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Newsletter June 2023

Txakoli vineyards of Alfredo Egia (Download complete pdf here) We have a lot of supernaturalists hitting the streets this month. Our first two are from very different corners of Iberia, Alfredo Egia from Spain’s green and wet Txakoli and Menina d’Uva from Portugal’s high altitude, arid moorland, Trás-os-Montes. Mid-month we'll feature the second round with two of our newest and most exciting growers, one from the Loire Valley and another from Rías Baixas. First, let’s dig into Egia and Menina. What happens when biodynamics-practitioner and no-sulfite winegrower Alfredo Egia adds a dash of sulfites to one Txakoli wine? Fifteen tiny little milligrams per liter of added sulfites? IZAKI! I didn’t expect Alfredo’s 2021 Izaki to be as fabulous as Rebel Rebel and Hegan Egin because it’s the third wine in the range and about half the price of the latter. Alfredo sent me two bottles that sat in my cellar for six weeks before I pulled the first cork, at which time I sent a barrage of enthusiastic text messages minutes after opening. His response: “And they’re only tank samples.” IZAKI! Izaki means “Creature,” in Basque, and is a blend of 80% Petit Courbu and 20% Gros Courbu from Alfredo’s biodynamic vineyard and a parcel in conversion just next to it. (Rebel Rebel and Hegan Egan have been biodynamic since the beginning.) The biodynamic grapes (35%) are vinified and raised in two old, 400-liter barrels, while the plot in conversion is in stainless steel. The tank sample followed up by the finished version were stunners. While we received a bit more than Rebel Rebel, it likely won’t be enough to satisfy the demand for this micro-producer. The 2020 Rebel Rebel is a great follow up to the more tense 2019. 2020 was a hotter year and the wine is a little more fruit forward and gentle than the savory, citrusy, power-punching, shredder, 2019. The longboard soul-surfer between the two, the 2020 Rebel Rebel may take a minute to get out of first gear, but when it does it’s a steady and uninterrupted climb—a perfectly clean and pure SO2-free white wine. A blend of 80% Hondarrabi Zerratia and 20% Izkiriota Txikia, the grapes are similarly processed as Izaki, with whole-cluster pressing and the malolactic fermentation that usually overlaps with the end of the alcoholic fermentation and finishes by the end of spring. The wines remain on their lees without bâtonnage (lees stirring), and some barrels are topped off while others are intentionally left untopped so they can oxidize a little, adding to the layers of complexity and softening the fruit’s dominance. Before the following harvest, the wine is blended into steel where it rests for another six to ten months prior to bottling. Rebel Rebel is neither filtered nor fined. A visit to Trás-os-Montes, with Riccardo and Frederico at Arribas Wine Company and Aline at Menina d’Uva, was long overdue. Even though I live in northern Portugal, it takes three and a half hours to drive directly east for the 180 miles in between. With Gino Della Porto, from Nizza Monferrato’s newest cutting-edge project, Sette, in tow, we passed through Vinho Verde’s densely green subzones during a wet, early spring. Then we moved on to Douro’s expansive and often breathtaking river valleys of the Baixo Corgo and Cima Corgo subzones, and continued through the gentler countryside of Douro Superior for a quick overnighter with Mateus Nicolau de Almeida and his wife and winegrowing partner at Trans-Douro-Express, Teresa Ameztoy. We finally arrived early the following morning to one of the most isolated areas of mainland Portugal, the serine and enchanting Trás-os-Montes—a Portuguese land seemingly frozen in time. Riccardo and Frederico continue to impress with their already spectacular and budget-friendly Saroto wines. The range remains familiar and in line with the previous years, but their last half decade of tinkering helped clarify their direction in the cellar and resulted in yet another new level with the incoming 2022s, which will arrive in the fall. More on that in a few months. We arrived in the afternoon to the microscopic village, Uva, for our visit with the warm and softly charming Aline Dominguez, who was sporting a little belly bump. The baby is expected during harvest time this year; she and her partner, Emanuele, from Abruzzo Italy, have joined forces in life as well as in wine. Normally Aline’s wines would have arrived last year, but due to global freight delays she had difficulty securing glass. Forced by the short supply of Burgundy-shaped bottles, she bought some with Bordeaux’s more linear posture to finish the job. Perhaps with too much time on their hands as the remodel of their cellar was delayed due to the extreme inflation of material costs, she and Emanuele changed the labels from elegant black and white to, as you can see by the label images, a more playful set, and both fit perfectly with Aline’s lighthearted and quietly deep wines. When we tasted them this April, Menina d’Uva’s Gamay-nosed, tense, and spritely 2022 Ciste, fired with citrus, rhubarb, watermelon, coriander, resinous high desert plants (Ciste) and leather. It’s especially fresh and bright this year, even if it’s sporting 12.5% alcohol. The mixture remains relatively the same as in the past, with 70% red grapes, Bastardo Preta (Trousseau in France) and Negreda (Mouratón in Spanish), and 30% white, with Malvasia, Bastardo Branco, Formosa, and some others in minuscule quantities. The grapes are completely whole bunch and co-fermented for a few days and aged exclusively in stainless steel. The short time on skins is intended to achieve good fruit and floral extraction without digging too far before carbonic characteristics overwhelm the wine; she wants to keep this wine truer to the expression of the place and less to a fermentation technique that pushes up too much fruit and fermentative aromas to the forefront. Photo lifted from Menina d’Uva’s Instagram: Tinta gorda, Moscatel roxo, Verdelho, Bastardo roxo, Bastardo preta The 2022 Palomba follows suit with all its previous vintages with its lightly reductive nose upon opening, but this year it quickly moves past it, opening wide and leading with more fruit than it did before. When at the cellar in early March, I was convinced this was her best Palomba yet. It has sweet plum, Persian mulberry, a tense palate (less than Ciste, but clearly a mark of the vintage), Trás-os-Montes countryside high desert plant and flower aromas, and a harmonious range of blue to dark red fruits and a finish of lifted and taut red currant. Palomba is made of 90% Negreda, also known as Mouratón in Spain. This leader in the blend is known to produce big, juicy, dark-colored wines with surprisingly little in the way of tannin. It’s mixed with other reds that few outside of Portugal have heard of, like Uva de Rei, Moscatel Preta, Moscatel Roxo, among others. It comes from five different plots located in the villages of Uva, Mora and Vale de Algoso, and is grown on a mixture of schist and quartz scattered about on the surface of the vineyards. The pressure points within Aline’s wines are deep and fully mouth filling while remaining ethereal and tense. The follow-up bottle I tasted in April at home confirmed that it may be (at least for this taster) her top effort.

Newsletter October 2021

Finally coming home! (My original home, anyway…) It’s been two years since I’ve been to the US and a lot has happened (including babies!). It will be nice to see all the faces I’ve missed and all the new people I’ve yet to meet in person. I’m especially happy that I’ll be seeing my father, who turned eighty this year and has gone through a rough patch with his health. It’s hard for us expats to have such a separation from our families for so long and I’m glad that the dry spell is coming to an end. New Videos and Maps on our Website There’s a new terroir map this month: Galicia’s Rías Baixas, which also includes Portugal’s Vinho Verde sub-appellation, Monção e Melgaço, because of their common thread and focus on Albariño (Alvarinho, in Portuguese). It may be the most colorful map to date, action-packed, with information on rock types, grape codification, altitudes, temperatures, etc., all squeezed into one page. In case you haven’t perused our website recently, there’s a new menu category of Videos that includes some interviews with winegrowers and some fun new drone videos of their land and regions. There are two posted so far and there will be many more to come. The first drone video I did (which was more of a practice effort) is a regional teaser for our new producers in Spain’s Rioja and Txakoli areas, a short piece of eye-candy that covers some interesting ground from earlier this year. It’s fascinating how different the landscape in Rioja is compared to Txakoli, which is barely a half hour drive away from the northern parts of the region. The shots were filmed within a day or two of each other, but the drastically different environments make them seem like they are hundreds of miles apart. The second video (which took me three days to edit because my efficacy with video is dismal) offers a tour of Chablis’ right bank. It’s a hair over ten minutes long, has classical music to accompany the flight, and a lot of information I’ve put in the form of text pop ups in the video to consider with the backdrop of the premier crus, Mont de Milieu, Montée de Tonnerre, and Fourchaume, and, of course, all the grand crus. The material may be slightly dense and sometimes a little fast to take it in one pass, but you can pause and rewind to read, check out the grooves in the landscape, refer to the accompanying vineyard map and contemplate the simplicity and complexity of this wine region. When I am able to finally unplug myself from the unusually high quantity of new producer profiles I need to write for our website, I will get to the left bank of Chablis, along with dozens of other videos I plan to create from the drone footage I shot on my two-month trek through Europe, which only really missed the Loire Valley and Central and Southern Italy. Chablis grand crus Blanchots on the right and Le Clos on the main slope Delayed Containers The logistics of this year have been by far the most difficult to navigate since we started our company a little over ten years ago, and things don’t seem to be getting better. Wines usually take about sixty days to get from the cellar door in Europe to California, but right now they can take up to five months… It’s for this reason that all the “new arrivals” coming in October were written about in our September newsletter because their original projections for arrival (even with a massive time buffer considered) were in that month and the end of August. Most of those wines did arrive on our shores, but the shore is where they stayed for two additional months. Getting them out of port in Europe was difficult enough, but they’ve been just floating out on the ocean close to the port waiting for the go-ahead to enter and unload. So, if you want to read about what new wines will actually be available this month, you can read (or review) our September newsletter. Port of Los Angeles September 2021, Photo by Mario Tama Letting the clowder of cats out of the bag (Yes, as with a murder of crows, clowder is the name of a group of cats.) For many, the pandemic was a waiting game. But for many others in business sectors such as delivery services, agriculture, and construction, they had an actual increase in business (at least over here, in Portugal). As the principal owner of our company, it was a call to action, as it was for most business owners. Sink or swim, right? My wife, Andrea, and I did more than just tread water, we were in an all-out freestyle race in search of new producers, redevelopment of some of our website ideas, online retail work (which saved our butts for many months at the beginning of the pandemic, paying our bills when the wholesale division had dropped to near zero), ramped up our foreign language classes, and tried to make sure that our employees were not sinking too far financially and going completely crazy with so much time to contemplate life and the stresses the pandemic caused for everyone. During this unique moment in history, we greatly expanded into Iberia and picked up a few other producers in Italy, France and Germany along the way. Many of our new producers are not even close to arriving and I wanted to play them close to my chest until they got to the States because I’ve had bad experiences where people changed their minds and pulled out after we had already started to promote them. But given that this month all our new arrivals were already covered over the last two monthly newsletters, it’s a good opportunity to talk about some great new things in the market, and what’s more exciting than that? What follows are short overviews of the upcoming new producers (with less personal narrative than usual) that can be found on our website. For some of these producers, it will be their first time being imported to the US. What follows are short overviews of the upcoming new producers (with less personal narrative than usual) that can be found on our website. For some of these producers, it will be their first time being imported to the US. Incoming new producers mentioned in previous newsletters to arrive in October include Davide Carlone (Boca, Italy), Falkenstein (Südtirol, Italy), Togni-Rebaioli (Lombardy, Italy), La Battagliola (Lambrusco, Italy), and Elise Dechannes (Champagne, France). Elise Dechannes showing her homemade biodynamic tea preparations The Newbies Katharina Wechsler - Rheinhessen, Germany (National, except MN) The German organic (certified) and biodynamic winegrower, Katharina Wechsler, is the owner of enviable holdings in the most famous dry Riesling area of the Rheinhessen (thanks to the local luminaries, Klaus-Peter Keller, and Philipp Wittman), the highlights in her stable include a big slab of the grand cru vineyard, Kirchspiel, and a small chunk of perhaps the most coveted of all recognized grand crus, Morstein. Between these two juggernaut vineyards of dry Riesling, her family owns entirely a large vineyard, called Benn. Only the upper section of Benn on the strongly calcareous sections is planted to Riesling, while much of the lower slopes are a patchwork of many different grape varieties that she loves to play with in her cellar, concocting things that range between pure pleasure and fun, savory orange wines, to more serious classically styled dry wines, like her knockout Scheurebe. The entry-level trocken Riesling will give any dry Riesling in all of Germany a run for the money but showcases the lifted and elegant exotic characteristics of Riesling only found in this part of the world. Artuke - Rioja, Spain (CA only) Artuke’s Arturo Miguel is a quiet but influential leader of a new movement of young Spanish vignerons in Rioja, the country’s most historically famous region. The agenda is to bring attention back to specific terroirs and return the power to the growers themselves. He is the second generation of his family to grow and bottle their own wines since the end of the dictatorship, and when he took control of the family’s vineyards, he converted them all to organic farming. His cellar techniques are straightforward, with older barrels of different shapes and sizes that highlight the differences between the four specific vineyard wines, except for the ARTUKE bottling made with carbonic maceration, a long-standing tradition with local wines, and Pies Negros, Spanish for black feet, a reference to the foot-stomping of the grapes, which is a blend of many different parcels. All wines come from calcareous sandstone (similar in structure and mineral makeup to sandstones from Barolo and Barbaresco) with varying degrees of sand and clay. José Gil - Rioja, Spain (CA only) The young and open-minded José Gil and his Uruguayan life partner, Vicky, are major influencers in the new generation of Rioja grower-producers focused on single-site, organically farmed wines. Located near Rioja Alta’s famous San Vicente de la Sonsierra, most of the vineyards sit at higher altitudes that stretch the limitations of the region’s naturally long ripening season. Employing straightforward cellar practices with fermentation and aging in small to medium-sized barrels, José’s wines are direct, aromatic, fully flavored and driven by each wine’s terroir. José gives weight to the influence of the surrounding area, mostly from the mountains just to the north, and handles the wines gently to retain the area’s identity beyond the vineyards. The production is minuscule but on the rise. Arizcuren - Rioja, Spain (National) Well-known and highly respected architect turned winegrower, Javier Arizcuren is one of Rioja Oriental’s most exciting new talents. With the help of his father, Javier spends his “spare time” focused on rescuing high-altitude, ancient Grenache and Mazuelo (the local name for Carignana) vineyards that managed to survive both phylloxera and the trend of replacing historic vines with Tempranillo, an early-ripening grape that is only a small part of this region’s history despite its dominance today. His experience with architecture leads him down rabbit holes of possibility and experimentation (a rarity in this often predictable and extremely conservative wine region), so that he may better understand the aesthetic of each site and build on its strengths using various fermentation and aging techniques. Aseginolaza y Leunda – Navarra, Spain (National) Environmental biologists and former winemaking hobbyists, Jon Aseginolaza and Pedro Leunda, have directed their full attention to a project focused on a better understanding of Spain’s Navarra, a historical region with a severe identity crisis stemming from its living in the shadow of its illustrious neighbor, Rioja, Spain’s historical crown jewel. Always the bride’s maid and never the bride, the region began to focus on international varieties to stand out and increase its market share. Moving in the opposite direction of this trend, Jon and Pedro are focused on finding and recovering old vineyards planted with indigenous ancient genetic material (mostly Grenache, the historic grape of the region) inside vastly biodiverse areas—all assets that give the region a possible edge on the widely monocultural approach of much of Rioja. The life and authenticity in their first wines (started in 2017) are clear and their future is promising. Alfredo Egia - Txakoli, Spain (National) The wines made in Txakoli by Alfredo Egia are radical for the region but not for the world, since he is fully committed to biodynamic farming and natural wine methods. And with the influence of Imanol Garay, the highly intense and fully committed naturalist from France whom he refers to as his mentor, he’s determined to harness the intense energy of Izkiriota Txikia (Petit Manseng) and Hondarrabi Zerratia (Petit Courbu) to give them an altogether different expression, shape and energy, with a constant evolution upon opening that can last for days. These white wines walk the line with no added sulfur and should be consumed earlier in their life to ensure captivity of their best moment. Whether they can age well or not remains to be seen, but since they have very low pH levels that usually sit below 3.20, and ta levels that can be well above 7.00, they should be insulated for a while. Rebel Rebel is the solo project of Alfredo, and Hegan Egin a joint venture between Alfredo, Imanol and Gile Iturri. Rebel Rebel is a blend of 80% Hondarrabi Zerratia and 20%Izkiriota Txikia. Hegan Egin is a blend of 50% Hondarrabi Zerratia and 50%Izkiriota Txikia Sette - Asti, Italy (National) Asti is Piemonte’s new wine laboratory, and experimentation is extensive at Sette where they’re looking to expose new dimensions of their local indigenous varieties. The comedic and talented duo of the experienced wine trade pro, Gino Della Porta, and well-known enologist, Gianluca Colombo, founded Sette in 2017 with the purchase of a 5.8-hectare hill in Bricco di Nizza, in Monferrato. Immediately, a full conversion to organic farming began, followed by biodynamic starting in 2020—the latter, a vineyard culture still considered somewhat radical in these parts. The wines are crafted and full of vibrant energy with only a soft polish, with the focus, the slightly turbid and lightly colored, juicy fruity, minerally Grignolino and their two serious but friendly Barberas. Sette’s game-changing progressive approach and delicious wines (with total eye candy labels) should ripple through this historic backcountry and bring greater courage to the younger generations to break out of the constraints of the past and move full throttle into the future. La Casaccia – Asti, Italy (CA only) Even in Italy it may be impossible to find a vignaiolo who emits as much bubbling enthusiasm and pure joy for their work than La Casaccia’s Giovanni Rava. La vita è bella for Giovanni and Elena Rava, and their children, Margherita and Marcello. Working together in a life driven by respect for their land and heritage, they also offer accommodations in their restored bed and breakfast for travelers looking for a quieter Italian experience. Their vines are organically farmed and scattered throughout the countryside on many different slopes with strong biodiversity of different forms of agriculture and untamed forests teeming with wild fruit trees (with the best of all, the cherries!). Their traditionally crafted range of wines grown on soft, purely calcareous sandstones and chalk are lifted, complex and filled with the humble yet exuberant character of the Rava family. Fliederhof - Südtirol, Italy (National) The city of Bolzano and the Santa Magdelena vineyards, home to Fliederhof Martin Ramoser is a true budding young superstar in the wine world, and with the help of his parents, Stefan and Astrid, he’s writing a new chapter in the family’s wine history. Located in Italy’s Südtirol, only a half hour drive from the Austrian border, on the gorgeous and historical hill of Santa Magdalena that overlooks the city center of Bolzano, they cultivate their Schiava and Lagrein vineyards under organic and biodynamic principles. Their mere three hectares of vineyards are all planted on hillsides of porphyry, an igneous volcanic rock with a mix of large and small grain sizes, which makes for sandy, gravelly soils as it decomposes, and results in wines with higher aromas and chewy textures. Martin’s style is one of pleasure led by upfront aromatic red fruits and red/orange flowers with sharper lines, deep but gentle mineral textures and a soft touch on extraction. Imanol Garay - Southwest France & Northern Spain (National) Spanish/French former engineer, Imanol Garay, un vigneron libre, follows no wine rules (other than some labeling requirements for his French/Spanish wine blends) and believes in terroir not only as the concept of specific site or even region but as a contiguous philosophical thread practiced in different places that may be forged into one wine. A resident of southwest France, his cellar is in Orthez, only a short drive from Spain’s Basque country. Before starting his project, he worked with French natural wine gurus Richard Leroy and Vincent Carême, among others. Some vineyards are his own, some he rents and farms, and some fruit comes from friends with the same deep respect for nature. He has another project in Spain’s Txakoli region with friends, Alfredo Egia (also in our portfolio) and Gile Iturri, labeled Hegan Egin; some years he makes Rioja, others Navarra, and always a lot of French wine. Cautiously walking the natural wine line, his pursuit is of the clean yet uninhibited, void of unwanted animally smells (the mouse, the horse), but with wonderful character-filled and potently nuanced, high-energy wines filled with joy and authenticity, just like the man himself. Tapada do Chaves - Alentejo, Portugal (National) There are few Portuguese wineries as mythical as Tapada do Chaves. Its line of extraordinary successes produced from vines planted in 1901 and 1903 by Senhor Chaves fell off the map when they were sold in the 1990s to a sparkling wine company. The property’s fortune changed with its purchase in 2017 by Fundação Eugénio de Almeida under the direction of Pedro Baptista, one of Portugal’s most celebrated oenologists most famously known for producing Pera Manca, some of the country’s most prized (and expensive) wines. Immediately these historic vineyards planted on a unique granite massif that towers over the flatter lands more typical of Alentejo below were converted to biodynamic farming, priming Tapada do Chaves to reassert itself as one of Portugal’s most preeminent terroirs. The white wines are blends of Arinto, Assario, Fernão Pires, Tamarez, and Roupeiro, with the reds Trincadeira, Grand Noir, Aragonez, and Alicante Bouschet. Quinta da Carolina - Douro, Portugal (National) The Douro property that was once in the hands of California trailblazing winemaker, Jerry Luper, (whose illustrious wine career included tenures at Chateau Montelena, Bouchaine, and Rutherford Hill), has been for years now under the ownership of Luis Candido da Silva, a well-known wine retailer in Porto. Today, the winery has been slowly taken over by his son, also named Luis, and things are going through some noticeable changes the more Luis Jr. commits himself to the project. His day job is working as the head enologist and wine director for the still Douro wine program at Dirk Niepoort’s ever-expanding, global wine empire. Niepoort has a history of recognizing talent and churning out many superstars in Portugal, most notably Luis Seabra, the boys over at Arribas Wine Company (also in our portfolio), and starting in 2018, Luis Jr. The respect he has garnered at a very young age in Portugal speaks volumes for the confidence the local wine world has in him. Exciting things are in store for this very small estate with wines that cover both the traditional style like his father’s, and the extreme progressivism of his generation, with a gorgeous touch, exquisite crafting, and a razor-sharp attention to detail. Expect big things, albeit in very small quantities (unfortunately) from this special Quinta.■ Photo shot from the Quinta da Carolina vineyard

Newsletter February 2024

(Download complete pdf here) Right bank Petit Chablis New months continue to roar in like tsunamis and sometimes we’re overwhelmed and suffocated by everything around us. Thankfully, we can lean on a good bottle of wine with good company to remind us of the fortune we have to love and live lives full of wine and food. Despite the ever-increasing market demand for Chablis, it remains the world’s best value for a strictly styled Chardonnay, and the character of its terroir continues to be as expressive as usual despite the regularity of solar beatdowns. Regardless of the conditions, each year keeps us engaged with its flint and iodine, even if sometimes the citrus goes tropical, and the acidity balance moves from one drinker’s preference to another’s, it’s still Chablis. Some vintages will cellar well while others burn hot with pleasure in their first few years and may fizzle out early, and this is not a new occurrence. Sébastien Christophe’s 2022 Petit Chablis and 2022 Chablis touched down, and, like every year, we’re not sure which one will come out swinging and which will have to shed its introversion in the second half of 2024—it’s a toss-up with each vintage! 2022 was much warmer than 2021 but the wines remain persistent and attractive. As usual, Sébastien’s interpretation presents a more tucked-in and straight style, despite all his wines being composed of sites on the right bank. Both are near the premier crus Montée de Tonnerre and Mont de Milieu and grand cru sites, mostly toward the south end—the Le Clos side. The Petit Chablis is up on the flatter areas and the Chablis vines are in and around the sloped combs and small valleys. Close to town, the right bank wines are known for their fuller profile and perhaps less minerally quality than most from the left bank. Both are raised in steel and, despite his work with only organic inputs over the last decade, these 2022s are from the first year of official organic conversion with thirty hectares to be certified in 2024. “We had a small risk of spring frost in early April but without consequences. The veraison process was slowed down by the excessive heat and lack of rain in May and the beginning of June. After some rainy episodes in June, the mid-veraison stage took place during the last days of July and was finally finished in mid-August for much of the vineyard. The persistence of high temperatures in early August allowed good ripening, with an especially significant reduction of malic acid during the first half of the month. In the third week of August, a series of storms and lower temperatures slowed ripening. The return of hot and dry weather in late August allowed maturation to proceed under favorable conditions, promoting a steady evolution of sugar levels and maintenance of good natural acidity. Overall, 2022 experienced unique and exceptional meteorological conditions but remains nonetheless generous and high-quality." “Chablis lovers can delight in 2022, hailed as a year to snap up. Those who got it right produced wines with both freshness and ripe fruit flavours, alongside crispness and signature salinity.” (…) “Although a warm and very dry vintage, yields were not excessive and, crucially, acidity is high. The resulting wines are very well balanced with a lovely combination of the freshness and minerality which typifies Chablis, combined with fleshy, ripe, stone- and tree-fruit flavours.” “It was a very good vintage with extremely healthy grapes” . “After a complicated year in 2021, winegrowers are smiling with the arrival of the 2022 vintage. (…) Some winegrowers started harvesting as August was ending, but most of them started harvesting in the first days of September.” “Generally, it is true that the 2022s are more tropical in style, but do not take that for granted. Clever use of canopy management, shading bunches from direct sunlight combined with early picking, means there was the potential to create Chablis representing the best of both worlds: seductive tropical hints without compromising the steeliness and nervosité that define Chablis.” Jean-Louis Dutraive, 2016 More Dutraive, you say? Ouiii! A few more goodies are dropping in from the 2022 vintage, a convincing return to form for this region that rolled the best they could with the climatic punches and unreal weather challenges such as hail tornados and unusual yearly visits from Jack Frost! Regionally, I find it to be the strongest lineup in consistency and elegance since 2014 and 2015—two very different years with tremendous merit and good yield, though very different in style. We have a dash of Ophélie Dutraive’s rare 2022 Moulin-a-Vent (only a few bottles allotted to requesting accounts), who is now in charge of the family’s domaine and is closely aided by her brothers, Justin and Lucas. Jean-Louis spends his extra time up in the notoriously rustic Ardeche living a provincial, fantasy-version of quasi-retirement; though he says he’s retired, he works all day in the vines when in Fleurie. Clos de la Grand’Cour The actual highlight is not the rarer of the two arrivals, but the reload of what we believe (and Jean-Louis often believes) to be perhaps one of the strongest wines in the range. The 2022 Fleurie Clos de la Grand’Cour, the medium-age vines–merely sixty years old–and grown in large old foudre and 228L fût de chêne (Le Clos, by contrast, is from slightly older vines in the same plot and raised in 228L fût de chêne) is often put in third place under the Champagne and Le Clos. However, over the years, Jean-Louis has often demonstrated that it can fight for the top of the podium every season; it only needs more time open (a difficult task for wines so immediately delicious) to earn your reconsideration in the hierarchy. I continue to lament that I wasn’t the believer in the potency of this cuvée in 2014 as I am now—it’s the wine I want the most from that vintage and the one of which I have the fewest bottles. I did not make the same mistake with the 2022.

Young Makers and The Mouse, Part Two of An Outsider at The Source

At the legendary domaine of the de Montille family, we were greeted inside the gate of an old stone villa from the 1700s by Alexander Götze, the vineyard manager and assistant to the winemaker. He led us up a narrow stairwell to a lofty space with updated sleek blonde floors and huge, roughly-hewn, exposed dark wood beams that jutted out at all angles from the wavy yellow plaster walls and connected to the wavy ceiling above. Alexander, a bookish German in a baggy hoodie and horn-rimmed glasses, showed us around with sheepish smiles, a bit self-conscious about the state of the place; the dining table, sideboard and small coffee table in the center of a cluster of Louis Quatorze-style chairs were all covered with wine bottles, many still partially or even mostly full. Throw together three young guys with a high level of viticultural expertise in French wine country, and you end up with living quarters that feel like the most sophisticated university campus apartment of all time. After a hasty grabbing of bottles to drink (most labeled only with scribbles in grease pencil), a big loaf of bread and a selection of local cheeses on a well-used walnut cutting board, we headed out back where we were joined by Jon and Tommy, who had more local cheeses and meats and a couple of glorious baguettes. The rolling green grounds behind the domaine, with their stately oaks and ash that lined a winding gravel path, and the clusters of outbuildings added to the illusion of being at an east coast liberal college. The cool damp air smelled of fungus and green herbs and grass. The six of us settled around a small teak patio table and dug into the food. Jon had a constant smile in his eyes and the mellow energy of a yoga teacher. Tommy was scruffy and self-effacing as he told us about his many odd jobs in the states and how he moved around a lot before somehow finding himself in France. He was from New Hampshire and we talked about backpacking in the White Mountains, which I did a lot of when I lived in New York City, and skiing, which he hasn’t done since living in Burgundy. “The Alps are just too far,” he said, and I cringed on his behalf. Ted immediately got down to wine talk with the guys as we made our way through the cryptically labeled bottles from an unnamed producer. The conversation quickly turned to “the mouse,” as it showed up in the second cuvée. (It wasn’t a de Montille wine.) Mousiness is a subtle scent (for those sensitive to it, like Ted, it's extremely strong) that appears at the back of the palate and has been described as the smell of their dander, or even some decay. For a novice like myself, I only occasionally got it, like I was searching the corners of my garage, trying to find the nest, getting close, and losing it. Then I finally found its full effect and I couldn’t not smell it or feel its uncomfortable gassy texture in the back of my throat, and I immediately wished I hadn’t tried so hard. For those who don’t know, the primary cause of mousiness comes from pediococcus, a species of lactic acid bacteria. It took many years to come to these conclusions as quite a few other culprits were considered and then dismissed. The odd thing is that (what with the experience of wine being so subjective) while some people are averse to the smallest trace of the mouse and consider it a glaring flaw, others (mostly in the natural wine community) accept it as a byproduct of natural, or low to no sulfite winemaking. On the de Montille grounds, the consensus veered toward the former stance, with Ted in particular finding it intolerable. They talked about the ways it can be prevented during production with the most effective technique of all being the addition of sulfur dioxide. In fact, it seems that the mouse is usually found in non-sulfured wines. But there is a very subtle art to the use of sulfur; using too much before fermentation will kill most of the good yeast (which will need to be replaced with cultured yeast strains), and not enough before bottling the wine does little to prevent the development of mousiness and other potential undesirables. The wine we tasted could still be saved by the addition of sulfur, since it was still unbottled. Ted said the guys should all try to talk to Jean-Louis Dutraive, a vigneron in Beaujolais who Ted thinks has mastered the art of adding just the right amount of sulfur to his many different cuvées, and at just the right time. I had heard a lot about the big-hearted Dutraive, and was excited to meet him in a few days. Afterward, we gathered on the cracked gray road in front of the de Montille estate to make a plan for our next stop. Across the way, there were twin buildings joined at the hip that caught my attention. One was clean and well maintained, with new wood trim, metalwork and smooth facades. The other was covered with dead ivy and patches of mildew-stained stucco worn down to sores that exposed the tight stacks of thin limestone underneath. Every other house seemed to be in this ancient and extreme disrepair. Windows that weren’t boarded up with rotting gray wood showed dirty, shredded curtains through dusty windows. Roofs everywhere bowed so much it was comical, the stuff of architectural caricature in books filled with witches, the remnants of their terracotta tiles long since disintegrated to rubble and still somehow vaguely in place. As in Puligny-Montrachet and other communes, many of the ancient buildings in Volnay are deserted most of the time, with the exception of when they make great cheap housing for the workers who come to town for harvest season, a common practice in all the half-empty towns on the famous Côte d’Or. When I heard this, it brought to mind the bohemian squalor of a Henry Miller novel: drafty windows, crumbling walls, leaky ceilings, but a roof overhead nonetheless. I immediately wanted to move in. NEXT: La Dilletante

Riecine – Rewinding the Clock and Moving Forward

If you have interest in Italian wines, particularly those from Tuscany, Riecine could be a worthwhile consideration for you. The style of the wines at Riecine wear many faces, from the elegant and lifted Chianti Classico, the more savory and deep Chianti Classico Riserva, the unapologetically top-heavy red fruited, full-throttle Sangiovese, La Gioia, and the most dainty and Burgundian of the pack, Riecine di Riecine—the latter is scheduled to arrive later in the year.During my first visit to the estate I was quite surprised by what I tasted. Fortunately we walked in the door at a change of guard, and while the wines before today’s vintages were also very good, it seems that things are taking an even bigger uptick in overall quality. Further below is a short story of what is happening these days at the cantina and some of my thoughts on the wines. If you have any questions about Riecine or any of our other producers, please send us an email and we can set up a time to talk about wine, a subject we never get tired of talking about. Riecine: Rewinding The Clock And Moving Forward Since the passing of Riecine’s founders, the Englishman, John Dunkley, and his Italian wife, Palmina Abbagnano, Riecine has now cycled through a few different owners. In 2015, a young and talented Italian enologist named Alessandro Campatelli (pictured) took charge with full support on his vision from the newest owners. His mission was to bring back the spirit of these historic Chianti Classico wines that began with the 1973 vintage made by Dunkley and his then enologist, Carlo Ferrini. Ferrini has since become one of the biggest names in Italian wine and Alessandro’s first order of business was to enlist him to achieve this goal. Dunkley passed away in 1996, and Ferrini decided to move on to more personal projects and consulting opportunities the following year. Surprised by the invitation to return, he hadn’t been back to Riecine since the day he resigned, and Alessandro said that upon arrival he had tears in his eyes, explaining, “John and Palmina were like Ferrini’s second parents. It was a great moment to have him back.” Riecine’s organically farmed vineyards (since the 1970s) are in the northern zone of Gaiole in Chianti, one of the highest quality communes of Chianti Classico. In the south of Gaiole, the vineyards are much lower in elevation, and the soil is less rocky than in the north. Almost entirely different from the lower area of Gaiole, the northern zone shares similar high altitudes—430 to 600 meters—to the vineyards of Radda in Chianti. This impacts the overall growing season, and results in higher-toned flavors, acidic snap and finely etched textures. Perhaps one of the most notable differences between these two fabulous Chianti Classico zones is that Radda has more galestro (a decomposed schistous clay soil with a very high pH that seems to impart more angular dimensions to its wines) while the upper areas of Gaiole, where the Riecine vineyards are located, is principally on limestone and clay, which imparts more roundness and fuller flavors to balance out the freshness of the wines. The Wines We know all too well that the constant comparison of wines outside of Burgundy to Burgundy is exhausting and overextended. However, a few of Riecine’s wines, particularly the Chianti Classico and the Riecine di Riecine, are far to this side of the spectrum for Chianti Classico. Not only do these two Riecine wines often feel close to Burgundy in the palate, they can smell and taste like Burgundies grown at high altitudes, particularly those premier crus above grand crus, or even some sections of rockier grand cru sites themselves. Believe it or not, some wines from Riecine have duped many skilled wine tasters into believing they were Burgundy before unveiling the wines; many of these occurrences happened during blind tastings that I conducted. By contrast, Riecine’s Riserva Chianti Classico is more of what one expects from the appellation, and even further out on its own is La Gioia, something of an impact wine that demonstrates how far the wines can be stretched. The first level Chianti Classico is well above the cut for the price and value. Fruit forward with a seamless and refined texture, it’s serious Sangiovese but with glou glou immediacy upon pulling the cork. Not solely a one-trick pleasure pony, the wine has extra gears and demonstrates its versatility and depth with more aeration (if it can be resisted long enough). More classically savory characteristics of Chianti Classico begin to unfold with time open in its youth and surely with more maturation in the cellar, and are supported with the acidic snap from its high altitude and endowed with a sappy red fruit core. This limestone and clay vineyard Chianti Classico is aged in large old oak barrels to further highlight its purity and high-toned frequency. (Reviews if you’re curious: 2018 received 99 points from perhaps an extremely overenthusiastic Italian wine critic, Luca Gardini; 92 points from both the Wine Enthusiast and James Suckling.) The Chianti Classico Riserva from Riecine is far more deep and savory than their lifted and elegant Chianti Classico. Between the ages of twenty-five and forty years old, the vines used for the Riserva are older and the wines are aged for twenty months in large, old oak barrels—the first wine, spends fourteen months in large, old French oak barrels and Grenier casks, and are from vines that are more than twenty years old. Grown also on limestone and clay, which, along with the older vines, imparts more roundness and an even fuller mouthfeel. At a tasting in Los Angeles with the most discerning palates from many of the city’s top Italian restaurant sommeliers and wine buyers, the merits of this wine were immediately evident and were a true highlight with the more traditionally-minded Italian wine buyers. Indeed it will age well in the cellar, but it can also be enjoyed early; just give it a little air before diving in, and know that it’s best drunk with a meal—just like every traditionally made Chianti Classico. (Luca Gardini 2017 Riserva: 98 points. I guess he more than just likes these guys…) La Gioia is one of Tuscany’s seminal IGT successes with its inaugural 1982 vintage, designated as a “Vino da Tavola di Toscana”. In 1982 the mix was 85% Sangiovese and 15% Merlot. As it has been since the 2006 vintage, it is now 100% Sangiovese. (The historic Riecine Merlot vines are used for the Tresette label, an extremely interesting wine with big-time chops for the long haul—if the market was still interested in Merlot!) Designed in the cellar for the long haul, La Gioia is aged for thirty months in a mixture of new, second and third year 500-liter French oak barrels. Clearly it’s not the same type of wine as Riecine’s Chianti Classico or Riserva since it’s notably more flamboyant and unapologetically full, decadent and loaded with flavor. It’s my experience that sometimes the wine leads with oakier nuances and needs a bit of time to get around it, which it will; then there are times the oak is hardly noticeable at all, save some textural components. Clearly this wine is alive and always on the move. For those looking for rarities/collectibles, this is one that should be considered; even we get very few bottles. It will live a long life and show quite well, as the mini-vertical of the 1982-1985 did only a month ago at a tasting in Riecine’s cellar of all the wines produced from 1971 to 1985; sadly I was not there for that tasting, but received some pictures of the event... (Accolades/Reviews for 2015: 95 points by both James Suckling and Germany’s Falstaff Wein) Riecine di Riecine transcends the appellation as a singular expression of Sangiovese unlike anything I’ve found elsewhere in the Chianti hills. It can test one’s notions of high-end, blue chip European wines—particularly those from Burgundy, and my first taste of the 2013 vintage, with the wine and food writer, Jordan Mackay, did exactly that. We were perplexed because in our Zalto glasses was a wine that evoked the feeling of high-altitude red Burgundy from a shallow and rocky limestone and clay topsoil on limestone bedrock. Poured from a Burgundy-shaped bottle, the wine was supple but finely delineated with high-tension fruit, earth, mineral impressions and a sappy interior. Its beguiling aromas were delicate but effusive, and very Rousseau-esque, in a higher-altitude-sort-of-way (think Rouchottes-Chambertin, without the bludgeon of new oak upon first pulling the cork from that wiry juggernaut of the Côte d’Or). Like a Burgundy, this wine is in fact grown on rocky limestone and clay topsoil with limestone bedrock, and at a high altitude of 450-500 meters, so about 200 to 250 meters higher than the majority of the Côte d’Or’s most prized sites. To preserve the wine’s purity, it’s raised in concrete egg tanks for three years, which serves this wine well—not all wines of pedigree can thrive so well raised solely in concrete. The vines planted in the early 1970s further its suppleness and complexity, and concentrate its fresh red fruit characteristics. This wine is special, and with a vintage like 2016, it's not one to pass on if your budget has room for at least a bottle to give it a try. (2016 Review: Suckling 94… Not bad, but if he gave 2015 La Gioia 95 points, this should be at least a 96. But to taste it next to La Gioia it can easily appear less substantial because it’s fine and more subtle. We find it substantial in a different way, a more Burgundian way.)

Les Lys and the Last Night at La Fabrique, Part Eighteen of An Outsider at The Source

We headed back over the hills toward Provence, passing through Montpelier and Nîmes again. Our goal was to visit a small producer who does a great ten dollar organically farmed wine that Ted said, “tastes alive,” which he had just a couple days earlier mentioned was nearly impossible for such a cheap bottle. So he wanted to see the operation in person to verify that it wasn’t too good to be true. The Les Lys winery wasn’t easy to find, what with the navigation system again redirecting us through many strange and pointless turns before we finally found the road we needed. There was some sort of festival underway in the tiny town we were passing through, so we were forced to drive through the milling pedestrians at a crawl. When we finally made our way out of herds and arrived at the winery a few miles on, we found a simple and beautiful pair of low, sleek modern buildings with a big deck between them, overlooking a huge expanse of green farmland that stretched to the horizon. Thomas Faure greeted us inside a small tasting room and retail space. He’s in his early thirties and wiry, with a great mop of hair over a boyish, scruffily-bearded face. As he poured his selections, he enthusiastically described each one and how he personally experiences them: the fruit, the scents and what he likes to eat with the different varietals. He spoke softly and never used more words than were necessary. He and Ted conversed in French and Ted continued to express pleasant surprise with more than half of the new vintage wines. Then Thomas excused himself to take a call and left Ted with an export price list. Ted was astonished at the value of the wines and was excited at the prospect of passing such a good deal on to his clientele, some of whom really appreciate an inexpensive but high quality table wine. We went for a quick tour of his barrels and tanks in a small facility downstairs, tasted a couple of aging samples, and the Syrah in particular was showing up strong. I swished, spit and missed the grate, and admired Ted’s ability to project what looked like a solid mass of froth—a pellet even—in a perfect arch that hit whatever he was aiming at dead center. I saw this phenomenon with many of his growers and peers and realized it was just another skill that can be picked up after thousands of practice shots, along with his poet’s ability to describe wine. Thomas assured me that my miss wasn’t a problem, that he hoses the place down regularly. But he also said he wasn’t worried about being as clean as a hospital. After all, he said, vignerons in places like Burgundy and Châteauneuf-du-Pape don’t disturb the dirt and mold on the walls and ceilings of their cellars, where they often grow to many inches thick, and the stuff becomes a part of the wines’ terroir. Since Thomas had come to work that day on his scooter, Ted drove us all out to his vineyards, a couple miles away. Thomas pointed out a couple other wineries as we passed them, saying this one was good, while that one… he paused to blow air into bulging cheeks and out of his mouth like a leaky tire, and said nothing more. We got out to the bulk of his parcels and Ted immediately picked up some soil and look at it through his loop. The land under Thomas’ vines was thick with grasses—clearly herbicide free. He would till it all soon enough to provide natural fertilizer, but otherwise he lets nature take its course. Ted snapped photos of green fields that ended in thick stands of bushy trees in the distance. Though Thomas was clearly photogenic, he kept shying away from Ted’s camera lens. Ted finally said, “Wait! Look at me!,” in French. Finally, Thomas paused and smiled. Ted clicked away, then said, “There! That’s the money shot!” There was another stacked-stone hut between long stone walls nearby, a Berger like the ones on Zernott’s land, but bigger and resembling an Aztec pyramid. It was three hundred years old and built as a shelter for the local shepherds to live in, way back when. It was still in amazing shape and since we were right off a road that led to a nearby town, it seemed certain to me that local kids used it to drink beer and smoke pot, what I would have done there when I was a teenager. I said as much to Thomas and he quickly agreed; he had to clean empty beer cans out of it on a regular basis. We returned to the winery and said our goodbyes. It had been a quick and pleasant visit and we headed back south, into the Mistral, where the trees beside the road were dancing maniacally. I couldn’t get over how every structure seemed to be built of the same limestone that filled the ground, and that most of the vines we had seen so far grew from the very same building materials and took on their properties. The rocks Ted loves so much truly surround us and we drink them in. Our last night at La Fabrique was another blur of smoke, animated French chatter, Nicole dangling a cigarette between split fingers as she tossed a salad, and Thierry bringing out his cheese plate that had magically been completely replenished, his son Romain eating huge chunks of it after a big meal as he refilled his whiskey and coke… Veronique’s hoarse laughter echoed under the patio roof. Ynez wrote letters on Leiah’s back for her to guess as Mattisse ran around and giggled. And all these images and sounds took up permanent residence in my head. The dogs Jango and Jazz, as always, were still baying at everything that moved beyond the periphery of the light. Sonya and Pierre had had them for three years and every time they barked, Sonya never stopped shouting at them (to no avail) and then shook her head in frustration, each time with a kind of beaten resolve that she has repeated countless times and would repeat countless more. A little boy who lived in one of the rentals approached the table and circled on his bike. The dogs lunged and barked, lunged and barked again, but he stood his ground and they eventually backed off. Another boy wasn’t so lucky. He got scared and ran and Jango chased him, caught up and nipped him on his butt. He screamed and ran home crying. His father returned and didn’t seem mad, just asked what could be done to prevent it happening in the future. The consensus among the group was: “don’t run.” Like with wild animals, the child’s fleeing seemed to trigger a predatory response. I thought of all the helicopter parents in the States who would’ve certainly been irate, threatening and possibly pursuing litigation—a laughable prospect in France. I asked Pierre about a huge wooden armoire that loomed in the dining room where I broke fast every morning. It had intricate carvings on the front depicting distant figures and farmland around a house, as well as close-ups of peoples’ faces, and he said it was carved by an artisan for his family decades ago and depicted his mother and father, him and his siblings, with his childhood home in the background. I said I thought it a beautiful and unique piece and expressed doubt that things like that were done much anymore, to which he immediately agreed. Earlier in the day, I had said something about the same armoire to Sonya and she grumbled that it was an ugly monstrosity that took up half the room. She wanted it gone, but it was an heirloom, so her hands were tied. At dinner, Pierre conceded that it had fit better in a house they lived in before and now he didn’t really know what to do with it. He had had better success with the two huge stained-glass windows that he had pulled from his father’s old house which he had installed as room dividers in the new guest house where Ted and Andrea were staying. I said I had noticed them and thought they were beautiful and made for impressive, colorful glass walls. He looked pleased. Now it was anybody’s guess where most of the stuff in the huge house would go, because they were planning to sell La Fabrique and move to a much smaller place. The days when Ted could have his samples shipped there to wait for his next visit, the weeks where he (and friends like I) could come and stay and use that private resort as a haven, were numbered. Pierre had hoped that his son Fabien would take over when this time came. But Fabien had long ago moved to Ojai, got married and had children. His life was in California, and likely would be for the duration. So sometime in the coming months (or years, who knows how long it could take), Sonya and Pierre would be handing this paradise over to someone else, and more than a few people were sad about it. We were departing the next day, and while Ted and Andrea would probably make it back there before things changed, I was pretty sure I would never see it again. I looked around and did my best to lock in every detail I could.

Newsletter June 2022

Süditrol’s St. Magdelena vines shot from Fliederhof winery, May 2022 May, Europe’s new summer month… As we descend upon Germany via train from Milan through the Alps, our group of four are all wounded and bloated from a massive intake of beef tartar, vitello tonnato, agnolotti, ravioli, gnocchi, and a near overdose of Nebbiolo (if that’s possible… well, maybe it is with the tannins of young ones…). We are in Germany for a day and then I’m off to Iberia for two more weeks of visits with another group of our staff who are joining me there as the others head home. I packed light for this forty-day bender, as sparingly as I ever have for a journey of over a month: four pairs of pants, two sweaters and a long jacket have taken up precious space in my bags since I left Prague at the end of April. It’s strangely hot this year and especially dry too. Climate change is really starting to weigh heavily over here and everyone’s concerns are more heightened than ever, despite 2021’s colder year in many locations, with great losses in some areas due to mildew pressure. In the past, climate change was a talking point in the midst of each vintage’s woes, but today, perhaps elevated by the post-pandemic shutdown period (hopefully post!), Ukrainian invasion and inflation ridiculousness, the mood is heavier than ever, especially after so many years of wackiness with the twisting of seasons. In many parts of Northern Italy it has only rained three times since November and what has arrived didn’t deliver enough. We just left Barolo and Barbaresco and many of the Nebbiolo vines were already flowering in those areas and their surroundings, around May 20th, which means a harvest will likely be in early September. There isn’t anything to do except hope for some relief, but it’s already quite late to slow things down enough to extend the season. I started the trip with ten days in Austria and the Czech Republic accompanied by my wife, Andrea, where we found the best Napolitana pizza I’ve had outside of Campania, at Pizza Nuova (which has a fabulous Italian wine list too), and a great wine bar, Bokovka, both owned by the same clever company. When Andrea left, JD, our Los Angeles sales rep, arrived. After a great visit with our Austrian team—all highlights, honestly, between Tegernseerhof’s 2019s, Veyder-Malberg’s 2021s, Malat’s 2019s and 2021s, Weszeli’s 2017s, and Birgit Braunstein and her cool range of progressive and well-made, biodynamic natural wines—he and I jumped down to Milan to grab Victoria, my sister and Office Manager, and Tyler, an Aussie expatriate who represents us in San Diego and Orange County. We all have serious farmer tans now just in time for the real summer months and big setbacks on our beach bellies. There is far too much to say about my trip here, and I wish I had time to share it all. What I can say is that I am very proud of the producers we represent in Austria and Northern Italy. Perhaps the biggest surprise for our team was the quality of wines coming from our four producers in Monferrato: Crotin keeps nailing it with inexpensive but serious wines and some new bottlings, too; Spertino is becoming a problem because the international demand for this true vinous artist is putting a pinch on our allocations; La Casaccia, a new producer for us, was probably the most unexpected knockout visit for our group with their masterfully crafted range of Barbera, Grignolino and Freisa (the latter is simply inconceivably delicious, perfumed, and subtle but generous as any Freisa I’ve ever had); and Sette, a new winery working biodynamically that lived up to my hype for my staff with their head-turning wines from Nizza. Alto Piemonte and Langhe also had a spectacular showing with the most notable highlights being Monti Perini’s yet-to-be-bottled 2017, 2018 and 2019 Bramaterra wines, Davide Carlone’s upcoming 2020 entry-level wines all grown in Boca, Dave Fletcher’s 2019 four Barbaresco bottlings that were simply a stunning breakthrough for him (an already very good, young winegrower) and Poderi Colla’s 2019 Barbaresco Roncaglie, a true masterpiece and unquestionably the top Barbaresco I’ve had from them. There’s so much more to add, but we’ll get there another day because now we’re off to Spain and Portugal. In next month’s Newsletter, I’ll give the play-by-play and note the highlights from my final two-week leg of the journey. New Producers In June we have a real boatload of wine coming in (unapologetic pun intended). It’s hard to know where to start because there are so many good things arriving. All the new wines this month are from France, except a lone Spanish wine made from one of our new French producers who plays by his own rules, Imanol Garay. Also arriving in the warehouse are new wines from Arnaud Lambert, Thierry Richoux, David Moreau’s 2019s, finally the 2020 Dutraive wines, Francois Crochet’s 2021 Rosé of Pinot Noir, Domaine du Pas de L’Escalette, Pascal Ponson “Prestige Cuvée” Champagne, and finally a reload from our lone Bordeaux producer (for the moment), Cantelaudette. Because there is so much, I’ll only highlight a few, starting with our newest additions. Aside from the two new producers we will explore today, there are over a dozen more we signed on with over the last six months or so whose wines will finally be arriving by the last quarter of the year. We have new wines coming from Chile (Itata), Saumur, Montlouis, Champagne, Bordeaux, Piemonte, Abruzzo, Douro, Setubal, Alentejo, Azores, Rías Baixas, Ribeira Sacra, and Sicily—finally, after five years of poking around the island. We are in the middle of exciting times at The Source and we greatly appreciate the support from you who continue to work with our talented team and consider the wines from our constantly evolving portfolio. It’s because of you that we can continue to do the work we love to do. Imanol Garay, Southwest France/Northern Spain Spanish/French former engineer and barrel broker, Imanol Garay, un vigneron libre, follows no wine rules (other than some labeling requirements for his French/Spanish wine blends) and believes in terroir not only as the concept of specific site or even region but as a contiguous philosophical thread practiced in different places that may be forged into one wine. A resident of southwest France, his cellar is in Orthez, only a short drive from Spain’s Basque country. Before starting his project, he worked with French natural wine gurus Richard Leroy and Vincente Careme, among others. Some vineyards are his own, some he rents and farms, and some fruit comes from friends with the same deep respect for nature aligned with their life philosophy. He has another project in Spain’s Txakoli region with friends, Alfredo Egia (also in our portfolio) and Gile Iturri, labeled Hegan Egin; some years he makes Rioja, others Navarra, and always a lot of French wine. Cautiously walking the natural-wine line, his pursuit is of the clean yet uninhibited, void of unwanted animally smells (the mouse, the horse), and instead with wonderful character-filled and potently nuanced, high-energy wines filled with joy and authenticity, like the man himself. Imanol Garay We start with Imanol’s 2020 Clandestinus, a Pyrenean red wine from Spain’s Navarra grown on limestone bedrock with brown topsoil. CLANdeSTINUS is a play on words regarding Imanol’s family history, the Stinus clan, from (de) Alsace in former times, and a “tribute to all those who have crossed mountains, seeking a better life.” The mix is equal parts Grenache and Graciano, the latter a less well known and very promising red variety with an incredible structure led with, at times, jarring acidity when not fully ripe, but gorgeously savory with tight dark red fruit. As all of Imanol’s wines, it’s made without any additions throughout vinification, with some added after malolactic fermentation where it receives a sparse amount of sulfur prior to bottling. Élevage takes place over a ten-month period in a mix of 228-, 600- and 700-liter French oak barrels with mostly old wood and a small portion of new. Clandestinus dances on its toes around the danger of a natural wine disaster while delivering a non-stop barrage of juicy, slightly baked fruits and roasted nuts, and sweet, northern Spanish countryside rusticity—think leather, chestnuts, and cured meat. I observed this young and surprisingly voluptuous wine for days after opening it, waiting for it to succumb to exhaustion after its vigorous dance, but my wife fell under its spell and finally finished it off before I could stop her—a surprising act from someone who usually has little interest in red wines that hit 14% alcohol. Diving into Imanol’s highly sought after whites with unfortunately extremely tight limitations on quantity are his Ixilune (pronounced “itchie-loo-nay”), French whites grown in and around the Madiran and Béarn appellations, without the appellations on the labels. These are very special whites indeed, and we took whatever Imanol would allow from the two vintages available. Both are deep in reductive, minerally elements (à la Richard Leroy) and need a moment to open and express their rolling hill, limestone and alluvial terroirs. The 2018 Ixilune is composed of 70% Petit Courbu from d’Aydie, and 30% Petit Manseng from Soublecause. The élevage takes place in 225- and 500-liter barrels of young but no new French oak. Free of sulfites through its time in wood, a first and final addition was made at bottling. The 2020 Ixilune is a blend of 25% Petit Courbu and 25% Petit Manseng (both from Pacherenc du Vic-Bilh), with the difference, a rare white grape with a long tradition, Raffiat de Moncade, cultivated in and around the village of Orthez. The potentially high-yielding Raffiat de Moncade produces relatively neutral white wines, often expressing soft, white flesh fruit notes and flowers. It offers this blend with the other two higher-toned and more tense fresh grapes a gentler mouthfeel and softer aromas. The 2020 Ixilune is similarly aged in 225- and 500-liter barrels of young French oak and 10% in a small amphora. Always searching to work around sulfur, Imanol was confident enough to bottle this white without adding any. Given his successes with his no-sulfur Txakoli project, Hegan Egin, the 2020 Ixilune appears to follow in those very successful footsteps. Both wines are 14% in alcohol, but fresh, tight, minerally (alongside its beautiful reductive elements) and as mentioned, surprisingly unbreakable for days after opening. New Producer: Nicolas Pointeau (Domaine de la Sablière), Chinon Due to the severe shortage of Saumur red wines from Arnaud Lambert, Romain Guiberteau and Brendan Stater-West, I began to search for some young blood in the Loire Valley’s Cabernet Franc world, especially outside of Saumur, to add a little variety to our Cabernet Franc range. I love the wines of Saumur, but I’m also interested in finding other things throughout the rest of the Loire Valley, a region we adore. Marielle et Nicolas Pointeau I received a tip from one of our top winegrowers about the wines of Nicolas Pointeau, a young vigneron working his family’s Chinon winery organically with his wife, Marielle, in Domaine de la Sablière. Any tip from great producers is worth exploring, and a few years ago they met Nicolas at an event and pointed me in their direction—this is how “discovery” in importing works most of the time (nearly all the time), rather than knocking randomly on doors and cold-calling in other ways. A lot has happened between my introductory tastes of his wines in the summer of 2019, with the 2017 and 2018 vintages, and what is in the bottle now, with the 2020 vintage. The conversion to organic farming and a few more years of experience in the cellar, Nicolas made wines convincing enough to jump on his wagon. Pointeau’s organic Chinon vineyards on alluvial soils used for the entry-level Chinon wines Nicolas’ wines will not yet revolutionize the Cabernet Franc wine scene because they are made in a very straightforward way without much “hand in the wine.” His entire range is solid, unpretentious, and not over-thought or overplayed; they deliver tremendous value and exist squarely in the realm of lightly structured, delicious, gravelly, black earth, lovely red and dark-fruited, perfectly ripe and deliciously savory Cabernet Franc. Their vineyards in Chinon are largely on alluvial soils with some on shallow topsoils above tuffeau limestone bedrock. The alluvial soils make for wines with a little more gentleness on acidity and palate roundness without being too rich from the soil and much less solar powered than Cabernet Franc wines from further south in western France. If you are familiar with Arnaud Lambert’s range (as are most restaurant and retail buyers who work with our portfolio), think Les Terres Rouges, or Montée des Roches, both grown on Arnaud’s richer soils of the Saumur-Champigny commune, Saint-Cyr en Bourg, but maybe a little less dense given the loamier soils than the clay-rich soils of Saumur-Champigny. Even more, Nicolas’ reds represent his conviviality and hard-working nature; when I drink them, I am always reminded of him in his well-worn vigneron’s clothes, with a smile from ear to ear. The Pointeau cellar Within the range of the three Chinon reds that will land, the 2020 Chinon “Tradition” is the first in line and raised in only stainless steel tanks and comes from gravelly soil on large terraces. The wine does indeed have gravelly textures (classic for the variety), a good mix of dark and red fruits, graphite palate and nose, on a light frame. The 2020 Chinon “Tonneliers” is raised in old French oak barrels (called fûts de chêne in these parts, rather than barrique) and similarly grown on gravel soils as the “Tradition” bottling. The difference here is maybe just a slightly fuller body and rounded edges though with a similar fruit profile. The time in wood also imparts more savory notes and a slight softening of the fruit notes. The 2020 Chinon “Vieille Vignes” comes from parcels with a greater tuffeau limestone presence, further uphill from the vineyards used for the other bottlings we imported. Finer lines and a deeper core with additional mineral notes alongside the variety’s ubiquitous graphite notes, this stainless-steel-aged Cabernet Franc has great purity and depth for Nicolas’ gentle and easy style. The average age of vines for all the cuvées is around forty-five years, with the Vieille Vignes closer to eighty. All the Chinon red wines we imported from Pointeau are bottled between March and June after their vintage year. New Arrivals Richoux, Irancy We have a fabulous group of wines coming in from Thierry Richoux and his fils, Gavin and Félix. The baton is in the process of being passed from Thierry to them, which explains why some labels display their names, and others have Thierry’s. Since 2017 a few things have changed at this organically-run domaine. The boys have incorporated some new techniques, most noticeably a gentler extraction and the use of smaller barrels, where in the past they were aged exclusively for a year in stainless steel, followed by another year in large foudre between 55hl-85hl capacity. They are also experimenting with notable success with smaller total sulfur additions and holding out on the first addition until the wines are ready to be bottled. Much of these changes will be felt in the years to come more than those that arrive today. We adore the old-school style of Thierry and hope they will stay close to it, but it’s obvious that Gavin and Félix are making a few advancements instead of experimental setbacks. Félix, the youngest of Thierry and Corine Richoux’s sons We have a reload of 2017 Irancy and our first batch of 2017 Irancy “Veaupessiot”. This vintage expresses the beautiful fruit nuances of this warm vintage that ripened when the fruit was still dominated by red tones. In the 2005 vintage, Veaupessiot became Richoux’s first single-cru bottling of Irancy, and for good reason. While a good portion of Irancy sits inside the amphitheater shape that surrounds the ancient village, there are many prized sites just outside of it, or on the south-side of the south hill of the appellation. Veaupessiot is on the outside, at the southwestern end of the horseshoe-shaped appellation as it opens toward the west. The slope is moderately steep and ends near a ravine that cuts in below it, and an incline far too steep for vineyards. Other vineyards look like they could be as good, but that’s the fun and mystery of great vineyards; it’s not what’s above that determines the great sites, it’s what’s below. Richoux recognized this early on and it remains the most well-balanced single-cru wine in his range. This wine will have good moments early on but certainly has the chops to age as effortlessly as Richoux’s many wines have time and time again. The Richoux family’s wines are bulletproof and remain one of the greatest deals still to be had in all of Burgundy among top domaines. Richoux Veaupessiot parcel to the left of the road Les Cailles is Richoux’s second single-cru bottling and is more powerful and structured than Veaupessiot. It’s spicier, more mineral and with more formidable tannins, requiring extra time in bottle as well as aeration once opened to find its peak moment. When it gets there, it arrives in a big way, but we must be more patient than with Veaupessiot. 2015 Irancy “Les Cailles” will surely be the best yet put to bottle (that is released), and this year is a perfect vintage with its boosted ripeness and softer tannins; this means that it will require of you less patience to find its moment upon opening compared to the previous three releases. (The first year of Les Cailles was bottled in 2012.) The 2015 Veaupessiot is an extraordinary wine (that sold out in a flash), which means that Les Cailles will be nothing short of impressive for decades to come. It will be interesting to see Veaupessiot and Les Cailles duke it out over the years, and it would be best not miss a vintage from either of them to experience this intriguing comparison. Les Cailles is situated on the north hill of the amphitheater facing south. The vines are over seventy years old and contribute added depth. South-facing old vines of Les Cailles Arnaud Lambert, Saumur Yet another group of wines from Arnaud Lambert is arriving. We have a lot of coverage of his wines in our newsletters and on the website, so I won’t take a deep dive here. On the boat are reloads of the Crémant de Loire Blanc & Rosé and some new releases of single-cru wines. It seems we have some of our barrels marked in Arnaud’s cellar! In the Saumur Blanc department, we have the 2020 “Les Perrieres”, 2018 “Bonne Nouvelle”, 2018 “Coulee de St. Cyr”, 2018 Clos de la Rue, and the 2018 Saint-Just “Brézé”. Quantities are minuscule on some of these, so please go easy on us if we can’t fill your requests. In the red department, the new release of 2019 Saumur “Montée des Roches” and 2018 Saumur-Champigny “Clos Moleton” will arrive. Quantities on these two wines are very limited, so get ahead on those and reach out soon if you are interested. Brézé’s tuffeau limestone diversity from stark white to light orange due to a higher iron content Jean-Louis Dutraive, 2017 Dutraive, Beaujolais Finally, the 2020s from Dutraive will arrive. We opted to wait until all the wines were ready in this vintage (some fermentations ran a little later than expected) before we brought them in, which resulted in some unexpectedly lengthy delays. The 2020 vintage was relatively uneventful and without demoralizing natural elements such as frost or high mildew pressure. However, it was a warm year all around. The difference between some of the other warmer seasons of late is that the vines had a good natural yield that was only curbed by the summer heat, concentrating grapes and making for riper wines. The most positive element of the year was that the growers were able to choose when they wanted to pick, resulting in balanced fruit. Dutraive’s wines in 2020 are fresher than many of the recent years thanks to the naturally balanced crop load. The recent warm years that had early season losses to nature’s elements affected the final balance of the wines due to too much of the vine’s focus on the little quantity of fruit they produced. As usual, quantities are very limited. Dutraive’s Clos de la Grand’Cour vineyard in Fleurie Pas de L’Escalette, Languedoc Julien Zernott and Delphine Rousseau have become one of the Languedoc’s leading producers for substantive wines with higher tones and greater freshness than the typical wines from this massive area of France. During the pandemic many producers were understandably forced to seek out new markets for their wines while their traditional markets, including France, waited out the pandemic. That, in conjunction with the rest of the world taking notice, is why our allocations are more limited these days. I apologize in advance for an unusually small quantity of wines from this young (still!) and progressive duo. Escalette vineyard with walls constructed from “clapas” 2021 should be a great year for French rosé. It’s probably the coldest year since 2013 and offers a lot of freshness to the wines, especially after the long string of warm years, particularly between 2017 and 2020. Escalette’s 2021 Ze Rozé is a slightly top-heavy wine sourced from some of the better red grape parcels—no specific parcels are isolated for the rosé. Here, compared to most Provencal rosés similarly composed of Grenache, you can expect more body but on a rather tight frame due to the higher altitude, rockier limestone bedrock and topsoil, and the constant fresh winds that blow through this narrow valley. The blend this year is 65% Grenache, 20% Carignan for greater flesh and deeper fruit, 10% Cinsault for more lifted and floral aromas and 5% Syrah. The 2021 Les Petits Pas also benefited greatly from the cooler year, yielding a very fresh red. From the moment the Les Petits Pas was created, Julien and Delphine’s intention was to add a charmer in their line of wines that didn’t take itself too seriously—hence the full color pinkish red label with neon green, baby footprints. Pas de L’Escalette is nestled up into an ancient roadway that connects the Languedoc to the north by way of France’s central mountain range, the Massif Central. This is cooler wine country, far from the Mediterranean, so it’s plenty cold at night, even in summer, and this is what imparts their wines with more zippy freshness and crunchy red and dark fruits, which make it a perfect wine for warm weather. Les Petits Pas is a multi-parcel blend from organically farmed vineyards on limestone terroirs, typically a mix of 40% Grenache, 40% Syrah and 20% Carignan. Each of these grapes naturally carries ample freshness, magnified by a little chill, making it anything but heavy on a sunny day. It is indeed compelling for us wine geeks, but it’s more of a drink-it-don’t-think-it wine. Les Petits Pas doesn’t constantly tug at your sleeve begging to show you how good it is, it’s just good. Les Clapas Rouge, named after the limestone rock piles (clapas) found in the vineyards, is led by Syrah, which makes up 50% of the blend. The Syrah is entirely vinified in whole bunches, and Delphine says they never destem Syrah because the stems add so much complexity; they’re mixed in for the fermentation and contribute what one might expect: heightened freshness, texture, and exotic green, animal nuances. The remainder is a mix of 30% Carignan and 20% Grenache, both co-fermented with 50% whole clusters. The latter two grapes contribute more of the suppleness, but the combination of the three—all extremely noble grapes—make for a wine broad in dimension and full in flavor. After its three to four week “infusion” fermentation (which simply means no big movements for extraction) the wine is polished up over fourteen months in 50-hectoliter upright wooden tanks and a single 20-hectoliter foudre. It’s racked once in the spring and the only sulfite addition (no more than 30mg/l, or 30 parts per million of total SO2) is made just prior to the bottling, without any filtration.

Newsletter November 2023 – Part Two

(Download complete pdf here) Who doesn’t love a good prodigy story? Our wine world abounds with hyperbole about the genius and extraordinary talent of the very young. This makes it a bit of a conundrum when deciding to include wine professionals in this category of inspired people (at least when compared to musicians and artists) because viticulture and winemaking aren’t taught in kindergarten or elementary school—though in Europe they are taught in high school. Rarely do we taste wine on-site with a new potential partner before first doing ample research and purchasing a few bottles to try. However, context does come into play, especially when a reputable connector is involved. On a three-day November trip with wine industry friends, our Nizza Monferrato revolutionaries at Sette mentioned that if we had time to meet Daniele Marengo, we absolutely should. The 2021 Nas-Cëtta was a great start, and the 2021 Dolcetto that followed was mind-blowing. (Yes, Dolcetto can be exactly that.) It was a maturely crafted complex wine with a suave texture from a young vignaiolo who already seemed to have had a full lifetime of contemplating and finding Dolcetto’s truest form. The Barbera was a fabulous follow-up, but when we arrived at the Langhe Nebbiolo, we all said little and sat in front of the quiet Daniele sharing glances of disbelief at the strength and maturity of these four starting-block wines. The mark of the greatest producers is often found in their entry-level wines as well as those in their top billing. If they’re not solid and consistent, their top wines won’t be either. However, a strong starting range is no guarantee of quality for what comes after. Though it’s not fair to speculate on Daniele’s potential while he’s only nearing the quarter mark of his life, we do see the genius early on. It’s even rarer in a region as important as Barolo for someone so young to be given full control and to generate such high-level results so quickly. In our portfolio of growers, there are few so impressive in their early twenties from one of a country’s most celebrated regions. (Our Chablis grower, Romain Collet, comes to mind with his first vintage in 2008, at age 20.) Is Daniele a prodigy? Not sure, but it will be a privilege to watch his progression from the front row. Mauro Marengo Born in Alba in 1961, Mauro Marengo left middle school to help his father Francesco take care of their many different crops and livestock up until the 1980s. Incentivized by the increasing global success of their wine region, they slowly moved more of their effort to viticulture, and in 2015 they made their first commercial wines. Daniele describes his father as having the peasant pragmatism of the Langa and a strong attachment to the land. What is most unique about the Marengos and the typical Piemontese familial agricultural system is how early they began to pass the torch on to their children. They started to first give control over the business to their daughters and convinced by Daniele’s obvious talent and passion for the vineyard and cellar work, some years later they gave him, at twenty-two-years-old, their full support of his ideas and the directional control in the vineyards and cellar. However, Daniele was involved from the start with the microquantity of wines bottled under the family label in 2015 when he had just entered his teenage years. “My father was very forward-thinking and created a true generational transition, leaving my sisters and me the possibility of embarking on a new path, while always remaining by our side, listening to our ideas and trying to understand them without putting ‘spokes’ in them.” -Daniele Marengo Today, in 2023, with their twenty-eight hectares of land (four for hazelnuts, nine for wheat, and fifteen to vines), they still sell more than 70% of their grape production with the goal of eventually bottling two-thirds of the best parcels each year for their family label, while continuing to sell the remaining grapes and wines that don’t make their quality standards to negociants. While waiters and restaurant managers prioritize hot food above all else, the entire Marengo family, like most agricultural families, is all hands on deck for harvest. The cast of characters begins with Daniele’s grandmother, Angela, who, despite being born back at the start of WWII, still spends her days in the cellar and vineyard. She and her late husband, Francesco (1933-2021), brought Mauro and Annamaria into the world. Annamaria works in a bank and helps during harvest. Mauro continues to take care of the overall family business and remains the family’s main tractor driver and is now a sort of “cellar assistant” to Daniele while working in the vineyards and other fields. Lucia, Mauro’s wife, works in the vineyards and manages the money. Mauro and Lucia’s firstborn, Gabriella, who earned a degree in Management, began to work for the family in 2014 in administration (a full-time job for every business in Italy); her husband, Cristian, helps with vineyard work and other tasks. Their second daughter, Elisa, is the family Graphic Arts major who studied in Genoa and Paris. She creates their attractive, stylistic labels and does business marketing and communication, and, of course, she also works in the vineyards. Elisa’s husband, the artist Pierpaolo, helps where he’s needed, but mostly with public relations. And then there’s Daniele. A pleasure to visit with not only because the wines are invigorating and exciting, Daniele is also humble and generously hospitable. In response to questions, he emanates a sort of eccentric, genius-like aloofness, with lengthy pauses to reflect before answering in his naturally soft manner; then the meditative tranquility is often jolted by his thunderous laughter. Daniele graduated in 2020 from the University of Turin’s Alba branch with a degree in Viticulture and Oenology. He began his master’s too but abandoned it to focus on the family business. The third and last in line, he slowly found comfort and resolve to follow the inevitable road toward becoming a vignaiolo. “I think it was a slow realization during adolescence that this path was too tempting to not be taken. Over time I realized that it was what I needed, and it is something that gratifies me.” Acknowledging his young age, Daniele hesitates to be firm in his ideas. Even if his thoughts are that of a revolutionary, his newly incorporated practices aren’t, in principle, they’re just simple and smart, the way a sushi chef does little with a perfect piece of fish with naturally pure flavor, nothing but cut precisely and plate with care and intention. As with wood-grilled, fatty bellota-hogging Ibérico fresh cuts like pluma, presa, and secreto, there is little to incorporate except the right cooking temperature, quality of the wood and the right moment of its embers, and good finishing salt to further animate the naturally decadent flavors from this extraordinary race of pigs of terroir. When one has beautifully farmed grapes, the most clever makers also do as little as possible and rely on basic techniques and, most of all, their intuition. Daniele explains that with his opportunity to direct the wines, they began with the most important part: to give greater attention to soil health, incorporating organic farming and seeding cover crops that help with erosion, especially on the steepest hillsides, and to replenish micronutrients that the vines exhaust. In the cellar, his personal taste and style of wines pushed him to pursue freshness over power and ripeness to highlight their Novello-based high altitude assets; this includes earlier picking, considerations for whole-cluster fermentation, more delicate maceration practices, gentler pressing and slower, less vigorous racking, along with earlier bottling to preserve even greater vitality. In short, to keep the wines fresh, clean, and not overworked. The secret to great winemaking is no secret at all. Every touch in the cellar can increase components or diminish them, and utilizing perfect grapes that are processed with the intention of highlighting the vineyard handling, the intricacy of the terroir and seasonal nuances requires not only doing as little as possible but also knowing exactly when to do what to achieve the desired result. Every compelling wine is designed by intuition, connection, talent, and the skill of its maker. Daniele Marengo’s ability to realize his objectives to these ends is extraordinary. Looking over Novello toward the north Marengo’s fifteen hectares of vineyards are in Novello with some crossover into the Barolo commune with their Terlo cru. Their collection straddles the southwest ridge above the town of Barolo, with their Barolo crus, Ravera and Terlo, on the eastern side, facing east and contiguous from one cru border to the next with altitudes ranging between 350-410m. A series of Nebbiolo parcels and Barbera sit on the top of the ridge plateau around 400-420m. On the western side are more Nebbiolo and Barbera on the highest parts and Nas-Cëtta and Dolcetto just below but still a little over 400m. Everything is on the typical Barolo calcareous sands and here the grayish blue calcareous marls. Everything is moving toward organic farming, which is clear as one walks the vines, the greenest rows in the area. While new generations continue to push for more natural ways of farming, there is still solid incentive remaining in Barolo and Barbaresco for growers to sell bulk fruit or wines to negociants, therefore there are far more non-organic sites than organic ones. In Novello, Marengo’s vineyards stand out because they are healthy, green patches often surrounded by desert-like plots packed with vines. Novello has an advantage in the medium to long-term outlook with regard to climate change compared to a lot of other areas of high-quality Nebbiolo production; Daniele’s land is more stable, perhaps not for a hundred years, but certainly for this generation. What in the past were advantages and disadvantages regarding altitude, exposure and wind protection have begun to flip over recent decades, and the hierarchy is changing. The higher altitude of Novello and exposure to strong winds help to “clean” vineyards, i.e. keep mildew pressure lower than other more sheltered areas. Marengo’s two Barolo crus are both exposed due east and lose hours of the scorching evening sun in the peak of summer and fall because of their steep exposure at the crest of the hill, with its gorgeous view of the Barolo village below and vast expanse of the cradle of the Barolo appellation. More widely known as Nascetta but spelled Nas-Cëtta in Novello, Daniele’s first cracks at this grape are beyond expectations from a new winegrower and perhaps even from the variety itself. The vines are young and the wines are vigorous and fully expressive with a lead interplay of reductive elements, mineral impressions and soft, savory grasses, honey, and white fruits. The style is hard to capture at this moment because he’s evolving quickly from one vintage to the next, but sensations like salty, high-toned, and energizing have been captured thus far—imagine the result if Arnaud Lambert and Olivier Lamy teamed up for a Nas-Cëtta project. “What I like about this wine is that it never bores you. In its youth it is not too fruity, therefore it’s not cloying. It’s well balanced between the floral and fruit aromas and over time it acquires complexity and volume in the mouth, without ever being static and repetitive.”-Daniele Marengo The vineyards are in the località Tarditi on the west side of Novello and are exposed directly west toward the Tanaro Valley with a glorious view of the snow-capped Alps that tower over this gentle slope at 390-405m on bluish-gray marl, clay and silt topsoil. More Nas-Cëtta will come from a new plantation in Zora, which is on blue marl with pale calcareous sand topsoil located west of the località Serra, north of Novello’s center and close to the family winery and home. Daniele wants to craft a vertically shaped Nas-Cëtta while integrating the variety’s aromatics and mineral components that over time become more expressive in the back palate. He says that the marls of Sant’Agata make whites with great structure, but because they are at a high altitude with full exposure the plots experience large temperature shifts which helps maintain freshness. He also points out that a strength of Nas-Cëtta is that it’s good right away but even better four years or so after bottling. In the cellar, a natural fermentation takes place with controlled temperatures for about 20-25 days in steel. During cellar aging, it’s racked a few times prior to bottling and only filtered if turbid. Sulfites are first added after primary fermentation. It doesn’t pass through malolactic fermentation and is not fined nor filtered. The overall red wine profile with young wines at Marengo is led with a tinge more purple than red fruit. Most likely a result of picking decisions and the cellar approach, the darker fruits may also be partially attributed to the higher altitude and a longer ripening period on parcels that face more toward the east, like Ravera and Terlo. Smitten by Marengo’s 2021 Dolcetto, we were temporarily heartbroken during our second visit to the cantina in April 2023 when, after extolling the virtues of his 2021 and claiming we’ve not had better young Dolcetto, he softly broke the news that he had changed the style for the 2022. “What fascinates me about Dolcetto from Zora is its wealth of nuances from florals to fruits rarely found in other Dolcettos, and it gives me emotion as it’s poised between fragility and at the risk of being off balance.” -Daniele Marengo Despite the profundity of the 2021, Daniele was right to change. He felt the 2021 fruit was slightly too mature (though only just barely), and that behind all the glory of the 2021 lurked minuscule evidence of grapes leaning toward the other side of perfect ripeness for those in pursuit of a shimmering Dolcetto. Fruitiness in Dolcetto is especially easy, but Marengo’s are now even more vigorous and taut. Starting with 2022 there’s much more red fruit than dark. It’s so finely tuned and delicious that it feels like he’s based his reputation on it, like the Dogliani growers who lead with Dolcetto. The 2022 has a similar feel to those in Dogliani and shares similarly high altitudes as in Novello. Here, they’re fresher and brighter by nature than many areas of the Langhe. I was once told that using “floral” in a description would kill a wine sale. I, for one, have faith that many tasters aren’t put off by and even adore these elements. Sure, nonna’s excessively floral perfume isn’t appealing, but some consider the scent of real flowers to be aromatic vinous equilibrium. Wines with white, pink, orange, red and violet scents, and the finely tuned to voluptuous sweet versions of rose, can be the mark of well-timed picking decisions, good winegrowing, gentle cellar work, and varietal distinction. Once a wine loses all its floral aromas, there will be less to appreciate. Red wines from the world’s greatest terroirs often have floral elements not only present but often in the forefront when they’re young and continue to pleasantly haunt decades after their birth. Rusticity, earth and balanced ripeness are essential to complete a vin de garde wine’s depth, but the best don’t burn the floral elements out of the mix in the vineyard before picking the fruit. Grapes picked with a snappy-to-the-tooth texture and freshness often immortalize the floral elements. Daniele’s new Dolcetto style is led by sweet, bright, and rich floral aromas of an expansive and sunny field of flowers in bloom after a spring rain. Red fruit charges second, though not blaring fruit like a lower-altitude sandy soil Fleurie or Morgon. Spice is third: think Brouilly/Côte de Brouilly/Marsannay. The fourth, which seems an inevitable part of every Dolcetto, is its earthy, savory components that begin their journey in the caboose but saunter their way to first-class. Their west-facing, eye-watering, hazy Piemontese sunset, high-altitude Dolcetto vineyard buffers the cool Alpine gusts before they charge over Novello and down into the belly of Barolo. We often speak of the predominance of soil elements in the terroir, but this mountain-fresh Zephyrian wind imparts the tension Daniele captures in the latest version of Dolcetto. On day two, it loses nothing. Rather it gains in suppleness and filigree texture, remaining as good, if not better, than its stunning first hours open. In the cellar, its fermentation lasts between 8-10 days with a couple of daily pump-overs depending on the vintage. After pressing, it checks into 25hl steel tanks for hibernation until the following spring. Depending on each vat’s level of reductive elements, they may be racked three to four times during élevage and then again once or twice prior to bottling. (It’s incredible that they remain so fresh after so many movements.) Sulfites are first added after malolactic and it’s neither fined nor filtered. Marengo’s Barbera d’Alba Superiore follows suit with the overall bright-and-lifted style of their range. Daniele’s interpretation draws attention to the variety’s high natural acidity and impact while highlighting the beauty of their high-altitude and wind-exposed terroir’s naturally fresher and brighter fruit. Aromatically spicy and exotic with light purple fruits and flowers, the palate is tight with rousing acidity and only a slight, sappy glycerol quality. The Barbera vines are eight years old (as of 2023) and are on the western side of the highest part of Novello in the località, Serra. Close to the ridge that separates the east and west exposures of the municipality, they face west with a faint tilt toward the north. Fully exposed to competing cool Alpine and salty, humid Mediterranean winds, the vines sit at 430-445 meters on the soft blue-gray marl bedrock (perhaps it’s better to call it a subsoil because it’s not hard rock, per se) with reddish-gray clay topsoil—a unique terroir with wines strong in core concentration, exotic perfumes, and exhilarating freshness. During its 13-16-day natural fermentation and maceration it’s pumped over two or three times per day, settled in tank after pressing for a short period and then housed in 10hl botte for 9-11 months followed by another three to four months in steel prior to bottling. It is neither fined nor filtered. Barolo will be the world’s measure of Marengo’s success, but their Langhe Nebbiolo is the foreshadowing. Released at least two years before the two Barolos, Daniele’s Langhe Nebbiolos made when he first started gave a preview of what will undoubtedly be a storied career. The 2019, the predecessor to his first solo vintage at the helm, is superb and was put to bottle before his twenty-second year; a great vintage indeed, and easier to hit the mark by any less-experienced winegrower. Marengo’s 2020 is more impressive and competes with many thoughtfully made Barolos in fluidity of craft and style, lending credence to the idea that for many cantinas it will be another dark-horse season between two more celebrated vintages. But Daniele’s is the perfumed and brilliant 2021, a finely etched garnet gemstone of seductive red fruit with operatic red rose and lightly minted confiture notes that burst from the glass (between the six bottles taken in the spring and summer of 2023) is surely his finest Nebbiolo to date. “I want a Nebbiolo that leads with freshness and fruit, a wine that seduces at first glance, radiating vitality while maintaining balance.” -Daniele Marengo Taken from various plots high on the plateau inside the località of San Grato and Zora, and at the top of Ravera and Terlo, tension is the backbone of this fresh-fruited Nebbiolo. With altitudes that range between 380-460 meters, the parcels, La Volta (410m), Zora (420-425m), and by the cantina in San Grato (445-460m) are on the gentler slopes and tilt toward the south and west and are fully exposed to sun all day. They share the blueish Sant’Agata Fossili marls, but La Volta has slightly reddish clay topsoil (perhaps due to the presence of more iron) while Zora has a topsoil of pale calcareous sand. By contrast, Ravera and Terlo sit between 380-430m and take a focused hit of the morning sun and miss the last hours of the sun’s intense heat, preserving even more tension and fresh minerally textures. Daniele explains that the MGA La Volta’s clay gives a stronger tannic base and structure, Zora and San Grato more elegance, finesse and higher aromatic notes, and Ravera more softness and depth. The mix of these higher altitude sites, their varying degrees of phenolic ripeness and individual terroir complexities make for a diverse and impressively nuanced starting Nebbiolo. During the vinification there is some inclusion of whole bunches but it’s typically less than 10%. The parcel selection changes from year to year based on the quality of their main Nebbiolo parcels, though Terlo is usually the smallest proportion. For example, in 2020 it was almost entirely La Volta, while the 2021 is mostly from Ravera’s upper section—the answer to why the 2021 plays at a different amplitude than many a Langhe Nebbiolo from celebrated growers and the 2020 is more power than finesse. The 2020 was aged in new 30hl botte, while the 2021 was aged in many different barrel sizes of varying ages. It’s fermented naturally in steel and concrete, and the macerations last about 25-27 days with daily pump-overs: three in the first days and one further into the maceration. Temperatures in steel are controlled while those in concrete are not. After pressing, the wines are racked once or twice before going into 10-30hl concrete and wood vats for four to five months, selected for quality, then racked into steel for another two months before bottling. Sulfites are first added after malolactic, and it’s not fined nor filtered. Marengo’s Terlo vines are in the upper section of this very steep MGA (Menzione Geografica Aggiuntiva—which encapsulates terroir/cru/climat/etc.) of the Barolo commune. Planted in 2018, the vines sit at 380-410m and are completely exposed to the east overlooking the town of Barolo. It’s also adjacent to Ravera, an MGA mostly located in the commune of Novello with a small patch inside of the Barolo commune. Ravera has great diversity due to its 130 hectares of vines and its many exposures between 300-480m. While it’s a very large cru with many expositions and a massive altitude range, Marengo’s Ravera is on the far north end and is adjacent to Terlo. It also faces east with only a slight uptick from Terlo in altitude to 430m. Planted between 1997 (the year Daniele was born) and 2003, the upper section of Ravera is selected for the Langhe Nebbiolo, while the lower section is the Ravera Barolo. The reason for this distinction between the parcels used for the Langhe Nebbiolo and the Barolo isn’t specifically the altitude, it’s likely the slight geological shift between the upper and lower portions of their Ravera plots. This is best explained by Alessandro Masnaghetti, the Langhe’s terroir revolutionary. On his website, www.barolomga360.it, he states that Terlo and Ravera share the same basic geological formation of “laminated Sant’Agata Fossili marls, except in the higher areas where there are also sandy Sant’Agata Fossili Marls and Diano Sandstones.” Sandy Sant’Agata Fossili Marls and Diano Sandstones at the top of Terlo The most important takeaway from Masnaghetti is that the sandier zones are higher while the greater density of marls are a little lower on the slope. The vines on the more marly soils make more formidable wines than those on sand, though those sandier sites bring so much beautiful aroma! Other digestible terms in that sentence: laminated, marls, and sandstone. (Sant’Agata Fossili and Diano are simply the names of the formations taken from areas/villages in which these formations were likely first studied.) “Laminated” implies a sequence of sedimentary rock layers, and in this case they are small-scale sequences that Masnaghetti describes in his “Barolo MGA Vol. I, Second Edition,” which “consist of strata of variable thickness which range from a few fractions of an inch (millimeters) to something less than a foot.” Marls are a soft rock formation and are classified as such if they contain 35-65% (calcium and/or magnesium) carbonate and 35-65% clay. Sandstones seem self-explanatory, but what holds the sand grains together (which are almost always siliceous sand grains) may play a role in a wine’s expression. For example, some of the binding/cementing material between grains could be of siliceous or calcium carbonate origin. In many global wine regions, bedrock and topsoil are either totally different, have slight variations, or consist of the same material. In Barolo’s hillside vineyards, because of their youth and how long and easily they have eroded, most of the hillside vineyards (though those on or close to valley floors may be different) have topsoil derived almost exclusively from their underlying bedrock. In the case of Marengo’s vineyards, we can assume that, excluding the organic material, the topsoil is bedrock derived. Grayish blue Sant’Agata marl Like the other wines in Marengo’s range, the Barolos could be described as aromatic, elegant, and understated. They are also dominated in their youth by more purple notes than red, and both bottlings benefit greatly from more aeration after opening (though not specifically decanting, just time in the glass and a slow evolution of the open bottle), especially the aromatic fluidity. Not surprisingly, there is a significant relation in overall structural style to the elegant high-altitude wines of the La Morra and Barolo communes more so than Castiglione, Serralunga and Monforte, likely due to their slight geological differences. In the cellar, both Barolos undergo natural fermentations with maceration times for Angela between 32-35 days and 35-38 days for Ravera. They both undergo three daily pump-overs at the beginning of fermentation and one or none in the later maceration period. Ravera may undergo a submerged cap fermentation, but this depends on the year. Both wines are racked once or twice prior to going into 25hl botte for 20-22 months and an additional two in steel. The wines are neither fined nor filtered. Daniele and his family did well in 2018 with what some critics consider an enigmatic vintage. This is understandable within the context of the classic big hitters of Langhe and the style developed over recent decades. However, it’s not difficult to experience them as delicious wines with different personalities from other special terroirs. They’re not more or less special than others, just different and better utilized in specific occasions where more robust and tannic Barolos might be a little much. One only needs to appreciate wine for the sake of its intention to deliver both pleasure and intrigue to see the light inside many 2018s. Our experience drinking 2018 Barolo and Barbaresco wines from high-quality growers is that they are wonderful and in many cases an exciting departure from the typical seriousness of wines labeled as these DOCGs. The 2018s are also on par with today’s desire for higher tones and easier drinking. Nebbiolo has guts but it also maintains its composure in different, non-classical vintages. 2018 wasn’t easy to navigate, but those who work hard every year produced compelling results anyway. The Marengos also crafted a fine 2018 Barolo but with an expectedly more subdued structural quality. In its youth, its more notable qualities are found in its bright yet gently delivered perfume. Due to the season’s challenges and the expectations attached to the historic Ravera cru, they opted to only bottle their Angela cuvée, named after Mauro’s mother. Because the 2018 Ravera wasn’t bottled on its own, the 2018 Angela has more Ravera in it than normal years; it typically has about 80% Terlo, 20% Ravera, and in some years up to 5% from their other MGA in the commune of Barolo, La Volta. 2018 is pretty but it needs time open (though not long) to work out of its linear and slightly coarse start to begin filling in and building up to its DOCG’s stature. The 2019s are a shoo-in for most growers and Marengo’s Angela and Ravera will not disappoint. A big uptick from the charming 2018, the 2019 Angela is fuller, rounder and more fleshed out. The 2019 Ravera tasted in the fall of 2023 was aromatically tight at first, which is often a good indicator of stability for cellar aging and provides the right lengthy pacing for a nice long conversation over dinner. However, it loosens quickly to reveal its kaleidoscopic aromas of violets, lavender, orange peel, Persian mulberry, purple plum, and purple wine grapes, with spice, tar, leather, porcini, and wet forest. The tannins build as it opens and works into beautiful harmony and fluidity. Both Angela and Ravera live up to the expectation of this highly revered vintage and are a telling preview of what is to come from Daniele, especially considering that 2020 was his first year of full stylistic control. I admit that I’m excited about 2020 Nebbiolo-based Langhe wines in general because what I’ve had so far is compelling and a vintage with deeply joy-filled wines with seriousness tucked into the background. Looking toward the future, Daniele is on the move and headed in only one direction: up. During our second visit in April 2023, Marengo’s 2020-2022 wines out of vat were the hair-raising level one expects from only the top growers. They were exhilarating and vibrated with electricity. Indeed, we must remain cautious with unfinished wines that taste extraordinary before bottling because they change. However, with the passing of the proper time after bottling, we expect them to be even better.

Rodolphe Demougeot

The path to Rodolphe Demougeot’s current level of quality took a while after he took over the family domaine in 1992. Since then, he’s amassed eight hectares of vines in the Côte de Beaune and year by year upped the ante on his attention to detail in the cellar and vineyard, raising his own personal bar and capturing the attention of the his illustrious neighbors with more enviable vineyard stables in Meursault and Pommard. Rodolphe says he “learned how to do perfect chemical farming from his family and had to deprogram his vineyards and himself, which has taken a lot of time to achieve,” something that takes courage and an evolved sense of self and humility to admit. Another telling quote of his candid and honest character is that he said he needed to learn to be a good farmer first, and then he had to learn to improve his performance in the cellar. If only everyone approached life with this kind of blatant and unflinching honesty about their own process! Since the mid 2000s, synthetic treatments of herbicides, pesticides or fertilizers were systematically abandoned one step at a time until they were all gone from his land before the turn of the decade. Then his interest in the inexplicable but observable energies of our mysterious universe and its influence on grapes and wine came to be central to his decision-making. The moon is his compass for the timing of processes during growing, farming, picking, racking and bottling. Today, Rodolphe’s vineyards are impressively farmed and have as much life as any organic or biodynamic vineyard we’ve set foot in. He’s renowned for the quality of his farming by the top growers in his area, and within all the talent of his hometown of Meursault, that’s saying something. He plows most of his vineyards by tractor, but with some he always uses a horse, such as in his top Pommard, 1er Cru Les Charmots. His cluster selection is made early in the season to concentrate the energy of the vines to fewer clusters in the pursuit of quality over quantity. Everything is done by hand and under severe scrutiny within his humble holdings—at least by Côte d’Or standards. Demougeot’s white wines are an obvious win and you don’t have to be a genius to sort that one out. However, I would contest that his reds are equal in quality and perhaps easy to overlook in the shadow of his extraordinary whites. Inevitably it’s difficult to separate most tasters with the concept that red wines need to bring something obviously substantial rather than subtle and refined as Rodolphe’s wines. For wine drinkers it can be an entirely different calibration when one knows the tendency of wines like his that, as the quote by Teddy Roosevelt goes that my mother loved to cite: “speak softly, but carry a big stick.” Compelling wines are not a one-act concerto; they build as they go and end with a standing ovation that begs for another glass, or two. Rodolphe’s Chardonnays are whole cluster pressed and undergo a natural fermentation without battonage (lees stirring), unless the vintage is so spare from challenging weather that they need a little help. Sulfites are added for the first and only time at bottling, which I believe to be a good approach when in pursuit of nuances that have a little required reading between the lines—the gift given to the astute and patient wine drinker. From the Bourgogne Blanc all the way to his top white, Meursault “Le Limozin,” all are aged equally in 90% old oak barrels with a modest 10% of them new. The Bourgogne Blanc is a knockout and entirely sourced from vines below substantial Meursault village appellation vines and has the unmistakable mark of Meursault. Les Meursaults, uninhibited by the excessive hands-on approach of insecure winemaking, are pure, and bridge the gap between the baroque and the fashionable. In cold years they are a shoo in, and in warm years can be unexpectedly stunning, fraught with tension typically found in a much cooler year. Here the hand in the wine is only felt in the quality of the fruit and the soft touch of the wines. Bravo Rodolphe. Like the whites, the reds are somewhere in the middle of the classic/trendy road, but are crafted with more elegance than power. The fermentations are made without stems and last two to three weeks depending on the vintage. They are lightly extracted using the infusion approach, which is to say very little is done to disturb the grapes during the process of morphing from exquisite raw produce to the magic that fills wine built by intention from the moment the vines were pruned to the day they were picked at their most brightly shining moment. Once pressed and put into barrel the wines aren’t moved until bottling. Like the whites, the first sulfite addition is made just prior to bottling to allow an unhindered development of the wine’s true voice before the intrusion of the sulfites. The wines are spared excess of new oak use, unless the vineyard has a habit of rendering wines with increased tannin levels than others, like his Beaune lieux-dits, Les Beaux Fougets and Les Epenotes, not too far from the great Pommard 1er Cru, Les Petits Epenots (sadly not in Rodolphe’s collection), just to the south. On his top Pommard wines, Les Vignots and 1er Cru Les Charmots, 70% older oak barrels are employed, while on the village appellation wines they typically land between 90-85% old oak barrels. When I was in Burgundy with an Austrian vigneron (who I’ll refer to as PVM), we visited many of the top producers in our portfolio, and to my surprise, Demougeot’s wines were his favorite. When I asked why, his response (in short) was that they are simply pure and unpretentious, and the terroir is on display without any obstacles of the ego. Not surprisingly, he ranked his reds over the whites—putting him in with me in the minority of less than five percent who feel the same way, and this agreement pleased me greatly. Rodolphe’s wines are honest and you really taste his effort in the vineyards and the respect he has for his fruit by treating it like a good sushi chef treats the perfect piece of fish; they do as little as possible.[cm_tooltip_parse] -TV [/cm_tooltip_parse]

Interview with Brendan Stater-West

Brézé & Bizay His Way Photo and interview by Ted Vance Spring 2021 How did an Oregon native like you end up in France? I moved to France in 2007 after I finished up my studies in Oregon. I double majored in French. I wanted to leave the US for a period of time, looking for adventure, and Europe offered so much of what I wanted. And I met a French woman whom I was married to until a few years ago. How did you find your way to Romain Guiberteau? I lived in Paris for several years and finally moved to Saumur in 2012 to work as Romain’s apprentice. Before that I was working in retail sales in Paris with Joshua Adler, who moved on to start Paris Wine Company. He and I were selling Romain’s wines in the store next to the Louvre. Romain’s wines were some of my favorites in the shop. Once I started tasting through more Saumur wines, I quickly became fixated on the region as a whole: the vibrancy, the electricity. These were the wines that really spoke to me—almost on a spiritual level; but that’s another subject… How have you seen Romain grow over the years? Maybe the most obvious thing is that he’s mellowed out—I guess that’s the most honest answer. He’s also become more in tune with his different vineyard sites. He has the same intensity as his wines and these days they’ve found a greater balance and harmony. I can’t explain why, but perhaps it’s the same for his personal life. He’s been more in tune with his surroundings, like the vineyards and the perspectives of others. He’s truly an altruistic person. He loves giving things. That may even drive his wines: he wants to give people the best he can give in his wines. How much of a part has Romain played in your company’s development? He’s helped me a lot, especially with the market for my wines and his wisdom on what to do. I feel especially lucky in that I’m able to benefit from both his mistakes and his successes. What other wine regions or vignerons have influence on your wine style? Of course, I love Burgundy. I love Pinot Noir. I think specific varieties on certain terroirs are just transcendent. I think probably Fred Mugnier’s are the first ones that pop into my mind. They are benchmark wines for me because they have this extremely fine touch, an ethereal side—maybe even a heavenly side to them. This is the kind of wine that I want to achieve. There’s something in his wines I find both rooted in its minerality and structure and also lifted, high up, where a polarity exists between the elements. This is what I want to try to achieve with my wines. As far as other favorite regions, Muscadet is one of the top for me in the Loire. Jura white and red inspire me too. I’m also totally digging wines from Languedoc. Riesling. Gruner Veltiliner. I’m not so knowledgeable about Spain or Italy, but the Albariño wines Manuel Moldes brought for us on your trip together to Saumur were a real surprise in how good they were. Farming principals? Yves Herody method. Yves wanted to help farmers get back fertility in the soils while at the same time rebuild the soil structure, which are two things that don’t come together for a lot of people. The idea is that we need to introduce fresh organic fertilizer into the vineyards every year: cow manure, cover crops like fava bean, rye, clover, mustard, etc—things that capture nitrogen and put it into the soil. The plants are later tilled into the soil during the winter along with the composted manure. What it's doing is replenishing the soil microbes and organic matter so that the different soil horizons interact better together. It’s a close relative to biodynamic methods of soil preparation. I’ve been doing this since 2018. Romain’s wines have commonly shown more reductive elements compared to wines from other growers on Brézé. What do you attribute this to? I think that residual SO2 in the vineyards is not the ultimate cause. But after pressing we keep a lot of the heavy lees, which is really rich in nitrogen that the yeast needs. Already this makes for more reductive elements. We don’t give the whites any air during fermentation to resolve some of these characteristics. If you compared Romain’s white wines with Arnaud Lambert’s, one of the biggest differences is that Romain works with more lees. How has the climate changed since you began with Romain in 2012? The climate has been whacky ever since I’ve been here. This year (2021) seems to be a later year. Things are changing. It’s noticeable. It's erratic and harder to predict. These days the forecasts are becoming less correct with patterns. It’s tricky because we can’t plan perfectly, but we collect a lot of information from many different sources to make our decisions. What adjustments have happened strictly by the influence of climate change? We used to deleaf more but have stopped that almost entirely because the summers are like 100 degrees now. In 2019, for example, we had a severe drought and everything shriveled up. We’re also considering more grass in the vineyards, to let it go until its past its growth cycle, then roll over it with a type of pincher that creates a kind of mulch that keeps the soils cooler and more humid. Picking dates are certainly earlier. Acidity and pH are changing too, but in the wrong directions. How is your style of wine different from Romain’s on Cabernet Franc? The vinifications are similar to Romain’s, but I’m shortening my time on the skins. My Saumur red is only four days on skins while Romain does six or seven. I don’t work with press juice, but only free-run juice. Romain works with selective-press juice. The wine is aged in stainless steel, but I’m moving toward cement next year to work against the reduction. My first addition of 20ppm of sulfites is made when the grapes first come in. The second is about 10ppm after malolactic. Neither Romain or I are interested in having brettanomyces around so we calculate to have the right amount of free sulfur to keep that out of the mix. I would say that I have a lighter, more ethereal style but with the same ripeness as Romain’s, and there’s definitely less tannin on my reds. My new cru red, La Ripaille, is seven to eight days on skins and in barrel for a year. There’s about 20% new oak and the rest is a spice rack of older barrels. And Chenin Blanc? My Saumur appellation wine is aged on its fine lees for six months, then it’s filtered and bottled. Les Chapaudaises is twelve months in barrel, followed by a few months in tank. The Brézé bottling was originally like Chapaudaises, but because the grapes come from old vines I think I should’ve aged it longer—maybe two years, instead of one year in wood, plus six months in tank. For the foreseeable future Brézé will be in élevage for two years before bottling. All the whites are filtered because they all have malic acid, and malolactic fermentations are rare, if they ever take place. Regarding the vinification, I use less lees than Romain and have a tighter racking after the pressing. I love reduction in wines but I feel like it’s not necessarily the style I want. I think it can take away from the purity of Chenin Blanc and its ability to transmit its terroirs. I respect and understand that, but I feel that it puts too much of the person’s influence into the wine. The Brézé bottling has 30% new oak, but with a light toast. Les Chapaudaises has 20% new oak, and the others have no new oak. What is your idea of the perfect soil composition for Chenin and Cab? Limestone. Romain’s grandfather had the basic principle of a topsoil of one meter or deeper and you plant Cab Franc, because the roots need bigger systems. It doesn’t like to suffer and it also needs a lot of nutrients. By contrast, too much topsoil with Chenin makes the vine too vigorous and it will vegetatively grow too much with a consequence of less energy spent on the grapes. Is there a perfect soil composition for the type of wines you like? I love the mix of clay, loam and limestone together. The clay gives a certain structure and the loam gives a certain sweetness (without residual sugar) and the limestone gives it the grip, like sucking on a rock. I think the best expression of Cab happens on sandy clay soils over limestone. Sand gives the light powdery texture; the clay gives the structure more depth. Limestone gives textural finesse and influences the fineness of the tannins on the finish. I find that limestone as a whole draws the finish on a wine to something longer and more complete. Can you explain each of your vineyard sites? All of my vineyards on Brézé face south/southwest. Les Chapaudaises, which is in the commune of Bizay, faces north/northeast and is only a couple of kilometers away from Brézé. Les Chapaudaises is next to Romain’s Clos de Guichaux vineyard. It’s planted on about 40-50cm of clayey loam with a lot of sand on tuffeau limestone bedrock. The wine is more “vertical” with more of a straight-razor-edge profile by comparison to the Brézé wine. The vines were planted sixteen years ago and have been organically farmed since 2010. The Brézé comes from old vines on clayey loam on limestone bedrock. It has a sort of thicker structure and gives the wine a more austere character with a more “horizontal” profile. The vines are seventy years old and began organic conversion a few years ago. The Saumur rouge comes from five-year-old vines on the Brézé hill. Its topsoil is sandy loam over limestone, a combination that gives a lighter texture and touch on the tannins. The plot is a little over half a hectare in size on the site known as “La Ripaille.” This wine is different from the others in that I intended to make a quaffable, easy-drinking and fruit-forward wine. My vision of Cabernet Franc has been evolving for several years. What I once saw as a rustic, terrestrial grape variety, I now see as having the potential of making something brighter, more fruit-forward, and much more fun to drink when it’s young. La Ripaille has seventy-year-old vines on sandy loam, or clayey loam—depending on the section—but all over limestone. What are people planting when they have the opportunity to replant? People are planting more Chenin now instead of Cab. The global market demand and need for Chenin has grown a lot, and there is already a lot of Cab grown inside of the Saumur-Champigny appellation. Brézé is outside of the appellation and still has a lot of Chenin Blanc grown on the hill. People focused on red much more in the past, but this is flipping. Can you talk a little bit about the vine material planted in the region? I’ve talked a lot with Arnaud Lambert and he’s shed a lot of light on the fact that much of the younger vines are planted to productive varieties rather than quality focused ones. What are your thoughts about this? We don’t talk enough about vine materials, but I think this is an important and necessary subject. A lot of people talk a lot about minerality but without talking much about the rootstock and vine material. Why is this important? People think that old vines simply produce more mineral wines or wines with more depth. I don’t think that’s the case because you could have the SO4 rootstock that gives big, juicy grapes, but not concentrated flavors and textures. Then you could have a limestone resistant selection massale rootstock called Riparia Gloire, which gives tiny, concentrated clusters where even the young vines are giving amazingly pure expressions with great distinction of the terroir and vintage. I don’t think people are talking enough about the importance of it from a genetic vantage point for the right rootstocks either. The rootstock is a filter between the soil and the grape. What is your perception of how the wines taste when grown on contrasting soils, like clay, sand, rock? I think that a lot of it depends on how the winemaker makes the wines. I like to think the lighter the soil, the lighter the wine is on the palate. The rockier or denser the soil is, the same can be said for the wine. I feel the world has an idea of malolactic fermentation as being very specific in its influence on Chardonnay, but my feeling is that it’s not quite the same with other white varieties. How does it influence the taste on Chenin? ML is hard for us to attain because of the low pH levels. Bacteria just don’t like that environment. At Romain’s cellar we’ve only had it twice by accident. However, in my opinion it rounds out the palate and you lose edge—it dulls the razor. There’s a roundness and sweetness with ML in Chenin. I feel that the intense acidity [without a malolactic fermentation] melds together over time. When Chenin is young, the acidity stretches it like a rubber band, but over time the tension eases. When you use the word minerality, what does that mean to you? How is it perceived? Aromas? Mouthfeel? A combination? This is a can of worms. It’s a huge debate. I think there is a misconception of minerality. Is it even something we can define? I don’t think we will find exacting definitions of this. I try to avoid using minerality as a descriptor, but it’s hard to find other words. But I think when it comes to Chenin from Brézé, I see it as a sort of flinty, reductive smokiness. I think in the mouthfeel there’s a depth that draws the wine out. It seems to give a certain verticality to the wine. It also lingers on the front part of the palate, and it opens up my appetite. I think this is why they are fun to pair with many different types of food. There’s a saltiness to the wine and I think this makes it work exceptionally well with food because many people like salty food. We all know that salt enhances taste and I think minerality does the same. Last one. What is your feeling about reduction and/or acidity as an interplay within the concept of “minerality”? For me, reduction does enhance the perception of minerality, but it also can confuse the palate and aromas. Sometimes that is intentional by the winemaker, but sometimes it’s not. I think it’s all a question of balance. I feel I’ve grown a lot and am still growing in my understanding of minerality. Sometimes when I taste Olivier Lamy’s Saint-Aubin wines, (a benchmark white wine producer for me) there’s a richness to the body, some flesh, a backbone, a hold or grip in the wine like: Wow! It can give me goosebumps. One question I struggle with as a winemaker is, “What’s the fine balance of minerality? Can it be too intense and dominate the wine?” When I made my 2015s, my first vintage, they were like lemon juice. But when I open a bottle now that acidity is finally integrated into the wine. So I ask myself the question of whether I am making a wine for now, or do I want to make something that will open up later in its life and integrate that intense acidity and find harmony? What’s the right balance between all those elements that will get it right for the wines I’m making?

A Small Adventure in Iberia (and Elsewhere)

Andrea and I started our journey with a much-needed out of wine experience in Scotland on the Great Glen Way with our friends, Reuben, Bella and Benjamin Weininger. I admit that after seven months in Italy it was nice to be in a country where both of us were fluent in the local language; although sometimes Italians speaking Italian are easier to understand than Scottish speaking English. I’d wanted to make that walk in Scotland for a long time. It was memorable, not only because it was the first time I’ve walked/hiked 19.5 miles in a day, but we also found the best fish and chips I’ve ever seen and tasted along the trail. Edinburgh lived up to the hype of its beauty and had an unexpectedly diverse, quality ethnic cuisine scene; we ate some of the best Indian and Korean food while there, and a duck dish that I will remember forever. And I’ve got to give props to the less attractive industrial city of Glasgow for the same high quality of ethnic food. After Scotland we went to Madrid for a few days to wait for two of our coworkers at The Source, Andrew and JD, to join us for a trip in northwestern Spain. After an uneventful couple of days in Madrid that were highlighted on two occasions by visits to the restaurant, Media Ración, we set off for Jimenez de Jamuz to visit with the folks at Fuentes del Silencio and Chef Gordon at the restaurant El Capricho for my seventh meal there (but whose counting?)—never a disappointment. But first, we had to stop at Segovia, one of our favorite small cities in Spain, for a dinner at José Maria to eat his epic suckling pig. Sadly I was a little sick from something I ate in Madrid so I took only a single bite from Andrew’s plate, but it was delish! José Maria probably makes the best suckling pig in Spain, though I am sure there are contenders I don’t know about, and in my last four visits it’s been perfectly consistent. My favorite portion is the leg, so if you get the opportunity to choose your portion, go for that one. We left Segovia the next morning for Jimenez de Jamuz to revisit its ancient resurrected vineyards, discuss the gold in the soil and the local yeast strain that pronounces the unique voice of its terroir, and the early promise of more special wines to come from Fuentes del Silencio and their team of fired up wine pros. Then it was off to El Capricho for the four-hour lunch, and on to the ranch to watch José wrangle some 2000 lbs+ steers with his team. We plan to import José’s delicious wine when he has something for us to sell. We started the next day with an impromptu visit with José Antonio Garcia and his wife, Julia, vignerons in Bierzo, who were kind enough to give us a quick vineyard tour of the area around Valtuille and Corullón. While Bierzo is not part of the Galician wine region, when you start to climb the hills it’s every bit of Galicia when considering its geological heritage. After a walk in the dark red clays of the lower vineyard land, he took us for a quick tour of high elevation slate-dense and quartz-rich vineyards of Corullón. It was my second time with José up the hill and it was as impressive as the first—what a place! Everyone talks about the extremes of the Ribeira Sacra because the vineyards and valley carved out by the rivers are truly breathtaking (a description I will reserve solely for this wine region—a place where photographs just don’t do its beauty justice), but some slopes in Bierzo are just as steep but not terraced like they are in the most steep parts of the Ribeira Sacra, which makes them all the more precarious. Once we got up into the higher areas it began to snow, a signal for us to return down the hill. Next stop, Galicia. The Galician wine scene is inspiring (as are many of the southerly regions of Spain) and I am humbled to become involved and received with such welcoming hospitality. Andrea and I went to Spain on our honeymoon a few years ago and completely missed Galicia as we seemingly went everywhere else in the country—I guess we were saving the best for last. After too many heavy reds on that trip we fell back on beer and Albariño only after the first week of our month long adventure. I asked waiters along the way if there was an organic Albariño on the list, but no one knew of anything. I contacted a certified organic Albariño producer there and started the ball rolling in that direction and imported their wines for a short time afterward. I had no idea that I was walking into a wine world that would capture my attention and consume my focus. When we got back home to Santa Barbara from our honeymoon, a series of events happened that were like a calling to Galicia. It started with our friend Rajat Parr who randomly gave me a bottle of Envínate and said, “you need to go to Galicia.” Brian McClintic, who lived in our back studio at the time, went too and came back with the same encouragement. Then we hired JD Plotnick, a wellspring of information on Galicia, a region he had already focused on back when its newfound uprising was only a whisper. He helped direct my attention to which producers' wines we should seek out during our first trip to set the bar on taste, as well as which restaurants to visit. I asked him if he knew of anything out there that wasn’t already being imported to California, or anywhere else in the US. He gave me many names but one of them was “an upcoming producer” he’d heard about from Raul Perez (Spain’s New Wine Testament prophet), though he hadn’t yet tasted the wines. After one Facebook message to this guy, in Spanish (thanks to my wife), we had a meeting set up. Andrea and I have now been Galicia five times in less than two years (three times in the last seven months), and plan to go back again at the beginning of June and then again in September. I’ve learned a lot over the last couple of years but there are too many loose ends and much more context needed before I engage in more extensive writing about it from a technical and experience standpoint. What makes it most difficult to wrap one’s head around is that the locals have to largely rediscover their own region because much of the knowledge has been buried in the local cemeteries with generations past. What also holds me back from going deeper at the moment is that I’m one of the newer importers there and have great respect for those who have focused on this region for so many years before me. I feel I need to earn my stripes first, and only time brings those. Our first stop in Galicia was the Ribeira Sacra to visit a new producer there, Breogan (Breo) Rodriguez, the owner/vigneron at Terra Brava. It was an impressive lineup out of barrel with his miniscule quantities of 2018 (thanks to the monstrous mildew challenges to that vintage), so we expect a great follow-up to his super 2017s. Breo’s wines made from Mencia and Caiño Longo (my new favorite grape) are clean and honest and bear a strong resemblance in mood and some characteristics to Côte-Rôtie and Northern Saint-Joseph Syrahs grown on a mix of metamorphic and igneous rocks; I speak of those cool metal and mineral fresh notes on the palate and nose with darker earth and fruit. The wines just landed in the U.S. and with the enthusiasm of JD, Andrew and Rachel Kerswell (our national sales manager and New York outpost who has visited Breo and our new roster in Galicia), spreading the word on what we were able to buy from this micro producer should be short work. Next was the Ribeiro, a region I think may be the top place to watch in Galicia. I admit that I don’t yet know much about Galicia compared to other wine regions, but over the last twelve years I’ve spent nearly four months of each year on the wine trail observing the physical traits that make up Europe’s top wine regions, which have led me to this hunch. Aside from that, perhaps the most compelling argument is that long ago the Ribeiro once shared Spain’s top honors next to the Rioja for wine and there’s no doubt that it has the potential to rise again to take its place as a contender for top billing. What makes it most interesting from my perspective is the Ribeiro’s perfect location between the climatic tug of war between the cold Atlantic and a warm Mediterranean influence, its great diversity of rock and soil types (all acidic soils with a lot of granite, schist, slate, gneiss and other metamorphic rocks that contribute to a more broad impact on the palate of the wines) on mildly steep hills, and softer sun exposure, resulting in wines with great snap and crunch in both white and red—the latter being the most intriguing to me. The red grapes of Brancellao, Caiño Longo, Souson, Ferron are a few examples of indigenous grapes that show tremendous promise. Our new winery partners there are Bodegas Paraguas, Cume do Avia and Fazenda Augalevada—all tough names (especially the last one) but spectacular wines. To have three producers from this single region seems like a lot at first, but each of them are different shades of the area. Paraguas is exclusively producing white wines led by Treixadura, a grape that in their direction has a Chardonnay-like body and structure, but with almost no relation to Chardonnay’s presentation of tastes and smells—it tastes like Galicia: savory and mineral, with honey, dried grass, citrus and stone fruit. Then it was Diego and family at Cume do Avia with their high energy, organically farmed reds that completely blew my mind last year and redirected my attention to red wine. The new vintage of their whites is a significant jump from last year and shows wonderfully raw, straightforward terroir-rich expressions of indigenous whites. Finally it was Augalevada, the unique embodiment of the biodynamic grower, Iago Garrido, who buried an amphora filled with wine in his vineyard that subsequently developed flor yeast and set the direction of his focus. He thought the wine should be thrown away at first, but bottled them for his friends who began to ask for more and what stood in Iago’s way became his way. As a new winemaker, Iago has demonstrated early his tremendous eye for detail and a few of the wines I have tasted from amphora and barrel over the last three visits are on par with some of the most riveting single tastes of wine I can remember. His estate white, Ollos de Roque, is a magical mystery tour that lands somewhere between Chenin Blanc from Vouvray and Savignin from the Jura, with a subtle touch of flor. Some of the reds out of barrel can, like they did for me, compel you to once again pose those meaning of life questions. Our final visit in Galicia was in the Rías Baixas for a new project with the budding superstar—to be revealed at a later date—whose name was given to me by JD. During my first visit with him a couple of years ago, he politely refused my proposal to work with him in California out of respect for his U.S. importer, who I didn’t know already represented his wines in CA, and who buys as much of his wine as he has to sell. Accepting and respecting the answer but not the defeat, I proposed a new angle on my second visit with him and he was open to it: a project together. Since then we’ve developed a strong friendship and when we visit the area, he literally clears his schedule for us. It’s funny though that he speaks no English and I don’t speak Spanish (yet!), so it’s a relationship that exists through my wife and Google Translate when we are at dinner or lunch together. He asked how I thought he should make the wine for this project but I told him that his approach already embodied all I could dream up in crafting an ideal Albariño: sleek, mineral, energetic but balanced, and a nearly perfect match of intention and execution. I gave a few minor suggestions, which he employed, and the results were staggering—not because of anything I did, but because he’s got the magic touch. I could see it on the face of Andrew and JD as we tasted through the range of unfinished wines over lunch, that they had already sold every bottle of his wine in their minds before they were even finished and brought to the U.S. Those wines will arrive in the fall. It was great to run the route with Andrew and JD, to soak up their experience and passion for Spanish wines and the abundance of conversations about unusual things and trends in wine. Those two could captivate an audience with an unscripted on the road wine comedy show. Even Andrea was laughing out loud regularly by their never-ending conversations full of disagreements and amusing offhanded comments. She can really get sick of the wine talk, but I kept checking in on her through the rearview mirror while she quietly tried to get some sleep as they ceaselessly rambled on about everything and nothing, while at other times she smiled and erupted into hysterical laughter with tears streaming down her face. We jumped over the Spanish border and into Portugal’s Vinho Verde country to one of our favorite spots in the world, Quinta do Ameal, and one of our favorite people, Pedro Araújo. Whenever we find ourselves in Ponte de Lima, a beautiful and well-kept Roman village, in the Lima Valley, we never want to leave. The visit with Pedro was as great as usual and involved his rapier-like delicious wines, epic sea bass and suckling pig, along with the constant feeling that Andrea and I may have found our Elysium on Earth. Ponte de Lima has become such a special place for us; the energy, the humility and kindness of its people, the landscape rich in trees and beautiful rock outcroppings, the ocean a fifteen minute drive away with the Spanish Galician border the same distance. Andrea and I have decided to move to Ponte de Lima after our one-year anniversary of living in Italy. In fact, we’re in the process of buying a house in the countryside (we won’t know for sure if it will be ours until June) and will be setting up our residence there for the foreseeable future. During our time there we invited Pedro, Andrew and JD to check out the place we are trying to buy. Pedro was skeptical before seeing it because he knows the land so well and what’s available out there, but once we arrived he went crazy for the place. It’s located up a ravine near an old monastery and sits out on a point all alone with exposed views on three sides. It’s a lot like Toro Canyon in Santa Barbara (for those who know the area) but with a Midwest U.S. country home price. We’ve fallen in love with it and hopefully the June deal will go our way. Our short trip with JD and Andrew ended at the Porto airport. They were headed to France to run the route over a couple of weeks in Chablis, Côte d’Or and Beaujolais. We spent Andrea’s birthday in Porto, a wonderful city in the middle of a full renaissance. When we were there the first time in 2014, they were selling abandoned apartments in Porto’s historic center for 1€ (no joke!) if you had the money to renovate it. I told Andrea that Portugal was the place to be and I’m even more convinced today. Now the city is full of life, color and people—in a very short time so much has happened in that city and the changes are welcome, except for the new busloads of tourists. A tip: If you ever stay there, try the Sheraton. They have the best spa facilities we’ve been to for a hotel in their range and the staff is extraordinarily gracious and attentive. Andrea and I headed south from there to visit some parts of Portugal we hadn’t already seen. First stop was the Alentejo region in a shockingly beautiful ancient roman city, Evora. I got a much-needed haircut but was treated to a monster of an allergy attack from all the surrounding grassland. Happy to leave because I could hardly breathe, we went south to Faro and stayed at a decent beachfront hotel on the ocean. The highlight there was the Portuguese hospitality and a great little lunch spot called Zé Maria. It served up a perfect beach day lunch because the food was simply prepared and not overdosed on anything, including the price—my whole grilled sea bream was only 15€. Sadly, they are only open for lunch otherwise we would’ve eaten there for every meal. The final stops on this leg were in Jerez and Cádiz, two places we were near but never made it to on our honeymoon. We went this time to meet a prospective producer, but our first stop was in Sanlúcar de Barrameda at one of Jerez’s legendary bodegas, Barbadillo, with Armando Der Guerrita. In our short time with Armando, he overflowed with enthusiasm about Jerez and the magical effect of the flor yeast, as well as his opportunity to work as the wine director of a new inside project for the bodega. Armando also owns a drinking hole, Taberna Guerrita, which comes highly recommended (though we didn’t make it there) and is apparently the place to go if you are a Jerez (Sherry) nut. He explained during our visit that in Jerez, it is all about the yeast and the bodega and its buildings, each with their own influence over the wines they house. I brought up certain estates where I know this to be true on the wine route, like Château Rayas, or many of the Burgundy domaines that carry a mark of their cellar as much as they do the hand of their maker. He looked at me and with a resounding response, he said, “yes, of course!” He’s a special guy and Jerez is lucky to have him. After a quick bite of Spanish seafood and vegetable tapas, we headed south to Cádiz. What a city! Surprisingly clean, it has stunning ancient architecture and a spectacularly modern San Francisco-like (toll free) bridge that Andrea would have simply refused to drive over if she was behind the wheel due to a slight phobia she’s recently developed with bridges. After a mix-up in scheduling, our visit with the producer we came to Jerez to see was given by one of the cellar hands, a gracious and young fourth-generation bodega employee (something you definitely don’t hear everyday). It seems Jerez is another one of those Spanish wine places overrun by importers on the hunt. There’s not much left to choose from, but the good news is that new young producers are on the rise. The challenge is the uphill battle for any mainstream market share because Jerez is not a typical wine and there is a lot of this unique wine produced. Many of the new upstarts are playing with non-traditional wines, like straightforward still white wines, from the same vineyards, which have a much greater chance of breaking into the mainstream. Despite being utterly different wines, I found Jerez to be some kind of mirror, or doppelganger, of Champagne in some ways. It has similar limestone bedrock and limestone rich topsoil, the topography is not so different with relatively flat landscape with undulating soft hill slopes and the juxtaposition of colorful farmland on the flat, non-vineyard areas, and a wine industry based around a unique wine style. They both take a lot of time in the cellar to develop their depth and are often blends of different vintages to bring more complexity and balance. It wasn’t so long ago that Champagne discovered its true talent for bubbles, which was first recorded in the early to mid-1500s; similarly, Jerez’s development of wines under flor yeast and the solera system apparently originated in the late 1700s in the humid climate of Sanlúcar de Barrameda. The last similarity I will point out is that like Champagne, Jerez has a lot of work to do with regard to farming and boutique wine crafting. Indeed, Champagne is light years ahead of Jerez, but the output similarly remains vastly controlled by the big houses, as it does in Jerez. Most of the vineyards we drove by in Jerez were over cropped and showed obvious signs of chemical farming. The bodegas are huge industrial operations with staff managing their cellars who likely have no inputs or have anything to say about the wines, which we witnessed firsthand (excluding Armando, of course, who seems like the walking historian of Jerez)—in other words, they are the antithesis of boutique and are difficult to get behind as an importer who prefers to work with small growers that know great wine starts in the vineyard. I am not blind to the fact that with the low price of most Jerez wines that take a lot more time in the cellar to produce makes it difficult to justify more idealistic approaches in viticulture and detail work in the cellar and still make a profit. Once consumers are willing to pay the higher price for higher quality Jerez wines, it seems the doors will open for agricultural idealism to gain a solid foothold and the cellars will naturally improve where they can as well. It’s the same argument for a place like Saumur, France, which clearly has the weather, soil type and a great white grape (Chenin Blanc) to make truly compelling sparkling wines, but few are willing to pay the higher prices for a non-Champagne sparkling from a region that has churned out some pretty good bubbles at a modest price. So what’s the incentive for the producers to ignore the costs and go for the gold medal? During our chat with Armando, he made sure that we understood that the renaissance has begun with some tiny unknown producers, and that some of the larger bodegas are coming out of the of the smog of industrial times and seeing the potential of improved quality if attention is placed on the vineyards instead of only the cellar—what a concept! And that’s a wrap on a rookie perspective on Jerez. As we returned to Sevilla to fly back to Italy, we accidently found ourselves with six hours to spare literally in the middle of Sevilla’s big annual festival, called Feria, and what luck! Sevilla is one of the great cities of the world and to see this classy, familial, deeply cultural affair took our experience there to a totally different level. From there it was a short flight to Roma, where our luck continued when we found that all the national monuments and buildings were open and free for everyone for the day! We went to the Palatino and Colosseum and there were no lines… that would never happen any other day of the year. Is there any city in Europe that tops Roma in history and beauty? Not for me. Ciao.

The Greatest Forgotten Hill

The first time I stood on the hill, I didn’t think much of it.  It’s a quiet place just outside of the famous French wine town, Saumur.  To tell you the truth, there wasn’t much to admire besides a quaint, but lifeless, chateau sitting on top of it. This insipid wonder attracts droves of tourists every year to snap photos and walk away with a lousy souvenir wine from the chateau.  Indeed, the recent history of this chateau is one of making downright terrible wines. This hill, however, has a glorious history that has been almost completely forgotten –until now… My addiction to this hill began about four years ago. During my debut as a wine importer, I spent six months chatting it up with various people in the business about producers that could be interesting for me before I pulled the trigger on my maiden voyage in search of the holy grail.  Amongst my group of “sources”, was a friend back in Virginia who also runs an import company.  Although he was only 26 when I met him, this guy had developed a remarkable and enviable palate for wine.  He told me that he drank many great wines throughout his life because his father was a serious wine collector.  It must have been nice…  My first taste of wine was not one of privilege.  I grew up in a small town in Montana, called Kalispell.  Most people thought I said “cow’s bell”, or “cattle smell”, when they asked what the name of the town was.  I suppose both names could make sense after meeting a hick like me.  Because Montana wasn't exactly a mecca for wine lovers, my first contact with wine was an unforgettable bottle of Manaschewitz.  It was one of the worst things I can remember putting in my mouth as a kid, and believe me, I put a lot of disgusting things in my mouth back then.  After I snuck a taste, I couldn’t understand why my parents would drink this thing that seems like it should have been poured over our salad.  Given my first encounter with “wine”, it’s a miracle that I ever drank another glass of the stuff.  I must admit, however, that I’ve never had another sip of Manaschewitz.  Maybe I should give it another go, just to be fair; after all, it was probably open for at least two months, and I think I was about eight years old at the time.  Anyway, my buddy back east told me about a few producers; one in particular caught my attention.  He said that they were somewhat of a newcomer to Saumur, which is an area that specializes in two grapes: Chenin Blanc and Cabernet Franc.  He seemed pretty surprised that no major importer had picked them up yet in the States.  It was a good lead, so I put an email together and sent it off to Domaine de St. Just, fingers crossed. You’d be surprised at how fast people sometimes respond to this sort of inquiry; most of the time, if you ask to buy their wines on the spot, they put it together and send it to you without much ado.  Of course, you have to pay in advance, but that’s about it.  At any rate, the owner of the domaine, Arnaud Lambert, wrote back immediately and invited me to visit the estate.  I asked if it was fine with him to send samples to my friend’s house, in Provence, as I wasn’t planning on going to the Loire on this trip (even if the wines from this place were top notch).  This was the only producer in this region that I had the beat on, and it was pretty far out of my way.  Believe me, a thousand kilometers out of the way is a long distance to go only to find disappointment. By the end of 2010, I set off for France with proper financing to start importing wines to California.  My first stop, whenever I travel to France, is at Pierre and Sonya’s house in Provence, called La Fabrique.   Before I arrived, I made sure that it wasn’t a problem for them to receive samples sent for me –little did they know how much was on the way. Before my arrival, they sent me a message saying that, over the last couple of weeks, they had amassed about 11 boxes of wine.  Admittedly, I also was a little surprised by how much wine showed up.  I was going to be there for only two nights, so I proposed that La Fabrique throw a party.  They thought I was insane when I told them that I was going to open all the bottles at the party because they only had gathered 15 people for it.  It was a lot of wine, but in the end, only about a dozen bottles were worth drinking and most of them had been made by the hand of the same vigneron.  The truth is, most of what we importers taste is pure junk; the good wines ones are only good, and the great ones are rare. A couple of hours before the party started, I began pulling corks to taste them all before everyone arrived.  There were many that weren’t even fit for an outfit like Cost Plus.  Then, I put my nose in the first white wine from St. Just, and I knew, straight away, that if the rest followed suit, I would have to reconsider making the journey to Saumur.  I slowly worked through the entire range of his wines, looking for reasons not to go, but from top to bottom, they were all seamless.  My friend was dead on and I was sure that I had found my first producer.  I’ve been a fan of this area of France forever and these were some of the best wines I’ve tasted from there, period.  The Chenins were clean, expressive and straightforward –and they weren’t too Chenin-y, if you know what I mean.  Their Cabernet Franc wines from Saumur-Champigny were perfectly on par with what I wanted out of this grape: pure, clean, terroir-driven with charming bright red fruits.  Honestly, I was more excited about the reds than the whites because I feel that, not only is Cabernet Franc from the Loire Valley one of the most authentic terroir wines in all of France, but it is also, in commercial terms, a little easier to sell than Chenin Blanc. The problem I have with this area, however, is that a lot of the highly revered producers make wines that can be a little funky, and that’s not the type of horse that I want to get behind. Arnaud sent another box of samples from a different estate, which was also from Saumur.  He put a note in the box telling me that he just started to work with this estate and that he’d like me to consider them as well, but because I was already sold on Arnaud’s wine, they sat in the box until the end of the tasting. In addtion, some of their labels were lousy and only served to further my lack of interest.  Without expecting much, I arranged these other wines for a quick tasting.  I didn’t expect to care much about them after I tasted the little gems from Domaine de St. Just –boy, was I in for a real shocker. I pulled the cork on the first white, and took a sniff that was loaded with minerals and high-strung citrus fruits.  I had no idea of what was about to hit my mouth.  When my brother Jon and I were kids, we dismantled a power cord and decided that it could be fun to stick the metal prongs into a wall outlet, with our bare hands.  We weren’t the smartest kids, and perhaps that moment in my life explains a few glitches in my system.  Anyway, this wine brought me back to that moment as it unleashed some serious liquid wattage into my mouth.  This little wine was more than an attack on the palate –it was an assault.  I was all puckered up and my head went sideways.  It felt like I just brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth out with a glass of Chablis.  After a few more tastes, however, it became clear that there was something magic inside this angry little wine.  I’ve always been a sucker for abuse, so this was right up my alley. I opened the second Saumur white, Clos David –it was like Meursault on crack.  The first wine was all tension; this second wine was also intense, but it was endowed with more body and finesse. It was a more tamed beast, but a beast, nonetheless.  Like the first wine, it tweaked my mouth in every direction, but that didn’t stop me from coming back for more.  Every sip felt like I was getting smacked in the face by a furious, but sublime, French girl –I loved it!  As I continued to taste, I kept thinking: “Are these wines just freaky good, or picked way too early?”  I didn’t know because I’d never tasted anything like them before.  They were somehow regal and barbaric at the same time; yet, it seemed like they came from a noble terroir.  The rest of the wines followed suit with overwhelming tension.  The reds had bright red fruit and flowers in aroma with an acidic backbone enviable even for a fine red Burgundy from a classic year.  Every one of them was intensely acidic and penetrating, but once you made it through the pain, they were deep and pure. Although it is hard to believe, it’s still possible to find nearly abandoned or chemically destroyed vineyards all over Europe that were once owned by the elite classes of the past. Many of these precious grounds have been passed down generation after generation, only to fall from grace at the hands of a few misguided, or opportunistic, bean counters who put profit at the top of their agenda.  They are the ones who manufacture cheap and industrialized imposters that are sold to tourists who think that they are walking away with a wine that, based on historical merit, was once suitable for a king.  These wines, in reality, are only paupers dressed in a king’s clothes.  There is a quiet hill and chateau with this story of abuse that has now lasted for over a half-century.  It could be the greatest forgotten hill of our time; the hill is know as, Brézé. I saw the name “Brézé” for the first time on a bottle of white wine made from a well-respected, but underground, producer best-known for their red wines from Saumur-Champigny, the wine is called Clos Rougeard.  I never paid their white wine much attention because it’s a rare bird and it's not usually hanging out at your local wine shop.  I remember having it once before, but it didn’t catch my attention, so I never took the time to taste it again.  The truth is, I visited Arnaud, not for the Brézé wines he had sent me, but for his Saumur-Champigny reds and his entry-level whites, which were much less physically taxing than the Brézé wines. The first time I visited Arnaud was January of 2011.  He first took me to his vineyards in Saint-Cyr-en-Bourg.  Nothing makes me happier than visiting vineyards.  He was proud to show me that, unlike his neighbors, his land was full of natural grasses and herbs that grew freely between his vines. Moreover, his soils were thriving because he treated them respectfully and spared them synthetic chemical treatments that kill most of the bad (and good) micro-organisms.  As we stood on this limestone hill, called Saint-Cyr, I remembered the energy I felt it in his wines the first time I tasted them.  We spoke at length about the appellation and he pointed out that, historically, these vineyards have soils that are more suitable for white wines but had been planted to Cabernet Franc before he and his dad bought them back in 1996.  Before their time, red wines were more profitable, so it became an economical choice to make the switch.  As we finished our tour of Saint-Cyr, he mentioned this “Brézé” wine again as he pointed south and insisted that we go there to look at the vines before we head back to the cellar to taste. We drove to this unsuspecting hill about three kilometers across the way from Saint-Cyr.  There was only a gently sloping alluvial valley that separated the hills of Saint-Cyr and Brézé, but I can assure you that the taste of their wines gives the impression that they are miles apart.  Our first stop was at the Clos David –the Meursault on crack.  Arnaud walked me into what appeared to be a clos; it had old broken down walls that I could easily jump over from a stand still.  It wasn’t an impressive vineyard to look at.  The vines were tired and seemingly unattended.  The vineyard seemed to be held together by a thread and it looked like a cemetery of old vines. Arnaud plunged his hands in Clos David's soil and pulled a pile of chalky white and brown soil full of small limestone fragments.  He put his hands full of soil close to my face for inspection.  He gave me a faint smile, and, quite embarrassed, he said: “I brought you here to show you what damage has been done to these vineyard over the last century.  Look at this topsoil… it’s dead, completely dead…”  He told me that it was going to take years for any noticeable changes to take place in the topsoil.  The underlying limestone, which holds the magic of these terroirs, had been penetrated long ago by these abused vines, and that’s what keeps them in the game. He pointed out, however, that through the years of abuse with chemical treatments, most of the development of the root systems had stayed close to the surface and didn’t have the power to dig much further than what they had done half a century ago.  We went to another special parcel called Clos de la Rue, where he told me stories about the trading of bottles between Chateau de Brézé and other estates like Chateau d’Yquem, bottle for bottle.  Each of these special parcels were, in the past, owned by France’s elite society and they were sent throughout the royal courts of Europe.  At the time, they were known as “Chenin de Brézé”, and they were considered to be of the best white wines in all of France. While on the hill, Arnaud emphasized the importance of a concept that I seemed to have overlooked; the uniqueness of old walled vineyards, called "clos."  Over centuries, vineyards change through erosion that result in a loss of soil.  With the case of a vineyard surrounded by a wall, however, the historic soil structure remains while the rest of the vineyards around them, through centuries of erosion, can lose a significant amount of their ancient topsoil.  That simple concept hit me like a ton of bricks.  These enclosed vineyards are a geological and historical time capsule.  They preserve the impression the wines had when they were regarded centuries ago as an important site. I was dumbfounded and saddened by Arnaud's story of Brézé.  I could sense his animosity towards the more recent owners of this once great land.  After the Second World War, they destroyed the life of their once magnificent terroirs.  As we stood in the vineyard, my mind went back to the wines I had tasted in Provence and it started to make sense.  The wines were taking only what they could find with the root systems developed as young vines over 60 years ago.  They mostly expressed the structure of their deepest, stark-white chalky limestone soils, and not much more.  The soil on top – mostly sand and clay – which usually feeds the wine with body, breadth and generosity had little to give.  They were on a fast-food diet, yet, somehow, the terroir still fought through.  As I walked between rows, looking at the damage, I began to recollect the staggering power my mouth felt a week before in Provence. I realized that what I had tasted were skeletons of what the wines used to be.  The vineyards seemed like they were on their way out as many vines were missing and the remaining survivors were fighting a tough fight.  I had only tasted their skin and bones –but what powerful skin and bones they were.  I looked at Arnaud with disbelief and disappointment.  A smile began to grow on his face.  He looked at me and declared with a contemptuous tone: “Now, with the children out of the way, we’ll see how great this hill is back in the hands of men.” That moment will stay with me forever and writing down Arnaud’s exact words sends a chill through my body. Hearing stories about the former glory of Brézé was exciting.  Arnaud explained that he had signed a 20-year lease on the vineyards.  He let a few more kittens out of the bag when he told me that this historic wine hill was once considered one of the greatest wine producing communes in the entire north of France, and one of the two best of the Loire Valley –the other being Savennieres.  He added that there were only three other producers bottling estate wines from the hill: Clos Rougeard, Domaine du Collier and France’s newest darling, Romain Guiberteau.  Arnaud is originally from Normandy, so these guys had to fill him in on the legend of Brézé.  He told me that there are records at the Chateau de Brézé of the historical affairs of the hill which likely give insights on the production of its wines throughout the centuries.  Arnaud and others have asked to see them, but the owner of the Chateau dismissed their request, likely out of spite for Arnaud’s growing success with the vineyards that their incompetence let go to pasture.  The history is there, but he won’t let anyone have a look at it. To add to this incredible story, Arnaud told me that the rest of the farmers who own quality parcels on the hill sell their grapes to the local co-op because they have no reason, let alone means, to produce commercial wines.  What goes on with this hill is unbelievable and Arnaud, at times, he had to stop his account to laugh with me about how absurd it all was.  Brézé had been neglected for so long that even the locals, who own a piece of this unique place, throw their grapes into a collective wine that is probably sold down the street at Super U for three euros.  What is this madness?!  Don’t they know what they have?  Clearly, they don’t.  The good news, however, that the story of this once glorious hill now rests in the capable hands of a man determined to resurrect this hill of historical vineyards.  Once the Chateau de Brézé rises again, so will the rest of the hill. After we finished our tour of some of the clos, we went back for a taste.  At this point, I was chomping at the bit to get some of these wines back in my mouth.  As soon as we got there, we tasted the St. Just wines, which I was already set on importing.  Then we started the Brézé bottlings.  On my first smell and taste, I better understood the electrical current that flowed through my mouth.  All that these unstoppable terroirs had to give once again began screaming in my face, calling attention their glorious past.  After 65 years of punishment and neglect, the wines made in these suppressed vineyards still shined.  I was all in. Not surprisingly, on my last year on my visit to Brézé, Arnaud had more things up his sleeve.  He told me that the fruit for both of the “entry-level” cuvées, that were simply labeled "Saumur," come from individual historical clos, the Clos du Midi for the white, and the Clos Mazurique for the red.  You’ve got to be kidding me!  He finally decided to reveal this to me on my third year of selling the wines?!  I almost flipped out at him.  I was beside myself that he didn’t put the name of the clos on the label!  Here, we are talking about this hill and it’s glorious collection of clos, and he’s got this cheap entry-level wine made from a historical site with historical pedigree that he puts into a generic bottling?!  I was flabbergasted.  “Arnaud, what else are you not telling me?” I demanded.  I felt like a death row lawyer dealing with a man who was keeping secrets that could exonerate him.  He explained that he had just acquired over 20 hectares of land that he did not have a market for.  He had to choose which vineyards to put in the most energy and money.  He simply chose to use the two largest crus as the entry-level wines.  Crazy…  Don’t get used to the cheap prices, they won’t last.  I promise you.   In 2009, Arnaud and his father Yves signed a deal with the Comte de Colbert for the rights to the vineyards of the Chateau de Brézé.  They knew what was needed to nurse the vines back to health.  The first trip to the vineyards with Arnaud felt like the sad beginning of an epic movie in which our hero would inevitably triumph as he humbly stood upon the hill after reinstating her glory.   Since the day they gained control, they started the process of converting to organic farming with the idea to eventually move into a biodynamic practice.  When I asked why he didn’t go straight to biodynamics, he explained that moving the vines into a real biodynamic culture within three years was simply impossible.  He pointed out that because the topsoils of all the vineyards were desolate and void of almost all microbial life, making such a bold move at an early stage wasn’t the right way.  He further explained that he didn’t want to fabricate the soils by introducing a bunch of foreign microbes to supercharge the healing process.  He believes in the terroir and feels that nature needs to find her way again into the vineyards.  He estimated that, in ten years, he would be able to assert with confidence that his vineyards were performing at the level of a healthy biodynamic environment.  Last year, six years after they started farming organically, he expected to finally see some natural grass growing again.  Each time Arnaud tells me something disturbing like that, he looks at me out of the side of his eyes, with a smirk, and his head pointed down as though he felt responsible for what took place before him.  Indeed, what happened here is embarrassing; sadly, it’s not uncommon. What makes it especially disheartening, in this case, is the negligence with vineyards that possesses such a rich history. Last year, I had dinner with Romain Guiberteau and Arnaud Lambert, both of whom I import to California.  We went down to Arnaud’s cave, below his house, to taste his 2012 single-vineyard wines from both hills.  After four years of organic farming, the whites were simply off the charts.  After we tasted, Romain needed a smoke, so he and I went outside and started to chat while Arnaud stayed in the cave to organize a few more wines to taste.  Romain took a long draw of his cigarette and leaned into me as though he was going to tell me a secret.  He quietly said in French: “Yes, I have ONE (Clos des Carmes) of the greatest vineyards on the hill…  He has the other EIGHT…”  He stared at me as he pointed his finger towards the cellar where Arnaud was and continued: “He’s a great winemaker and he’s just getting started.  My vineyards have been in organic culture already for over ten years and he’s just converting them now.  Just wait, he’s the one to watch.  He has them all…”  Hearing this confession from one of the hottest young vignerons in France was unreal.  It was a wonderful insight into the character of Romain Guiberteau.  He’s a selfless, passionate man interested in the success of his friend Arnaud, as are the other vignerons on the hill, Antoine Foucoult and his father and uncle from the Clos Rougeard.  I haven’t met anyone from the Foucoult family, but Arnaud told me that he feels like they are all in it together with him; like a band of brothers.  It’s impressive. Two weeks ago, I was in Saumur to pay another visit to Arnaud and Romain.  We further discussed the nature of the wines produced on this hill and my purchase of the 2010 basic Saumur white and red from Chateau de Brézé a few years ago.  I revealed to them that I only started to find success with the Brézé wines at the start of 2013 and that I hardly sold a single case the first 18 months as they sat in my warehouse.  I was a little afraid to show the wines at first because they were taut for so long, but when we unleashed Guiberteau into the California market last year, it helped prime the market’s palate for the wines of Chateau de Brézé.  The wines from Romain shocked (literally) everyone and, by that time, the Brézé wines finally relaxed and started to put their cards on the table.  They were a perfect follow after Guiberteau floored the market and were welcomed with the same enthusiasm.  That night, we all agreed that the wines from Brézé need much more time in the bottle before being sold.  That’s why Romain already sells his high-end cuvées three or four years after the vintage date.  The next morning, I could see anguish on Arnaud’s face.  He told me that, because of our conversation last night, he decided that he was going to ask the bank for more money in order to make the wines age longer before releasing them.  It’s this kind of stuff that makes Arnaud special.  He never ceases to impress me as his commitment to the success of this hill is inspiring. Two weeks ago – almost four years after my first visit – Arnaud and I walked the vineyards again.  I wanted to spend more time in the vineyards to get a better understanding of each clos.  As we walked through, the vineyards were showing signs of new life.  We reminisced what has happened over the last years that led up to this point.  As we bent over to admire new life emerging after a lifetime of abuse, we smiled and grabbed piles of dirt and rock from each sight to inspect its renewing quality. The natural grasses were popping and the life of the soil was being nursed back to health.  The vineyards are changing, so is Arnaud.  He is a different man than when I met him four years ago.  Since then, he’s had a rough patch with the tragic early passing of his wife and his father just a year after my first visit with him.  It's a hard story to hear from such a wonderful guy.  As we carried on, I realized that the dark cloud, cast over Brézé and Arnaud, is lifting more and more with the passing of each year. Four years ago, I stood with Arnaud at the Clos du Chateau vineyard on the very top of the hill without realizing that this place would become one of my most unexpected love affairs with wine.  It's heartwarming to see that the other great producers from the hill, rather than competing with Arnaud, act as his strongest supporting cast.  They all know of this almost forgotten history that has been silenced for decades inside this mysterious hill.  They are all anxiously waiting to see what Arnaud unearths as he nurses her back to health.  There is something stirring on this little hill, and soon, the wine world will remember her name; she is Brézé, the greatest forgotten hill.

The Languedoc and Domaine du Pas de L’Escalette, Part Seventeen of An Outsider at The Source

I woke at seven thirty and had finished demolishing a fresh pile of baguettes by eight, when we hit the road. Our destination for the day was Domaine du Pas de L’Escalette, in the Languedoc, a major wine producing region in the south of France that stretches from Provence up to the Pyrenees Mountains, with Spain along one border. Many of the predominant varietals there, such as Grenache, can yield a lot of fruit elsewhere, but in the cool weather where Pas de L'Escalette is located the yields are low and the wines more fresh and high-toned. The Languedoc actually produces a huge proportion of French wine, but since a lot of them are high octane, it’s not a largely desirable source for some segments of the US market, where low alcohol is the current trend. Ted had met Julien Zernott and his wife, Delphine Rousseau, of Domaine du Pas de L'Escalette, a few weeks earlier, an event that left him wanting to give the wines another taste. Nicolas Rossignol made the introduction when they all happened to visit his cellar in Burgundy at the same time. Ted hesitated to further the conversation with Julien after an invitation to the domaine because they were already represented in the states and he didn’t want to step on the other importers’ toes. But when as they departed, Zernott gave Ted a couple bottles and they agreed to talk. Ted had been asking himself, “Am I doing the right thing?,” but after wrestling with the possibility of working with Zernott a little longer, he decided, “why not?” He would go into the meeting with no expectations and simply view it as an opportunity to learn more and meet up with an interesting vigneron who had given him a great first impression. We passed through the Camargue river delta, a marshy land where the Rhône River meets the Mediterranean Sea. Camargue Horses, one of the oldest breeds in the world, are indigenous to the area, and a lot of sea salt is harvested there as well. The vineyards around us were flat and thin and Ted remarked that they generally produce cheap and unremarkable table wine. There were many Roman ruins along the road, the remnants of walls and structures from that fallen empire. I was yet again struck by these remnants of ancient history scattered all over France and how the majority of it was vandalized with colorful graffiti. Little red and yellow flowers danced in the Mistral along the shoulder as we passed, and the sky was a shock of dark blue, the thin white clouds distant smudges on the horizon. Though it’s tucked away a little inland from the coast, the Languedoc has long been thought by many to be to underrated in its beauty, and it's free of the tourists that flock to better-known destinations. Further to the north and west we entered the Costières de Nîmes AOC, a huge area also known for inexpensive wines, usually blends led by Grenache and somewhat similar in style to other appellations in the Southern Rhône Valley. Ted works with a domaine from the appellation, Terre des Chardons, and thinks other wines in the AOC would be better if people would make just a few changes, such as adopting organic and biodynamic standards similar to what Terre des Chardons uses. Another producer he used to import from further north in the Languedoc uses natural techniques and sometimes their wines are really solid, while others (as with many natural producers who are more at the mercy of nature), not so much. We bent south around the sea toward Montpellier, where beige, orange and yellow stucco buildings with terra cotta tiled roofs spread out from each side of a highway lined with dense stands of trees. The city was heavily bombed in WWII so most of the structures are more modern than in many other places we had visited, and there was lush greenery and graffiti crawling across every wall on the underpasses. The road turned north and inland again through rolling hills with huge white limestone boulders scattered among the scrub, a landscape similar to that around the 118 between LA and Ventura. We passed the town of Mas Lavayre, situated in an area chock-full of uranium ore, and continued toward the ancient commune of Lodève, which dates back to the Gauls and where the hills are all red with iron rich soils. We were getting into a new territory for Ted, geographically and geologically, and he was clearly excited. “What's getting interesting here is that we're living in an era where the greatest producers in Burgundy, Champagne, the Loire, Germany, Austria, etc, are all in a window to make incredible wines in the increasing heat; they used to have a good season every few years and now five out of six are good or great, but that’s about to change. Right now, it’s much better for consistency in these colder areas, yet as the heat continues to rise, they’ll start to get inconsistent again because of heat instead of the old problem of the cold.” It was strange to think that there could be areas of the world that might actually be benefiting from climate change—the perfect ammunition for deniers. But most of us know that it’s a serious problem, and the beneficiaries won’t be such for long. The navigation system kept giving us poor directions, and after taking a few wrong turns on some narrow side roads, we finally found our way to the driveway of Domaine du Pas de L'Escalette. The winery building is a striking piece of modernism with a limestone tile façade, plain but for three four-by-fifteen-foot glass slots, the center one with a door at the bottom. The structure’s shape, with one rectangle and two symmetrical windowless wings on each side, gives it the appearance of a temple from another world. The delays had us running late, and Julien Zernott was already waiting in the parking lot with his father-in-law and a young couple who were also related in some way that I missed, and who didn’t speak English. Julien is at least six four, and built like a linebacker (another ex-rugby player like Jean-Claude Masson back in the Savoie), with broad shoulders and the belly of a man who likes the finer things. He has cherubic cheeks that pinch his small eyes almost closed when he smiles his gape-toothed smile, which he does constantly. He shook my hand and almost crushed it in his bear paw, introduced his family, then gestured for everyone to jump into his old and dusty SUV. We tore off down a narrow road through some of the most beautiful scenery we had seen yet. The vineyards rolled across wavy land in a long valley between steep hills of the deepest green, with jagged sandstone pinnacles stabbing upward from the ridges all around. The sky was spotless and rich blue, and a cool breeze kept the air under the bright sun mild and dreamy. The space between the vines was pure limestone scree, with thin grasses and weeds poking through on Julien’s parcels. Some of the sections belonging to other makers were bare of green—clear signs of the herbicide that he shuns. The limestone was scattered in every direction, from the tiniest pebble to the billiard ball rocks to the brick and cinderblock-sized pieces used to build the walls winding all over the land. Some were four feet tall, and some were eight, and every stone was stacked and locked together with puzzle-like precision, with no mortar in sight. Julien said that they were built partially to block the wind, but mainly they were just a way to clean up all the extra stones without just piling them into unsightly mounds. In the middle of some of the walls there were little stone huts called Bergers, also built without mortar; they look like igloos constructed with carefully stacked rocks instead of ice blocks. Inside, there were large stones to sit on around a fire pit in the center under a ventilation hole in a ceiling propped up by wooden beams. Apparently these were used by shepherds who worked the sheep in these hills in a distant past, before they were vineyards. And in the decades since, they’ve been used to warm the fieldworkers on the coldest days. In any case, there was no way I could look at a stone hut and not think, “Middle Ages,” and maybe even, “Bring out your dead!” When Ted inevitably brought up the extremely rocky soil under our feet, Julien said that it was remarkably easy for the vines to get down into it, to squeeze through the tiny spaces in the scree. Julien pointed at a few hectares of vines that he had planted in 2003 and said they were yellow because of a recent cold snap; he has planted twenty hectares of different varietals since 2013. He then nodded at more of his parcels nearby, some sixty-year-old Grenache and eighty-year-old Carignan. Andrea took photos of the landscape from every angle, and I would bet that they were almost all keepers. She and Ted got shots of Julien as he spoke, and he was camera friendly, smiling and allowing for countless candid action shots as he made gestures all around. Ted noted that all the biodiversity of grasses coming up between the rows made it clear that they were employing organic and biodynamic techniques, Ted's ideal conditions for healthy fruit. “But we live with the animals,” Julien added. “Small deer and boar eat the grapes. People hunt but don’t kill them all, so there will always be more. The grapes are always in danger.” As with every vigneron we had met so far, Zernott is always walking a fine line to preserve his crop, in one way or another. He took us over to a corner of his property that comes to a point at the top of a hill where two of the tallest stone walls meet. I turned around and was struck by a stunning view of the entire valley that opened out from where we stood in the tip of a giant, inverted V. There were countless patches of different greens of grass and vines, and the mix of deciduous and pine trees growing from the scattered pastures below the towering crenulated hillsides that cradled the valley around us. There were two square sitting blocks arranged around a cocktail table fashioned from one long stone. He showed us a small branch protruding from a nearby tree. It looked different from the others around it and was braced to a limb with some sort of tape; though it was grafted to a wild plum tree, in a few months it would produce cherries to snack on. He walked over to one of the walls and pushed on the edge of a big block, which was really just a thin stone façade, actually a small door that swung open on a hinge that revealed a hidden cubbyhole behind it. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of rosé and a clutch of glasses. We all gathered around the stone table and tasted the crisp and refreshing wine, still cold from its chilly stone storage, despite the bright sun and warmth of the day. It was the perfect accompaniment to the herbal breeze. We returned to the winery and were greeted by Julien’s wife, Delphine. She smiled warmly and shook our hands from behind a sleek modern marble bar in a tasting room with cork-tiled walls. Julien told us that she runs the business side of things, raising his palms in a playful, “I have no idea what that entails,” manner. She also created all of the labels for the wines, which Ted immediately complimented for their simplicity. One series that I found particularly charming had tiny recreations of their children’s footprints walking up the side of the bottle. As she poured tastes, including a beautiful blend of mostly Grenache with some Carignan and Syrah, followed by their Syrah dominant blend, Julien said, “you need to learn enology so you can forget it. It’s important to just observe the wines. It’s fine to know how yeast works, but we don’t add commercial yeast to anything but the rosé, where it’s necessary. Everything else is naturally occurring yeast. You have to work with your heart and not with your head. We honor the terroir. We look for the holy grail.” Ted nodded vigorously with a big smile on his face. What Julien might not have known was that it could have been Ted himself who had spoken these words, verbatim, all the way down to the “holy grail” comment—one of his favorites. It was no wonder that they had hit it off back in Rossignol’s cellar; this guy was totally speaking Ted's language. Then Julien said, “I prefer elegant wines over power,” to which Ted responded with a wry grin, “I do, too. I prefer a woman in my glass, not a man.” It took a quick moment for the words to sink in, but once they did, Julien released a loud chuckle and nodded in kind. Julien led us through a tall sliding door to a big room lined with relatively new, wooden Stockinger barrels, then through another door where there were some older barrels and his steel tanks. We tasted a few of his aging wines from his pipette as he and Ted broached the subject of import. After this visit, Ted was all in, and Julien sounded interested as well. They agreed on pallet allotments for the coming vintages and that was that: they were in business. We were out of time and needed to get on the road again. When we asked Delphine where we might pick up a sandwich, she quickly said she’d make us one herself and invited us up to the house, a low slung annex to the winery that seemed certain to have been designed and built by the same people. The glass front was almost entirely open to the view of the valley, and eight or so friends and family sat around a long table on a covered patio, playing cards. They smiled and waved and beckoned us to join them and asked us where in the states we were from. It was a beautiful picture of the incredible life that Julien and Delphine have crafted for themselves. Inside, a teenage girl offered me some almond brittle from the oven, which I gladly took and instantly devoured, then silently wished for more the second it was gone. Delphine cut into a big loaf of rustic bread, spread gobs of fresh butter on the slices, grabbed from a thick stack of jambon de Bayon and pieces from a wheel of local cheese and piled it all together. She gave us each big hugs and sent us on our way. A quarter mile down the road, I tore into the sandwich, which was, of course, glorious (Hallelujah! Another ham and butter!) and I had finished mine before Ted even unwrapped his. He would remark—not for the first time, or the last—that I eat way too quickly. I don’t know why he kept harping on it; he knows I was raised by wolves.

Nature Worshipper, Part Eleven of An Outsider at The Source

Ted comes from a deeply religious background and after he left the fold, he shifted his faith to that in nature, and he believes that the most conscious winemakers cede control to this bigger force. But as Masson had touched upon with his need for flexibility during tough times, this clearly presents a quandary when people need to pay the bills. If they encounter a bunch of problems, it’s sometimes necessary to work against nature, even if for only a moment during a tough year. Ted sympathizes, yet still preaches the virtues of working in accordance with nature as much as possible. He’ll never stop being surprised and dismayed when people choose the four dollar bottle from Trader Joe’s without realizing that the only way to produce it so cheaply is with the use of chemical farming and production that leave the wine nothing more than water and alcohol that kind of tastes like a wine—all a sort of cheating, really. There’s just no way of getting a bottle of wine at that price and have it free of chemical fertilizers, herbicides and pesticides. Even some health nuts he knows still get fired up about a cheap bottle. He said, “they’ll buy fresh organic produce and grass-fed beef and eat it with one of these TJ’s specials. What many don’t stop to think is, while avocados can be sprayed in the field, they can be washed, and at least the fruit inside ends up relatively free of chemicals since they are one of the 'clean fifteen'—the fruits and veggies with the least amount of pesticides that penetrate their outer layers. Grapes on the other hand, are not washed off before they are processed, so everything makes it into the tank, and much of that goes into your glass. “A six dollar bottle just isn’t good for you,” he added. He’s more interested in promoting purity in winemaking techniques than a wine that just tastes good. When he brings on a producer he always thinks, “would I want my wife and friends drinking this?” This is one of the primary reasons he visits all his producers, to see how they do things, to verify their honesty. The primary objective of The Source is to create a model for a lifestyle of clean living. With that comes paying a little more for a wine that's healthy, while supporting the producers who make that possible. He went on to describe how the quality of the fruit is gauged: “When I worked as a consultant at a vineyard and winery the grape harvesters asked, ‘how can you tell if it's good?’ And I said, ‘how does it taste? Would you put that cluster in your mouth? Good ones taste incredible. If you won't put the grape in your mouth because it’s too sour or partially rotten, why would put it in a wine? If you wouldn’t eat it, throw it on the ground.’” Many winegrowers tell him that most importers who visit them go straight to the cellar to taste, that he is one of few who wants to see the vineyards—though Ted says this is starting to change. He actually spends much more time outside than in the cellars; his priority is to see the condition of the vines and soil. You can visit a tasting room at any number of producers in the states, but most of them don’t do regular tours of the vineyards. He said, “If vignerons spend the majority of their time in the vines, don't you think that’s where we should be too? I can taste their wines anywhere, but I go to visit them to see if they are working well in both the cellar and the vineyards. "There are a lot of importers, sommeliers and the like who consider themselves proponents of natural wines but who then stop beside vineyards to post selfies on social media, oblivious to the fact that the vines behind them have clearly been chemically treated." Ted has his buyers’ trust, and he wants to be true to that; the wine needs to be as honest as he’d like to think he is. As we drove north, further into the Alps, he exclaimed, “Look! Look! The swoop of the stone on top of that mountain, a completely different stone than the one below it—it’s incredible. You don’t see that. It’s usually either schist or limestone, not one on top of the other.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his continued childlike glee when it comes to the rocks everywhere that the rest of us take for granted. Next: Ted's Friend Nico

César Fernández Díaz

What do you do besides grow grapes and make wine? I like doing sports, like running and going to the gym. I also read a lot and attend as many seminars on viticulture as I can. My main activity is playing drums in three bands: one in English Country-Rock style (a style between The Jayhawks and Teenage Fanclub), another band is a power trio (a style like Biffy Clyro, Berri Txarrak) and a third recording drums at home, ska style (no local rehearsals). Did you go to school for wine? I went to the Politécnica University of Madrid to study an Agricultural Engineering degree (specializing in agricultural holdings with all types of crops and livestock management) and a Master in Enology that covered viticulture, enology and marketing. I also have another master's degree in Business Leadership and Management Skills. How did you get started in wine? My mother's family always had vineyards and produced and sold their wines. They made the wines in underground cellars and sold the wines in Aranda de Duero and directly to locals. Since childhood I helped in the vineyards and observed how my family worked with the life cycle of the vines. From a very young age I had contact with the world of wine, not only through my family, but other producers as well. When I was studying at the university, I realized that what I really liked the most about it was viticulture, but before that I didn’t have a strong interest. What wine regions have you visited outside of Spain? Marlborough (NZ, North of South Island), South of NZ, (reds on slate soils), Christchurch (Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc), Loire Valley, the south Etna side of Sicilia, Portugal’s Alentejo, Oporto, Dao, and other northern areas of Portugal.

Ribeira Sacra Terroir Overview

An Incomplete Collection of Observations and Considerations. Round One. The Ribeira Sacra is complicated. There is so much more than what is readily apparent beyond the breathtaking imagery of vertigo-inducing vineyard terraces towering over the silvery, slow-moving rivers far below. Broken up into five general wine regions, it has a greater diversity of grapes, expositions, altitudes, slope angles, bedrock types and topsoil compositions than many other wine regions. This subject is expansive and thankfully, there is now increasingly more useful information about it, thanks to Spanish wine journalism that has begun to focus more heavily on Spain’s backcountry. Luis Gutiérrez, from the Wine Advocate, the team at spanishwinelover.com blog, and the website of importer, Jose Pastor Selections, are some of my go-to references written in English. One challenge of delving deep into this region comes from the fact that much of its history has been lost for generations to hard times and nearly complete abandonment. The bulk of the historical and cultural details are in Spanish, or even the far more challenging Galician—also called Galego, a regional dialect that combines elements of Spanish and Portuguese with its own individual twist. My goal here is to offer a better understanding of the Ribeira Sacra by highlighting some unique elements within each of the five subzones from a broad, terroir-oriented perspective. Climatic Considerations The Ribeira Sacra represents Galicia’s climatic middle ground, with a large variation throughout the appellation that ranges from one extreme side to the other. The climate dictates the “success” of grapes’ growth with regard to the degree of balanced phenolic ripeness they attain. It may seem unusual, but in Galicia there are many different grape types that find balanced phenolic ripeness in a great range of potential alcohol levels, some as low as 10.5%, and others well above 13%. This leads to a multitude of different expressions of wine here, as well as elsewhere in Galicia. Satellite 3-D imagery has been a game changer, but it may be easier to reference topographical maps rather than Google Earth when it comes to climate, since they better and more simply illustrate in the physicality of the landscape, and therefore the source of potential climate influencers. On the west and north end of the Ribeira Sacra the climatic influence is more impacted by Atlantic winds and precipitation due to the absence of any significant mountain range. Toward the west, between the Atlantic and the Ribeiro and Ribeira Sacra regions, some small mountains curb the influence of oceanic winds. Over where the Miño river valley flows south through the Chantada and Ribeiras do Miño subzones of the Ribeira Sacra all the way to the Atlantic, the northern Atlantic winds are freer to blow through the river valley and into the region. Then, toward the south and east the mountains rise to higher altitudes and maintain a much stronger continental influence. None of the mountains in Galicia would be considered big, like the Rockies, Alps or Himalayas—although the Galician range is believed to have been comparable, hundreds of millions of years ago. Now they’re short and rounded, topping out at 2,124 meters (6,969 feet) at Peña Trevinca, perhaps just a dozen or so kilometers to the east of Quiroga-Bibei, the easternmost subzone of the Ribeira Sacra. It snows in the higher elevations in winter, a possibility I hadn’t considered until I found myself driving through an unexpected blizzard from Bierzo to the Amandi on my way to an appointment. It can be downright cold here in the wintertime, and blazing hot in the summer. And the differences between the seasons in the Ribeira Sacra have become particularly extreme of late, with some years overburdened by drought, while also suffering unmanageable mildew pressure, and even torrential hailstorms at the worst possible times, often just before harvest. A Land of Many Rivers The influence of the main rivers in the Ribeira Sacra is not quite the same as it used to be. Since the introduction of hydroelectric dams as early as the 1940s, when Central Hidroeléctrica dos Peares on the Miño River broke ground in ‘47, and with dam construction continuing today along some watercourses, each river’s influence on vineyard microclimates has changed. In the past, rivers brought the advantage of faster moving airflow, especially during spring runoff that likely helped curb frost issues around bud break by basically pulling the cool air further downstream before it could settle in the vineyards. These dams have also brought notable change to the landscape where the deepest sections of the river now run through areas once covered with vineyards, farmland and housing. This modification also undoubtedly altered the local flora and fauna to some degree, as well as untold other factors in the surrounding microclimates. The river currents of old also likely helped to balance temperatures during summer months with their continuous flow of cooler water and fresh mountain air through the valleys on hot days. In some locations rivers now resemble thin, meandering lakes, or mini-fjords, where the water is mostly idle, particularly on the reservoir side of the dams. Today, this dynamic along with the fog it creates increases humidity and encourages mildew’s free run into vineyards on the river valley hillsides, often forcing frequent intervention from growers, inhibiting more efficient and ecologically-sound methods. Rivers alter the topography and create diversity by cutting hundreds of meters deep into the earth, exposing complex geological formations that would’ve otherwise been buried far below the surface. Flatter vineyards have less dramatic variations, and the topsoil often doesn’t correlate exactly with the underlying bedrock as much as it may on steeper hillside vineyards. With other nearby geological formations, the topsoil of vineyards below them can be easily altered with sedimentary deposits from those at higher altitudes. But in the Ribeira Sacra’s river gorges it doesn’t take but a meter or two to shift back and forth from igneous bedrock to metamorphic, just as it does in so many other Galician vineyard areas further into the countryside, away from the Atlantic and the Rías Baixas wine region. What’s more is that inside river gorges like most of those in the Ribeira Sacra, there is an abundant supply of exposures and slope angles. This may be a saving grace for the vineyards near these rivers because as the climate changes the growers can shift from the hottest exposures to cooler ones, while maintaining the same superb bedrock, topsoil and all other characteristics imparted by the local terroir. This practice has already taken hold in the area, with many growers exploring potential vineyard sites that in the past would not have been advantageous. But in the coming decades, these more sheltered sites may provide enough refuge to keep businesses afloat instead of being choked out by the sun. The Grapes There is a lot more insightful information out there on the grapes of Galicia, so I won’t spend too much time in this section. However, I would advise that any interested parties do their research with a wide variety of sources, as I’ve found some inconsistencies in places that I thought would have been more accurate. (Perhaps Jancis Robinson’s book on grapes is the most ideal source.) I will focus on just a few grapes that I find particularly compelling options that regularly demonstrate that they can compete at a very high level. In the right hands and the right terroir inside the Ribeira Sacra, Mencia can render a high- quality wine. The proposed descendant of Caíño and Merenzao (a hard parental pair to imagine, given how dramatically different those two grapes are to Mencia from a finished wine standpoint), it can be dark in color, depending on the vineyard exposure: when well-exposed it can get darker, while with greater protection from the sun the grapes tend to be more red than black—as with most red grapes. It can be suave, supple and convivial; it can also channel the terroir with clarity, as demonstrated by so many examples from the better producers in the region. While Mencia is the most commonly planted grape in the Ribeira Sacra, it is also the most commonly criticized by winegrowers. Their beef with it seems to revolve around its inability to maintain acidity when it reaches its optimal phenolic balance. I’ve been told that its point of origin is likely on the other side of the Galician mountains in the Castilla y Leon, an area where it seems to thrive and maintain solid natural acidity at much higher altitudes. It’s around the Jamuz area where the vines are ancient (more than eighty years old) and grow at altitudes of eight hundred to over a thousand meters, similar to in some higher-altitude areas of Bierzo, where it can also do very well to maintain a decent amount of natural acidity. It’s commonly said that Mencia was not planted in the Ribeira Sacra before phylloxera, but gained ground because of its reliability as a grape, year in and year out. And in a wine region historically as poor as the Ribeira Sacra has been for more than a century, it made complete economic sense—just as when many low-producing grape varieties were ousted all over Europe for other grapes that could generate crops worth growing during hard times. Sadly, many growers feel obliged to manage the low natural acidity of Mencia by adding tartaric acid from a bag—no thanks. The clever ones dose the blend with other quality grapes naturally high in acidity; or maybe they do it the old-fashioned way and work diligently to find the right hour in the right day to catch the grapes in a moment of perfect natural balance. Best to stick with the top growers to get the real deal. If natural freshness is a cornerstone in one’s wine preferences, look for those grown in cooler subzones and microclimates. Other Glorious Ribeira Sacra Grapes We begin with the reds, those with a naturally lighter hue, resulting more often in wines with brighter red tones. They are grapes with greater natural acidity and aromatic lift that when blended with Mencia can take it from a wine on the border of being drab and turn it into a real symphony, with great lift and complexity—that scene in the movie “Amadeus” comes to mind, the one where Mozart makes changes to Salieri’s composition, transforming it from something melodic but also mediocre, to a much more invigorating composition. (watch here) First we will just touch on the whole of the Caíño family, of which there are numerous biotypes, all with the prefix, Caíño. Caíños are intense. Sometimes they can be snuggly acidic when bottled alone (and even more aggressive in cooler areas, like Ribeiro and Rías Baixas) and will serve well when added to a wine that is missing strength in its acidic spine. That said, I believe this grape has serious untapped potential, and in the face of climate change—coupled with a better understanding of how to grow it—it will surely rise up in the ranks and find more balance. It has everything a truly great family of grapes possesses: naturally good if not obscene acidity in some cases, a fullness in the palate, good core concentration, quality phenolic maturity at lower alcohol levels, and a rare talent for not only channeling its terroir, but giving it thrust. Then there are the dazzling Brancellao and Merenzao—exciting prospects with a more inviting and gentler acidity than the Caíño clan. Brancellao is perfumed and subtle while maintaining a mouth-filling freshness on a delicate frame; it’s also known in some parts as Albarello. There is mega promise with this grape, as with Caíño. Merenzao is the same as Trousseau, one of the Jura’s fuller-bodied reds (but only fuller within the context of the Jura) and it thrives well in Galicia. Merenzao seems to me more pungently perfumed than the Caíños and Brancellao. It renders extremely inviting wines that are well balanced and lively in freshness. It’s another grape that deserves a big share of land inside a quality vineyard. The darker grapes such as Garnacha Tintorera (one of the rare grapes with red pulp), Mouraton (a big, dark cluster), Tempranillo (Spain’s most famous red grape, responsible most famously for the wines of Rioja and many of the Duero River appellations), and Sousón are an interesting bunch. Sousón has become a favorite of mine within this category for its virile, beast, dark berry and spicy characteristics; it seems like a giant in waiting for someone to fully unlock, if they can also control its intense power. Known in Portugal as Vinhão (and probably a number of other different names within Iberia), it makes a slightly sparkling, mouth-staining, delicious wine traditionally served cold. This wine is not for everyone, but I happen to love it and believe there is a tremendous potential in parts of Galicia and Northern Portugal if it’s done with great care, higher viticultural precision and with some financial motivation—that is, a good selling price! (There are plenty more red grapes out there that I have little or no experience with, and when more information comes my way, I will work it in.) Outside of Albariño, many of Galicia’s white grapes have a hard time standing on their own; some would argue that the same is true for most of the reds too. Without the addition of complimentary grapes in a blend, many expose gaps in the overall balance of single variety wines. Thus far, Ribeiro and to a much greater extent, Rías Biaxas, seem more suitable than further east appellations in Galicia (save the fabulous white grape Godello), and this likely has much more to do with climate than anything—in the Ribeira Sacra, we have to accept, at least in this moment of the region’s evolution, that not all wine regions are endowed with red and white wine of equal talent. Admittedly, I have a relatively limited personal experience with the white wines of Ribeira Sacra, so I’ve yet to find an abundance of compelling examples to warrant in-depth exploration or explanation. If I have the option I always tend to gravitate toward wines largely composed of, or reinforced by, grapes with higher natural acidity, such as Godello, Caiño Branco, Agudelo (Chenin Blanc), or even Albariño, but the latter finds its peak within sight of the Atlantic, especially in Salnés. Perhaps the challenge is that many of the great red wine producers grow white wines in the same vineyards with reds instead of more suitable terroirs that naturally retain freshness without too much trouble. On the optimistic side, maybe it’s just a matter of time before they really begin to hit the mark. Geologic Setting and Considerations As I frequently mention in my wine exploration writings, geology is an extremely important factor, and once we are able to isolate specific characteristics in the taste and texture, and perhaps to a lesser degree, aroma, the similarities between geological formations become more apparent. However, it’s important to keep in mind that many of these specific nuances may subtly exist, and sometimes are abstract and personal for most people. These nuances often rest in the background, acting as a secondary support to more pronounced wine traits coming from the grape(s), the conditions of each particular season, and the stylistic influence of the winemaker. That said, in Galicia the geologic setting seems to strongly mark the resulting wines as much as anywhere in the wine world. Galicia is geologically diverse and home to some of the oldest rock formations within Europe’s wine regions. This range of rocks is credited with what is known as the Variscan/Hercynian orogenic belt—an apt description of how this geological formation is shaped. Hundreds of millions of years ago a somewhat small but long continent called Armorica (which makes up today’s European massifs: Iberian, Armorican, Central, Rhenish and Bohemian) was sandwiched between the two mega continents Laurasia (home to today’s North America, Europe and Asia, minus India) and Gondwana (Africa, South America, Antarctica, Australia, India) in a forceful collision that lasted for tens of millions of years. The bottom of the ancient oceans of the larger continents were driven below everything (geologists call this subduction) as they lifted and mangled Armorica until it resembled a partially uncoiled snake, or belt. During orogenic processes (mountain-building events), preexisting rocks can be lifted, subducted, twisted, deformed, and altered in mineral composition due to the extreme heat and pressure in what geologist refer to as “violent events,” although, with the exception of volcanic eruptions, these processes are extremely slow. Those rocks altered by severe heat and pressure are categorized as metamorphic rocks. Depending on the type of metamorphic rock, they may have a particular influence on viticultural and enological practices. On color-coded geological maps of the Iberian Peninsula there is a unique curvature in the northwest and western parts that starts in the direction of the north and nicely curves toward the east; this is the result of the Variscan orogeny. This collision that joined these three continents created Pangaea, the last of Earth’s supercontinents. Pangaea began to separate about two hundred million years ago. A Brief Explanation of the Ribeira Sacra Formation from Master of Science in Geology, and PhD student at the University of Vigo, Ivan Rodriguez The formation of the Ribeira Sacra began about two hundred million years ago. During this period, the northwestern part of Spain and northern Portugal were part of a large island, while what would be the rest of today's Spain and Portugal didn't yet exist. During the Alpine orogeny, the Cantabrian Mountains—a range that extends from Galicia across the north coast of Spain to the Pyrenees, the mountains that separate Spain and France—began to form sometime between forty to sixty million years ago. These mountains produced changes in the landscape of the surrounding areas resulting in the formation of new watercourses that developed along old tectonic faults. These watercourses, today's Miño and Sil, are the main rivers of the Ribeira Sacra. Interestingly, granite and slate, two contrasting rock types with very different levels of hardness dominate the Ribeira Sacra landscape and influence the topography of each river valley. In areas dominated by slate, the far softer of the two rocks, the watercourse eroded the landscape to create wider valleys with less steep hillsides. By contrast, the sections of river composed of granite eroded into deeper valleys with steeper, more abrupt rock walls. The Geologic Connection with Wine As one might imagine, a lot has happened since the breakup of Pangaea. Some of the Variscan Mountains remain above the water line but are severely eroded, and while we don’t see them named on today’s global maps, their remnants connect many European wine regions in France (Muscadet, Anjou, Alsace, Beaujolais, Northern Rhône, Corsica), Austria (Wachau, Kamptal and Kremstal), many western German wine regions, and Western Iberia (Portugal, and parts of Western Spain, including Galicia and the Ribeira Sacra). The geological connection between wine regions (not only those remnants from the Variscan orogeny) often shares specific characteristics regardless of the influence of the grape(s) and winemaking. There are indeed likely more characteristic differences between wines grown in different regions, but there are some unique similarities as well. The most notable connections being—at least for myself and many of my wine professional cohorts—the intensity of mineral/metal impressions expressed through palate textures and weight, and the perception of residual pressure and potency of textures on specific locations of the palate. For example, wines grown in granite-based bedrock and topsoil often carry more strength and localized textures in the frontal area of the palate on the finish, while metamorphic bedrock and topsoil can often be the opposite, with textures more weighted toward the back palate. Both of these influences in one wine can bring balance to these perceived strengths, likely making for a wine with a more diverse array of palate textures, and perhaps a perception of greater complexity. The Ribeira Sacra bedrock is less uniform than what is found further to the west, close to the Atlantic in the Rías Baixas, a wine landscape dominated by igneous rocks, most notably granite and granodiorite, and topsoil derived from these bedrocks. The Ribeira Sacra bedrock is principally composed of igneous (those most common here are granite and granodiorite as well) and foliated metamorphic rocks (most common, from low to high grade, are slate, schist and gneiss). This ensemble of mixed bedrock and soil types can render wines from one place to another quite different, while still remaining true to the overarching regional characteristics of their terroirs. And within these wine regions, there are varying degrees of soil grains, from clay, silt, sand, and gravel, to much rockier terrain. The soil grain seems to influence the shape of a wine (whether it can be described as round, or angular) in a different way than the influence of the bedrock and topsoil mineral composition. Indeed, in the science world ideas and theories that link taste to rock type are considered pseudoscience. But perhaps one day someone will be able to coherently and scientifically explain the mechanics of these perceived differences. The makeup of the dirt that grapevines are grown in is complicated and there are few regions as complicated in both bedrock and topsoil under a singular cohesive appellation as the Ribeira Sacra. Thanks to the complexity of each microclimate and geologic setting, and the conundrum of Galicia’s lost knowledge for what grapes are most suitable within each specific spot makes for a fun adventure that we have the privilege to watch blossom in our lifetimes. MsC Geologist, Ivan Rodrigues, in the Valdeorras D.O. Terroir Overview of Ribeira Sacra Subzones There are five Ribeira Sacra subzones and each one is as internally diverse as it is expansive. With these subzones the climate is perhaps much more easily understood than the geologic setting. There are no concrete differences from one subzone to the next, rather gradual changes. In fact, much of the geographical separation is based on their respective monastic histories. Because of the chaotic arrangement of different rock formations and the overall size of the entire appellation, specific vineyard sites within each subzone takes greater precedence (a general rule to follow in the entire wine world rather than adhering to broad generalities, not only with the Ribeira Sacra) because even within many vineyards the bedrock and topsoil can completely change only a few meters apart, especially inside river gorges with deep complexities as those of the Ribeira Sacra. And the difference between wines made from the same grapes and techniques in the cellar on differing bedrock types can be starkly clear to more experienced tasters, but this is nothing new to the wine world. Starting in the furthest east of the appellation, abutting another Galician wine region, Valdeorras, is the subzone Quiroga-Bibei. This subzone is the most influenced by what can be described as either a Mediterranean sub-humid climate, or a continental one, due to its predominantly mountainous terrain. It has drier and hotter summers, cold and even potentially snowy winters, high average altitude, and a multitude of rock types between granite and a large range of metamorphic rocks, with the dominant one slate, and to a lesser degree black schist, quartzite and the glandular gneiss known as Ollo de Sapo—named after its appearance like a “toad’s eye.” There are also four notable tributaries (Bibei, Jares, Lor, and Navea) to the Sil River. Within these five river valleys and the surrounding lower altitude hills offer a large range of ideal exposures and quality viticulture land. This subzone seems to be a sleeping giant within the Ribeira Sacra; its only real challenge is that it’s even further into less charted territory and far away from a strong commercial center. Amandi is the most famous subzone in the Ribeira Sacra. Here, this central subzone has a concentration of successful bodegas that started to garner greater global attention in the mid-2010s. Its notoriety is a combination of breathtaking vineyard land inside the Sil River gorge and high quality production due to a lot of consistent ripening (at least historically), with an assortment of privileged positions compared to other areas in Galicia. This makes for a large range of wine styles, many of which are surprisingly accessible. But the most important element is the strong and energized collection of progressive winegrowers with a desire to create clear identities, along with a history of proactive local commerce handed down through generations. These restaurants and stores make a concerted effort to sell and deliver their wines directly to the main non-wine producing city areas, like Santiago, Lugo and A Coruña. Ribeira Sacra wines still maintain favorable commercial positions in the larger urban areas because they had already established their wines in those markets before global interest in the area increased significantly. This extra effort from the previous generation gave the Amandi a head start over the other subzones. Located only on the north side of the Sil River, the Amandi is slightly farther from the mountains than Quiroga-Bibei. However, the continental climate still prevails in the extremes of the season, with big summertime temperatures that can bring dryness and more treacherous weather, and at the worst times of the year. Spring frosts and summer hailstorms can clip the region’s already naturally low potential crop. And the Atlantic can force its way in, increasing mildew pressure by bringing in more humidity and rain. Climatically, this subzone is on a two-front battle with nature, and these growers undoubtedly feel the fiscal brunt as a result. Like all of the subzones of the Ribeira Sacra, Amandi has a variety of igneous and metamorphic rocks—Ollo de Sapo (gneiss), slate, quartzite—but doesn’t have a large presence of schist compared to other areas in Ribeira Sacra. Inside the Sil river gorge many terraces are precariously steep. The topsoil depth is shallow, making for greater susceptibility to the effects of drought, but in wetter years it has an advantage over vineyards with deeper topsoil that may have naturally higher water retention. It’s also harder to work, not only because of the physical difficulty, but the lack of help; if people are even available, few are willing to participate in the backbreaking work on the hard hillside vineyards—a common problem in all steeply pitched wine regions, everywhere. Not all of Amandi’s vineyards are on such precarious hillsides. In fact, only about 40% are inside the river gorge, while much of it is outside on more manageable land where mechanization is easier—or at least possible—and those vineyards still worked by hand can be a little less backbreaking. The range of altitudes in this subzone varies greatly, somewhere between two-hundred-and-fifty to six hundred meters. Deeper topsoil vineyards are often at higher altitudes on flatter areas—a relative term for the area. For comparison, think France’s Northern Rhône Valley appellation, Saint-Joseph, where there are many vineyards on steep hillsides, but there are also those within the appellation at higher altitudes on much flatter terrain. These diverse vineyard settings create a greater variability in the overall impression of Saint-Joseph. Those on steep, rocky hillsides are typically more concentrated, muscular, dense, angular, and “vertical” (one of the few common and abstract ways some use in the wine trade to assign an actual sensory impression descriptor that often relates to vineyards grown on very rocky terrain with little topsoil, like a steep hillside). Wines grown on deeper topsoil and higher up on the hills behind the main slopes are likely more “horizontal” in shape, and often render rounder wines with softer lines and less angularity. But once again, the specific site and the skill and stylistic choices of the winegrower take precedence over all things here, just as it does in the Ribeira Sacra and elsewhere. Amandi on the left, Ribeiras do Sil on the right Across from Amandi on the Sil is the subzone, Ribeiras do Sil. As one might expect, much of the geological terrain in this subzone is the same as Amandi on the other side of the river, except for its largely northern vineyard expositions inside the river gorge. Also, there may be a greater degree of erosion on the Amandi side of the Sil because of thousands of years of cultivation. Today, as in the past, the Ribeiras do Sil side is often at a disadvantage when it comes to ripening, compared to Amandi. However, it may become the place to be, what with the unrelenting temperature increase and extreme weather patterns due to climate change. Many of the great producers within the Amandi also have vineyards here—undoubtedly a smart move for the future. Farthest west and north, on the opposite side from Quiroga-Bibei, are the subzones, Chantada and Ribeiras do Miño. With headwaters around seventy kilometers north of Lugo, the Miño River meanders through this old Roman settlement and continues toward the southwest, finally spilling into the Atlantic after its final eighty-kilometer stretch as a natural, physical border between part of northern Portugal and Spain’s Galicia. Only thirty or so kilometers south of Lugo the subzones, Chantada (on the right/west bank) and Ribeiras do Miño (on the left/east bank), follow the Miño south and end near the merging point of the Sil and Miño. Just as it is with the Sil, the Miño has many hydroelectric dams and is one of those places where some spots have the appearance of a long lake rather than a river. Fazenda Prádio vineyards in Chantada Adega Saíñas’ vineyard, O Boliño, with Pablo Soldavini What is most notable about these areas compared to the other three subzones of the Ribeira Sacra is the increased influence of the Atlantic Ocean. This results in cooler temperatures and much more precipitation, with an average of about two hundred millimeters of rain more than Amandi and perhaps even more than Quiroga-Bibei. The wines here should have a greater potential for higher tones and fresher acidity with fully ripened grapes than the other subzones—leaning in style more toward the neighboring appellation to the west, the Ribeiro. However, much of this depends on the stylistic choices of the winegrower and what limits are imposed by any given year. The cooler areas are in the north, but the temperature differences inside this fifty-something kilometer stretch of land are not dramatic, and again have much more to do with each specific terroir. Both generalizations and concrete truths are difficult to make in the Ribeira Sacra, and Chantada and Ribeiras do Miño are no exception. While a lot of the vineyard land snugs up to the Miño, there is an abundance of factors that can change the overall impression of the wines: the proximity to rivers, the rock and dirt, mildew pressure, grape selection, slope, altitude, topsoil depth and composition, ripening due to exposure advantages (which in some cases can now be disadvantages with the chaotic weather from one vintage to the next), bedrock and topsoil composition. Yes, a lot to consider, but it all shows up in the wine. The Miño traverses a series of diverse geological systems. And with one look at a color-coded geology map it’s easy to see that it’s a complex topic, which helps us to avoid generalizations in any of the subzones (beyond “it’s complicated”) when it comes to bedrock composition. Perhaps if all the land were planted it would be easier to say what dominates, though there does seem to be the potential to find just about every metamorphic rock (with a great diversity even within each category of slate, schist and gneiss) and intrusive igneous rocks (granites, granodiorites, etc) under the sun with a lot of sedimentary depositions (sandstones and perhaps even some limestones from the Cantabrian mountains) along the Miño, but it depends on each specific location. To make things more complicated, most geological maps are color-coded by different geological time frames, not actual rock types. Sometimes the only option in determining a general idea of what rocks were most likely created during a given geological time period in a specific location is to make an educated guess. Final Thoughts, For Now When in pursuit of quality wine, there is one simple suggestion to follow in the Ribeira Sacra, as in the rest of the world: Follow the producer. By following specific producers you will begin to understand the story of each wine’s vineyard or vineyards, how, and even more importantly, why the winegrower made the specific choices they made in their vineyard and cellar work. Compelling wine is made by serious people, period. Every vineyard has its own unique setting, and serious growers take into account as many factors as possible, from the big picture down to its molecular mechanics. The problem in the Ribeira Sacra is that there are not yet very many serious growers like there are in the world’s most famous and well-established wine regions. However, this renaissance has just begun, and those who are at the forefront are some of the wine world’s most interesting minds. What is most interesting and exciting about Galicia wine is that there are no laurels to rest on. Like so many wine regions being rediscovered, these curious Galegos have returned to a wild backcountry to rediscover lost ancestral knowledge. They must enter with inexhaustible diligence and perseverance to continue learning and growing to even achieve economic survival on this path. They have to live with open minds, and to think deeply about what they are doing, and why. This is why we are in a special time for Galicia. This is why I am drawn to these people and this ancient place. They are living their dreams and they do it with infectious and relentless energy and enthusiasm.

Newsletter June 2023 – Part Two

(Download complete pdf here) Led by the desire to rediscover the culture and vinous knowledge lost nearly a century ago in the wake of two world wars (though Spain was officially neutral in both), Galicia has emerged as a center point among the many pockets of today’s European wine renaissance. The Spanish Civil War, the ruthless Francoist dictatorship through to the mid-1970s, and the mass exodus from the countryside to industrial centers of Vigo, A Coruña, Ferrol and others throughout the 1900s, all played parts in the Galicians feeling a sense of desperation to reconnect the link between today and generations past. The tip of the Galician spear is Rías Baixas’ Salnés Valley, where an unusually motivated and tightly knit community of winegrowers and restaurateurs, who are exposed to the entire world of wine, analyze their work with Albariño and strive to evolve and perfect the expression of this grape. Yet another Rías Baixas wellspring destined to be a new Salnés Valley Albariño superstar is the project and property known as Acios da Xesteiriña, owned and operated by the sharp and thoughtful wine guru, José Manuel Dominguez. An Agricultural Engineer by trade with a university education, José Manuel comes from three generations of winegrowers in Salnés. When not focused on engineering or reading science books and articles (especially on plant science and soil biology), traveling and hiking, following architectural and landscaping developments, or consulting for other winegrowers who want to farm as naturally as possible without any foreign inputs in the vineyards, he’s focused on the work in his own vines and contemplating (though not altering) his wines in barrel as they find their way before bottling. When asked what he would like for people to experience with his wines, José Manuel says, “Without a doubt, I hope for comments about my work in the vineyard with the management of the soil so that the microbiological activities interact to obtain minerals and deeper textures and nuances. I also want them to be perceived as authentic, and for this work to be valued because there are no vineyard inputs, like composts, soil amendments, or unnatural treatments, and in the cellar no added yeast or bacteria, with the ultimate target to forgo sulfites every year.” White wine without sulfites is a much taller order than it is with red, though today there are many shining examples that don’t contain a single part per million of added sulfites and yet seem almost bulletproof, even days or weeks after being open. Two decades ago this would’ve been unimaginable. In his first official commercial year, 2020, José Manuel bottled a single Albariño from his small vineyard, which was replanted in 1986, north of Portonovo only two and a half kilometers from the Atlantic. Now there are two Albariños from this 1.1-hectare plot: one with added sulfites capsuled with blue wax and one sin sulfuroso in a red wax capsule, with a tiny red star on the label. Despite Xesteiriña’s multidimensional terrain with a soft incline on the south side, and a deep dip on the other side that climbs again to the forest and a neighboring vineyard, the grapes for both wines come from the same fruit across the entirety of this tiny vineyard. They are vinified partially in steel and old oak, with a maximum temperature of 24°C (75°F) to encourage a greater focus away from fruitiness (while colder fermentation temperatures highlight fruitiness), raised in old French oak barrels, and are neither fined nor filtered. The added sulfur Albariño (the one with the blue capsule) takes its only sulfur dose just before bottling. Xesteiriña’s bedrock is unique for the Salnés Valley. A mining and geological institute surveyed the property and classified it as granodiorite, but it appears more complicated than that. Numerous rocks unearthed from the site could be classified as gneiss or schist (both metamorphic rocks), while granodiorite is an igneous rock. They likely contain the same minerals because any metamorphism here was likely related to this granodiorite, but the accessibility for the vines of these minerals and the soil grains developed once the rock is eroded is slightly different. Here, the extremely spare topsoil looks similar to the dark brown, dusty, dirt-like erosion of many terraced gneiss vineyards in Austria’s Wachau, rather than the sandy, gravelly, and clayey erosion from granite and granodiorite sites of Salnés. We often observe that the textural components and shape of wines are influenced by the rock type, its contribution to the topsoil composition, and even the rock’s hardness, where the harder the rock the more square and powerful the wine; one could cite a few examples of the hard rock versus soft and the resulting monovarietal wines, like Burgundy’s Nuits-Saint-Georges hard rocks of the south hill compared to many other Côte de Nuits appellation, Sancerre’s extremely hard silex wines versus the many grown on softer calcareous rocks, and various crus in Germany’s dry Riesling epicenter, Rheinhessen, with the hard and blocky limestones of Hubacker compared to the softer loess formations of Kirchspiel, among many other examples. The extremely dense bedrock of Xesteiriña may shed some light on Xesteirña’s unique shape and densely concentrated core when compared to many other Albariños grown in Salnés. Salnés is largely granitic—Manuel Moldes, another luminary in the appellation says Salnés is 99.99% granite, though he now has quite a few single-site Albariños from schist (A Capela de Aios, Peai, and As Dunas)—though a lot of the rock classified as granite may be mistaken, and technically classified as granodiorite. These two igneous rocks are very similar and it’s difficult to distinguish between them without the help of a geologist. Until the Salnés vineyards are properly mapped, granite will likely remain the conclusive local rock for the growers; a relief, since it’s so much easier to say than granodiorite. With the help of geologist, Ivan Rodriguez, we modified the diagram below to illustrate the differences between these two igneous rocks. The unusually spare topsoil of Xesteiriña is only partially derived from the bedrock and has a greater proportion of organic matter, some of which José Manuel brought in from the surrounding forest to encourage more of the site’s original microbial life, flora and fauna prior to the 20 ares (one half of an acre) planted in 1972, and more vines in 1986, to reengage and contribute more quickly to the site. This extremely thin topsoil, only a few centimeters in some spots while barely over ten in others, may help explain the absence of fluff and the dominance of dense mineral impressions and texture. Organic and biodynamic methods are part of José Manuel’s principles, but no-till, regenerative farming is a more apt description. Despite his close proximity to the ocean—a hostile environment for mildew and vine diseases—he remains one of the few who refuse to utilize systemic treatments against the mildew, applying only the minimal amounts of copper and sulfur sprays that all Europeans use in their vineyards, regardless of philosophy or high level, eco-friendly certifications. In the difficult growing season of 2022, during a walk through his vineyards, he explained that he had just a few clusters per vine (which were already picked) while his neighbor’s site was endowed with so many clusters it seemed like a vinous Promised Land of biblical proportion. But for José Manuel, it’s not about money or production levels; it’s about finding the least intrusive way to allow his terroir to speak its truth.

Newsletter February 2023 – Part Two

(Download complete pdf here) New Arrivals Katharina Wechsler Rheinhessen, Germany We started our collaboration last year with Katharina Wechsler’s remarkable 2019 vintage of dry Rieslings from the Rheinhessen’s heartland, Westhofen. 2019 is considered one of the great vintages of recent years. Its high acidity, perfectly matured phenolics and low yields for concentration make for wines that will age very well, and that will also need time to open up once the cork is pulled or a much longer time in the cellar. Katharina began the harvest of her 2020 Rieslings on September 14th, though most of the top sites—the crus that have just arrived—were mainly collected at the end of the month. She explained that in the middle of September nighttime temperatures dropped, allowing the grapes more time on the vine to further develop their aromatic complexities. While the praise is greater for 2019, she believes that 2020 is more balanced overall because of the even crop load and slightly lower degree of acidity, though the acidity is still high. All in all, there may be a better fluidity to her 2020s than 2019—better for today’s market that probably drinks 95% of all of these wines within the first few years of their arrival. At the end of the month, Katharina will be making the rounds showcasing her top cru Rieslings. Katharina’s Big Three Benn sits to the left of the fallow field and goes from the road up the hill Benn, the family’s tiny monopole vineyard site, has perhaps the most diverse plantations of all her vineyard parcels. It’s her biggest section and has the greatest variation of bedrock and topsoil as well as grape varieties. The warmest of Katharina’s three important crus, it’s composed mostly of loess topsoil in the lower parts that sit as low as 120m, and limestone in the upper part, peaking around 160m. Quality Riesling vines are preferential to suffering, which is why it is in the lower sections where much of the non-Riesling are planted. The 50-year-old Riesling vines, particularly those used for Wechsler’s top-flight trocken bottling, are planted in limestone bedrock and limestone and loess topsoil toward the top, not too far away from the bottom of Morstein. Notably, the old vines produce an annual average of nearly 25hl/ha (1.33 tons/acre), and the young vines used for the estate trocken wine 65hl/ha (4.33 tons/acre)—almost a 1:3 ratio; you can imagine which vines are used for the top wine. The quality of Riesling generated from Benn is noteworthy, but there’s no doubt its current highs at the Grosses Gewächs level (while it isn’t classified as a GG wine, nor is Katharina in the VDP) are not yet the same level as Kirchspiel and Morstein. That said, Benn is still being discovered by Katharina. To this taster, Benn produces a substantial Riesling and it has very impressive moments, especially with more time in the glass. When the others shine so brightly in their own individual way, Benn has been upfront but somehow still a slower burn. The material for potential greatness is unquestionably in the wine’s interior, but it often needs a little more time open and perhaps more cellar aging too, to fully express itself on a level similar to Kirchspiel and Morstein. You can read a more exhaustive account of this vineyard and the others on Katharina’s profile on our website (here). Morstein vineyard Kirchspiel is a great vineyard and screams its grand cru status (Grosses Gewächs) upon opening. It’s always the readiest out of the gates—in the range of other growers as well—and for many reasons such as its amphitheater shape that faces the Rhine River (but still roughly five miles away by air to the closest point) with its southeastern exposure an average of around a thirty percent gradient, with bedrock and topsoil composed of clay marls, limestone and loess. It’s warmer than Morstein because of its lower altitude (between 140m-180m) along with the curvature of the hillside that allows it to maintain greater warmth inside this small topographical feature that shelters it from cold westerly winds. Katharina has three different parcels in this large vineyard with reasonably good separation, giving the resulting wines a broader range of complexity and greater balance. The three different parcels were planted between the years 2000 and 2015 and the average yield between them ranges from 40hl-60hl/ha (2.67-4.0 tons/acre), with some of the fruit slotted for the Estate Riesling Trocken and the Feinherb Riesling Trocken, the top quality lots (which doesn’t always have to do with yield, but rather specific parcels that naturally excel beyond others) for the Kirschspiel Trocken, and the difference for the Westhofner Riesling Trocken. The youth of these vines is on display with the resulting wines and their vigorous, energy-filled, fruit-forward personalities that balance the mouth-watering, mineral-rich palate textures and aromas. Kirchspiel is a leader in the range of all who have Riesling vines in this gifted terroir, and it’s considered one of the country’s great dry Riesling sites. Morstein, Rheinhessen’s juggernaut limestone-based, dry Riesling vineyard is—even with vines only replanted in 2012—the undisputed big boy in Katharina’s dry Riesling range. It’s one of the vineyards that first made Klaus-Peter Keller famous (I believe the other was Hubacker), and from what KP told me some years ago, it’s also the principal location for his G-Max Riesling (the precise location of which he won’t openly disclose now because some years ago some overindulgent visitors were made privy to its location and later stole a bunch of the grape clusters!). Katharina’s Morstein vines are massale selections from the Mosel and have smaller, looser clusters with naturally low yields, even from the young vines. A mere pup by the standard of vine age, Morstein is formidable. And while it’s not as flashy out of the gates, it picks up serious power and expansive complexities that seem to know no end. There are many top wines in the range of the world’s great producers that behave similarly. Take the slow burn once the corks are pulled on Armand Rousseau’s Chambertin compared to the all-out charge of their crowd-pleasing Charmes-Chambertin; Cavallotto’s Riserva Barolos, with the long-game, Vigna San Giuseppe, that trounces after hours open, versus the upfront Vignolo that has a smaller window of greatness; Veyder-Malberg’s greatest pillar of Riesling purity and deep power, Brandstadtt, next to the ready-to-go Bruck; Emrich-Schönleber’s regal Halenberg on blue slate versus the friendlier Frühlingsplätzchen spurred into immediate action from its red slate. Morstein is no rapid takeoff F-15 fighter jet with instant supersonic speeds. It’s a rocket ship with a slow initial takeoff and a steady climb that reaches 17,000 mph before entering orbit. Morstein faces south and rises to a high plateau of around 240m with a 20% gradient (a slope hard to understand from a distance but more evident when standing in the vineyard), all on limestone bedrock. The topsoil is referred to as terra fusca (black earth), a soil matrix of heavy brown clay. Its low to medium topsoil depth (by vinous standards), combined with limestone fragments from the underlying bedrock limits its ability to store water than Katharina’s other main sites. Its root penetration into the subsoil is also a more difficult challenge, giving the Riesling vines the much-needed stress to regularly pull off peak performance. These young vineyards yield between 35hl/ha and 55hl/ha (2.3tons/acre to 3.7tons/acre), relatively low numbers for young vines that demonstrate Morstein’s spare vineyard soils. Cume do Avia 2021s Ribeiro, Spain The stress of each year at Cume do Avia pays dividends on the final wines. Every year, brothers Diego and Alvaro Collarte, and their cousin, Fito Collarte Pérez, enter the ring with Mother Nature to take her punches. They’re pummeled with frost, mildew, disease, and hail—everything! 2021 was no exception, but a complete opposite from the previous year, except that they had about the same 50% losses in overall yield. They may get beat up pretty badly but they still manage to win, and each year is another hard-earned uptick in the overall quality of their wines. Vintage 2020 & 2021 2020 was a dry winter followed by a rainy and cold spring, and fifty days straight summer sunshine before a wet fall. 2021 had a wet winter, late budbreak and dry spring, wet and rainy summer, and a dry autumn. 2020’s losses were mostly due to bad flowering, while 2021 was mostly due to mildew during the fruit season. Diego pointed out that even though the losses were 50% in each year, they were at about 25% of the production capacity of their vineyard when all the young vines will begin to produce to their potential. With this, you can imagine the amount of work they do each season for such meager yields. Especially notable in 2021 was the high level of humidity from the daily fog that only encouraged an explosion of mildew pressure and a severe selection through periods prior to the final harvest. Under organic culture, this is especially difficult. For varieties that need a longer growing season, like Sousón, Caíño Longo and Caíño Redondo, it was imperative to pull them earlier than they wanted. It’s for this reason that they were not made into single-varietal bottlings but instead were all blended into the Colleita 9 Tinto, just like their 2020 estate reds. Stylistically, the 2020s are more structured and 2021s are sharper and more angular. 2021 Wines Arriving are their two bottlings from the Arraiano estate, owned by another extended family member but farmed by the Cume do Avia team. These Arraiano wines are usually a little fruitier than the Colleitas. It’s another year where they skipped the single varietal bottlings because of the devastating low yields. 2022 will again have the full range of goodies in single-varietal form. In the meantime, we get to take advantage of having all their best materials from each vineyard area blended into a single wine. The Arraiano Branco is 59% Treixadura, 15% Albariño, 13% Godello, and 13% Loureira. Colleita 9 Branco is 53% Treixadura, 29% Albariño, 10% Loureira, 5% Lado, 2% Caíño Branco and 1% Godello. Treixadura has a medium to low acid profile with a more herbal, floral, and white, non-citrus fruit notes, the supporting cast of other grapes are all of much higher acidity, with stronger citrus characteristics and more taut stone fruit qualities to give these wines some punching power and a little more fruit. Both the wines are aged in stainless steel vats. Both reds are aged in large, restored chestnut barrels (some nearly 100 years old) and very old, medium-sized oak barrels. Every vintage the Arraiano Tinto comes from the same plot (as does the white) and is almost always the same blend of 60% Caíño Longo, 13% Sousón, 10% Mencía, 9% Brancellao, and the remaining 8% a mix of Mouratón (Juan García), Merenzao (Trousseau) and Garnacha Tintorera (Alicante Bouschet; not the same grape as Grenache/Garnacha). The dominance in Arraiano Tinto with Caíño Longo makes a wine with perhaps a touch more tension and red fruit compared to Colleita 9 Tinto. In top years, Colleita 9 Tinto is a blend of grapes that don’t make the single-varietal bottlings (Caíño Longo, Brancellao and sometimes Sousón). That’s what makes the 2020 and 2021 bottlings of this wine so special—they have all the best stuff from each harvest! It’s a blend of 28% Sousón, 27% Caíño Longo, 24% Brancellao, 9% Mencía, 6% Carabuñeira, 4% Merenzao and 2% Ferrón. The Caíño Longo brings some electric thunder, Sousón brings animal, spice, darker color and even more acidity and tannin, and Brancellao softens both of those strong personality grapes with its extremely fine nuance, beautifully balanced freshness and extremely pale color. The others, Mencía brings more fruit, Carabuñeira more tannin and color, Merenzao higher aromatic tones and Ferrón more beast, pepper and inky color. Birgit Braunstein Burgenland, Austria Our biodynamic guru, Birgit Braunstein is on the far eastern side of Austria in Leithaberg, on the north end of Burgenland. Many centuries ago, this region was inundated by Cistercians, the same monks responsible for advances and the preservation of knowledge in Burgundy and Galicia, among other European wine regions. Here the rock types are limestone and schist, no surprise for the monks who had a thing for limestone (Burgundy) and metamorphic rock (a good chunk of Galicia). Birgit is without a doubt one of the most actively thoughtful producers we work with. Nearly every month a personal email arrives wishing us well and with news and inquiries of how things are going for us. Not only does she farm her vineyards under biodynamic culture (Demeter certified), she lives that same culture in her daily life. A single mother that raised her two twin boys alone since birth and who are now running the winery with her, she’s a bit of an angel and she reveres everything around her, including you. She’s our Austrian Mother Goose. While she is most known for her Blaufrankish red wines, Birgit also has a zillion different cuvées of experimental wines mostly sold in Austria. They’re pleasurable, with solid terroir trimmings. We showed a set of them at an event just before the pandemic struck and they were a hit. It’s maybe understandable that we forgot about them while the world was falling apart, but they’re now back and even better, as she has a couple more years under her belt. We were able to secure a good quantity of these wines but we expect they won’t last long. After tasting her range of skin-fermented whites some years ago, I asked if she could make one that is easier on price, and she came through with her first bottling of the new wine, 2021 Pinot Blanc “Prinzen.” This delicious and fun wine meant for early drinking (and I don’t only mean before noon) comes from a very serious terroir buzzing with biodynamic life. It’s on the top of the Leithaberg hill, one of the most historical sites in the area, and abuts a forest that helps to regulate the temperature with cold northern winds that pass through the trees and into the vines in this relatively warm and humid area close to Lake Neusiedl, a shallow, landlocked saltwater sea (that’s also mosquito hell!). Pinot Blanc is known to have been in Burgenland since the Fourteenth Century and is grown here on limestone bedrock and clay topsoil. It’s almost too good for such an inexpensive biodynamically farmed and clean natural wine. It spends three days on the skins, pressed and then aged in steel tanks for six months. 120 cases imported to the US. Birgit’s 2020 Pinot Blanc “Brigid” is named after the Celtic goddess of light. This is a step up in complexity compared to the Prinzen Pinot Blanc, vis-a-vis its cellar aging and what Birgit considers to be ideal for a deeply mineral wine due to its schist soil. This wine made from 42-year-old vines was skin fermented for three weeks (so seven times more than Prinzen) before being aged in old, 500l barrels. Birgit describes it as having a strong presence of flint in the nose and subtle notes of marzipan, menthol, graphite, lemon verbena, white flowers, and ground hazelnut; fully ripe and vibrant with a taut mineral structure and long finish. 35 cases imported to the US. Birgit Braunstein's nature-filled vineyards Birgit’s 2019 Sauvignon Blanc “Nimue” is skin fermented for two weeks prior to pressing, then aged in old, 500l barrels without sulfur additions until bottling. Birgit describes this wine grown on limestone as delicate elderflower, fruity extract, pure minerality, and a robust structure derived from a prolonged maceration period. Birgit named the cuvée after Nimue, “Lady of the Lake,” a ruler in Celtic mythology who gave Excalibur to Arthur from within her waters, and she was the foster mother of Lancelot and Merlin’s lover. 35 cases imported to the US. Domaine Chardigny Beaujolais, France Victor Chardigny We also have some 2021 wines arriving from Domaine Chardigny. It was a soul crushing year for the Chardigny family with terrible losses on Beaujolais and even worse on Chardonnay. The battle for grape preservation began in April with a frost that killed a lot of early shoot growth, followed by a snowfall that added enough weight to the remaining tender shoots for them to break. Then there was heavy rain in July and August (more or less the same weather I experienced in Portugal during the summer) and then a dry enough final to the season to pull off healthy grapes with what was left. We spoke with Chardigny about getting behind their Chardonnay wines in a bigger way, but that will have to wait until the 2022s. After a series of hot years (2017-2020), we are finally able to relax and swirl copious amounts of low alcohol Beaujolais—the only problem being that the quantities are so miniscule! Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just take the average alcohol in a ten-year period instead of such swings? As mentioned in all past promotions of this young group of sons in charge of their family’s winery, they are on a constant upward trajectory. The first vintage we imported from them was 2016, a tough year in itself, and the rest were warm or hot years that they managed quite well. Now with 2021, we get to see what they would’ve done with a vintage that resembles what was more common in the past. Domaine Chardigny first bottled Beaujolais-Leynes with the 2020 vintage. Named after their hometown, it’s a Beaujolais-Village appellation wine sourced from vineyards at the geological convergence between Beaujolais and Mâconnais. It’s made entirely with carbonic fermentation with 100% whole clusters in concrete and stainless steel with almost no intervention over its two-week fermentation. This wine is a reaction to the need for a more price-friendly Beaujolais, and it delivers the spirit of these young and generous guys. Standing in Saint-Veran and looking at Beaujolais across the way Chardigny’s 2021 Saint-Amour Clos du Chapitre continues to dazzle with its trim figure and subtler notes than its counterpart, the 2021 Saint-Amour À la Folie. À la Folie has won over so many with its unabashed, bodacious curves, middleweight texture and big but trim flavor. It was always the greater potential production between these two Saint-Amour crus and was the one on which they ran most of their experiments, with different aging vessels of concrete, stainless steel, foudre, and small oak barrels (called fûts de chêne, or simply fût, in Burgundy).The 2020s I tasted out of barrel with Victor and Pierre-Maxime were stunning. I didn’t make it back to Beaujolais to taste the 2021s out of barrel this last year, so I don’t have the comparison to it, though I already know in the bottle it’s showing beautifully and it’s certainly less full bodied. Pique-Basse Roaix, Southern Rhône Valley Every order we receive of Pique-Basse evaporates almost overnight. Frankly, we’re pleasantly surprised that in this low-alcohol focused market that many buyers continue to recognize that one can make a good wine with low alcohol, but in some regions, like the Southern Rhône Valley, picking when the phenolics are properly ripe leads to wines of greater depth. The reality is that many wine drinkers who can actually afford to eat out in restaurants of high quality want more classically styled wines, not only natural wines, especially in the Southern Rhône, like the wines of Pique-Basse. Arriving are 2021 La Brusquembille, a blend of 70% Syrah and 30% Carignan, and 2019 Le Chasse-Coeur, a blend of 80% Grenache, 10% Syrah and 10% Carignan. Syrah from the Southern Rhône Valley is often not that compelling because it can be a little weedy and lacking in the cool spice and exotic notes that come with Syrah further up into the Northern Rhône Valley. However, La Brusquembille may change your opinion, especially with the 2021, a cooler vintage with even fresher and brighter fruit than usual. Without the Carignan to add more southern charm, it might easily be mistaken for a Crozes-Hermitage from a great year above the Chassis plain up by Mercurol, where this appellation’s terraced limestone vineyards lie and are quite similar to the limestone bedrock and topsoil at the vineyards of Pique-Basse, without the loess sediments common in Mercurol. It’s not as sleek in profile because it’s still from the south, but its savory qualities and red and black fruit nuances can be a close match. Despite the alcohol degree in the 2019 hitting 14.5% (while the target is always between 13%-14%), Olivier tries to pick the grapes for Le Chasse-Coeur on the earlier side for Grenache, a grape that has a hard time reaching phenolic maturity at sugar levels comparable to grapes like Syrah or Pinot Noir, so he farms accordingly for earlier ripeness with the intention to maintain more freshness. It’s more dominated by red fruit notes than black—perhaps that’s what the bright red label is hinting at—and it’s aged in cement vats, or sometimes stainless steel if the vintage is plentiful, to preserve the tension and to avoid Grenache’s predisposition for unwanted oxidation. Both Le Chasse-Coeur and La Brusquembille offer immense value for such serious wines.