The dogs are sleeping the day away, recharging their batteries after a week of romping in the surf. Me? I'm just enjoying my last day of vacation. Regular programming to resume tomorrow. (Sorry to keep you waiting, Joe.)
From the MFWT archives – November 5, 2007.
Crossing the border into Alsace after a brief two days on the German side of the Rheinland, our first stop in France during a February 2004 wine trek was at Domaine Barmès-Buecher. Situated on the Route des Vins in Wettolsheim, just SW of Colmar in the Haut-Rhin, the estate was founded in 1985, joining the work of the Barmès and Buecher families which had each been involved in some aspect of viticulture since the 17th Century. François Barmès and his wife Genevieve (née Buecher) along with eight full-time employees, farm a total of 16 hectares of vineyard, spanning six different communes in the environ of Wettolsheim, from the Grand Cru sites of Pfersigberg in the south to Hengst in the north. The estate is made up of 96 separate vineyard plots, ranging in size from as large as two contiguous hectares to as small as five or six rows in a particular climat. Our visit there would prove to be one of the most intense of the entire trip.
In the Field:
François Barmès completed conversion of his entire property to Biodynamics in 1998, reflecting a change in philosophy that had begun for him in the early 1990s. I’ve met few vignerons with energy levels as intense as that of François and I’ve yet to meet anyone with as passionate an attachment to his land. That passion was reflected in our time spent at the estate. Arriving shortly after a quick lunch at a little café in Wettolsheim, we met François at his winery and headed straight out to his vineyards. The sun was setting by the time we returned to the winery, at least four hours having elapsed. During those hours, M. Barmès led us from vineyard to vineyard, expounding on his farming practices, the special characteristics and energy of each plot, the negative effects of conventional farming on the land around his, and on the viticultural trends and climatic tendencies of Alsace in general.
The Vosges, at 1300-1400 meters elevation, lie just to the west of Alsace, creating a natural rain block for the viticultural landscape. Combined with the reflective power of the sun beaming off those hills onto the vineyards below, the climate in Alsace is naturally much warmer and drier than in the German portions of the Rheinland. In spite of that warmth, Alsace, as one of the northernmost wine regions of France (only Champagne is more northerly), sees a low number of sunlight hours throughout the growing season.
To work that limited sunlight to its fullest advantage, Barmès utilizes Double Guyot vine training, with wires placed at 1.8 meters to maximize the sunlight captured by his vines. He seeks naturally low yields in the vineyard, training his vine shoots in a downward arc meant to slow the flow of chlorophyll to the grapes and to promote full foliage development. He does not practice green harvesting, fruit reduction or leaf removal, operating in a belief that vines possess long-term memory and that removing pieces of their whole only redirects energy in confused directions. And it seems to work. His yields average 35-50 hl/ha, low by any reasonable standards and quite low given the Alsace AOC standard of 80 hl/ha.


From the MFWT archives – December 4, 2007.
Monday, February 23, 2004. After an unusual morning spent in the caves and tasting rooms of Philippe Poniatowski in Vouvray, followed by a modest lunch at a bistro on the edge of town, it was off to the other side of the river. Our afternoon appointment was at the Montlouis domaine of François Chidaine, a serious, stoic and talented wine grower – and the ascending star of both Montlouis-sur-Loire and Vouvray.
From the driveway where we initially met Chidaine, on a tiny road leading up and away from the river, his winery looked like little more than a garage excavated into the hillside. Before venturing in, we took to the cars for a drive up the hill to the plateau above.
François Chidaine’s property consists of approximately 20 hectares of vines, spread along a two kilometer periphery around the village of Montlouis, all set on the hillside and plateau which dominate the valley. He farms his land with a close eye to nature. At the time of our visit, all but two hectares of his vines were being farmed biodynamically. Chidaine, however, insists on making no mention of organics or biodynamics on his bottles. In fact, he’s loath to talk much about biodynamie at all. He farms naturally because he feels it results in a purer expression of the vine and of his terroir. Attracting the organically inclined shopper is not a concern. Customers and importers line up, via a waiting list, to buy his wines, about 50% of which are broadly exported with the other 50% going to the French market.
Given that it was snowing intermittently during our visit and that there was a surprising amount of standing water in the vineyards, François opted not to take us through each and every one of his eight distinct plots. Instead, most of our outdoor time was spent in Le Clos Volgets, an essentially flat climat of argilo-silex soil situated atop the plateau. His vines are trained in the double Guyot method and kept low to the ground to capture reflective heat from the soil below. During the winter months, he keeps a soil cover of vegetation between the rows to protect against run-off, a natural tendency of the erosive soils in Montlouis and one of the primary farming differences relative to neighboring Vouvray. Two weeks after our visit, the soils would be turned to allow the earth to breathe in anticipation of the onset of spring. The fruit from the 45 year-old vines in Volgets goes mostly to his demi-sec, multi-vineyard cuvée Les Tuffeaux.
On the way back to our vehicles, François pointed out both Clos Habert and Clos de Breuil, from which he produces vineyard-designated bottlings, respectively demi-sec and sec in style. Taking a circuitous route across the plateau en route to the winery, he also indicated a new vineyard of four hectares that he had recently purchased and replanted. Atypically rich in clay and dense of soil, this hard-to-farm site was Les Bournais, the source of the eponymous wine first produced by Chidaine from the fruit grown in 2004.
Back at the winery, where we were joined by François’ cousin Nicolas, we found the scene behind the aforementioned garage doors perfectly befitting of Chidaine’s personality – plain stone walls, no nonsense, nothing extra, just barrels and the most basic tools of the trade. All wines are vinified in cask, primarily of 600 liters, with 10% of production fermented and aged in 300 liter barrels. Reflective of his approach to his terroir, fruit from every distinct parcel is vinified separately; blends are assembled in preparation for bottling. Fermentations are very slow, running completely under the steam of natural yeasts. Filtration is used minimally yet rigorously, only between barrel and bottle and only when necessary.
As the barrel segment of our tasting would consist solely of wines from 2003, François prepped us with a bit of info on the local effects of the notoriously hot, dry vintage. Due to the difficult growing conditions, production for the year was only about 40% of the estate’s normal average yields of 35 hl/ha. Harvest, which normally begins in mid-October and continues into November, began in late September and was completed on October 14. The combination of low acidity and high ripeness led to wines that are very concentrated but lacking in maturity of structure. At this point, his plan was to finish all of the wines in the 12 to 12.5% alcohol range, so even the usually dry wines would have some pretty measurable residual sugar. The ripeness levels of the vintage allowed for the production of Sélection de Grains Nobles (SGN) for the first time since 1997 and 1999. His advice for the vintage: drink the 2003s while the 2002s rest in your cellar.
Tasting wines from barrel like this – still fermenting and unassembled – is always an exercise more technical than satisfying. Nonetheless, it can be enlightening as to a producer’s thought processes, vinification techniques and overall approach. It’s also a wonder, down the road, to see how the parts become a more complete whole. The precision of Chidaine’s technique and presentation was matched, more entertainingly, by Nicolas’ spitting abilities. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone produce a thinner, more precise stream, always on target even when he was standing five feet away from the small spittoon we all shared.
Tasting from barrel:
From the MFWT archives – October 5, 2007.
Weingut Emrich-Schönleber’s viticultural history is fairly recent. It’s under the aegis of the current patriarch, Werner Schönleber, who completed his viticultural studies in 1967, that the estate has slowly but surely risen over the last few decades to the top tier of Nahe wine estates. The early vinicultural history of the estate, however, goes back 250 years on Werner’s mother’s side – the Emrich side – of the family. At the time of my visit at the estate in February 2004, young Frank Schönleber, Werner’s son, was still enrolled in viticulture and oenology programs at the College of Geisenheim. “Junior” has since joined the estate’s farming and wine growing team in a full-fledged capacity, making Emrich-Schönleber a truly multi-generational, family winery.
Not familiar with the Nahe? Aside from the fame of the wines of Dönnhoff and, more recently, of Schönleber, that’s not too surprising. The Nahe is a small river relative to the majestic Rhein and lacks something in luster when compared to the storied history and famous estates of the Mosel-Saar-Ruwer valleys. To oversimplify the path of the river, the Nahe flows “between” the Mosel and the Rhein. It finds its source in the highlands not far to the west-southwest of Monzingen and then follows a serpentine path eastward, turning to the north-northeast near Bad Kreuznach before eventually finding its confluence with the Rhein near the town of Bingen. This puts Monzingen, the home of the Emrich-Schönleber estate, squarely in the upper, outer reaches of the Nahe.
It was the first journey to the Nahe for all of the members of our trip so it was with a mild sense of adventure that we left our morning appointment with Weingut Keller in the Rheinhessen, found Monzingen on the map and pointed our trio of cars in the right direction. An hour or so later, we found ourselves circling the quiet, fairly modern, somewhat suburban looking village of Monzingen, conducting a ritual which would be repeated many times over the course of our trek: looking for the little brown sign which would point us down the correct street to the winery. Finally making our way into the winery’s courtyard, we were greeted by Werner, a tall, athletic and reserved yet friendly man, his silver wave of hair the only clue to his years. After introductions and basic amenities, he led us back to our cars and out to the family’s vineyards.
The Schönleber property comprises roughly 14 hectares (around 33 acres) of vines, all within the village boundaries of Monzingen. More than ten of those hectares – roughly 75% of the overall property – are planted on the steep slopes of the hillsides overlooking the Nahe. That 75% figure is mirrored by the ratio to which the fields are planted to Riesling. Pinot Gris, Pinot Blanc and tiny amounts of Scheurebe and other vines are planted as well, primarily on the flatter ground or in the richer soil bases, as they are considered to give less clear expressions of terroir than Riesling and are therefore deemed less worthy of the best sites. The slopes of the Monzingen hillsides range from 20% to 60% grades. While not as foreboding at first glance as the precipice-like pitches we’d seen at Weingut Ratzenberger the prior day, we were clearly in an arena where only the hard farming, strong and committed wine grower would choose to stake a claim. In fact, my overall impression upon entering the vineyards was that they seemed an amalgam, in the best sense, between the stark, stony slopes of the Mittelrhein and the gentler, sunnier, more fertile hillocks we’d seen that morning in the Rheinhessen.
Prime plots of the Frühlingsplätzchen and Halenberg vineyards, both Großes Gewächs (grand cru) sites, comprise the heart of the Schönleber’s property. Given the quality and clarity we already knew Schönleber’s wines to possess, we were stunned to find fields lying fallow all around their own well maintained parcels. Werner explained that many people, having come into their property through inheritance, have a sentimental attachment to the land which holds them back from selling. Yet they are not willing to undertake the work necessary to form them, to farm them, into the quality vineyards they could be. Understandable I suppose, but a crying shame. To the good though, it has given Werner and his family the slow but sure opportunity to add to their property over the years as some of those sentimental hold-outs have chosen to capitalize on their deeds. Werner speaks of Riesling with deep respect. He calls it a “hunger artist.” And at each step, the estate has focused its growth toward the best overall capacity for expression of that artistry by focusing their growth only on the choicest sites and steepest slopes.


From the MFWT archives – August 4, 2007.
The 94th edition of the Tour de France came to an end last weekend, its loop finishing, as always, with a grand procession into Paris for a final few laps round the Champs d’Elysées. This year’s race marked both the emergence of some bright new talent and the near submergence of the race in the face of yet more news of doping and scandal at the sport’s highest levels. Whether or not you care for the competitive aspects of the race, one can’t help but appreciate the beauty of the ritual and the beauty of the landscape through which it passes. As any circuit of France which does not limit itself to the extreme North must, Le Tour inexorably passes through – or at least by – many parts of French wine country. As this year’s penultimate stage, the final deciding time trial, began in the town of Cognac, I found myself inspired to go back to the archives and write up an afternoon I spent in Juillac-le-Coq, a town located in the heart of the Grande Champagne district of Cognac, in February 2004.
Pulling into the courtyard of Domaine de la Pouyade late in the afternoon, the winter sun already in decline after unexpected delays at the lunch table and on the autoroute, we were a bit afraid we’d missed our appointment. The imposing chateau and outbuildings were eerily quiet. Finally, a pair of shaggy dogs bound toward us, followed shortly thereafter by the son of the estate’s current patriarch, Pascal Fillioux. Pascal himself was not far behind. I would be remiss in not mentioning that this was a wine biz trip; our stop in Cognac was not only an added little bonus, it also put us all on a very steep learning curve.
Our education commenced posthaste, as M. Fillioux led us through a quick tour of the estate’s distillation facilities. We learned that the onion-like shapes sprouting from the copper pot stills in the distillery are distinct to the better areas of Cognac – Grande Champagne and Petit Champagne – and are designed to extract a greater sense of terroir than are the olive shaped heads used in the outlying Fins and Bons Bois. Cognac always goes through two distillations. The first produces an end liquid of around 28-30% alcohol called the brouillis. During the second fermentation, a typical batch of 10 hectoliters is typically divided into three parts. The first hectoliter or so is the head, the last hectoliter the tail, in between is the coeur, the heart of the Cognac which will go on to the barrel aging caves. At la Pouyade, the head and tail are reused; one part is mixed with the wine for the primary distillation of the next batch, the other part is mixed with the brouillis prior to the secondary distillation. At the end of the second distillation – this must be completed by the end of March in the year following the harvest – the new Cognac averages 70% alcohol.
From the MFWT archives – July 3, 2007.
One of the fringe benefits of teaching classes at Tria Fermentation School is the occasional invitation to sit in as an observer at one of their other sessions. This past Wednesday, I had the pleasure of attending a seminar featuring the Chinons of Domaine Charles Joguet. The course was presented by François-Xavier (FX) Barc, winemaker and estate manager at Joguet. Leading up to M. Barc’s program were introductions from Michael McCaulley, Tria partner and Fermentation School Manager, and Matt Cain, regional sales representative for Kermit Lynch, the importer responsible for bringing Joguet’s Chinons into the US market.
FX opened with a cursory overview of the wine traditions of the Loire, beginning from the river’s mouth in Muscadet, running through Anjou and Saumur, leading to the Touraine and ending, from his perspective, in the area around Sancerre. Returning, of course, to the Touraine village of Chinon, he covered a brief description of the major terroirs of Chinon, from the riverside vineyards to the plateau and hillside plantings. Domaine Joguet itself is located in Sazilly, on the South banks of the Vienne, essentially across the river from Chinon’s largest commune of Cravant-les-Coteaux and ESE of the fortress of Chinon itself. With forty hectares under vine – thirty-seven hectares planted to Cabernet Franc, three to Chenin – the estate annually produces seven or eight different cuvées, each representative of a particular style, terroir or single vineyard site.
Francois-Xavier’s first experience at Joguet was as vineyard manager and assistant winemaker from 1998-2000. After a brief stint at other wineries, he returned in 2003, at the request of current owner Jacques Genet, to become the estate’s head winemaker and viticulturist. His rise was capped earlier this year when his role was expanded, upon the retirement of Alain Delaunay, to include managing the commercial aspects of the business. Since his return, FX has carried on with the already established project of moving the property’s vineyards to organic farming practices. Currently, about 50% of the estate is farmed organically with incremental portions being converted to organics each year. He is adamant about carrying the organic practices into the winery as well, seeing little value in natural farming followed by chemical adjustments in the cellar. The young Monsieur Barc is judicious in the use of oak and with stylistic flourishes in general, preferring to let the nuances of each cuvée in each vintage guide his hand with decisions in the cellar.
Winding down with his technical discussions, and as he could see people in the audience beginning to salivate, FX finally moved onto the tasting portion of the seminar.
Chinon “Les Petites Roches,” Charles Joguet 2004
From a typical, elegant vintage, the 2004 Petites Roches showed a bright, transparent ruby tone in the glass, followed by a gentle, medium-bodied approach on the palate. Red currant, raspberry and herbaceous tones followed through on a modest 12.5% alcohol framework. From 30-40 year old vines, culled to 40 hl/ha yields, from six hectares of vineyards planted on gravel and limestone dominated soils near the banks of the Vienne. Made from free-run juice only, this is the most delicate wine produced at Joguet; it is suitable for near-term drinking with charcuterie, chevre and salmon.
Chinon “Les Petites Roches,” Charles Joguet 2005
Much darker in the glass than the 2004, semi-opaque and dark cherry red in color, the 2005 visually showed the effects of a warmer, drier vintage. The generous climate in 2005, combined with a long growing season, yielded more physiologically mature tannins, riper flavor, higher alcohol (13.8%) and a finished wine that will continue to develop over the next 4-5 years. Again, pair with charcuterie or classic Touraine pork rillettes but also consider herb roasted chicken or small game birds.
Chinon “Cuvée Terroir,” Charles Joguet 2005
Terroir is the basic cuvée of the estate, a young vine wine that blends 70% first run juice from fruit grown mostly on sandy soils spread over 10 hectares of the estate with 30% of vin de presse, juice pressed from the grapes from both the Cuvée Terroir and Les Petites Roches. Clocking in at 14.3 degrees, it is more robust than Petites Roches yet less nuanced, showing bolder, forward fruit and more aggressive tannins and herbaceous flavors – natural side-effects of the utilization of pressed juice.
Chinon “Cuvée de la Cure,” Charles Joguet 2005
Bottled in August 2006 following vinification and aging purely in steel, the 2005 Cuvée de la Cure is the first fully organic wine produced at Joguet. It is also a classic example of older-vine, terroir driven Chinon, coming from two single vineyards planted on a soil base of clay and gravel. Displaying a dense, firm structure built on a medium-bodied frame with very linear, pure focus, the wine’s persistent, dusty tannins lend accent to its mineral and red cassis driven flavors. This should keep well for at least 5-7 years, maybe even ten. FX considers it the finest La Cure of the last three decades.
Chinon “Les Varennes du Grand Clos,” Charles Joguet 2005
The big wine of the night, Les Varennes du Grand Clos sees a longer, hotter alcoholic fermentation than the previous cuvées and is the only wine of the evening to see malolactic fermentation and aging, at least partially, in barrels. Pigeage during fermentation added extra density to the wine’s color and structure. The finished product, bottled in March of this year, shows plush texture combined with muscular grip and sweet-fruited flavors of raspberry, blackberry and licorice. This is Chinon to pair with beef or robust stews… or to forget about in a cool cellar for the next 10-15 years.
Chinon “Clos de la Dioterie,” Charles Joguet 1989
If you’ve ever had any doubts about the longevity of Chinon, lay them to rest. At 18 years of age, the ’89 Dioterie is still singing. In the glass, there was no bricking at all, just a pale, limpid ring around the rim of an otherwise translucent ruby bowl. Aromas of clay, red earth and rhubarb were followed by flavors of tobacco, smoke, violets and lilies. These elements combined with silky mouthfeel and still lively acidity to make this the most enthralling wine of the night. No offense to FX of course – he wasn’t involved in the production of this wine – it’s just that every once in a while the beauty and wisdom of age really do outshine the exuberance of youth. Apparently, FX thought so too, as he pronounced it “da bomb.” We were, I might add, privileged that he had brought the ’89 along for the event, as there are only about 20 bottles remaining in the private storage caves at the estate.
FX Barc represents the new generation of vignerons in France. Not born to farming, he is more student, technician, and consultant. Yet he possesses a strong sensibility for the land and expresses it carefully through natural winemaking. Luck has been on his side since taking the helm at Joguet. A string of good vintages, culminating in the exceptional 2005, have brought Mother Nature to his side. The results are promising. I found the wines we tasted together at Tria Fermentation School to be bright, varietally correct and truly expressive of the spirit of Chinon as an AOC and of the potential of Cabernet Franc as a vine. FX seems to be bringing Joguet’s wines out of their slump of the mid-90’s and back to their place among the top tier in Chinon. I’ll look forward to keeping an eye on his progress in the seasons to come.
From the MFWT archives – June 6, 2007.
When people ask me for a Champagne recommendation, unless I know there’s a food pairing in the works I usually start by asking what they like. 75% of the time – conservatively – I know the answer before a lip’s been parted: Veuve Clicquot. The ubiquity of the yellow label is mind blowing. What accounts for this pervasive popularity? Huge annual production allows the wine to be placed on nearly every liquor store shelf and restaurant wine list in the world. Big budget advertising and marketing dollars place the brand in lifestyle magazines, food and wine publications, blockbuster movies, and in the hands of celebrity chefs on the Food Network. The point of all this is not to debate the historical significance of the Maison Veuve Clicquot-Ponsardin. Rather, it is to put into context the fact that Veuve’s “Carte Jaune” NV tells us as much about Champagne as Kendall Jackson “Vintner’s Reserve” Chardonnay tells us about California wine. Both brands are successful, both appeal to a broad audience, both are made from juice and fruit purchased from vineyards spread over all corners of their respective regions and both offer a touch of sweetness in the guise of sophisticated, dry wines. Both also lack any real sense of individuality, of character, of place.
To get a meaningful sense of Champagne, it is necessary to understand it as a place, not just a beverage. For Champagne, like California albeit on a much smaller scale, is a region of diverse geography, climate, soil, history and culture. A strong common thread exists but it is the differences that make the place and its products truly significant. To get a real sense of Champagne, it is necessary to explore the wines of the small growers.
One of my long time favorite Récoltant-Manipulant (grower-producer, RM for short) Champagne houses is Diebolt-Vallois. Based in the village of Cramant, just south of Epernay, Jacques Diebolt’s family has been producing expressive, elegant, small farm Champagnes for generations. I visited Diebolt-Vallois on a cold, rainy day in February 2004. It’s a shame when the weather prevents a walk through the vineyards; sometimes, though, one can learn more about the true heart and soul of a wine by traveling underground. Upon descending into the bottle storage cellars, excavated in 1880 in the earth below Diebolt’s pressing facility, we discovered not only some beautiful old bottles of Champagne – more on them later – but also what made those wines so expressive. We were able, literally, to see, feel, smell and taste the chalky soil of Cramant.
Most of Diebolt-Vallois’ ten hectares of vineyards are located in Cuis and Cramant, respectively premier and grand cru rated vineyard areas situated on a chalk dominated geographical outcropping called the Côtes des Blancs. If you own land on the Côtes des Blancs, you grow only one thing: Chardonnay. To plant anything else there would be folly. The chalk-rich soil is perfect for Chardonnay and, by natural extension, for the production of Blanc de Blancs – Champagnes made purely from white fruit, the specialty of the house at Diebolt-Vallois.
Like at the big Champagne houses, the non-vintage cuvées at Diebolt are made according to a house style. Consistency of flavor is sought from year to year, from bottling to bottling, making the job of the master blender – Jacques himself in this case – of utmost importance. Unlike at the big houses though, small grower wines also taste of their place. The green label Blanc de Blancs of Diebolt-Vallois, produced primarily from fruit grown in Cuis, is redolent of the Côtes des Blancs, full of fine, green apple fruit, chalky minerality and elegant focus.
The depth of character and texture that the Méthode Champenoise can add to this sense of place is made evident when tasting the estate’s special non-vintage bottling. Cuvée Prestige Blanc de Blancs is an assemblage of three consecutive vintages, the quality of each year allowing. The base wines, from old vine fruit grown entirely in Cramant, spend two years in foudres (4000 liter, 50 year-old oak casks), vessels favored by Jacques for the subtleness and complexity they impart relative to the more modern tendency toward aging in steel tanks. After blending and secondary fermentation, the Prestige spends three years on its lees before disgorgement. This period, about twice as long as for the regular non-vintage cuvée, lends the Prestige a greater degree of richness, power, toastiness and nuttiness.
From the MFWT archives – May 17, 2007.
Afternoon session – Stony Hill Vineyard:
Following our morning visit at Oakville’s Harlan Estate and a reasonably tasty yet uncharacterful lunch at St. Helena fossil Tra Vigne, we headed up the valley for our afternoon appointment. Character abounds, we would find, at Stony Hill Vineyard. Heading north out of St. Helena, turning left up the access road for Bale Grist Mill State Park and then left again onto the private road which leads to the winery, we quickly found ourselves in an atmosphere that would have provided fodder for the tales of Poe or Tolkien. A forest of small, gnarled trees – dark red bark mottled by lichen, limbs intermittently draped with a local moss – lends an eerie aura to the narrow dirt road that winds its way up the mountainside.
Making the last sharp turn up the incline and crunching to a stop in the gravel parking area at Stony Hill, we were greeted first by an enthusiastic little wire-haired terrier and then, our presence announced, by office and site manager, Mary Burklow. After a round of introductions, Mary led us on a path along the ridge of the hill, straight through the vineyards and directly into the estate’s tiny winery building. As soon as she thrust the door open, a blast of cold, damp air rushed out to meet us. Welcome to Stony Hill’s barrel room…. With little ado, Mary pulled a barrel sample, poured us each a splash from the pipette and asked us to guess. Knowing that they produce one of Napa’s few Tocai Friulano (from old-vine fruit grown at neighboring Larkmead Vineyards), and sensing a faint floral, peachy hint lurking behind the yeasty aromas of fermentation, I guessed – and was wrong. It was their 2006 Gewurztraminer, light, bone dry and misleadingly crisp and un-spicy.
Five or six barrel samples later, we’d learned a bit about Stony Hill’s winemaking practices. The barrels themselves first jumped to attention. In stark contrast to the uniform ranks of gleaming new cooperage at Harlan, many of the casks here, bowing and graying though still obviously airtight, showed signs of serious age. Mary explained that the barrels, mostly barriques with some larger casks and tonneaux, are anywhere from 14-50 years old. That’s right, 50, almost as old as the winery itself. Kept sanitary from year-to-year, these relics go right on doing their work, providing a neutral environment for Stony Hill’s backward wines to come to life. New barrels are introduced only when a member of the older generation finally gives up the ghost.
Fruit is bladder pressed, the juice settled and then inoculated. Primary fermentations are carried out in wood in most cases, followed by a racking off the lees. Their Riesling is fermented and aged half in steel, half in barrel and then blended prior to bottling. The Gewurztraminer and Tocai are barrel aged until April following the harvest; Chardonnay and Semillon stay in wood until June. Malolactic fermentation is avoided for all wines, a practice necessitating a wee bit of sulfur but kept relatively natural by the incredibly cool cellar conditions. In their own words, “Malolactic fermentation both destroys the acid structure of the wine and introduces extraneous flavors not borne from the grape itself.” Given this admirably stoic approach, I was a bit surprised that primary fermentations are not left up to the wild yeasts; Mary explained that native yeasts do play a role but are often not strong enough to ensure a complete, steady fermentation.
Since 1973, Stony Hill’s wines have been made by Mike Chelini, who originally joined as vineyard foreman and was quickly promoted to winemaker. Mike’s approach is as old-school as I’ve come across just about anywhere, much less in the heartland of ultra-modern California wine country. The wines are grown naturally in the vineyard and brought to life in the cellar. They speak of both. The concept of terroir at Stony Hill clearly reflects not just the hillside environment but also the feel, taste and smell of their old, stone barrel room, a trait that reminds me very much of a past visit to the caves of Prince Philippe Poniatowski in Vouvray. Like there, the wines are meant to taste of the place and they’re built to last.
If it hasn’t already become obvious, Stony Hill is one of the few estates in the Napa Valley that rests its reputation solely on the production of white wine. They’ve been at it since 1947, when original owners Fred and Eleanor McCrea planted Chardonnay in homage to the great whites of Burgundy. At the time, only 200 acres of Chardonnay were planted in the entire state of California but the McCrea’s sensed that their little kingdom, perched on the hillside 400-800 feet above the valley floor, was a special place. Their commitment to the potential of Napa Chardonnay remains today, as it represents over 75% of their overall vineyard area of 39 acres. The balance of their land is planted to Riesling (10 acres) with Gewurztraminer and Semillon rounding things out at three and one acre, respectively.
The only wines of color produced come from a small plot of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot – planted as a pest control device along a property line bordering on a stream – and from a ¼ acre plot of Syrah planted only five years ago as part of the family garden. At present, all 100 or so cases – two reds and one rosé – are destined for staff consumption and entertainment only; not a bottle of any is sold. Current owner Peter McCrea, son of Fred and Eleanor, described the rosé – a saignée of the Cab/Merlot blend – as “swimming pool wine.” Mary more colorfully called it a classic PD wine. If you’re scratching your head like I was, “PD” is code for panty dropper…. Peter confirms that the estate does not plan to market anything other than whites in the future.
Coincidentally, as at Harlan, annual production at Stony Hill runs around 3,000 cases. And nearly all of the wine is sold directly to mailing list customers, with just a small percentage going to local restaurants and to a few detail-minded distributors in key urban markets. With a 60-year history though, Stony Hill Vineyard is one of Napa Valley’s pioneering estates. And their wines top out at $35 per bottle.
Stony Hill Chardonnays and Rieslings have earned a reputation as being among the most age-worthy dry whites produced in the Napa Valley. Thinking back to those barrel samples pulled for us by Mary, even the 2006 Gewurztraminer and Tocai, wines meant for early enjoyment, showed uncommon structure. Still in steel, the Riesling was too impenetrable to assess. The 2006 Chardonnay, however, held serious promise. It smelled a little of cellar must on the nose but, loaded with stony minerality and vibrant acidity, hinted at a long future.
Back in the McCrea’s dining room toward the end of our visit, tasting the current releases of Stony Hill Chardonnay from bottle reinforced our earlier impressions and spoke volumes about good work in the vineyard. The 2003 Chardonnay, product of a drought year in this part of St. Helena, was atypically rich and fleshy for Stony Hill yet still tasted young, fresh and clean. The 2004, though, really spoke to the potential for these wines. Tight on the nose, very Chablis-like in its aromas, bright, racy and steely on the palate, it’s a wine I’d love to drink in another ten or even twenty years.
That was just about it for our visit. We followed Mary down the grade to the bottle storage barn to pick up the handful of ’03 and ’04 Chardonnay we’d purchased. As I packaged the bottles for a safe ride back East in the airline baggage compartment, Mary disappeared for a moment. Upon her return, she handed us a bottle of their White Riesling, vintage 1992, and made us promise to have it with dinner when we got back to Monterey that night. Paired with a simple plate of sautéed snapper and roasted Jerusalem artichokes, it was a delicious reminder of our visit – hinting at the mellowed edges and mineral tones that come with age, tasting very much alive and finishing with a touch of sweetness.
I'll be on holiday for the next week or so - a long overdue respite and, hopefully, a week of sunshine and relaxation. Rather than broadcasting dead air, I thought I'd bring out a few nuggets from the archives to keep things rolling over the next few days. (Thanks for the idea, Ace.) Looking back at the postings I've chosen, I found it tempting to edit things, add photos, make little improvements... but I decided to leave them untouched. It's interesting to me to see how my own work has evolved over the last year-and-a-half.
Anyway, I hope you find something to enjoy, something you may have missed the first time around. The archive postings will "go live" starting tomorrow. I'll be back in regular blogging mode around the 5th of October. See you then.
I'm guessing I'm not the only Philadelphian out there who's proud of his own town yet feels like Philly tends to get snubbed when it comes to national recognition as a great dining city. A small handful of the area's most ambitious chefs have been out to change that for the last several years. Two of the most widely noted of that set have recently taken a big leap, one step further into the national consciousness, both releasing their first cookbooks over the last couple of weeks.
Marc Vetri, owner of the eponymous Vetri and of Osteria co-wrote Il Viaggio Di Vetri: A Culinary Journey with David Joachim.
Latin Evolution, by Jose Garces, charts the chef's voyage through the cuisines of Spain and South and Central America, work that's put his Philadelphia restaurants - Amada, Tinto and, most recently, Distrito - on the map.
I've enjoyed meals - some of them exceptional - at the restaurants of both Marc and Jose, so I'm looking forward to reading their books.
Regular readers may remember postings from my July jaunt up to New York. One of the highlights of that trip was a very relaxed dinner at the home of one of my favorite wine bloggers, Brooklynguy (aka, Neil). As if inviting a stranger (that would be me) into his home, introducing him to his family and cooking him dinner weren’t enough, Neil all but forced two bottles of wine into my hands not long before we bid adieu for the evening. They were two of his favorite day-to-day pours that, obviously, he really wanted me to try. On the ball as Brooklynguy is I think he also knew that I would have to jump through hoops to find either wine in the Philadelphia area. Both wines come into the Eastern US thanks to Jenny & François Selections.
Coteaux du Languedoc Pic Saint-Loup “Les Tonillières,” Mas Foulaquier (Blandine Chauchat) 2005
$17. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Millesimes Fine Wine Traders, Boston, MA (Jenny & Francois Selections, World Wide Wine, Ltd., New York, NY).
This reminded me in a lot of ways of the Minervois from Château d’Oupia that I wrote up a while back, but extra-chunky style. Snappy aromas of macerated wild berries, dark ground spices and tree bark. Very alive in the mouth, its vigorous texture delivered a sense of energy to all nooks of the palate. Hardly high acid but much brighter and fresher than far too many other wines from the Languedoc. It somehow managed to be rustic, charming, boisterous and refreshing all at once. Perfectly suited to robust comfort foods like ribs, pot pies or burgers. Though a solid value in the mid-to-high teens, it would be fantastic if under $15.
Cahors, Clos Siguier 2005
$12. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: USA Wine Imports, New York, NY (Jenny & Francois Selections, World Wide Wine, Ltd., New York, NY).
I heeded Brooklynguy’s advice and decanted this. I’m glad I did. When first poured, this gave off the most highly floral nose – all crushed blue flowers – I’ve ever come across in Cahors – or any Malbec based wine, for that matter. Add to that just the lightest note of the wet paint scent common to SW reds and things seemed to be off to a good start. It was lighter in weight than I’d normally expect but firm tannins and fairly high acidity provided firm sinew. Shortly thereafter the wine shutdown, becoming lean, even a little sour on the palate, like slightly unripe purple plums. The tannins softened up while the acidity heightened.
After a good thirty to sixty minutes in the decanter, though, things really turned around. The wine took on weight. Balanced structure returned. And the aromas blossomed again (no pun intended). A suggestion of bittersweet cocoa powder showed up on the palate, played off against ripe plums and damp earth. The wine remained light – it’s really not a powerhouse style of Cahors – but turned out to be full of invigorating flavors and just a beauty to smell. I found myself softly exclaiming just about every time I raised the glass to my nose. $12 for a wine with this much character is nothing to sneeze at, just as its 12% alcohol – and my palate tells me that’s an accurate level – is more than welcome in today’s climate. I found it pretty dead-on with grilled lamb chops. Neil likes it with duck. Either way, I’m indebted to him for the experience.

Giuseppe Vajra first walked through the doors at the shop where I spend my days about four or five years ago. He couldn’t have been much more than nineteen at the time, making his way around the US on his first trip as emissary of his family’s estate. It must have been an awkward baptism, as he wasn’t old enough, legally here in the US, to taste his own wines even though it was his responsibility to show and discuss them with clients. Logistics aside, like so many other young men and women of his generation who happened to have been born into wine growing families, Giuseppe, on that first trip, was still undecided as to whether he saw his future in wine.
As a guy roughly twice Giuseppe’s age, come relatively late to the wine business, it’s all too easy for me to look on his situation with awe, even with a touch of envy. How great would it be to inherit beautiful vineyards and a winery in Barolo – or almost anywhere for that matter? Going back through time and putting myself in nineteen year-old shoes, though, and imagining (theoretically) my own father talking of passing along “the family business” to me, Giuseppe’s trepidation was clearly justified. The call of the new and different, of the city, of exploring things away from home – even of rebellion – must certainly have been great.
When I saw Giuseppe again two or three years ago, he had taken a couple of steps toward a decision but was still somewhat unsure. Meeting him for a third time, just last week, it’s now clear where Giuseppe’s future and, yes, his heart, lays. When he speaks about the family winery, still headed by his father Aldo Vajra, it’s clear that Giuseppe is speaking in we terms, is thinking of how he’ll carry on – or even change – the work that Aldo does today. In speaking of Aldo, Giuseppe said, “The more my father ages, the less he wants to do to the wines.” It’s a lovely expression of the constantly evolving, increasingly natural approach to winemaking at the Vajra estate. And as Giuseppe spoke of their continuing adoption of biodynamic techniques, of their positive approach to minimizing the use of sulfur in the wine making regime and of the terroirs that make up the estate, it was again clear that he was thinking in terms of “we,” not just “he.” Giuseppe’s become more than a spokesperson, that’s for sure. Given that he’s named after his grandfather, Giuseppe Domenico Vajra, whose name still appears on the family’s wines, he couldn’t have chosen a more fitting path.
