More geology from the northern Willamette Valley

Following up on my recent visit to a geological society meeting, I paid a visit to Portland State University geologist Scott Burns for more information on the soils and rocks of the northern Willamette Valley.

First, Burns' office is filled with rocks of all kinds. I think if you look up the word rockhound, you'll see his picture.

Second, Burns clearly loves wine and loves talking about wine and geology. So I asked him a few questions to get a little more insight on the local territory.

I knew our geology here is either volcanic basalt or ocean sediments. But where did the soils on the basalt come from? I wasn't sure if they were wind-blown deposits, but in fact our volcanic soils are mostly eroded basalt. Hence their red color and, given their age of 14 million years, low fertility.

And what about the "bathtub ring" left over from the Missolua floods 10,000-15,000 years ago? These floods covered the Willamette Valley floor with rich "Woodburn" deposits up to a height of 400 feet. However, most of these deposits settled below 200 feet or so, with rapidly thinning deposits the higher you go up to the bathtub ring.

So the best vineyard land in this part of Oregon is above the flood deposits, at least 200-250 feet and ideally higher still. However, there are places below 400 feet particularly in the Eola Hills with shallow and infertile soils that suggest the bathtub ring (or maximum height of the Missolua floods) might vary depending on location.

I'll investigate that further as I delve into the further refinement and reclassification of many soils in this area. Stay tuned.

Giacomo Conterno tasting at Liner & Elsen

A week ago Saturday saw yet another terrific event at my favorite wine shop in Portland, Liner and Elsen.

This time it was the wines of Giacomo Conterno, one Barbera and three Baroli, all at no charge. Pouring was Bob Liner of Galaxy Wine Co., a Portland-based wine distributor, alongside Roberto Conterno in town from Italy.

The wines of G. Conterno fit the traditional house style, showing very young and mostly unforgiving early on. Yet these are all wines of quality, even if I can't afford any but the first.

As G. Conterno no longer produces Dolcetto, we began with the 2003 Barbera Cascina Francia. Healthy dark ruby in color, this is ripe and even a bit roasted aromatically with a fleshy texture and good length with healthy but unobtrusive acids. If all '03 Barbera are this good, wow. Even at $26, this is a deal in top quality Piemontese wine that tastes good now but should hang on for several years.

Then the Baroli, designated Cascina Francia as are all the wines of this Serralunga-based producer. First the 2001 Barolo, in three words tight, tight, tight. Floral aromas with nice red fruit but criminally young.

Second, the 2000 Barolo, which is ripe as this warm vintage would suggest, but with young and stern acidity, mouthfilling but in need of time.

Finally, the 1999 Barolo, the most expressive of the three today but again simply too young for complete enjoyment. More tar and floral aromatics, tannic in the mouth but promising.

With each of the Baroli priced at $110, I can't exactly recommend buying. But if you like ageworthy, authentic Barolo, and you have the cash, you'd be hard pressed to find better things to toss into the cellar.

You might also make sure you're young. These are wines for drinking in 20 or 30 years, especially the 2001.

Dinner at Tabla

This past weekend saw three wine events, which is three more than I usually seem to attend these days. But this is Magnum Madness weekend, with an added bonus of a little Giacomo Conterno tasting that I’ll get to later.

Friday night I arranged a dinner at Tabla in NE Portland with Magnum Madness hosts Marshall and Carolyn Manning, the Portolover himself Roy Hersh and friend Justin down from the Seattle area, and Becca Hunt and Jimmie Wellman from out Yakima way. The theme: Mediterranean and friends, meaning anything made in or inspired by the region. Not that we kept to that.

These being good and generous folks, we drank well with a truly eclectic line up that ended up complementing Tabla’s diverse flavors nicely. By the way, Tabla is hot, and Eddie Robinson is tearing it up in a well-staffed kitchen. Definitely eat here.

We started with the 1998 Rudi Pichler Riesling Smaragd (designation missed), that was very fresh but showing nice aromas of early maturity. Bright, almost piercing on the palate, very focused, delicious and still young. No rush here.

Next came an out of order red, the 2001 Edmunds St. John Los Robles Viejos. An hommage to Chateauneuf du Pape from the Berkeley producer wine from all over California, this mourvedre, grenache and syrah blend from the limestone soils of west Paso Robles delivers. Neutral cask ageing, natural fermentations, and terrific, pure fruit and earth flavors. One of the few California wines that easily suggests France but in the end displays what California can produce.

We went back to white for the 2002 Chave Hermitage Blanc, paired with a substantial Amuse Bouche of chorizo on a chickpea base with whipped chive crème fraîche. Nice combination of spice and sweet cream, and once the Chave warmed up, what a pure aroma of marsanne and roussane. Not so thick and oily on the palate as a better vintage might be, but lovely in the mouth with minerality good length.

Then the 1995 Chateau Musar, a favorite obscurity of mine, red wine from the Bekka Valley of Lebanon. A blend of cinsault, grenache, and cabernet sauvignon in unclear amounts, this wine is never for the unadventurous. Tonight’s bottle was good but not great, young to be sure but showing some volatility without too much depth. Round on the palate, more like a southern Rhone than anything else, typcially farmy and certainly a nice drink. Not a match to my organic greens but what is?

The 1989 Produttori di Barbaresco Montestefano seemed less intense than I expected, but it was a pretty wine with nice nebbiolo fragrance and a silky texture if not so complex and long. A nice accompaniment to parpadelle with rabbit ragu.

Next came my contribution, the impossibly tight 1990 Ch. Pradeaux Bandol. The color of a 2000 with a narrow aroma of black fruits and eventually some forest notes. Tight, tight, tight on the palate. Will this ever come around? A fine drink and better with food, but a few people wondered aloud if this would ever turn into something special. Hold for ten more years if you have any. Need more sap.

Then the coup de grace, my first Unico. Specially the 1986 Vega Scilia “Unico” Ribera del Deuro. Again, impossibly dark and youthful color. How does something kept in cask for so many years stay so vibrant? Well integrated fragrance of berries, American oak cedar and light dill notes (I don't mind dill, unlike many in the wine world), and charred earth, this wasn’t an oak bomb but a beautifully textured, silky and fairly long drink. If you like Spanish reds, this is really nice though perhaps not a blockbuster Unico that other vintages deliver. I tried this and a few others with my duck confit, which (again) was delicious. As one taster noted, what a good use of salt at Tabla.

Finally, the 1986 Ch. Climens Barsac for dessert. Still a bright, lightish color with a fresh pineapple and slightly volatile aroma. Sweet and pure on the palate, ginger, tropical fruit but not heavy with botrytis, I really liked this and thought it plenty long. The most persnickety in the bunch thought it not as good as ooooother vintages. Yeah, sure.

Then exeunt, satisfied.

Winemaking update

After five months élevage, I’m pleased to report that I haven’t yet screwed up the wine I started making last fall in my garage.

Honestly, in my early years of homebrewing, I can’t tell you the problems I faced. Some of them with my encouragement, just to see what would happen.

My best wine to date was a very – very – modest 2002 Willamette Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. 2002 was a nice harvest, and the last weekend in October I learned the true meaning of something being “ripe for the pickin’” – cabernet of all things, on Ribbon Ridge.

But it was ripe...enough. Around 22.5 brix with some nice flavors, if heavily varietal in a pleasantly cabernet way.

The wine turned out light – I only made 3 gallons and you won’t get much flavor out of that. But I did nothing to the wine aside from adding a little sulfur and letting it soak until fermentation started naturally. And it turned out sound. All 15 bottles. I still have a few.

With this year’s wine, I did things in the manner I was learning while working harvest.

When I last reported, my 2005 Pinot Noir from Courting Hill Vineyard was resting in my basement in a 4-year-old, 50L Slovonian oak barrel with 5 liters of topping wine. I’m down to less than half of that, probably due to my cool but dry cellar. I’ve been religious about topping up the barrel, and sampling the wine as it really becomes finished wine.

What is “finished wine?” After pressing, the new wine is raw and hard, having not gone through the softening malolactic fermentation nor seen the beneficial, slow oxidation of cask ageing.

Wine is finished when the winemaker decides, though the keys are biological stability and a flavor and aromatic profile that just seems right. Sometimes there’s also the fact that you need to free up space for new wine.

Over time, even my modest Pinot Noir has become more round on the palate, with greater length and an overall sense of harmony. Slowly I can see the finished wine emerge. Grand cru stuff, this will never be. More on the gamay side with brightly acidic flavors, but with some sweetness if not much soil character. Already it’s something I’d be happy to drink, which is saying something.

Most people ask me when I will know when to bottle. I don’t really know. I hope I can tell through tasting, but I can’t see holding it beyond August. This is a wine for early drinking, I think. The fresher the better.

Taiwan - it was a good shift

I travelled to Taiwan recently, my first time in Asia. What a place.

It's actually hard for me to find the right words to describe my experience. If I'd never travelled much outside the U.S., I think I would have been bewildered by how truly different the culture and feel of the place is to home.

Sure, they have donut shops and Starbucks, but under the surface things are really different there. And really interesting.

First, I discovered how pleasantly familiar it was to be foreigner again. It felt great to be an outsider.

But really the smells were the story. Incense, street food, even bakeries that sometimes reminded me of France. Not that the bread was anything like France, though the pastries in many places were delicious and cheap.

The fragrant night markets and street carts littering the city are obvious attractions for even novice foodies like me. But most impressive were the smells in the basement of a department store in Kaohsiung. The food court of a department store, reeking of ginger and spices! It was amazing.

There was even a McDonald's in the corner, and sure, it drew a crowd. But there were maybe a dozen other outlets all offering various Asian cuisine, cooked fresh with real ingredients (for the most part) served on reusable wooden trays and big soup bowls or cast iron skillets with your order. And it all smell so good.

In a department store food court!

Plus, for about $5US you can eat really well in many places. Just be ready to try stuff you've either never heard of or don't want to ask about. G.I. tract lovers, you'll be well served.

But what about the wine?

Taiwan is warm and even I'd rather drink beer in most occasions just because of the climate. But I was surprised to find a nice selection of things, with prices high but not as high as you might think given how low demand probably is.

Perhaps I'm wrong, but the people eat so traditionally that I can't imagine they drink outside of their tradition (beer and whiskey as far as I can tell). Certainly I didn't see too many people consuming wine in public eateries. And it seems like everyone eats out, and often.

I found the predictable Australian producers on store shelves. Looked like the Antinori salespeople make regular calls in the higher end locations. There was also lots of Bordeaux, though not many deals. And in one spot I even found some Oregon wines, notably from Willakenzie and Henry Estate. Neither was cheap, but then again probably only half again what you'd pay here, which isn't bad for export.

Where to find wine? The internet didn't give me much information before I went. Apparently the big box stores in the larger cities are good, places like Carrefour, Tesco, and RT Mart. However, I didn't make it to any of those.

The upscale market Jason's in Taipei and Kaohsiung had the best selection I found, but higher prices too boot. Ultimately, I found the market halls in the basements of local department stores to occasionally have great selections and probably the best deals I saw. Still, I didn't find anything I couldn't live without. A wine shopping desitnation this isn't.

In the end, I drank more beer, and really it tasted great with the food. Anything notably good? No, really it was just about crisp, fresh and cold beer, none of it distinguished or memorable.

The same can't be said for the classic line uttered by a family friend, who's no wine geek but sure likes his beer and knows the local bartenders well. He'd crack open a cold one, smell the contents and exhale before declaring, "it was a good shift."

The best inexpensive sparkling wine of late

Really good, inexpensive sparkling wine is not easy to find.

Sure, there's good, cheap stuff to be had. But there's a lot more garbage, overly sweet wines that taste like soda pop and watery, flavorless stuff that gives sparkling wate a bad name.

I've enjoyed a variety of things around or even under $15 that represent their typcially modest terroir well. There are some real values in Prosecco, Cava, sparkling Vouvray, even a few California and Oregon producers, among many examples the world over.

But really good, inexpensive sparkling wine? Nope. Just doesn't really happen. Mostly, they're just good, especially for the money.

Then there's the latest bottling of NV Hubert Clavelin et Fils "Brut-Comte" from the Cotes du Jura, a 100% chardonnay bottling that positively dazzles. And it costs just $13.50.

What? You've never heard of the Jura? Yes, some of you have. But for the less obsessive, it's a range of hills in France due east of Burgundy, with similar limestone soils that produce terrific wines that don't get much play in the U.S. Perhaps that will change.

The Brut-Comte has fine bubbles with a frothy mousse and a fragrant, well integrated and complex aroma of apples, dough, and minerals. In the mouth, it's flavorful and rich but so light on its feet, with a mix of apple, citrus, toast, and mineral flavors, good length but weightless and truly elegant to the end.

I'm amazed a wine this natural and pure, so rich and yet so cool, can sell for so little money. Seek this out, even if it's hard to find. The importer is Weygant-Metzler, which has a little write up on its web site.

And if you can't find this, don't miss the well distributed NV Gruet Blanc de Noirs sparkling wine. Straight out of...Albequerque, New Mexico, Gruet offers consistently nice, reasonably priced Blanc de Blancs and this especially attractive Blanc de Noirs. It's light copper in color from its Pinot noir grape, with strawberry and clean earth aromas and flavors, and a hint of sweetness. It's terrific with Sunday brunch. And it usually costs around $14.

Imagine finding a bottle of 1943 Dom Perignon in your house

The Oregonian's Margie Boule, not a wine writer, wrote a column the other day about a local woman who found a bottle of 1943 Dom Perignon Champagne in her grandfather's old house. What a mystery - the grandparents didn't drink and no one knows how the bottle ended up tucked away in an odd corner of a kitchen cupboard, undisturbed for years.

But really, what a peculiar column exemplifying the nonsense even wine "experts" will toss out to the unsuspecting.

The woman who found the bottle claims to be a restaurant industry veteran with experience running a number of wine lists. Yet she clearly doesn't seem to know much about wine, which may say something about many of the folks out there putting together restaurant wine lists. At least she knows that Dom is "relatively expensive."

First, there's her suggestion that maybe the wine was purchased in 1943, her grandparents' wedding year. After all, her grandfather worked for the Piggly Wiggly. Never mind that the grapes weren't even harvested until fall that year. Sort of like Boule writing this column prior to its publishing date, the wine was made long before it was released to public.

Boule obviously had to dig deeper to solve the mystery, so she called on wine writers Don and Petie Kladstrup for more information. Based on what they said, I can only wonder how little they know or how badly Boule misunderstood what they said.

They say its surprising to find a bottle of this wine in the US at all, given that the Germans were known to plunder many vinous treasures of the day. The French answered by hiding as much of the good stuff as possible behind hastily constructed walls in their cellars. That is true, but the '43s? Maybe while in production, but the treasures the Germans wanted were finished wines. In the article, the Kladstrups reportedly say the French gave them the lesser wines from the '30s instead, but not because the '43s were so special. The '43s nary had a sparkle before D-Day.

But the Kladstrups continue. There's surprise the bottle doesn't bear the embelem of the Wehrmarkt. Maybe that's because the bottles that came to the US bearing the emblem of the sole US importer, Schieffelin and Co. I know, I have a bottle that's left over from a stash my great uncle purchased here in the good old USA.

And the Kladstrups seem giddy at the thought of getting a taste of such historic wine. Stored in a pantry upright for decades. Sounds to me like a recipe for bad vinegar. Am I alone in not wishing such drinks on my worst enemies?

Happily, Boule professionally skates through it all with a few subtle but key hints that the experts don't seem too expert. Still, the story ends with the inital woman still wondering whether to drink it.

For god's sake, just keep it as a relic. It is history in a bottle. But put it in your glass and you'll be sorry. Go out and get a bottle of the '96 Dom instead. I haven't had it, but apparently it ain't half bad.

John Gilman’s new wine journal

File this under recommended reading.

I’ve never met John Gilman, but have read his writings about wine on the internet on and off for years. He’s a bit verbose, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Provided you don’t mind long paragraphs of course.

And I mean long paragraphs.

That aside, John clearly has a terrific palate and his passion for fine wine shows in his writing. While fine wine can often mean expensive wine, I’ve always been impressed by John’s attention to the lower end bottlings of top producers.

For example, I never tried the wines of Burgundy producer Joseph Roty until learning about them from John. I still haven’t tried things like Roty’s expensive Grand Crus, but I enjoy reading about them and some day will get there.

In the meantime, I’ve taken John’s advice and enjoyed a variety of Roty’s Bourgogne rouge and blanc, as well as Marsannay rouge and rosé. In fact, Pinot noir rosé doesn’t get much better than Roty’s.

So I was pleased to hear John is launching a new publication called View from the Cellar. A cursory skim of the first issue looks promising, with features on Robert Chevillon, classic Piedmont wines from 1978, other Burgundy features, and tastings of various southern Rhone wines.

View from the Cellar is available by subscription. If you email John at jbgilman@ix.netcom.com, you can get more information and perhaps a free sample of the first issue.

Peynaud's Knowing and Making Wine

Peynaud est arrivée!

At last, I found a cheap (actually free) copy of the book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time, Emile Peynaud’s classic Knowing and Making Wine.

The catch is I only have it for three weeks on interlibrary loan, with the option of just one renewal. So I have six weeks, I better get cracking.

Peynaud, the leading French winemaker of the 20th century, starts right where winemaking texts ought to start – tasting the wine.

He breaks down wine tasting finer than I’ve ever considered it. I'm even rethinking my pedantic dislike for terms like “attack,” which refers to a wine’s initial taste in the mouth. If Peynaud thinks it’s ok, maybe I can feel the same.

In truth I’ve barely begun reading, but already I know this is going to be something special. So I’ll read it during my upcoming excurion across the Pacific, then figure out a way to get a copy for myself without dropping anywhere near the $100 shelf price.

Anybody got a spare copy lying around that you don’t want?

Alsatian wines of Marc Tempé

I’m a fairly adventurous wine drinker, and I certainly don’t shy away from naturally made wines with more than their share of rusticity. But the wines of Marc Tempé, tasted last week with my irregular wine group, leave me puzzled.

Tempé is a biodynamic wine producer from the Alsace region of France. He makes wines about as naturally as you can, with no added yeast, acid, or sugar, and he uses minimal sulfur dioxide. Not to mention the yeast foods, enzymes, and other things you find in many cellars these days that I’m guessing aren’t part of Tempé’s “program.” Instead, he relies on carbon dioxide to keep the wines fresh, and long aging on the protective lees.

Nevertheless, these are downright weird wines. Even if you tolerate less than squeaky clean wines, you’ll be challenged with these. After this tasting, I am still interested in learning more about this producer. But I’m not buying any of these for my table or cellar. They’re more a curiosity to me than pleasurable, intriguing but ultimately not something I’m going to serve.

We started with the 2001 Riesling Zellenberg, a wooly, earthy wine that first had me thinking it was Chenin blanc. Then came the telltale petrol aroma of Riesling, beautiful if not complex. The flavor was soft, earthy with a hint of sweetness but lacking intensity, a good enough wine and my favorite for its aroma. Still not compelling.

Then came the 2001 Pinot Blanc Zellenberg, fizzy upon pouring and positively reeking of cider and sherry. Prickly on the palate, apricots and walnuts, it actually seemed a little better with time but clearly something’s wrong here.

Next was the 2001 Pinot Blanc Priegel, overripe and marked by ethyl acetate aromas, later more typical yellow fruit. Tangy on the palate, clean apple and lemon flavors but bland.

Then the 2002 Gewurztraminer Rodelsberg, a darker gold color than the others with some fizz, leesy aromas with apricots, roses, and wild dill and brown sugar notes. Apricots on the palate with earthy, lightly sweet flavors, tangy acid and a silky texture, a showy Gewurz that sounds nicer than it was. More a glimpse into what this producer is rumored to be able to achieve, even if this was a little over the top.

Finally, the 2002 Pinot Blanc Zellenberg, not fizzy like the ’01 but more Oregon Pinot gris like with bland yellow fruit, mineral, and yeast aromas. Fresh on the palate, easiest to drink of the bunch but utterly bland in the mouth, lightly sweet and inoffensive but not better than good.

In sum, Marc Tempé is clearly up to something. But maybe his produce simply doesn’t travel well. I’d love to see what these wines are like in his cellar, but I’ll leave it to my favorite blog wineterroirs to check into that sometime.

A winter pruning adventure

I drove out to the Dundee Hills the other day to meet up with a friend who works an old vineyard planted with pinot noir and a few other things. I had asked him if I couldn’t come out and give him a hand with winter pruning.

I don't have much pruning experience, so the afternoon quickly turned into a terrific lesson in the art of pruning. Winter pruning is structural, where you cut back last year’s growth to leave only the healthiest and best positioned cane and renewal spur for next year. The cane will produce fruiting canes in the coming season, and the spur will provide a few additional fruiting canes positioned to be selected as next year’s main cane and renewal spur.

Despite having read some about winter pruning, and knowing a thing or two from my gardening and vineyard experience, I still couldn’t quite envision how vine pruning happened. My friend suggested that I start by focusing on what I would definitely eliminate, which meant virtually everything. Then I could select from what remained with relative ease.

I was impressed with his quick analysis of the vine and crisp cuts of the woody growth. My attempts were slow and uncertain, but I could see how the puzzle of deciphering each vine’s unique shape could become addictive.

Even this time of year, sap may weep harmlessly from the cuts on the otherwise dormant vine. With the vine now pruned, the leftover cane is tied down to the lowest trellis wire, carefully so that no buds are rubbed off. The cuttings are collected and burned or composted. Winter pruning is done.

We moved down the vineyeard row, studying each vine, making cuts, and moving on. After some time, another friend came by and we happened upon a nearby place to sit and check out the view and sample a couple local wines.

This is the heart of the Dundee Hills, vineyards like Arcus, Goldschmidt, Maresh, Prince Hill, and Le Pavillon among many others on the southern exposure of Worden Hill Road. The engorged Willamette River lay in the distance on this unusually dry afternoon. The air was chilly and fresh, this special place glowing in this late sunlight.

We tasted two Pinot noir from 2003, both warmly alcoholic and not to my taste though well made and enjoyable in the setting. Then we decided to take an impromptu and possibly illicit tramp by and though some of the local vineyards. We talked about vine age, training, growth habits apparent in the unpruned vines, and pruning techniques displayed on the recently cut vines. I couldn't help but think of returning during the growing season to see how the vines transformed during the year.

Then the tramp turned a bit grueling, over a fence and across a rushing creek, and then a long uphill climb on a path cut mysteriously through brambles. Our destination was a recently established vineyard and winery of another friend, producing small amounts of high quality, previously homebrew-only wine.

We tasted from two barrels of ’05 chardonnay, naturally fermented, both gorgeously pure and fresh with uncommon minerality. The new barrel is particularly impressive for not being woody. Of course, they’ve yet to go through ML, so it’s very early. But I suspect this will become fine wine and I’ll be happy to elaborate then.

And then outside again, through a hazelnut orchard and another vineyard with old Riesling vines with their ungodly thick tendrils, and back to where we began. The sun was down now and it was time to head out, my boots muddy and my head spinning with satisfaction.

The mystery of rock(s)

No, not the majesty of roll. It’s the mystery of terroir in the northern Willamette Valley.

Such was the title of Dr. Scott Burns’ presentation the other night to the Geological Society of Oregon. More than 60 people filled a lecture hall at Portland State University, where Burns works, to learn about the geology and soils of our local winegrowing region.

Burns is a passionate speaker, not what you might expect in a geologist. He began by apologizing for his scratchy voice, worn out from a heavy dose of consultation and media requests in the wake of recent rain-triggered landslides. Then he launch into a high volume, fast-paced hour-long presentation covering everything from the origins of the Oregon wine industry to, eventually, terroir. His voice held up fine.

Burns is rare in bringing obviously extensive knowledge about geology together with great knowledge and clear passion for wine. Frankly, I expected a geologist who knew little, really, about wine, but Burns is one of the most articulate and, in my opinion, informed wine lovers out there. Generous too.

I was hoping he’d spend less time on background material and more on the rocks. This was a geology meeting after all, my first ever. But the audience was clearly beyond the typical rockhound, so I suppose Burns was smart to give context even if it was old news.

But once Burns started talking about the earth, wow. He provided great information I hope I convey at least mostly accurately. First of all, good news. The soils are old here, meaning low nutrient levels in general for grape growing. 96% of grapes in the region are on either very old, or just about very old soils.

The underlying geology of the northern Willamette Valley largely consists of volcanic basalts and ancient marine sediments. The basalts came from lava flows originating hundred of miles to the east approximately 14-16 million years ago. The marine sediments were once under the ocean before being pushed into hills and mountains by tectonic activity.

Local soils largely came from Missoula flood sediments from approximately 15,000 years ago, when receding glaciers from the last Ice Age repeatedly flooded the Willamette Valley, leaving gorgeous soils on the valley floor. The old soils are up on the hills, windblown deposits along with eroded bedrock. Soil depths vary widely, from nothing to a few feet, to more than 50 feet.

The most common soil types in northern Willamette Valley wine regions are Jory and Willakenzie, with a variety of others mostly represented in far fewer planted acres. Jory soils are most commonly found in the Dundee Hills, where occasionally deep red soils cover volcanic basalts. You also find some Jory in the Eola Hills, though more of the up-and-coming Nekia soils. Nekia is like Jory, volcanic but only a few feet deep. Roots here get down into the bedrock easily.

Willakenzie soils are apparently being reclassified more specifically than before. But as we know them, they are marine sediments found in the Chehalem Mountains and Ribbon Ridge (I believe also in sites around Yamhill/Carlton and McMinnville Foothills). Burns said wines from Willakenzie soils produce red-fruited wines, while Jory soils produce black-fruited wine. But I think that’s mixed up.

Demonstrating the different tastes of soil types, Burns closed by generously poured samples of two 2001 Chehalem Pinot Noir.

First the Stoller Vineyard, from the far west of the Dundee Hills on a lower hill exposed perfectly to the sun. Jory soils all the way. This wine smelled rich and alcoholic, with macerated cherries and a roasted quality. It was actually quite nice, wood-marked as both wines are, but soft and a little squishy.

I preferred the Ridgecrest Vineyard, with its wood spicy, light black currant aroma and brighter flavor. Willakenzie soils here, Chehalem Mountain appellation. But I think micro-climate played a bigger different here than soil, with the heat of Stoller showing clearly versus the cooler profile of the higher elevation Ridgecrest.

So are all Geological Society meetings like this? The meeting ended, but there was a buffet after-party in the department office that looked interesting. Then I thought, don’t push your luck. So off into the rainy night.

Tastings: Belle Pente and Cameron

I took the opportunity recently to taste new releases from two of Oregon’s top wine producers, Belle Pente Vineyard and Cameron Winery. Thanks to the producers and to Liner & Elsen wine shop in Portland for this terrific event.

Belle Pente is located just outside Carlton, OR, on a beautiful slope as the name suggests. The estate vineyard was planted around 1994 and is already producing beautiful wines. Winemaker Brian O’Donnell also sources fruit from highly regarded sites such as the Murto vineyard in the Dundee Hills.

I’ve tasted many Belle Pente wines over the years. As good as the reds have always been, the whites impressed me first, particularly the Riesling made typically in an Alsatian style – drier and fuller bodied than you tend to find in Germany. In recent years, the reds have only seemed to improve in quality so that they are now what I really like most about Belle Pente.

On this day, Brian was pouring two whites and three reds. While the reds are usually fermented with “wild” yeasts, Brian says that Oregon doesn’t seem to have good yeasts for fermenting whites so he inoculates with what seem to be fairly neutral tasting yeast cultures. The ’04 Pinot Gris was mineral and fairly opulent in the mouth, larger-sized than usual perhaps as there is no reserve bottling due to the short crop. This wine is aged at least in part in large German ovals Brian procured a few years back from the old world. A ’03 Gewurztraminer showed the heat of its vintage, very ripe and round though not particularly alcoholic, dry but with honey and spice aromas that seemed more like a lighter dessert wine. A good wine though low acid and perhaps a tough match with food.

The ’03 Pinot Noir Murto vineyard, from 30-year old vines, smelled a bit oaky at first, but shows more restraint that might be expected from this torrid year. Black cherries, spicy earth and oak, young wine that should settle down some with age. The ’03 Pinot Noir Estate showed lots of Christmas spice, with gingerbread and mulling spices mixed in with good fruit and clean earth flavors. Another nice wine and not too large scaled. Clearly a step up was the ’02 Pinot Noir Estate Reserve, a long, very refined and elegant wine with great depth and intensity, beautifully integrated flavors, good structure, the is perhaps the most impressive wine I’ve had from Belle Pente. Highly recommended and among the best ‘02s I’ve tried.

Next to Brian was the impresario of Oregon wine, John Paul of Cameron Winery. Nothing John does is low key, he’s larger than life and yet down to earth as fits his wine. Cameron is no secret and yet, perhaps because it’s been around for 20 years, this producer doesn’t seem to have the buzz of newer, flashier operations. That’s fine, because business seems good, John’s as crazy as ever, and the wine and the prices are some of the most attractive out there for top quality Oregon wine.

John was pouring only one white, the top shelf ’03 Chardonnay Abbey Ridge. He says matter of factly that you need to think about white Burgundy when drinking this wine. I tried and found this wine to be nice, but I was distracted by toasty oak aromas and flavors that currently dominate. Abbey Ridge is one of the highest vineyards in Oregon, a blessing in 2003, and the freshness and tight core of this otherwise large wine should allow it to age well.

On to the reds, first was the ’03 Pinot Noir Gherts vineyard from the Dundee Hills, the source of all these Cameron wines. Located below Domain Drouhin on the southwestern side of the appellation, the Gherts vineyard bottling seems promising. I enjoyed the ’02 for its freshness and drink younger personality, but this ’03 seemed a bit muddled and unfocused. Either it’s in a bad place or perhaps it’s just a victim of the hot year.

Next was the ’03 Pinot Noir Abbey Ridge, which I’ve tried twice now and find delicious. Ripe, fairly rich wine but still elegant as I like this grape to be, with good structure. Abbey Ridge may have produced the best wine of the ’03 vintage. Finally, the ’03 Pinot Noir Clos Electrique, from Cameron’s “estate” (which looks more like a shack, a really cool shack but this ain’t no grand estate) vineyard. Planted in the mid-to-late 1980s with wide spacing, it’s lower in the Dundee Hills than most and seems to produce a richer, black fruited wine where most of the Dundee Hills vineyards give redder, cherry flavors. As with the ’02, the ’03 is dark and brooding, young and unevolved, with fine tannin and good length. This is a wine to cellar but I expect it will show more complexity and subtlety in time.

But wait, John’s a passionate Italophile (Ital-o-phile? Ital-i-phile? Fan of Italy?) who’s planted Nebbiolo and is excited about his early efforts with the grape. He hasn’t released any wine yet, but to get people excited he decanted a bottle of the ’01 Produttori di Barbaresco “normale” so we could taste something he has in mind. Classic Nebbiolo here, tannic and young in the mouth but already fragrant and crying out for earthy food. It lacks the depth of the cru bottlings from this terrific cooperative, but it’s not something I’d drink young. Instead, cellar for a few years and drink the even cheaper Produttori Langhe Nebbiolo in the meantime. And then look out for what I’m guessing will fall under the “Cameroni” label John uses for wines made from traditional Italian grape varieties.

Tasting 2002 Loire Reds

Another gathering of the loose tasting group of local industry people I fell into earlier this year. This month’s theme was 2002 Loire reds, all tasted blind, all made from the cabernet franc grape.

1. Darkest color, with a very ripe, oaky, smoked sausage and sweet raspberry aroma, some nice tobacco with time but clearly the most new world-esque wine of the bunch. Full and a little alcoholic on the palate, ripe sweet fruit flavors with some chalky tannin, shows the delicacy of the Loire but disjointed now, who knows if it will ever come around. This is the 2002 Domaine de la Butte Bourgueil Mi-Pente, the infamous Jacky Blot’s top-end bottling. Jacky, lay off the new barrels.

2. Medium dark ruby with a stony cherry aroma, some soil, pipe ash, and cranberry in there too. Tastes bright with cranberry flavors, herbs and earth but not much else, stony and drying on the finish, tastes like a decent lightweight Loire red but nothing more. No surprise, it’s the 2002 Marc Bredif Chinon, a low end bottling from a middling quality negociant.

3. Sweeter than number 2, but not as overt as number 1 with nice pie fruit, earth, and stone aromas. Silky and elegant on the palate, with ripe cherry and light raspberry flavors, earthy soil notes with bright acid, nice now and perhaps in the future. This is the 2002 Gauthier, Domaine du Bel Air, “Les Vingt lieux dits” Bourgueil.

4. Dark color, with an oaky sweet aroma, jammy fruit with a creamy note, odd smelling. Drying tannin, clearly the most tannic of the bunch, with stony cranberry flavors, hard wine, over pressed or macerated?, nice leafy after taste but in a weird place now. This is the 2002 Bernard Baudry Chinon La Croix Boisee.

5. Medium/dark color, with a farmy, bretty horse saddle aroma at first, opens with sweet berry fruit and meat, a little Rhonish, more complex still with time. Classic stony flavors, nice juicy red berry fruit with bright acid, young and promising but delicious now. This is the 2002 Bernard Baudry Chinon Les Grezeaux, [comment about this being mid-tier in price compared to the higher end La Croix Boisee moved to the "backroom"]. This was my favorite of the tasting and a decidedly non-mid-tier wine.

6. Medium/dark color, with a jammy, bit oaky ripe aroma, smoked sausage notes, initially a little too much but opens nicely. Cranberry and cherry flavors with a tangy profile, dry tannin, lean on the palate, clearly needs time but promising. By far the favorite of the group, though not quite mine. This is the 2002 Charles Joguet Chinon Clos la Dioterie.

We tasted the wines, then passed around a variety of cheeses that paired nicely, taming the sharp profile of some of the wines and creating harmony with the earthy smells and flavors. Loire reds are some of my favorite wines for their fragrance, though they aren’t typically for tasting on their own. Grill some meat, lay out some earthy cheeses and bread, mix in a spinach salad to keep your colon happy, and enjoy pretty much any of these wines. Though they don’t taste like either, think of Loire reds as Bordeaux meets Burgundy, when the stony, berry flavors of the Gironde meet the fragrance and elegance of the Cote d’Or.

A Case of Wine for Christmas

For Christmas, two of my sisters and I went in on a case of wine for our parents, who appreciate good wine but aren’t crazy about it like I am. I got to pick out the wines, so I thought I’d put together a sampling of wines from Oregon and places they’ve travelled to or otherwise seem to like quite a bit.

With the help of my favorite local wine shop, Liner & Elsen, here’s what I picked:

Whites:
2003 Evesham Wood Chardonnay Les Puits Sec
This is the estate chardonnay from the producer I worked for this fall, which I figured my parents would want to try. Warm vintage, sometimes a lackluster grape in Oregon, but you wouldn’t know it from this beautiful Burgundian-styled white wine, with subtle oak influence and lovely ripe but not overripe fruit. If I could make chardonnay like this, I’d be happy. I like Evesham Wood more for their reds, but this wine was a revelation.

2004 Francios Pinon Vouvray Cuvee Tradition
My parents visited the Loire valley a few years ago and came away with new respect for the chenin blanc grape, otherwise known to most Americans as the main ingredient of white jug wine. I haven’t tried this year’s model, but Pinon is a terrific producer. This wine is typcially only lightly sweet – sec tendre as the French would say – with great minerality or mineral aromas and flavors.

2004 Hirsch Gruner Veltliner Kammerner Heiligenstein Kamptal
This fall, my parents visted Austria for the first time, so I thought some classic, dry Austrian white wine would be in order. And packaged in a screwcap too! Gruner Veltliner is the main wine grape of Austria, grown rarely elsewhere and producing a subtle, refreshing wine that sometimes includes the flavor of really good fresh green peas.

Bubbly:
NV R. Dumont et fils Champagne
What case of Christmas wine would be right without bubbly? This small producer isn’t widely distributed but what a tasty Champagne at a reasonable price. Highly recommended if you haven’t tried it. On the crisper side, but with good richness I think from a majority of pinot noir in the wine (along with chardonnay).

Reds:

2003 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir Cuvee J
Cuvee J is the special selection from the Les Puits Sec vineyard, the fanciest wine in this bunch and a great example of top quality Oregon pinot noir. Again, the 2003 vintage was hot and this wine is fairly ripe and alcoholic for Evesham Wood. But if anyone can make tasty, ageworthy wine from even the hottest years, it’s winemaker Russ Raney.

2003 Belle Pente Pinot Noir Yamhill-Carlton District
Without other Evesham Wood wines currently available, I went with a couple of selections from Belle Pente, another favorite of mine among Oregon producers. This is a lighter but no less tasty pinot noir meant to drink young.

2002 Belle Pente Pinot Noir Murto Vineyard
As a counterpoint, here’s an older vine bottling (30 years) from the same producer. This one comes from the Murto vineyard in the Dundee Hills, made in a terrific vintage by a skilled but hands-off winemaker Brian O’Donnell. Lovely fragrance with good richness and balance, young and pehaps a touch oaky but good now or in a few years. I like Brian’s touch with pinot noir – never too dark and extracted, always fragrant and spicy without too much oak. He’s also been kind to me as a home winemaker looking for tips and grape sources.

2003 Fattoria Petroio Chianti Classico
The latest release from Petroio, a terrific little producer well known to Portland, where the Italian wine market is surprisingly deep (very deep). Nothing super fancy here, just good, fleshy, mostly sangiovese-based wine that’s like a quick trip to Tuscany in your glass – one of my parents’ favorite destinations.

2001 Felsina Chianti Classico Riserva
Again, a counterpoint that shows more depth, richness, and structure compared to a “basic” Chianti Classico. If I had to pick one producer from Tuscany, Felsina would be it. Just terrific wines, good young and old, well-priced (especially after their former price-gouging importer was cut loose), and like a quick trip to Tuscany, but first class.

2003 Pasquero Sori Paitin Barbera d’Alba “Serra Boella”
My dad has always liked the barbera grape, and this is a great example of the grape from a great producer of everything from dolcetto to Barbaresco.

2001 Domaine Les Pallieres Gigondas
Gigondas in Berkeley, CA? Yes, Kermit Lynch, of the eponymous wine import and retail firm in Berkeley, is part owner of this estate in the southern Rhone valley of France. Pallieres just happens to produce one of my favorite Gigondas, a wine made of mostly the grenache grape with some syrah and mourvedre in the mix. Dark colored wine, with flavors of wild berries, dry herbs, and (as if you don’t know what they taste like) rocks. A nice blend of old world rusticity with new world fresh fruitness, with fine tannins that melt away if you drink with with dinner. I’m getting thirsty just writing about it.

2003 Edmunds St. John Rocks and Gravel California
A final counterpoint, this is a Berkeley-made wine from winemakers Steve Edmunds in the image of the great wines of the southern Rhone valley. Again, a mix of grenache, syrah, and mourvedre, this too mixes old world and new world styles well, with a nice earthiness amid the fresh pie fruit that California wines (aside from this one) usually have way too much of. Not nearly as tannic as the Pallieres, these are two wines to compare if you’re interested in seeing the similarity and difference between wines from France and California. By the way, the wine name comes from a Bob Dylan song.

So there it is…Merry Christmas and happy tasting.

Joe Davis of Arcadian on Grape Radio

Grape Radio. I know, it threw me for a loop, too.

But after winning one of those iPod things in a drawing, I’ve listened to some of the Grape Radio podcasts and been fairly impressed.

No, not by the name (I can’t claim much better though). Nor the cheesy music and amiable if unpolished hosts. But many of the guests in the first year have been top notch. I’m not sure of its appeal to novices – the wine geek factor can be high. Still, Grape Radio is pretty cool, and sailing into uncharted waters of informative, entertaining wine media.

Perhaps controversial, too. The most intriguing episode yet features Joe Davis of Arcadian Winery in central California. Joe is an interesting cat, probably loved by some and loathed by others. He’s vociferous about the greatness of lower alcohol, elegant pinot noir in the face of today’s fashionable high alcohol, dense varieties.

He’s also simply one of the most unscripted people I’ve observed in the wine industry, either in this podcast or on any number of interesting (mostly) threads on pinot noir on the erobertparker.com discussion group. Even if sometimes he might regret his candor, one has to appreciate his intent and passion.

Yet, in this episode even Joe’s passion can’t save him from his own words that verge on slander. I was shocked at what I heard him say.

I won’t rehash the whole thing, you can listen for yourself. But let’s just say that, as much as I find myself in Joe’s philosophical camp about pinot noir, and as right as he may be (MAY be) about his concerns for other, less experienced vintners enjoying recent success, he goes too far in calling them out personally for potential issues in their wines based on pure speculation.

Even if his words aren’t slander (I’m not sure they are, though I might feel differently if he were talking about me), Joe’s successful enough, and I hope smart enough, to realize he needn’t worry so much about other vintners nor talk about them in such a way to the media.

But let’s assume Joe’s right. My point isn’t that his opinion is off base, necessarily. Just that he’s not going to achieve his goal, whatever that may be, by calling people out this way.

He sounds like a dad criticizing his kid, which would be weird enough. Actually, it’s like he’s talking about someone else’s kid, which is too weird. If you’re so concerned, and especially if you’re so right, go talk to the person, especially when it involves someone’s passion and livelihood.

And that’s not code for “be politically correct.” No, be smart. At the least, be polite. As with making pinot noir, less is usually better.

Still, it makes for intereting listening. For a counterpoint, check out earlier podcasts here and here.

UPDATE - Check out this thread on erobertparker.com. Looks like there will be a follow up interview in January with Joe and some of the people he spoke about in this interview. I'll definitely be listening.

2003 Sakonnet Fume Vidal Reserve Southeastern New England

A friend gifted me this white wine from Rhode Island, made from the vidal blanc grape. I have to say, I’m woefully inexperienced with hybrids and other non-vinifera grapes and wines. Of course, that’s probably because what experience I have has left me largely unimpressed.

I had heard of Sakonnet Vineyards but never tried any of their wines. They apparently have a good reputation and, judging by this bottling, it’s well founded.

The “Fume” in Fume Vidal refers to oak aging, which this wine shows in its smoky, toasty oak aroma that reminded me at first of chardonnay, bad chardonnay. But with time the oakiness seemed balanced by a mix of fresh aromas that reminded me of pinot gris, riesling, and muscat. There were aromas of flowers and honey, with some earthy petrol notes and nice purity.

The flavors were also oaky at first, but with time there was a nice honeyed taste and a touch of white grapiness that I’m guessing is classic for the variety. The wine was lightly sweet but lively with good acidity, holding up well over two nights.

Overall, I’m impressed. This was an interesting, elegant wine and makes me want to seek out more vidal. Given its honeyed character, I’d love to taste late harvest wines from this variety. It’s definitely something to check out further.

Home winemaking 2005

I wasn’t planning to make wine at home this year. After setting the goal of working harvest at a winery and then lining up a good position, I figured I wouldn’t bother making my own stuff.

Then the opportunity presented itself, unfortunately due to the rain and the subsequent break in the harvest. I suddenly had time, and after a few calls I had lined up some pinot noir from Courting Hill vineyard in Banks, west of Portland on a beautiful south-facing slope.

The vineyard elevation is 350-480 feet, similar to the estate where I worked. There, pinot noir grapes in the last week of September were beautiful, well above 23 brix and delicious with moderate browning of stems and seeds.

After the rain, I would have liked to wait to pick, but working at the winery was my priority. I wanted to be available for any good picking day for the next few weeks, if not a few bad ones so I could do cellar work. So I picked on Sunday morning, October 2, in showery weather two days after the big rain that turned summer to fall.

What did I get? 204 lbs. of pinot noir at 22 brix, diluted probably but still not as ripe looking as the other fruit I’d seen before the rain. More green in the stems and occasional seed. I tried to find the ripest fruit in the upper block where I could pick. The Courting Hill site is pretty far north for Willamette Valley pinot, so it might have been smart to pick later to get as much ripeness as possible. But I saw lots of grapes from many vineyards after I picked, and 22 brix would be right in the ballpark of what you’d expect to see. I can’t say there weren’t vineyards with higher brix in October, but I wonder how many got to 24.

I crushed and destemmed on site into a Rubbermaid bin. There was no rot or other disease, but I added approximately 70ppm SO2 as I learned at the winery. The sulfur at crushing is intended to protect the must as it soaks for a few days before fermentation starts.

I would have added less if none at all, as other winemakers suggest. But as with many decisions I made with this wine, I chose to practice the techniques I was learning – many of them from Germany and France, and largely intended to let terrior speak through the wine.

I learned about Jayer’s methods in Burgundy, adding more sulfur at the crusher to allow for a cold soak, to extract color and flavor before alcohol is present from fermentation. And allowing extended maceration, typically up to three weeks from crushing to pressing, with the intention of allowing the tannins to grow longer and smoother than you might get in a wine pressed earlier.

So I practiced. After picking Sunday and adding some dry ice to really cool the must down, I let the must soak until Thursday night when I inoculated the bin with a pail of must I had started with some liquid Assmanhausen yeast that morning. Fermentation took off within two days, and I put a heater near the bin out in the garage to keep the air temperature up – and hopefully the fermentation temp up – due to the cold weather.

The ferment peaked a few days later with a cap temp of 86F before punching it down into the juice. The juice peak was 85F, but only for a short while. The temp was probably only over 80F for a day, after I turned off the heater one morning when the day was supposed to warm up significantly. It never happened, and when I got home late that night the must was down to 77F. I turned the heat back on for the rest of the week, but the temps were slowly downhill from there. I wanted more heat to cure the wine a bit, give it some depth and hopefully burn off some of the greenness I expect in the wine. A bigger fermentation is the solution, so that’s on the docket for next year.

Early in the week I chaptalized a bit, to raise the brix by .5 but mainly to extend the fermentation. I added plain table sugar to a small amount of juice, then stirred that into the bin. The wine was essentially dry by Friday, but I let it sit until Monday night before pressing. The total skin contact time was 16 days. With a bigger fermentation, I would have waited longer but I was concerned about oxidation and allowing too much volatility into the wine.

Fermentation smells followed the arc I noticed on pinot noir fermentations in the winery. The crushed must smells sweet and a bit green, like most crushed grapes. The early fermentation shows lots of CO2. Then you move into the more maturing smells of wine, rich fresh and preserved fruit along with yeast. After the fermentation peaks, there’s a "roasty" period where you get coffee and other roasted scents. The best lots from before the rain were really nice during this period, just beautiful to smell. Then as the fermentation ends there is some volatile acidity pungency from the shallow cap, more vinous smells that wines pressed too early seem to lack (in favor of sweet candied fruit). In my wine, I noticed all of these stages. Actually, I was most excited by my wine during its own "roasty" period. The smells were very ripe but earthy and vinous. The wine is still very young and is expected to go through many phases, but I’d love to see that quality back in this wine before its bottled.

I pressed with a small stainless steel press rented from a local homebrew supply shop. I ended up with a 50-liter barrel and two 1-gallon demi-johns of wine for topping. The barrel I also got used from a guy at the shop. It’s four year old Slovenian oak, a small cask and perhaps prone to oxidation. It’s in my basement, which is cool and somewhat humid, but not a perfect cellar environment. We’ll just have to see how it goes.

So far, the wine tastes a bit harsh and astringent though it does have some pinot noir fragrance, so I do have some hope. I’ve seen wine change dramatically over time before bottling. But I don’t expect too much from this year’s wine. It’s a nice experiment, one I’ve executed pretty well to this point but too bad about the less than ideal ripeness and the small fermentation size. I’m not sure where I’ll get the money to make a full barrel next year or where I could do it. But I’m going for it and now I think I have every reason to expect I won’t f#*! things up.

1999 Clos Roche Blanche Cabernet Touraine

I once suggested that this wine is all cabernet franc, but was advised that who really knows whether or not there's cabernet sauvignon in there as well.

But I am certain this wine, labelled simply "Cabernet," is not nearly as tannic as I remember it from its younger days. It smells classic without much intensity, with musky herb and berry aromas and more than a hint of soil. Yet in the mouth it's a little flat and tired, even if the flavors aren't more than beginning to mature. It's not old, just dull but still a nice drink with dinner and worth the $10 it cost me a few years back.

Working Harvest

So what do you do?

That’s the question I got this fall more than I expected when people found out I was working harvest part-time for a local winery.

The next question was invariably - do you really stomp the grapes with your feet?

Generally, no. The grapes are machine crushed and destemmed for the most part. It isn’t uncommon even these days for people to get into a vat of fermenting red wine to mix the solids and juice, and spread out any hot spots created by the fermentation. But that didn’t happen here.

What you do working harvest is work your tail off. Dump countless 35lbs. trays of grapes onto the sorting conveyor, if not pitchfork grapes that arrive in half ton or larger bins. Sort endlessly. Move the bins of crushed grapes into the winery to soak and then begin fermenting. Punch down fermenting red wine with a metal rod with a disk on its end, when the grape solids are pushed up by carbon dioxide from the fermenting juice forming a cap that can be one or more feet thick. Clean and rinse picking trays, bins, tanks, hoses, fittings, buckets, pumps, conveyor belts, barrels, things over and over again. Stir lees in the chardonnay barrels, clean the presses, sweep the floor, hose down the floor, punch down again. Crush more grapes and do it all over again.

That’s essentially it, broken up by times of waiting for grapes to arrive or for someone to get back from an errand to do something that requires a group.

Along the way I asked as many questions as I could manage. What’s "ripe?" How much sulfur dioxide to use at crushing? How long to cold soak the crushed grapes before fermenting? What analysis do you really need to do? How do you do it? What do you look for during fermentation? How often do you punch down? What odd smells during fermentation are normal and what are signs of more serious problems? How long do you wait until pressing? How clean do you really need to be? How often do you rack? When do you sulfur the wine again? How do you know when to bottle? All things I have some experience with (and even more opinions on), but how does a professional do things?

And I paid attention to how you might manage the whole thing. What is the typical sequence of events to do all the tasks of harvest? How do you work with the growers who seem to talk up the quality of their grapes and are often anxious to have you harvest as soon as possible, only not this week because we don’t have picking crew. How do you manage your space in the winery, and your available bins, tanks, and barrels that need to hold everything you bring in from the fields? Most of all, considering the Oregon climate, how do you make picking decisions, especially with constantly shifting weather forecasts and more folk wisdom than you can imagine from anyone in the industry.

What did I get out of the deal? Lots of exercise, lots of knowledge, and some fun with a very humble, extremely honorable boss who really knows what he’s doing (and often not going to do) in the wine cellar. Not to mention some cash in my pocket and some nice wine at a good price for my efforts.

All this from a phone call out of the blue that I made to the producer almost a year ago saying, essentially, I respect your wines very much and although you don’t know me I’d like to work with you to learn how to really make wine in Oregon. I didn’t exactly achieve that goa, yet. There are more harvests to come no matter where I work. But this was the start of something very interesting, and combined with my ongoing experiments with home winemaking, I’m excited.