Summit Vineyard - 2010 Mourvèdre

The final vineyard for our 2010 vintage is Summit Vineyard, from where we will harvest our Mourvèdre.



Summit Vineyard is tucked away just off the wine route in Temecula. The Mourvèdre grows on vines of old, gnarled trunks and cordons.



Quadrilateral cordon training and a Lyre trellis make the vineyard a rare find, as the trellising system is the most expensive to put in and maintain. The system offers excellent canopy management for light and air penetration.



Though this was the last vineyard we visited only last week, the grapes were just passing véraison (ripening). Mourvèdre is a very late ripening variety, and will be the last harvested.





(All photos Copyright (c) 2010 Clara Brinkmeier)

Rancho de Maria Vineyards - 2010 Grenache

A couple Saturday's ago, I spent the afternoon walking the beautiful Rancho de Maria Vineyards, source of our 2010 Grenache, with owner Bob Zimmer.



Rancho de Maria is located in Southeast Temecula, far off the tourist wine tasting route. The Grenache vines were part of the first plantings seven years ago, and is a mixture of both bilateral, vertically-trained trellising (on the gentle slopes of the vineyard valley) and classic head trained pruning (on the steep hillsides).



Grenache is a vigorous vine, and can produce abundant but low quality fruit if yields aren't kept in check. As Bob and I walked the vineyard, he dropped less-developed clusters along the way, which is critical in producing concentrated fruit, and something Bob does every day on his vineyard walk.



To encourage a thicker and more developed berry skin, clusters are mostly exposed to the morning sun on the Eastern side of the vines, while more leaf canopy to the West provides a bit of shading against the intense afternoon sun, promoting retention of fruit flavors and structure-building acids.



The Grenache was just completing véraison (the onset of ripening) in the valley of the vineyard, while the hilltop vines were into ripening. Multiple harvests will be used to pick each group of grapes at their right time.



After crush and a short contact time on the skins, we will be taking a quarter of our juice off the skins for our 2010 Grenache Rosé. The remaining juice will macerate with their skins and that from the Rosé, giving significant concentration to our 2010 Grenache Red. Our mouths are already watering!



(All photos Copyright (c) 2010 Clara Brinkmeier)

Chapin Family Vineyards - 2010 Syrah

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Steve Chapin and visiting Chapin Family Vineyards, source of our 2010 Syrah.



The vineyard is located in the far Northeast of Temecula, near Lake Skinner, situated at about 1400 feet above sea level. The Syrah was one of the first group of varietals planted in 2002.



Steve is meticulous with his vineyard, and has enlisted consultants Enrique Ferro and Marco Cavalieri to help with the task. For the Syrah, unilateral cordon training is employed, with a canopy of 3 feet by 3 feet maintained for each vine to control vegetative character. The canopy is also managed so about 50 percent of the available sunlight falls on the grapes to encourage phenol development without risking sunburn or dehydration of the fruit.



Aggressive pruning and cluster thinning is employed to keep quality high and yields low. Pruning leaves two to three bunches per node, and between 40 and 50 percent of the crop is dropped.



While we first met Steve and toured the vineyard a few weeks ago, these pictures were taken just last weekend. Much of the vineyard was still at véraison - the onset of ripening.



We will be following the grapes progress with Steve in the upcoming weeks, and we're eagerly anticipating the harvest!



(All photos Copyright (c) 2010 Clara Brinkmeier)

Given Where, Then What Wine?

So, where does one start in determining the best grapes that grow locally?

Well, there are a few places.

One place to start is climate classification. The idea is to find other places in the world with a similar climate as yours locally, and see what grapes grow well there.

There are many ways to classify climates, but one of the most widely accepted is the Köppen–Geiger system, based on the concept that native vegetation is the best expression of climate. The classification uses a series of letters to denote types and subtypes of climate.

With a sufficient amount of geeking out, you can download the most updated Köppen–Geiger map as a Google Earth overlay. Taking a look at the local region around San Marcos, we see we are in a bright green area known as "Csa", which stands for Group "C" - Temperate/mesothermal climates, subtyped as "s" dry-summer tropical. Or much more easily known as "Mediterranean" (the areas in different shades of brown all belong to Group B - Dry climates).



If we expand out and take a look at the Western half of the United States, we see the well-known wine landmark of Napa is in a slightly different shade of green. This is "Csb", which differs from "Csa" in maximum summer temperature ("Csb" is cooler).



Our local region around San Marcos has a similar but different climate than Napa Valley and most of coastal California.

So, where in the world - specifically the Old World - is our area most similar to?

Well, the term "Mediterranean" gives a hint. If we turn to the Old World and highlight only those areas with the same climate as ours, we get the following map.



The results may seem surprising, but the local grape growing area around San Marcos is very similar to areas around the Mediterranean.

Turning first to France, the three major wine regions with the same climate are Languedoc - Roussillon, Southern Rhône, and Provence. A wide variety of grapes are grown in these regions, but the ones both generally considered of highest quality and significant production are Mourvedre, Grenache, Syrah, Cinsault, and Roussanne. Carignan is common, but usually used in more of a "filler" role.

Taking a look at Italy, the major wine areas are on the West coast, Sicily, and Sardinia. A wide variety of grapes are grown here too, but the most significant varietals are Greco di Tufo (red and white), Nero d'Avola, Fiano, and Vermentino.

Finally, in Spain, we have the regions of Castile-La Mancha, Andalucia, Extremadura, and Priorat. The most significant varieties are Tempranillo, Syrah, Grenache (Garnacha), Mourvedre (Monastrell), and Zalema.

From the above, I've excluded:
* Varietals that are primarily made as dessert wines.
* Any "international varieties" (Cab Sauv, Merlot, and Chardonnay) that are planted no matter where they excel or not.
* Rarer varietals from other Mediterranean areas (e.g. Greece) that are not currently grown at all locally (since I will be buying and not growing grapes).

Narrowing down all of the above to the most respected and also available locally, we have Syrah, Grenache, Mourvedre, Cinsaut, Tempranillo, and Roussanne.

That's the result based on climate classification. Another way to determine varietals is to ask the local winegrowers and winemakers.

Which I did, and their responses most often matched the above - Syrah mainly, followed by Grenache, Mourvedre and the rest. It is important to note that this doesn't always agree with what many of them produce the most of (which is often Cab Sauv).

Another way to judge is by awards. Syrah from Temecula is one of their most frequent award winners, which is especially notable given its much smaller production relative to many other varietals.

Finally, one can judge simply by taste - sampling the wines grown in the area. And here again, the results, in my opinion, fall in line with the same answers we've seen above.

Syrah. Grenache. Mourvedre.

(For now, I'll hold off on Tempranillo, Cinsaut, and Roussanne as I have not tasted many of them.)

So, why don't we see more Syrah, Grenache and Mourvedre produced locally? It unfortunately has to do with the recognition and familiarity the majority of wine buyers have with Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Chardonnay, and now even Pinot Noir. Mediocre Cab Sauv can be a far easier sell than an outstanding Mourvedre, due to the simple name recognition and familiarity people have with it.

And when I say an "easier sell", I don't mean to imply that winemakers and growers in the area are looking to make a fast buck... but they do have to make a buck to stay in business. And you can produce all the outstanding Grenache you want, but when consumers are buying the so-so Cab Sauv down the street instead, you just end up with a warehouse of wine going nowhere.

But ultimately, the area needs to start making more of the wines it can really excel in making. And this is where I am starting...

Does Local Winery Mean Local Grapes?

While a winery may be "local", a winery can get their grapes from just about anywhere. Wineries in the San Diego area make wine from grapes grown all the way from Napa to the Mexican Baja, and everywhere in between.

So the first, and most important, choice for a winemaker is... do I choose my grape varietals regardless of where I am located, or do I go with only the best varietals grown locally?

I'm going for the latter, and here's why...

If we go for the former, and pick the varietals we want regardless of where we are located, there's always a tendency for winemakers to produce the SAME wines. Take Cabernet Sauvignon, which is a well known grape varietal to consumers and winemakers alike. Most wineries make a Cab Sauv - just pick some wineries off the top of your head, and check out their wine list. The vast majority, if not all, will have a Cab Sauv, almost no matter where they are in the world.

What's really the point of making all that Cab Sauv?

It's one thing if your winery is in the heart of an area that grows outstanding Cab Sauv - then it just makes sense to make it. But once I start making Cab Sauv outside of those areas - either with those outstanding grapes shipped in, or with inferior grapes grown locally - then what am I really adding to the wine world? What benefit am I really bringing to the consumer? I'm just making more wine that other people can make... people who can possibly make it cheaper (and better).

This practice also tends to drive up price (due to the higher demand for specific varietals, and increased shipping costs in moving grapes), and to drive out options - a small group of grape varietals are grown everywhere, rather than a wide range of varietals that are each grown in a different area.

It just makes sense to pick your geography first - specifically, your local area - and then choose your varietals based on what grows well around you. When we do so, diversity in grape varietals flourishes. And with each winery making wine from the best grapes, the quality of wine improves.

So, now that I'm going local... what is "local"?

That's really a point of view, and there's no universally accepted standard, but the most common definition used for locally grown produce is a 100 mile radius.

If we draw a 100 mile radius around my winery in San Marcos, we see it covers quite a lot of ground. In the map below, each circle is an increase of 20 miles in radius - the first circle is at 20 miles and the last at 100 miles. On a gut level, this just feels like too big of an area to be "local". Also, a locally focused wine consumer (a "locavore") wanting to purchase within a 100 mile radius might accidentally choose that based on the location of my winery, rather than the actual location of where the grapes are grown, and buy something made from grapes 200 miles away.



If we switch to a 50 mile radius, I think it works better (in the map below, each circle is now 10 miles in radius). A locavore living on one end of the radius could buy a wine from me made from grapes on the other end of the radius, and still fall within 100 miles.



I'll take it even a little closer, just based on a gut feeling. I'd say a radius of 30 miles is about right. That just feels "local" to me.

Within this small area, there are actually three recognized American Viticultural Areas (AVAs) - Temecula Valley, Ramona Valley, and San Pasqual Valley - so even in this small of a space, we have a wealth of grape growing!

So, now that I've decided to stay local (and on what "local" is), what grapes grow best here? I'll explore that in the next post.

Honest, Elegant, Distinct

Honest, elegant, and distinct.

These are the qualities I want my wines to posses. They are all related, but the foundation starts with honesty.

An honest wine is one that exemplifies, and is true to, its grape.

It's a concept that's a bit hard to explain, but simple once understood.

Maybe an analogy will help...

Let's say you are meeting someone you want to impress. You take a shower, put on flattering clothes, and style your hair (if you have any). You emphasize your most appealing aspects and understate your least. You put your best foot forward.

Or, you could put on a wig, colored contact lenses, and flatten your stomach with a tight belt/corset. You no longer try to emphasize or understate what you've got - you try to change it.

The same thing applies to wine.

A wine starts with its grape, and starting from that grape, a winemaker makes many decisions during the wine making process that influence the resulting wine.

As a winemaker, an art lies in being able to recognize which aspects of the grape to emphasize and which to understate. Your next challenge lies in applying your technical expertise during the wine making process to make this happen. When a winemaker masters both this art in recognition and this skill in execution, an honest wine is made.

However, the art is often ignored. The desired end wine is decided regardless of the grape, based on what someone believes makes a wine appealing to judges or easy to sell. Then a winemaker's technical expertise is put to adding, subtracting, and distorting the grape, and a dishonest wine is made.

I believe too many dishonest wines are being made. Too many wines are trying to attain a perceived industry ideal of what judges and sells well. And in trying to turn these grapes into something they are not, they create wines of consistent and unfailing mediocrity.

And wines that are indistinct.

How can we have so many varieties of grapes, places where they are grown, differences in wine making practices, and yearly changes in weather, and yet have so many wines taste the same? Simply because with advanced equipment and technical skill, wineries can do it, regardless of the grape. Round holes and square pegs be damned.

The art of listening to each grape to find its distinct beauty is jettisoned for a homogenized ideal of what mass appeals. We get wines that simply taste "red" or "white". Wines that never fail, but also never excel. And when all wines strive to the same goal, a goal so foreign to their source grape that they can never excel, how does one winery differentiate its wine from another?

By making their wine "bigger" - turning up the body, the fruit, and the oak until it tastes like fruit preserves served on a two by four. Whatever subtle flavors, aromas, complexity and elegance the wine may have had become acceptable casualties. In a room where everyone is talking and saying the same thing, people start shouting to be heard.

And so our wines lose elegance, and become a one dimensional commodity. When wine making is guided by an industrial ideal instead of the grape, our wines become dishonest, indistinct, and clumsy.

The grape must lead the way for the winemaker. Once the grape is chosen, the technique follows. And so the next question for a winemaker - for me - is, what grapes will I use?

What I Don't Like

Cloying, clumsy, heavy wines. Indistinct wines that just taste "white" or "red". Dishonest wines that are forced into a homogenized, least common denominator profile.

And there are a lot of these. And they seem to be growing.

I got to thinking on this while figuring out what sort of wine I want to make for the new brand. In short, the exact opposite of what I don't like.

Honest, elegant, and distinct.

Honest
An honest wine stays true to itself. A dishonest wine compromises what it is to become a mediocre version of what it's not.

Elegant
An elegant wine presents itself subtly and unpretentiously, with a harmonic complexity that continues to unfold. A clumsy wine is in your face, an uncoordinated din trying to cover up being simplistic by being loud.

Distinct
A distinct wine is identifiable, and there's no mistaking it - both who it is and who made it. An indistinct wine is an amorphous blur. It doesn't stand out enough to be disliked, but it's also easily forgotten.

These will form the foundational philosophy of the new brand, and I'll explore each of these in more detail in later posts. From this will come the winery's manifesto of purpose, terroir and technique.