the reason that won’t change is inherent in the properties of the varieties themselves. You just can’t make a decent Pinot Noir unless the vineyard is in the right place and yields are kept low. That’s not true for Cabernet, which can be made decently from Temecula and Lodi to the Sierra Foothills and Mendocino County.

On the social media side, I don’t expect any great breakthroughs when it comes to wineries using Twitter, Facebook, blogs, etc. in 2012. An interesting article in today’s San Francisco Chronicle suggests that Twitter “can marginally help a candidate’s general message…but the jury is out as to whether tweets lead to votes.” Isn’t that what I’ve been saying here for years–that engaging, even heavily, in social media can help a winery marginally to get the message out, but the jury is still out on whether or not social media can lead to sales. I maintain that position. Wineries are in a good position to take advantage of the impending recovery, but they’re going to have to do it the old-fashioned way: by pounding the pavements, or hiring salesmen to do it for them. Advertising, for those who can afford it, helps, as does a proper alignment of quality and price.

My final prognostication is that I’ll still be here, blogging, writing and reviewing for Wine Enthusiast, and having fun running around California and, hopefully, staying out of trouble.

Those wacky ‘Bamans are at it again. Now, the Bible thumpers that run the former Confederate state have banned Cycles Gladiator, the wine brand, from their pious state, because the label depicts–Gasp!–a nekkid lady!

Only in America, folks!

This brings back memories of when the old BATF banned a David Lance Goines label on a Kenwood wine, arguing that “the drawing of the young lady must be deleted.” The lady, you see, had the misfortune to have, ahem, a pair of breasts that were not adequately and modestly hidden from covetuous view. But then, this is the same government bureau that banned an imported French Bordeaux, Chateau Haut Gay [irony duly noted], “because the label is ‘an incentive to debauchery,’” according to the blog of the well-known legal scholar, Jonathan Turley.

What is it about this country and prurience, anyway? We have some of the dirtiest movies in the world. Advertising agencies use sexy models to persuade us to buy furniture polish or have our rugs steam cleaned. Little girls go running around dressed like ladies of the evening, apparently with their parents’ blessing. Everybody’s doing it but nobody’s allowed to talk about it. And then a winery comes out with a tasteful image of a woman on the label, and all hell breaks loose!

A naked body! Gotta hide it; might cause the kiddies to go crazy. Don’t want Grampa seein’ that pervert stuff! This is the same instinct that caused our God-fearing ancestors to use drapery and bushes to cover the genitals of people depicted in Michaelangelo’s The Last Judgment, and made some self-appointed Protector of Family Values glue a fig leaf over the mid-area of the statue of Mercury, in the Vatican.

Hahn Family Wines, which produces the enormously successful Cycles Gladiator brand, isn’t taking this silliness lying down. Their company president, Bill Leigon, issued a statement saying “We were unaware of the new ruling until now when it was deemed pornographic” and vowing to comply with Alabama law, but the cheek has a tongue firmly wedged in it: At the bottom of its website is a new link, “Buy all of your Banned in Alabama Products here in our Banned in Alabama Shop.” As usual, all that this anti-nudity stupidity has succeeded in accomplishing is (a) driving sales of the very products they wanted banned, (b) depriving the good people of Alabama of a perfectly good, affordable wine, and (c) making Alabama the laughingstock of a nation with far more to worry about than “a person posed in an immoral or sensuous manner,” in the words of the Alabama Alcoholic Beverage Control Board. No wonder the official state bird of Alabama is–the turkey!

California producers who name their wines with ersatz French terms fall into two groups, although fundamentally, they share the same trait: pretentiousness. They’re either struggling entrepreneurs with little knowledge of France who hope to hoodwink consumers with what they think is a fancy French vocabulary that will get consumers to pay more than the wine is worth, or else they’re rich gazillionaires who have pied-a-terres in the 3rd arrondissement, wear French shirts and ties and think of themselves as at least semi-French.

Before I go any further, I want to let certain people off the hook. First off is Merry Edwards, who uses “Méthode a L’Ancienne” to suggest her minimalist approach, and Verité, whose French winemaker entitles him to call his wines “La Joie”, “La Muse” and “Le Desir,” although I wouldn’t. I exempt also Roederer Estate’s L’Ermitage; after all, they are owned by Roederer.

But why would an American call something by a French name? Here, in no particular order, are some prime offenders:

Clendenen “Le Bon Ciimat.” You want to suggest this is a particularly good terroir? Say so in English. Lynmar “La Sereinité “ Chardonnay? What’s wrong with a simple Serenity? Sbragia “La Promessa” Zinfandel? How about The Promise? Demetria “Le Belier” Pinot Noir? I don’t know what that means and I don’t care. Laetitia Reserve du Domaine Pinot Noir? Why not just call it reserve? It’s a really good wine, but it’s from California, not Burgundy. Domaine Carneros La Terre Promise Pinot Noir? Come on. Yates Family Vineyard Fleur de Veeder Merlot? Good wine, but we don’t call wines “Fleur” in California. Copain Les Voisins Pinot Noir? Please explain what you mean. Brander Au Naturel  Sauvignon Blanc? Why not just say “unoaked” and respect the language? Arrowood Reserve Speciale Chardonnay? Memo to company: We don’t spell “special” with an “e”, and in the English language, adjectives precede nouns. Joseph Swan Cuvée de Trois Pinot Noir? WTF? Just tell us where the grapes are from. Francis Ford Coppola Votre Sante Chardonnay? Thanks for the toast, now translate, please. William Knuttel Le Petit Malin? Chimney Rock Elevage Blanc? It’s just a white Meritage, get over it. Daou Chemin de Fleurs? What’s that all about? Birichino Vieilles Vignes Grenache? Why not just say “old vines”? Lasseter Paysage and Amoureux? How stuck up is that? Harmonique Elegancé Pinot Noir? What’s with that accent mark? Andrew Murray Espérance? Dear Andrew, it’s a pretty good GSM but why not just call it that? Ditto Koehler Les 3 Cépages. Rutz Maison Grand Cru Chardonnay? Does French make it sound better than it is? RN Estate, why not just tell us what your Cuvée des Trois Cepages is made from? And for that matter, what about your “Symphonie de Cepages”? What are you trying to prove? Valley of the Moon, what’s wrong with “Sangiovese rosé” instead of Rosato di Sangiovese? (Okay, it’s not French, but you get the idea.) Capture, what’s “Les Pionniers” on your Sauvignon Blanc? Terre Rouge, does “Les Côtes de l’Ouest” mean West Slope? Just say so. Landy Family, your “Melange de Vin Rouge Estate” is an honest red blend; don’t try to hide behind presumptuous language. Suncé Les Trois Amis? Just tell us the varieties with an honest name. Collier Falls Syrah du Soleil? What are you trying to say about the Sun? Lucas & Lewellen Cote Del Sol Cabernet Sauvignon, please stop pretending and come up with something authentic. Jeff Gordon Ella Sofia Joie de Vivre? What do your NASCAR fans have to say about that French-fried silliness? Hunt Cellars Bon Vivant Cabernet Sauvignon? Oh, please. While we’re on the subject, let’s recognize poofy Spanish and Italian names: Lynmar’s Terra de Promissio Pinot Noir, Benziger’s de Coelo Terra Neuma Pinot, Bella Luna Riserva Bellicaia Cabernet Sauvignon-Sangiovese.

What’s wrong with English? Would a self-respecting French producer ever call a wine “My Dear Sister” or “Little Friend” or “Child of the Sun”? I don’t think so. To the critic, these Eurocentric names suggest a fancified, phony effort to boost the price, a kind of self-loathing when you come right down to it that masquerades as something it feels better about. Some Americans think anything with a French name is better than anything with an honest English name, but just the opposite is true. We should get over the obsession with France and understand that California wines need pay homage to nothing, except their own terroir.

I have to agree with my buddy and Wine Enthusiast colleague, Paul Gregutt, when he says that most California Merlot priced between $6-$8 is “just watery plonk.”

That’s from Paul’s Seattle Times column yesterday. Now, Paul takes seriously his job of promoting Washington State wines, often to the detriment of California wines (although he loves hanging out here during Washington’s evil winters, and why wouldn’t a grape like our climate?). In the same way, I feel obligated to defend California wines as among the world’s best. Washington State does produce some pretty good wines. I don’t get the chance to drink them a lot, but whenever I’m up there, if Paul’s around he treats me to treasures from his cellar.

But he’s right about cheap California Merlot. I’ve tasted about 200 Merlots at all price points this year. Of those, I scored around one-third 85 points or less. Now, that’s a “good” wine, by Wine Enthusiast’s definition, but it’s not really one you’d want to be stuck with over a nice meal, especially when the price is $30, $49, $56, as some of these were. Granted, none were as awful as the one I found undrinkable, which will be unidentified, except here’s the review: A horrible wine. Smells like rotting garbage, tastes like cough medicine. Even at seven bucks, it was a total ripoff. Something obviously went tragically wrong with that wine, but we can’t hold it against Merlot, the variety, when somebody starts with crappy grapes and then makes a crappy wine.

More typical of Paul’s “watery plonk” Merlots was this one, which I scored 81 points: Raw and harsh in green tannins, with bubblegum and raspberry sour candy flavors. The problem with the tannins in Merlot is that, unless they’re really fine, they stick out like a sore thumb, and rob Merlot of the velvety, sexy mouthfeel it should have. (I love Hugh Johnson’s characterization of Pomerol as “fleshy and delicious.”) When the tannins are off, so is everything else.

I will identify a typical 86 point Merlot I reviewed because, while the score isn’t all that high, it’s only $11, and I gave it an Editor’s Choice special designation: the Greystone 2009, also with a California appellation. Here’s my review: Softly delicate and dry, this affordable Merlot has lots of charm. It’s a smooth, medium-bodied wine with pleasant cherry, cola, pepper and sandalwood flavors.

Not a bad description, if I do say so myself!

Paul, however, misses the boat when he paints all of California with the same brush, arguing that “the state can’t seem to find a handle on what Merlot is, or should taste like.” He can’t have access to the best Cali Merlots, the way I do, but if he could, he’d understand that there is a California Merlot style at the high end, as exemplified by Rutherford Hill, Keenan, Duckhorn, Turnbull, Hall, Pride Mountain, Shafer, Jarvis, Yates Family, Kennefick Ranch, Carter and others, all of which have Napa Valley AVAs or sub-AVAs (except for the Pride Mountain, which is Napa-Sonoma, and the Carter, which is Napa-Carneros). These wines are rich, dense and deeply flavored, soft and lush in the mouth, and stuffed with jam fruit and cedar flavors, often enriched with cocoa. They are distinguished from their brother, Cabernet Sauvignon, by gentler tannins. They are, pace Hugh Johnson, fleshy. Wouldn’t it be great to stage a blind tasting of some of these against some of Paul’s Washington faves, such as Leonetti, L’Ecole, Quilceda Creek, Chateau Ste. Michelle, Sineann and Northstar?

By the way, the highest scoring Merlot I ever reviewed was Chateau St. Jean’s 2005 Reserve, which I gave 96 points. It cost $90, the second priciest ever, after a $100 Blankiet 2004 (95 points). Those are serious, seriously good Merlots. I think even Paul Gregutt would like them.