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.
I’m at the Cambria Winery guest house this cold but clear May morning, in the Foxen Canyon part of Santa Barbara County, a beautiful, hilly region I think of as midway between the cooler, more austere Santa Maria Valley and the warmer Santa Ynez Valley. You take Foxen Canyon Road all the way through the Santa Maria Valley until the road winds south and starts to climb into the foothills of the Santa Ynez Mountains. That’s Foxen Canyon.
Gus and I drove down here yesterday. It was a beautiful day for driving, sunny and warm, and also a good day for judging the climate differences along the Central Coast. Around Gilroy the temperature already was in the high seventies. As you come into the Salinas Valley, it cools down to the low seventies, then soars as you hit Paso Robles, where it was over ninety. Then down the dramatic Cuesta Grade toward the coast, and it gets downright cool again, back into the low seventies, before rising once again here in Foxen Canyon, where it was about 84 degrees at mid-day yesterday.
We passed Bien Nacido Vineyard on the way into the Santa Maria Valley, and I appreciated once again how beautiful its vineyards are, set on the benches and then climbing into the hills. There, the climate is cool; with an east-west orientation, the valley is so wide and flat, there’s nothing to stop the foggy maritime influence from sweeping in from the Pacific, across the city of Santa Maria. Right next door to Bien Nacido is the expansive Cambria vineyard, set, like its neighbor, on the Santa Maria Bench, about which Cambria’s winemaker, Denise Shurtleff, and I will be talking later today.
But by the time you get to where I am now, in the guesthouse, just about a mile south of Foxen Winery, the hills pretty much cut off the coastal influence—not entirely, not as much as, say, in Happy Canyon, but largely. This is still a coolish climate, but it’s getting warm, which is why the great wine from these parts—evidenced by Foxen’s and Cambria’s bottlings–is Syrah. We had a glass late last night of Cambria’s Tepusquet Vineyard, following a wine-filled dinner at Grappolo, and it was damned good.
On this trip down from Oakland to Santa Barbara, I always have three must-stops: first, the Rest Area in Bradley, which is where Gus has his first break of the journey. Then, ten miles later, I pull in for a quick pit stop at Starbucks, in Paso Robles, for a java jolt. In wintertime I’ll have a hot cappuccino. Yesterday, in that 90-degree heat, it was a cold vanilla latté. Finally, when you hit the ocean at Shell Beach, my third stop is DePalo’s Market, for a sandwich, which I’m afraid to admit I eat while driving.
I’m here at Cambria to do a video with Denise Shurtleff. My cousin, Ellen, is joining me; she lives in Malibu, and almost always drives up for my visits to Santa Barbara County, just to hang out with me. Her being with me on these expeditions makes them immensely more enjoyable. My job is a nice one, but don’t let anyone tell you these long trips to wine country can’t be lonely for a writer.
What’s the killer social media app for a winery?
I can remember back in the early 1990s when the Internet, or the World Wide Web as most of us called it, was so new that nobody knew precisely what it could be used for. The search was on for “the killer app,” the thing that everybody would want to do, which would therefore earn its users a great deal of money.
As it turned out, some young guys, like Sergei Brim and Larry Page, realized that a search function–the ability to find anything amidst the vast (and growing vaster) hoard of information–was the classic example of a killer app: they created Google and got rich. A little while later, Mark Zuckerberg realized that social networking was the most natural thing in the world for a World Wide Web to do. He created Facebook and also got rich.
(A lot of porn site entrepreneurs also got rich. Enough said about that.)
So those were at least three things the Internet could do (aside from obvious B2B functions that are boring but crucial to companies, not to mention email). The question of the last 5 or 6 years has been, what is the killer app on the Internet for small businesses, and particularly for small wineries–the thing that will help them make money?
I’m not prepared to say, because I don’t know; but yesterday I asked my Facebook friends how they use social media at their wineries, and the overwhelming response was typified by this: “As a tool, FB, Twitter, Pintrest, WEM , are all wonderful ways to connect to your clientele” and this: “I rarely use FB/Twitter for promo and sales. Mostly just to reinforce the simple ‘voice’ of [the winery] and stay in front of my ‘likers’.”
In other words, communication. Several people warned that, as soon as the winery is perceived as trying to sell stuff, it turns friends and followers off. This remains the irony and contradiction within social media.
Central Coast Wrap-up
The Central Coast wine industry seems to be booming, according to this report from the Pacific Coast Business Times. Indeed, you can feel this buzz everywhere you go in wine country. Such a contrast to a few years ago, when a gloomy atmosphere pervaded. I’ll be heading down to Santa Barbara next week for the Chardonnay Symposium, and am stoked by the thought of seeing all the winemakers and tasting their wines.
Blind tasting the cults
Interesting article by my old editor and colleague, Jim Gordon, in Wines & Vines, where he writes of an event at the Culinary Institute of America in which winemakers tasted each other’s wines blind, something they “rarely” get to do.
Winemakers really should do it more often. In fact, they should do it all the time. I know certain cult winemakers who’ve never tasted their own wines blind, much less tasted them against competitors. They might be surprised to find less expensive wines out-performing their own–according to their own palates! But then, that potential danger in blind tasting is probably why more winemakers don’t do it. And anyhow, when it comes to sales, it’s about image as much as it’s about quality. Along these lines, yesterday my sister emailed to ask why some bottles of wine are so heavy. She wanted to know if they cost more than lighter bottles, and, if so, how do the wineries make up for the difference? I explained to her, of course, that some wineries package their wines in heavy bottles in order to make the consumer think the wines are more important. This works very well, and the consumer is willing to pay more for a heavy bottle than for a light one. My sister was surprised, but she needn’t have been. P.T. Barnum spelled this out more than a century ago in his famous dictum about suckers.
I’ve been reviewing some really good Grenache Blancs lately that me me wonder if this isn’t the up and coming white variety in California.
Other critics, it seems to me, give more emphasis to Roussanne and Marsanne than they do to GB. But good as those wines can be, they’re sometimes too oaky or heavy in some way. GB on the other hand is usually unoaked or just neutrally oaked, and so pure and bright in fruit and acidity, it offers something for everyone.
For example, the Jaffurs Vineyard 2011 Grenache Blanc, from the Thompson Vineyard in the Santa Ynez Valley, is one of the best I’ve reviewed this year. It was 35% stainless steel fermented and 65% fermented in neutral oak, which must be responsible for the creamy, smoky notes. But you’d never say this wine is oaky because it isn’t. Also typical of the successful GBs, the wine did not complete the malolactic fermentation, which is the secret behind the bite of green apple acidity that is so cool and refreshing.
I always get orange and tangerine fruit in GBs, although judging by winemakers’ notes, others find everything from melons (cantaloupe and honeydew) to peaches and citron. I can’t imagine a Chardonnay lover not enjoying the richness of a good GB, but I also can’t imagine someone who likes a crisp Pinot Gris or Sauvignon Blanc turning it away. It’s right in that middle of the spectrum, light-bodied, light-hearted and low in alcohol. Makes you think of a summer day in a garden (which is how Hugh Johnson used to describe Rieslings, but it applies equally to GB).
Other fine producers include Zaca Mesa, Tangent, Coghlan, Stark, Tres Hermanos and Tercero. Note the prevalence of Santa Ynez Valley origins. There’s no question that this wonderful, warmish inland valley, in the heart of Santa Barbara’s wine country, has established itself as the capital of Rhône varieties, red and white, in California. The Thompson Vineyard, by the way, is from the Los Alamos Valley, which, I understand, will be an official appellation sooner or later. It’s a very interesting part of the greater Santa Ynez Valley. I think of it as wedged between the warmer, more famous stretches around Los Olivos, Santa Ynez town and Ballard, and the cooler Santa, err, Sta. Rita Hills to the west. Los Alamos Valley, then, sits at the balancing point where the valley goes from cool to warm, which is always a nice place for a wine region to be. I suspect somebody could grow a nice Merlot down there, but I don’t know anyone who does, because it would be a hard sell.
If you’re ever down that way, make a quick visit to the funky little town of Los Alamos, which is on the west side of the Freeway. It has some big antique shops to browse. Eat at Full of Life Flatbread Restaurant, which makes pizzas to dream about. All the local winemakers hang out there. They have a great local wine list. If I lived in the area, I’d be at Flatbread all the time.
We’re in the middle of winter now, and even though the rest of the country laughs at Californians when we complain about 40 degrees, to us, it feels really cold. When I have my first drink of the day, around 5 p.m., I might start with a sip of white wine, just to get myself comfortable. But these chilly nights call for red.
Red wine is warming, to the blood, the mind, the soul. There’s something about it that’s like a soft blanket you wrap yourself in that keeps you cozy. I suppose the relatively higher alcohol of red wine also helps with this warming process. I don’t like to put the heat on, even when my home is chilly, so I’ll often be wearing a sweatshirt and even a woolen cap to keep myself warm. But I always notice, after a glass or two of red wine, that my body temperature rises enough that I can take off the sweatshirt and cap and feel comfortable, even though the actual room temperature hasn’t changed. I like that feeling. It’s as though red wine boosts my body’s ability to balance itself to external conditions.
I love a good Pinot Noir, but on these really cold nights I want something with more body. Zinfandel is a full-bodied wine, but I find that even a good one palls on me after a glass. It’s too strong, too spicy, too briary, often overripe and hot. Even the best Zin doesn’t contain mysteries, which is what makes me want a second or third glass of wine–it contains subtleties that require repeated examination. I might dwell on a Merlot for a few glasses, but it would have to be a very good one: La Jota, Shafer, Rutherford Hill, Turnbull, Hunnicutt, all from Napa Valley. A new Napa winery that’s impressed me is Crosby Roamann; they have a Merlot from Oak Knoll that’s really good. There’s not much Merlot out there in California to challenge Napa Valley, although I recently enjoyed a Happy Canyon Vineyard 2007 “Barrack Brand” Merlot. That new Happy Canyon AVA is one to watch.
Syrah, for me, often has the same limitation as Zinfandel. That first sip can be deliriously delicious. But does it keep you coming back for more? A few do. Syrah, though, is one variety that Napa Valley doesn’t dominate. Since winter began, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed Syrahs from Donelan (Cuvee Keltie), MacLaren (Judge Family Vineyard) and Del Dotto (Cinghiale Vineyard), all from Sonoma County. But it’s Santa Barbara County Syrah that’s really surprised me. Among the best are Andrew Murray, Brander, Rusack, Whitcraft, Larner, Margerum and La Fenetre. What is it about Santa Barbara that’s so hospitable to Syrah? Food for thought.
Still, when all is said and done, on those cold nights when I want to snuggle in with a red wine, it’s invariably Cabernet Sauvignon. It has the rich body I want, also the intrigue and complexity that make it so interesting as it breathes and changes. I suppose this is why they call Cabernet a “noble” variety, a word that’s hard to define, except to imply that it has layers you keep discovering, one by one, like the experience of great music or literature or painting.
Here are some great Cabs I’ve been drinking this winter: Goldschmidt, World’s End, Venge, Trefethen, Turnbull, B Cellars, Patland, PerryMoore, Hunnicutt, V. Sattui, Arger-Martucci, Altvs [the “v” is not a typo, it’s the way Bill Foley wants it), Antonio Patric, Tudal and Napa Angel by Montes. These are all from Napa Valley and its various sub-appellations, and most of them are single vineyard wines. Two vineyards show up repeatedly: Stagecoach and Beckstoffer To Kalon. When people say great wine is made in the vineyard, they’re talking about wines like these.