The Trophy Life - Did you come this far to be somewhere else?

There’s this natty new watering hole with a wood burning oven on Washington Street in Yountville. I’m waiting there to meet a friend and colleague, to have a drink and go over some Italian business. As I am early, and the bar is overflowing with revelers (it is Napa Valley Premiere week), I stand outside and catch up with emails from back home. Two large multi-person vans are parked in front. Black and shiny, with quirky license plates, monikers of someone’s idea of wine country chi-chi. In reality, these vans are peripatetic conveyances for the moneyed set, with their black and shiny boots, and black pressed jeans, and their tall blonde wives with their tight faux leopard stretch jeans, long-legged, with long, shimmering hair. “Come get in this one with us,” one of the older single men yelps to someone else’s wife. As if she was going to get in and on their way to dinner at Press, something was going to happen inside that van? She just gives him a desultory sniff and climbs into a smaller, more intimate vehicle with her curator.

Oh, the trophy life, it ain't no good life,

But it's my life.

The Anniversary

Call me nostalgic, but every so often I get a hankering to go down some of the old wine trails of my early days. California, that is. And on this hot July month in Texas, where temperatures of 108 have been common of late, I thought to take an escape, a break of sorts, and visit some of my old haunts.

I’ve written elsewhere about the summer of ’76 and driving the old ’62 Ford Falcon wagon, family in tow, up and down Highway 29, from Yountville to Calistoga. Those early days, where things were so simple and uncluttered. De-blinged. Recently, driving up the same highway, it was a pretty somber sight. Sure there was the occasional stretch-limo drone seeking out its target, one mini-cult winery or another. But the economic meltdown is showing signs of strain, especially in one of the high spots of American winemaking. It probably isn’t fatal, after all, there are the cycles, ask any bio-dynamic winemaker. The waxing and the waning moon, the need for certain preventative measure and the necessity for the “fix”. E la nave va.

Calistoga is one of those places that I love to love, but probably couldn’t reconcile living there. The All Seasons Café, same as it ever was, a little of the patina faded from years of the heat and the sun bearing down on the little resort known for its curative baths. Nance’s Hot Springs, one of the landing spots for ventures into the wine country, now absorbed into another spit and polished resort. Lazy days watching the planes take the people up in tours to see Napa Valley at 2000 feet, sipping a Chardonnay or a Sauvignon Blanc. On this trip a half bottle of a dry rose of Sangiovese did the trick.

Not wishing to go all mommy blogging on you, but it is summer and everyone must take a break. On the eve of an anniversary, indulge me, please.

The Silverado Trail was empty, just me and the vines as the sun was setting around 9:00PM. The vines, everywhere the vines are pushing out grapes. The grapes know not of any economic slowdown. They are innocent, doing what they are destined to do. How would they know some irrational exuberant money managers on the other coast harnessed our collective greed and desire for more, bringing the American economy to a near standstill? By the time the grapes on the vine are wine in a bottle may we be so lucky to be looking back at the vintage of ’09 with less apprehension.

None the less, the vines, flanked by olive tree sentinels, flutter and push, following their nature.

It’s kind of nice to see the Valley like this; it’s like traveling back in time. Simpler, less conspicuous, quieter, the perfect place to go for a wine lover.

Earlier in the day I stopped by the Ehlers Estate. I don’t think they are considered a cult winery, although with barely 5000 cases made a year, they could probably apply for the status. But cult just aint what it used to be, so it looks like the Ehlers Estate will plow ahead with steady intent on making wine from organic grapes. There is also talk of bio-dynamic principles being utilized. I think having vineyard foreman Francisco Vega for the past 10 years is one of the best bets the estate has made. Francisco radiates the soul of California wine; dirt, sun, sweat, patience.

Let’s hope all the pampered valley vines get to live their wine-life as a premium bottle of Napa wine, not some bulked-out industrial $3.00 bottle of mixed-up wine. God knows, there are a bunch of folks up here who are giving their life for these vines and wines, on the wine trail in California.

written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

Making Gold in Old California

I have been in the Zinfandel Capital of the World this week for the Lodi International Wine Awards and the Sommelier Journal Terroir Experience. Both required a lot of tasting, and in a few days I’ve had several hundred wines pass my lips.

If you are looking to do some California wine tourism while taking in some of the Old California Sierra beauty, this is a nice alternative to the North Coast. There’s a lot to love about Napa and Sonoma and the whole North Coast, so this isn’t a slam to those friends over there.

I remember as a youngun’ taking my Fiat 124 Sport Coupe up into the little towns of the foothills, Ione, Plymouth, Murphys, Sutter Creek, Jackson; usually on our way to Yosemite. I loved the pioneer feel to the place back then, in the early 1970’s. Well, there still is an unfettered and unspoiled way about the place. The wines are in transition. The farther you get away from highway 99, higher up on the foothills, I found winemakers who had some calling to make wine from that certain place.

One fellow, Brian Fitzpatrick, a burly fellow with a healthy girth and a Grizzly Adams beard, talked about the calling he had, from very early on, to grow his grapes organically. Brian wasn’t playing at being green because it was the trendy thing to do. Brian is not a trendy guy. But talking to him an afternoon ago, I wanted to plan a vacation to come back and stay awhile at his little B&B in Fairplay. Read all about him here.

His wines were styled for my tastes, even his unlikely Pinot Noir and Merlot. I think something happens when you decide you like a person. Their wines then become an extension of them and are ushered in by a genuine liking for the person. Brian’s wines were like that. I felt like I was talking to a college roommate.


I stayed with Brenda and Dave Akin in Lodi, the night before the competition. Dave is a walking encyclopedia of the California wine business. I haven’t talked to someone as knowledgeable of the history since Bob Pellegrini. And they were there, when the history was being carved out. Dave was talking about how his Tannat has a p.h. issue in the winemaking process. Anyone who has ever had a Tannat knows it can be a tannic pest. Dave is on a quest to calm the beast. Kudos’ to Dave, he is only one of a small handful of people who have ever heard of an ancient Central Valley dessert wine which went by the name of Kosrof Anoush.

Leon Sobon of Shenandoah Vineyards and Sobon Estate is another piece of what some day will be the beginnings of modern Sierra wine history. I heard someone remark that Leon was a hippie who moved from the Bay Area to set up his wine lab in the hills. Leon was a Senior Scientist with Lockheed Research lab. Mad scientist maybe, hippie, umm, I don’t think so. Genuinely nice person making interesting wines that reflect the place and the personality of the individuals who are re-settling this piece of the West in a carbon neutral setting.

Chaim Gur-Arieh and his wife Elisheva established an outpost for wine and art with their C.G. Di Arie Winery on the border of the Eldorado and Amador counties. Chaim and Elisheva have a great life and love story, they could have set up shop in Napa, easily. But they committed their wine working life to the Sierra foothills. One of my favorite wines was a Primitivo.

There are more stories, but these four really touched the soul of this slave to the wine god. Note that these are four mature fellows; they've had time to experience life, to decide what the like and don't like, to develop their palate sense. These are four fellows who have searched for the philosopher's stone.

Is there terroir in the wines of the Sierras? Some think not. From the little I saw, there was more composing than conducting. But this is a wine region that although it is one of the oldest wine producing areas of California, it’s really in its infancy. Like Dave Akin said, “This area is like Napa was thirty years ago. People are friendly, the wines are getting better and we’re having a great time of it.” Remembering back in my early days, driving the Falcon “family wagon” up and down Hwy 29 in the latter 1970’s, I grokked what Dave was talking about.

Is there gold in them thar hills? Is there terroir? Are there wines that reflect California and the region in a timeless and classic style found in no other place? To address those questions, Marco Capelli, winemaker for Miraflores, went into the cellar and tapped a barrel of Angelica.

Yes sir, he tapped into Old California, the West of my youth, a wine that put California on the winemaking map. Dark, deep, sunny, unctuous, god-awful sweet and sexy. And man, it was just like when I first kissed my girlfriend in the back of the movie house, when we were fourteen and so very young and in love.

written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy