Garagiste Turns 10

 

Forget tiny libraries, we are here to praise tiny wineries. For February 10th was the (somehow already) 10th Annual Garagiste Wine Festival, Southern Exposure, held as usual at the Solvang Veterans' Memorial Hall. The conceit--as with bands, winemakers often kick off their careers in their garages before venturing out into rental warehouse space somewhere (often in the wilds of Lompoc or Paso Robles, say). The biggest (and that term really means little here) producer at this year's event crafts 1800 cases per vintage. For comparison, Trinchero Family Estates, which admittedly is 50 global brands under one so-called "family," produced 20 million cases of wine in 2020. Places pouring at Garagiste wouldn't even add up to the angel's share at Trinchero.

So, that means Garagiste is a place to drink deep of inspiration, experimentation, passion, play, and sure, some perspiration (not as a wine additive, promise). You can taste every varietal from Albariño to Zinfandel, with all sorts of grapes and blends in-between. You'll have the father-son team at Boutz Cellars pouring you barrel samples of their Assyrtiko, proud of the wine and their Greek heritage. Think of the wine as a Santorini retsina-resonant answer to Albariño. And that's just a bonus blast next to pours like a 2022 100% Syrah not even labeled yet, but nailing westside Paso's penchant for brooding, roasted meat notes. (Overall, Paso wineries seemed to outnumber those from Santa Barbara County this year, tbh.)

Having had the good fortune to attend many a Garagiste Festival, what also strikes me is there are new finds every year. One such find this time was Fuil, pronounced as you might think, no fooling (it comes from the Gaelic, meaning blood, kindred, nature). Winemaker Matt Espiro Jaeger is also an actor, and in a recent interview described his life: "I was literally leaving right after bows for Oedipus at the Getty Villa around 10 pm, driving 2.5 hours north to drop off my empty pick bins, napping for 2-3 hours, picking up my grapes, driving back to Camarillo, crushing and processing the grapes, driving back to LA, taking a nap, then heading back the theatre." Didn't get to see him the Sophocles so can't judge his acting, but the wines are certainly worth that hectic schedule. Worth a second sip was his 2021 Ballard Canyon Syrah, from the esteemed Kimsey Vineyard, a lighter style of that varietal that reminded of the ethereal versions of Grenache you get from A Tribute to Grace.

Or take Entity of Delight and winemaker Crosby Swinchatt (a delightful name that sounds like a Lemony Snickett invention, no?). For a young man he's had some peripatetic career, from New Zealand to Oregon to Sea Smoke to Lo-Fi right here in Santa Barbara County. He favors natural wine, so you can enjoy a fascinating 2022 Mourvèdre from the Kaerskov Vineyard in the Los Olivos District AVA (supposedly the only Danish owned and operated vineyard within the Danish city of Solvang, so now you can win that bar bet). At 12% ABV it's far from a brooding Rhone-monster, but it still pleases with leather, wild strawberry, and even some blood orange notes.

"Old" timers also pleased, too. Montemar nails varietal specificity as well as anyone, and then lets their wine bottle age to develop into its fullness. It's hard to beat their wild and fulfilling 2016 Bentrock Pinot Noir, especially at $52 a bottle. Tomi only makes 250 cases per vintage but that's split over 12 different wines on their website, 8 poured at Garagiste. Everything from a 2020 Barbera that practically ordered a plate of pasta and gravy for you to a 2020 Ambient Light Reserve Albarino aged in acacia oak--the floral on floral really works.

And then there's tercero and Larry Schaffer, Santa Barbara's mad scientist of wines. The amount of wines Schaffer makes puts even Tomi to shame--he can't stop experimenting. But that sort of makes him the poster boy for Garagiste--the point is to make wine because it's fun and you hope to try new things and please new drinkers, or reinvigorate the palates of more experienced drinkers. So while he's still nailing down his second vintage of Jurassic Park Chenin Blanc, or sharing a 2016 Roussanne (very dry, but he suggest pairing it with a dessert like a Basque cheesecake), he's also got a non-vintage red bland that's all freshness and cranberry and juicy goodness, a blend of Carignane, Cinsault and Counoise just waiting for warmer weather and your favorite afternoon spot in the sun. That blend's awfully apt name? Curiosity #1.

Which could be the theme for Garagiste, after all.

CA Shindig at the Shore

What could get more California Wine Festival, Santa Barbara edition, held this past weekend, than this view? How much could anyone argue with that?

True enough, there's so much going on--vendor booths hawking clothes, cakes, candles and more, a "Best Tri-Tip in the 805" competition, live Caribbean music from the band Upstream, booths offering beer--its emphasis is almost more on fest than wine. But wine ultimately is all about good times, making memories, enjoying. So the Festival had that down.

Not to downplay the wineries present. The event really does span the state, from Navarro Vineyards in Anderson Valley all the way to a host of wineries from Temecula with a stop at the Tri-Valleys tasting table (that's Livermore, btw), so you could taste all sorts of varietals. It does provide a kind of odd portrait if you hope to make some more conclusive opinions about the vinous state of our state, but there was plenty delicious to be had, from old faves like Navarro and Napa's Cuvaison and Paso's Austin Hope to newer discoveries (at least for me) like Mizel Estate, in the Malibu AVA, or Goldschmidt Vineyards, pouring elegant, built for aging Bordeaux varietals from Alexander Valley and Oakville.

Call me a homer, but of course some of the best showing pours came from right here in Santa Barbara, and I could have happily camped at the Santa Rta. Hills Wine Alliance table, which kept bringing out different wonderful gems as the afternoon went on, from Loubud sparkling to Pinot Noir from Dragonette, Brewer-Clifton, and Montemar. When I wind up turning one down as it's just an SRH and not a Radian Vineyard, well, we are pretty lucky, you know?

The main section of the fest certainly offered plenty for carnivores, what with all the samples for the tri-tip contest right inside the gate (each festival-goer got a vote). Other food was dotted throughout the spaciously laid out area in Chase Palm Park, giving people plenty of room (even if there's always somebody who parks himself--yes, it's generally a dude--at the front of the wine sample line to chat and drink through, folks behind him be-damned). Some you could buy--those cakes at SiSi Cakes sure looked delicious--and some you could sample, as they lured you into a purchase, like the super tasty crackers at Savory Bites. 

We were lucky enough to score VIP tickets, and that section of the festival offered even more upscale eats, even better, more from Santa Barbara, too. (OK, I really am a homer.) From Blue Owl's fried rice to Finch & Fork's wheat blini with Santa Barbara Smokehouse salmon, green olive, agro dolce, and bachelor button, many a taste tempted. Special credit to Finch & Fork for making something you could just pop in your mouth--people don't think through the ease of eating issues for festivals enough. Sure, it's great be generous, but if half the bigger bite you prepared ends up on my shirt, I won't think super kindly of you, restaurateur.  

That's not to say other food didn't also impress--the faux nigiri offered by Fysh Food was not just scrumptious, but also sustainable (please tell me our oceans won't be empty of fish by 2048), and Rosalynn Supper Club, which I'm probably not hip enough to eat at in LA itself, had two flavor bombs, a scallop with cilantro roasted scallion chimichurri, green Szechuan peppercorn, aged soy, and red chili oil, and a "flank steak" that was actually pork, seared and served with a mix of passion fruit herb sauce, Nam Jim, fish sauce, This chili, mint, Thai basil, and cilantro. Just the full listing of the items should make it clear how wild and rich these offerings were.

To be honest, throughout the festival, the vibe was a bit more LA than SB, with lots of folks so well-dressed and prettified that I joked many were likely to be the next victim on a season of White Lotus. But that's just me being provincial. A fun time was had been a lot of folk. I just assume many of them wound there way to the nearby train station and went south afterward.

A lucky few of us also had the opportunity to continue the party at an after event at nearby winery Skyenna. All thanks to sponsors Sommsation, who helped set up the wine and food pairings at the after-party (as that's what they do), and Hexclad, who also helped sponsor the VIP section and gave the cooks there some beautiful pots and pans to cook with.

Small Wineries, Huge Vision, Big Flavors--Garagiste Fest '23

Malvasia Bianca makes up less than 0.2% of white grapes in California. But at Saturday's 9th Annual Garagiste Wine Festival--Southern Exposure, held at the Veterans Hall in Solvang, you could taste two wines made from this semi-obscure grape about ten feet apart. Being tiny does that for you as a winery--you can mess around, follow your passion, craft single expressions of grapes most often known for blending. Nobody is going to care too much, and it can't hurt your bottom line too much, as you barely have a line at all. Too often the big folks can't risk doing something that doesn't end in dollars. (Note, sometimes people experiment when the get big; in the beer world take Firestone Walker and its Barrelworks program, where all that 805 the masses wash down allows for things like Royal Street, an ale that apes a Sazerac, and it is almost Mardi Gras. Still....)

As for that Malvasia Bianca, the two versions were certainly distinct, even if both on the dry side for this white grape better known elsewhere in the world. For tercero, Larry Schaffer made a MB that's floral and perfect for the warmest days of spring. For Lepiane, Alison Thomson made a MB that sips like a fine vermouth. Such delightful and keen distinctions were a huge part of the thrill of the afternoon tasting.

So was a sense of discovery. Take the tongue-in-cheek Funky Town, a side project from the bigger and better known Ampelos. Winemaker Peter Work didn't want to grow complacent, so came up with this second, experimental label to play a bit. And what tasty play it is, including a Piquette made from the "leftovers" of Syrah and Grenache production, bright, fizzy, and a mere 7% ABV, so a perfect lunch wine. Then there's a spicy Carignane and an orange Albariño from a bit more skin contact that offers surprisingly chewy tannin for a "white" grape.

An event like Garagiste also lets you taste unusual terroir--for example, Pinot Noir from Marin County. Talk about your ocean effect--Kendric Vineyards is equidistant between Tomales Bay and the SF Bay. The result is a lighter, almost more Oregonian Pinot, with plenty of cherry but also earth and some oomph from stem inclusion. 

And then there are wines beyond the imagination, almost. At the Hermann York table one of the pourers preceded giving us a taste of their 2021 Galleano Rosso--a wine that's 100% Salvador grape--with the claim, "This doesn't really exist anymore. When you have it, it will either change your life or you'll say, 'It's not for me.'" It swirled an inky, almost ominous color in the glass. Indeed, it packs that kind of a wallop, think the zinniest of zinfandels in a bad mood. If you've ever wondered what the flavor of intensity is, here's your wine. Perfect for a grape that comes from uncertain parentage, it's rough and tumble and lovable all at once for being so much itself.

Sort of like Garagiste, still highlighting small producers (under 1900 cases a year), still supporting the Cal Poly Wine and Viticulture program (especially through silent auction at the event), still making clear bigger is far from better. And certainly not more interesting.

All apologies to all the fine wineries I didn't mention by wine in this write-up that offered lovely pours: Camins 2 Dreams, Dana V. Wines, Diablo Paso, Kimsey Vineyard, Montemar Wines, Silver Wines, and Tomi Cellars.

WOPN 2022: Old Friends

Despite the many years I've been fortunate enough to attend the World of Pinot Noir (and is there a more annoying way to start an article?), I've never quite cracked the nut on the best way to cover it. There's just so much, and that's only considering Friday's and Saturday's Grand Tastings events. Over the two days at least 165 wines poured over my palate, so distinctions can get a bit blurry, and I'm not just talking about my handwritten notes.

That said, I decided one way to approach this year is splitting up some highlights into two different stories, this one called Old Friends, and then a later post I will call New Finds. (There might be a third post called Some Foods.) And to prove how hard it is to follow even my own outline, I'm going to begin with an old friend creating new finds--Larry Schaffer and his tercero wines. Those familiar with him know him to be warm, wise, chatty (he named two of his wine blends Verbiage), and an endless experimenter. He makes mainly Rhone varietals, but then there's that quenching Gewürtz he calls Outlier (since no one can pronounce Gewürztraminer), his Aberration red blend he asks you to chill, both a Cinsault and a Mourvèdre rosé.... He's hard to stop.

So, of course, he had to give in, finally, to the clarion call of Santa Barbara County and make some Pinot. And what did he show up with at WOPN? Four! All his 2020 fruit comes from Kessler-Haak and he's made a blend of three clones, each of which you can buy bottled on its own, too. Think of it as a delicious science experiment. As he put it, he thinks in Rhone terms, and compares the blend to a GSM, with the 113 clone playing the Grenache and providing the high notes, the Pommard 4 taking the Syrah role and providing the balance and bulk of fruit, and then the 114 doing its Mourvèdre impression and providing the undertones. At this point I think the blend stands out as it is so balanced, but who knows what time might show--the 114 seemed youngest as a solo bottling, and those who like their Pinots floral should gravitate to the Pommard. But, as always with Larry, it's all good. Especially if you get some of his homemade blue cheese bread with it, as tasters got to do. (Plus, bonus Shelby Sim of Visit the Santa Ynez Valley usie at the table--a good thing, as I'm so bad about taking photos of people.)

Of course if I go on at this length for every wine/winery I hope to write about this post will be longer than a CVS receipt and less valuable (and darn, I do need a two-for-one on toothpaste after all the red wine), so I'll try to speed things up. For example, here's a two-fer, what the pourer at the Hilt table called "The Matt Dees fun zone," since their aisle portion backed right up to the Mail Road position on the next aisle. I have praised Dees many a time and surely will do so again, but geez he's rocking it. At the Hilt has the the home field advantage of getting to play with Radian and Bentrock fruit (more on both in a bit), which means such wildness and bite to the wines in the best of ways. You can't drink the 2019 Hilt Radian--a wine to geek out on--without doing your best Colin Clive imitation and shouting, "It's alive!!"

Meanwhile over at Mail Road they were offering a vertical from 2018 to 2015, which was fascinating as the wine shifted from even to odd years, the former ones more opulent, the latter more Burgundian. Talk about a lesson in vintages, at least at Mt. Carmel Vineyard (we will visit Mt. Carmel again in the New Finds write up). Another lesson, I make a funny face when I silently express my joy in tasing a good wine, at least based on the pourers at this table after I had theirs. When one asked which vintage I preferred, I could only reply, "The last one I have tasted." Power, elegance, grace.

As for Hilt follow ups, I generally spend some time making sure I get to taste as many wines made from Radian and Bentrock as possible (and thank you, Matt and owner Stan Kroenke for still selling some of this fruit--how sad our area would be if everyone clamped down on what they owned like we were some BS place like Napa). Those sites never make anything less than very good wine, but two particular standouts this WOPN were the 2018 Radian from SAMsARA, which pushed the racy Radian experience to a delicious edge thanks with 100% whole cluster and 50% new French oak, and the 2015 Montemar Bentrock--yep, that's their current release of it, and it might have needed all that time as it's still a gnarly monster of Pinot goodness.

Speaking of monsters, I like big format bottles, I cannot lie, and every WOPN Paul Lato is sure to deliver on that front. It's always bit of a zoo at his table, but that 2013 Drum Canyon you see above was worth it, a spectacular expression of Sta. Rita Hills fruit with oodles of spicy notes and a finish longer than this whole blog post. Same for a Brewer-Clifton 2010 Cargasacchi from a bottle nearly as tall as me (I might exaggerate, but only a tad), the kind of pour you just walk around the hall and finish, as it would be a sin to pour it out after it waited for you, just getting better for over a decade. 

Not to be outdone with wines with some age, Gray Hartley as usual was behind the Hitching Post table with two oldie-but-goodies, a 2000 Sanford & Benedict and a 2002 Fiddlestix. The former had some bricking, sure, but still so much life, and then old notes only French Burgundies are supposed to get like graphite and tea. The Fiddlestix was so vibrant you wouldn't guess it was two decades in, and then amidst all the fruit, some mushroomy notes began to bloom on the finish. Such fun wines, and one of the reasons you go to an event like this--to get what you'd never have a shot at otherwise. I mean, he wasn't even hiding these under the table.

Then I want to highlight a few wines that just capture a sense of place, and in one case even a sense of an era. You could almost start a friction-created blaze trying to pass people to get near the Sea Smoke table (get it, where there's smoke there's fire?), and the 2019 Southing struts like the Sta. Rita Hills on steroids, and I say that as someone who loved every one of Barry Bonds' 73 homers in 2001, a pre-pursuit of balance year this lovable lug of a Pinot also reminded me of. Foxen rocked, as usual, but this WOPN I was most taken by their Santa Maria Valley bottling, in particular the 2017 Block 8 Bien Nacido. That's BN's highest elevation, so maybe that helps make it so wonderfully aromatic I was practically content just sniffing it, but after tasting it wrote "people don't know what cherry in Pinot Noir is if they haven't tasted this wine." 

Continuing north through California up Edna Valley way there's the 2018 Stephen Ross Stone Corral Vineyard, a site Ross shares with the alas not at the event Kynsi. Kettmann in the Wine Enthusiast put it this way, "Dark-cherry and black-raspberry aromas meet with loads of crushed slate and dried loam as well as hibiscus and rosewater on the dynamic nose of this bottling. The palate is also very rocky and mineral-driven, while showing darker plum and purple-flower flavors." That works. The mineral-driven nature really woke up my palate on a long Saturday afternoon.

To almost end, let's consider something northy north in California, one of my favorite vineyards, Savoy in Anderson Valley. Now owned by FEL, I've been going there since it was Breggo many moons ago, and it still makes one of the most elegant and haunting of Pinots. It's as if you can sense the nearby redwoods lurking in each bottle.

All that said, I'd be remiss not to mention two of the better out from under the table moments. Despite Chardonnay being Pinot's Burgundian brother (or is that sister? does it depend upon the wine?), and despite almost all of the wineries present making both, it's kind of considered bad form to play up your Chardonnays. Some place just went and poured them, and more power to them. Some hid theirs away. For example, Liquid Farm offered me a 2015 Golden Slope Chardonnay and lord knows it deserves its tip-of-the-cap name to the Cote d’Or, so creamy and luscious (it almost recalled one of my favorite SBC whites, Stolpman's L'Avion Roussanne, somehow).

In a complete different, equally pleasing way, Greg Brewer had his latest just-to-be-released 2021 Diatom Chardonnay hidden away. As Brewer puts it on his website, "Diatom is motivated by the pursuit of subtraction and refinement," which makes it a vision of purity. Alas, at that point in the tasting, close to close at 6 pm, I managed to make this brilliant observation as he drew the bottle out and said it was his new release, "You mean a 2022?"

Uh, no, this year's wines aren't released yet, as they are still sleeping in baby buds, dummy. I do want to give myself a bit of a break, though--what with no in-person WOPN last year, and the excitement of getting to see so many great wine friends again this year, it's tough to know what time it is.

Relishing Something Wild at WOPN

One of the great joys of returning year after year to an event like World of Pinot Noir is you get to reunite with old friends. Sometimes that's a winemaker you only see annually for ten minutes at a tasting in a big Bacara ballroom (hi, Anthony Beckman from Balletto--the wines are still rocking!). Sometimes that means one vineyard served several excellent ways.

Hi, Radian.

Sure, it's hard enough to decide whether you prefer pinots from Santa Maria Valley or Sta. Rita Hills, and it might depend on how your mood or the moon waxes or wanes that day. But it's pretty hard to argue the most singular, spectacular pinot noir coming out of the Sta. Rita Hills of late will have grapes from Radian.

We're lucky that while Stan Kroenke, sad Rams owner, owns the deed--which means the man most in charge of the grapes is winemaker Matt Dees (for The Hilt)--he still knows enough to sell some of the fine fruit to people who will do it more than honorably, winemakers like Bryan Babcock, Ken Brown, Aaron Walker of Pali.

And then there were some Radians to taste at WOPN, too. As is true with his house style, James Sparks of Liquid Farm makes a Radian that's lithe and ethereal--wine happily haunted by its own ghost. Of course, coming from Radian you can't escape the earthiness, an almost muskiness. All that diatomaceous earth--crazy good drainage that makes roots say, "Hey, where did that water go?" yet also, well I'm going to say it again--ghosts. It's fossilized algae, after all. You know, like "Soylent Green is other diatoms!"

So sure, you get the usual Sta. Rita Hills fruit, cherry moving to cranberry to raspberry, but you get it after a good fight on land just-not-quite too close to the Pacific. Lots of intensity, few grapes, better wine. Like the one from Montemar, a garagiste so small their website is just a Facebook page, that only delivers magnificent fruit (they work with Bentrock, too, the partner-vineyard to Radian, but also much more straightforward--in topography if nothing else). A bit bigger and fuller than the Liquid Farm, if you want that (it's hard not too).

And then there's the Radian from Dragonette. Damn. It's a glass of wine that you drink wine for, hoping and not quite finding enough. Brandon Sparks-Gillis poured me my sample, watched my face go stupid with happiness after my taste, and simply said, "It's a magical place." Trying to figure out a way to describe it I've landed on this--it's the girl in Richard Thompson's exquisite "Beeswing," the one with animal in her eyes, the one for which the song's narrator sings, "If I could just taste/All of her wildness now/If I could hold her in my arms today/Then I wouldn't want her any other way."

But let's not get caught up in that feminine/masculine wine reduction, for while Radian is a pretty wine, it's pretty like James Dean. So let's consider the wine also biker outlaw James in Richard Thompson's even more famous "1952 Vincent Black Lightning." A bit dangerous, and therefore glamorous, because, c'mon, we all love the bad boy, the femme fatale. And just as Thompson can finger-pick so much all at once, this wine's got notes up its grapey sleeve for days.

Importantly, these are both songs that tell stories, and someone needs to write the ballad of Radian.