All the
Young Dudes
our vines look like this  but
act like this
One of the more effective
methods of marketing red wine is to include "old vine" on
the label. Zinfandel fanatics will buy almost anything when they see
these words in print. In many cases, they’d be right to buy; as a
vine ages, its vigor is reduced and thus it produces a smaller amount
of higher quality grapes. But, without being disrespectful to those
with old vines (after all we certainly wouldn’t hesitate to flaunt
it on our label if we farmed them): (1) old isn’t always all it’s
cracked up to be, and (2) there are other ways to skin the cat.
A Rose Is A Rose, But An Old Rose May Not Always Be An Old Rose
There is no universally accepted definition of when a vine becomes
an old vine, but I think old has gotten younger as of late. Is old
determined by chronological age or is it determined by appearance?
Just think, we could have the new Keith Richards and Benito Santiago
Zin clones that look old and haggard by twenty-five. (By the by, are
we sure yet that Keith and Benito are really two separate people?)
Even if we could agree on the age range for old vines, using this
term sheds no light on any of the other important components to growing
superior grapes. What about varietal clone, varietal expression in
a given appellation, soil type, rootstock, or crop yields? A wine
made from sixty-year old Pinot Noir grown in Dry Creek would still
taste like, well, warm climate Pinot (or in the words of my daughter,
"BLECK.") Attributing superior quality to a vine because
of its age also assumes that what was planted sixty years ago was
done in the name of quality — not always the case. Sure, age reduces
the vigor to produce a better crop, but better than it was when it
was young still might not be excellent. Most of the old vine Grenache
in California is a heavy producing clone, which was appropriate considering
the needs of wine consumers at the time it was planted. People weren’t
thinking of modern-day Chateauneuf du Pape back then. They were looking
for a vine that would consistently produce large yields of ripe fruit
and make a good, everyday table wine.
Cat Skinning 101 or These Rookies Play Smart
Dad and Linda knew they weren’t acquiring a beautiful old vine vineyard
when they bought the winery property. When Dad embarked upon replanting
the vineyard, his desire to grow the best grapes possible guided him.
He couldn’t grow old vines, but he did take our desire for old vine
flavors into consideration. He looked at the latest research on low-vigor
rootstock and quality-oriented clones that were well suited to our
climate. Then he used high density vine spacing, established a comprehensive
vertical trellis system, and planted cover crop, all aimed at keeping
yields low. Dad also thins his crop, which is tough to do, but critical
to achieving quality.
In 2001, with modest expectations, we harvested our first crop from
our three and four-year-old vines planted on the winery property.
Both our new Zinfandel and Grenache exhibited more old vine-like character
than most any you could find in the area. The Grenache Noir clones,
originally from Chateauneuf du Pape, grown with our vineyard techniques,
produce darker color grapes and more complex wine than the standard
clone planted in California. Our new Primitivo-clone Zinfandel has
a similar advantage over our two other Zin clones. We get old vine
personality with brand new vines.
We added some superior winemaking skills to our 2001 crop, too, via
Sébastien Pochan, another young dude who is experienced beyond his
age. Sébastien, schooled in Montpellier, France and trained in California,
joined us for crush in 2001 and, much to our delight, is still here.
So for me the term "old vine" leaves too many unanswered
questions. It is the lazy man’s way of marketing wine (which you would
think would appeal to me, a lazy man.) Sebastien tells me the French
have a saying that translates to, "Old age doesn’t necessarily
mean full of wisdom." "Just like you," my wife said
when she heard the quote. Whoa.
2001
Grenache 
I like to attribute
the planting of our Grenache vines to Kermit Lynch and Robert Parker.
Nice visual, the famous importer in overalls driving a tractor with
his field hand, the famous wine critic, pitch-forking bales of hay
in the rows. If you bear with me, I’ll explain. Regardless of your
opinion of them, Kermit Lynch and Robert Parker have created the vibrant
market for Rhône wine in the United States. The two men have promoted
these wines for more than 30 years. Just ask your favorite cutting-edge
wine guru how he or she first developed an interest in Southern Rhône
or Grenache-based wines. Nine times out of ten, Parker or Lynch’s
name will come up. Better yet, check out the most recent prices for
Chateauneuf du Pape. Everyone who is anyone digs these wines and prices
are now showing it.
It has been a long and winding road to respectability for Grenache.
From Rioja to Southern France to Sardegna to Australia to California,
this varietal has been the source of many an everyday table wine.
Grenache vines are well known for ripening a heavy crop. However,
when planted in the right area, usually moderate to warm climates
(like Dry Creek), and limited to low yields, Grenache is capable of
making a profound wine. In musical terms, think of Grenache as Louis
Armstrong or the Beatles. Its genius lies in its ability to make wines
that appeal to wine geek purists and a broad audience alike.
Which brings me back to our vineyard. Both my Dad and I have been
smitten by Southern Rhône wines for years, thanks in part to the above-mentioned
wine icons. Yet planting Grenache in Dry Creek would have been preposterous
prior to ten years ago. The economics, when you consider land values,
the intense labor of farming for quality, and the fact that even the
world’s best Grenache-based wines were selling for $15 a bottle, would
have never panned out. Now that Grenache is being given its due respect
in the marketplace (a good Chateauneuf du Pape sells for two to three
times as much today) it is more realistic for us in California to
pursue making artistic renditions.
So in 1998, Dad planted 2.9 acres to Grenache Noir clones purchased
from Tablas Creek and Alban Vineyards (originally from Chateauneuf
du Pape). He planted them on low-vigor rootstock in 4’x6’ spacing.
In 2001, the first year of production off the new vineyard, Dad dropped
60% of the crop, limiting the yield to 7 pounds per vine. We harvested
the grapes sur-maturite at 27 degree brix on October 9. For years
I’d heard Southern Rhône winemakers say that Grenache doesn’t get
interesting until the sugars get high. And now I say to them, "Word
up."
We had four separate lots of Grenache: one for each of the three clones
and one, a blend of all three. We fermented the individual lots in
small open-top bins. The blended lot was fermented in an open-top
tank from which we drained a small portion of the juice (saignee)
to intensify color and tannins (an issue with Grenache). We racked
this wine only once to preserve fruitiness. In the final blend, we
added 15% Syrah from our new planting of clones 174 and 877 to fashion
a California version of Gigondas. We bottled this wine unfined and
unfiltered after 11 months in older, neutral French oak. Right from
the beginning, this wine has displayed intense raspberry, tar and
pepper flavors with a sexy texture usually found only in wines from
the Southern Rhône. Beginners luck? So what. This wine rocks.
2001 ZINFANDEL
If you have read any of our previous newsletters, you know of my love/hate
thing with Zinfandel. I love the finished product, but making it is
a pain in the bottom. (With a 5 and 6 year old in the house, we are
very careful about how we refer to this part of the human anatomy.)
Zinfandel ripens unevenly, often lacks color and tannin, yet produces
high alcohol if you wait to pick when flavors are mature. In past
years we blended other varietals (Syrah, Sangiovese and Petite Sirah)
into our Zin to enhance color, structure and complexity. In 2001,
thanks to our new vineyard block with 3 acres of a Primitivo clone
of Zin, we were able to make a bigger, more interesting Zin through
clonal diversity. Oh, how west county! And in case you were wondering,
this wine does not shave its armpits or legs.
Our new Primitivo-clone vineyard produces small dark berries and loose
clusters. It adds a brambly-fruit depth and richness usually found
in old vine zin. It is a lot like Priscilla Unti, who, at the ripe
old age of four, acts and sounds like a fifty-something woman who
has "lived a little." Though our new vineyard lot comprises
only 35% of the blend, it was enough to keep us from blending in any
Syrah. The rest of the Zinfandel grapes come from Dad’s benchland
property: the "old clone" block planted in 1994 and the
26 year-old head pruned block.
Our 2001 Zinfandel was, in the words of Gomer Pyle, a "Surprise!
Surprise! Surprise!" Surprise #1 was how well the Primitivo-clone
vineyard turned out. Surprise #2 was that our head pruned Davis clone
block yielded its best fruit ever, thanks to a terrific vintage and
to phylloxera. Phylloxera (a root louse) drastically reduces vigor
and yield, so for a few years, the quality is greatly improved. Surprise
#3 was more of a discovery — processing all of our grapes at our own
crush facility allowed us to really capitalize on vineyard variations
and to hone the final blends. We can now pick each vineyard block
in small sections, harvesting selected rows at optimum ripeness. We
can also ferment each lot separately and tailor winemaking for the
individual lots. Finally, though blending trials become quite an ordeal,
we have plenty of variations to pick from to come up with a final
blend.
We harvested our Zinfandel from September 7th through the 14th the
earliest Zin harvest in our 5-year history. A moderate winter and
spring caused an early bud break which was then followed by a warm
May/June. Fortunately, July and August were cooler than normal, slowing
the ripening process and providing us with excellent color, aromatics
and flavors. Grapes were destemmed and lightly crushed into both open
top and closed top tanks. After a five-day cold soak the must was
inoculated with Rhone yeast, pumped over twice daily and pressed immediately
upon dryness.
We did use 10% of a rather Jim Brown-like Petite Sirah because it
seemed more Dry Creek-y that way. The wine was big enough to handle
25% new oak, 90% of it French. While this is our most powerful Zinfandel
yet, it still has an Unti-like balance and a well-behaved Dry Creek
style (no tattoos or tongue piercing). If this keeps up, I might actually
look forward to making Zinfandel. |
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