WOPN 2025: Old Friends

One of the reasons I love going to World of Pinot Noir is that I've gone to WOPN before. Even better, many people I really like go year after year, or go AWOL for a few and then reappear and it's as thrilling as when the magician brings his missing assistant in a flash back to the stage. I love wine, obviously--just count the thousands of words I've spilled about it in my life. But I love people more. And lord knows, we need community right now. So thanks for all of that, WOPN. 

So what to my wondrous eyes should appear pouring at The Hilt table than Patrick Reynolds. I knew he had been working there for a few years now, but he will always be one of Santa Barbara's best bartenders in my head--even winning a Foodie from the Indy way back when--and he started the Farm-to-Bar Tuesdays at Wildcat/Bobcat with Shaun Belway. A man with impeccable taste and boundless creativity, he's always good for a few fun stories along the way, too. Plus, he was pouring Matt Dees' as ever norm-setting wine from The Hilt. This was winning WOPN bingo. (That got reinforced when the person tasting beside me was Don Schroeder, director of winemaking at Sea Smoke.)

It was a delightful flight of nine wines, so I won't write about them all. But some important lessons: evidently the talk around the water cooler, as Patrick put it, is Radian is Chardonnay, Bentrock is Pinot Noir. (Here's hoping I don't have it introduce you to two of Sta. Rita Hill's wildest, most wonderful vineyards.) Or to put it another way, Bentrock Pinot is a dog--"A wine that hugs you--thanks, I needed that!" while the Radian Pinot is a cat, and says, "No love until I kill you." That's all Reynolds. The festive and fabulous sparkling is hand riddled, so Patrick is happy they don't make more of it (it's at 125 cases now). And then the Estate 2022 Pinot, a blend of all three Hilt vineyards (Puerta Del Mar too) and a bit of Sanford & Benedict whole cluster, well, it's not as singularly distinctive but it is all the yummy, and it costs a lot less. Sign me up.

Even more than wondrous moment above, my orbs might have done the cartoon sproing out of my head when I spied Aaron Watty. The lucky of you might remember him from his days as a server at bouchon, or his very small production but high quality Big Tar Wines. Heck, I even wrote an Indy feature about a dinner he once chefed himself featuring his wines back in 2015. But he hightailed it from these parts for a bit, down at The Rose in Venice Beach. So to see him at the Joyce Wine Company Table was a delight. Turns out Joyce took over the rundown Ventana Winery in Soledad in 2020, and has slowly been restoring it, now with Watty's help as an assistant winemaker. 

The winery has a Joyce label that's all priced at $25 a bottle, "fresh, charming, easy drinking everyday wines," as they put it, from Albariño to Syrah. Then there's the Russell Joyce label, higher end, club member only, and also single vineyard goodies. I got to taste two of these, the 2023 Rusell Joyce Pinot Noir from Pelio Vineyard from the hilltops overlooking Monterey Bay on the Carmel Coast. "It brings the salinity I'm familiar with," Watty points out, comparing it to the fruit he knew from Duvarita Vineyard in Santa Barbara County. It was clean, fresh, bright. The 2023 Russell Joyce PN from Cortada Alta I liked even better, a hearty, very typical Santa Lucia Highlands, deep, dark berry Pinot from the highest elevation in the AVA. Watty told a great story of how Joyce could drive grapes carefully down the precipice-edged hill in perfect a little-to-the-left, a little-to-the-right correction balance, earning Aaron's trust, and paralleling the ways Joyce can finesse his way between tension and harmony with his wines.

Speaking of Aarons, it's always imperative to visit Aaron Walker from Pali Wine Co. at WOPN. (Yes, it seems I only hang out with really tall winemakers, now that I think about it, not that you have a photo of Walker here.) I've known him since he served wine in our house as part of the we need to bring it back again Indy series Make Me Dinner (and the unsaid, And Pour Me Wine) in 2013. My apology to him was he was my last table to visit on Friday, and I only hope I wasn't as blurry as my notes of the tasting are. The two big news item he share were that their Funk Zone tasting room was scheduled for a big remodel and that Pali in general is going focus more on their own Sta. Rita Hills vineyard, planted in 2012 in Gypsy Canyon. That direction bodes well based on my taste of the 2020 PN Pali Vineyard that nails what SRH can do; my notes was, "always what you want from where you want." Each of the 7 different clones used for this estate wine is hand-harvested separately and then fermented and aged individually, so Walker and his team can blend and balance as they see fit. That blend is then barrel-aged for a year-and-a-half in 50% new French oak, 50% neutral. The result is 100% scrumptious. Also notable was Pali's last offering from the renowned Fiddlestix Vineyard, a 2021, that practically vibrated with the tension of acid and fruit.

While Aaron Walker gets to focus on Pali's own fruit, Matt Brady continues SAMsARA's fine project--finding the best Santa Barbara sources and making the best wine possible from each. (Note I didn't get a photo of Matt or his wines, so the above image is from the winery's website--I'm such a writer first, or is that old guy first/last, who didn't grow up with social media--thankgod.) He even flipped the Hilt's water cooler script, pouring captivating 2021 Radian Pinot and 2022 Bentrock Chardonnay. Both exemplified what I've come to think of as SAMsARA's signature--each wine will surprise you with the depth of what it brings. I was going to say a kind of Phil Spector Wall of Sound but: 1) no one members what that means ("River Deep - Mountain High" anyone?), and 2) Spector was a crazy, murderous bastard, so why drag him into it. Brady's wine makes you want to contemplate, not kill, and then sigh in happiness considering their profundity. 

Speaking of profound, it would be hard to calculate all the good Karen Steinwachs has done for our region's wine industry. As you can see, she's not afraid to get her hand's dirty (again, not my photo). She's, and this list isn't exhaustive: a director and chairperson emeritus at WOPN; president of the Women Winemakers & Culinarians Foundation (who just had what looks like a great festival and I missed it all and I'm sad--my schedule is too crazy!); kindly helped staff the Santa Barbara Vintners table all weekend while other members off SBV were off in Korea and Japan, trying to build the SB brand there. She's always good for a few incisive quips but what's better, for making gorgeous wines as Seagrape Wine Co. At the SBV table she was pouring a 2022 Jump Up Pinot from Hibbits Ranch Vineyard. Matt Kettmann--speaking of old friends--wrote this about it in his 95 point Wine Enthusiast write-up: "Lovely aromas of raspberry, mulberry and black plum are decorated in complex waves of thyme and pepper on the nose of this single-vineyard expression from a vineyard just east of Lompoc. The zippy palate is brisk with pomegranate and raspberry flavors that are enlivened by sumac, cinnamon and blood orange touches." Exactly. Karen joked, "It includes all the clones [ten]. And yes, Michael Benedict was involved in its planting."

And yes, Gray Hartley of Hitching Post Wines was involved in WOPN. He and his partner Frank Ostini have been making SB Pinot for 40 years. (Heck, that was the year Mike Wallace grilled some rich New York jagoff about his future political ambitions on 60 Minutes.) Gray, ever with a twinkle in his eye, just loves making people happy with wines, and the occasional bad joke. For example, he told me that when people come up and tell him they knew of his wines before an Academy Award-winning film blew them and the Hitching Post restaurant up, he replies, "That's BS," and waits for their shocked expression before following up, "Before Sideways." While H-P's current releases were spot on, it's also good that at WOPN Hartley likes to open up older vintages to help prove SB Pinot manages just fine. After all, most of us don't cellar stuff away, especially given what real estate costs round these parts--square footage has to go to people sleeping and not wine bottle snoozes. One such pour was a 2001 from Fiddlestix Vineyard that was completely unbricked, fresh and fruit-driven to the point you would never guess it was old enough to drink itself. 

Heck, so is World of Pinot Noir at 25. Long may it pour/roar.

WOPN 2025: New Finds

Creature of habit that I am, I'm going to discuss the 2025 World of Pinot Noir Grand Tastings, held Friday, February 28 and Saturday, March 1, using the loose rubric I've leaned on the past few years: New Finds and Old Friends. So here's to the new stuff--at least to me. (Most of these wineries have been around for decades, so all apologies for me not knowing y'all before.) One of the new WOPN things was the above photo--fish eggs for everyone! The bubbles room, aka the Bacara's lower level rotunda, offered briny bubbles of delight too on Saturday. I wholeheartedly approve of this addition. Thanks, The Caviar Co., for providing the scrumptious product. Plus I'm proud I not only remembered to snap a photo (this, as ever, is one of my regrets, not getting enough pictures), but this one turned out kind of cool. I credit the caviar for classingy up the joint.

Speaking of classy, one of the volunteers who made sure only those with VIP wristbands got into the VIP lounge tipped me off to the above pour happening at the Ramey table. Wine Spectator has hailed founder David Ramey as "Professor Chardonnay," so the opportunity to taste a 2012, in large format--sign me up. The wine was noted for its soul on its release, and that's even more so now--it made you feel a bit holy drinking it. Honeyed notes of Meyer lemon, a suggestion of ginger, saline, minerality, such depth. Platt Vineyard is a mere four miles from the Pacific--you look down onto Bodega Bay and can spy the schoolhouse famous from Hitchcock's The Birds. Even better, starlings take over the vineyard to the point the prized grapes grow under nettings. Alas, Platt recently got bought by AXA Millésimes, a French interest that also owns Bordeaux's Château Pichon Baron, Domaine de l'Arlot in Burgundy, and Portugal's Quinta do Noval, so yep, they only play with the best. And will keep that best all to themselves. Merde. But in the meantime, there was this as a testament. Also worth noting, the 2022 Estate Pinot Ramey poured, the first vintage from their own vineyard, Westside Farms, was also a winner, a refined, coastal version of the varietal with a gorgeous perfume leaning into roses all into your noses (so much for the joint getting classed up, sorry).

Now that we're done with putting on airs, let's go to the Wine Australia table. This transition isn't as mean as it seems--we're going to get to some unfortunate folks exiled from England to Oz in a bit. I tasted a dozen wine at the table, not even close to all the ones they were pouring, but here are a few highlights. Fowles' wins a prize simply for having a wine called Ladies Who Shoot Their Lunch. From the Strathbogie Ranges in Victoria, the pourer told a complicated story about why the wine is labeled Wild Ferment--the youngest children doing foot-stomping was at the heart of it. I swear I'm not making any of this up. It's a good representative of the lighter style of Pinot coming from Australia, where things are a bit cooler, of course. (And nothing like the brawny Shirazes one might know from the Barossa.) 

Indeed, what intrigued me the most at the table were wines from Tasmania. The rep joked, "South from Tasmania you've got nothing until Antartica, well, except for some insignificant island down there, I think they call it New Zealand." (Good ANZUS burn!) Everything here is cool climate, and the mountains up the center of Tasmania create a rain shadow effect for the eastern part of the island. So you can get a Pinot like the 2022 from Handpicked in the Tamar Valley, lithe and lovely, rhubarb and strawberry, a hint of white pepper. Or one that was even bigger, the Tolpuddle 2023. I can't beat what reviewer Andrew Caillard enthusiastically wrote: "Lovely pure dark cherry, Negroni, herb garden, star anise aromas with hints of marzipan. Sweet supple dark cherry pastille, strawberry fruits, loose knit lacy/al dente textures, lovely mid palate volume and underlying marzipan roasted chestnut/herb garden notes." BTW, this winery/vineyard is named after the Tolpuddle Martyrs, early unionist who got banished from England for their labor-loving efforts. (How this group didn't get name-checked by the Mekons in "The Olde Trip to Jerusalem" I don't know.) 

And then, it turns out, those long, slow growing conditions also make for a great location for sparkling. Of the few I sampled, I particularly loved the 2011 Brut from Henskens Rankin (a name that sounds like they made Saturday morning cartoons, no?), who, on the back of their bottles write, "We make our wine on an island, a rock at the end of the world." Seventy percent Chardonnay, 30% Pinot, that Pinot gives it a bit more heft and length. It sat six years on lees, and you can tell. So much bready goodness, creaminess, and richness of fruit. Not cheap, over $100 in the U.S., but worth it for a splurge.

Almost as unusual as Tasmania for a spot for great Pinot, Paso Robles. So that photo (from his IG feed and not at the Bacara, of course) is John Lemstra from Jack Creek Cellars. I got to dominate my time at his table because, he sadly only half-joked, "People see we're from Paso and just keep walking." They don't know what they're missing. Lemstra and his family brought the property in 2017, but its first vintage was 2002. Every wine is estate. And there's quite a lineup--a sparkling, Chardonnays, a rosé, Grenache, Syrah, even a crisp and quenching white Pinot Noir Lemstra decided to make after tasting one from Oregon at a previous WOPN. (See the influence this event has?) As for the Pinots, of which they are several, too--they make a small amount of a lot of wines--the Paso heat, even in Templeton, is enough to give them lots of fruit and less of a mushroom character. What's more, almost all bottling consist of solely clone 943, a Dijon clone of which there is little in the U.S., due to its small berries and low yields. So Lemstra surely loves a challenge. His Pinot fights against the natural soft and floral quality of the clone, creating fascinating tension. That's experienced nowhere better than in their top-of-the-line Exodus, named since they "escaped" a previous life in the dairy farming business. Aged in 50% new French oak and in barrel for 15 months, the tannins you might expect get fully rounded by the fruit's natural plushness. A lovely big wine. If you don't know Jack (Creek), you should.

Here's another IG photo steal (note to self: take more photos next year!), of Sheree and Brian Thornsberry (and bonus dog, always a plus) of Innumero Wines in Sonoma. I met Brian over canapés at the Thursday Opening Night party, so was sure to track his table down and did not regret sampling his single vineyard, single clone wines. Innumero (from the Latin meaning beyond numbers--sounds like the best wine experiences to me) sources from topnotch Sonoma vineyards. So you can delight in a picture perfect representation of Green Valley Chardonnay like the 2023 Bootlegger's Hill Vineyard bottling that earned them a double gold medal from the SF Chronicle Wine Competition. Their tasting description nails it: "Aromas of honeyed white peach, tarte tatin, honeysuckle, toasted hazelnuts, lemon curd and lemon zest. The palate is so beautiful and round with bright acidity and notes of lemon curd and satsuma orange zest all the way through." Was also taken by the 2022 Little Boot Pinot Noir. Small yields led this Russian River Valley beauty to be a bit more concentrated, but still well-balanced. Yum. Innumero is also taking it slow, currently producing 1000 cases they hope to grow to 1500. All DTC, Brian insisted they prefer to operate from a sales deficit model. So if you want some, go get on that list. 

Keeping up in Sonoma, I thoroughly enjoyed the wines at Papapietro-Perry. Two couples started making wine in their basements in 1998 and after some help from legend Burt Williams of Williams Selyem along the way, they've ended up making truly distinctive, of-their-terroir Pinots. I was particularly taken with their 2022 Pommard Clones PN that comes from Bucher Vineyards, and Peters Vineyard the Leras Family Vineyards (they bottle Pinots from both of the last two, too). My note reads, "I can't get my nose into the glass enough," that's how entranced I was by the bouquet, the usual Pinot dark cherry, but so much more--plum compote, baking spice, wild flowers. It's as rich and rewarding on the palate, adding rhubarb and black tea and more. Ridiculously robust yet it only clocks at 13.7% ABV. Impressive, unique juice.

OK, you probably came to George Eats for at most a 750 ml taste of WOPN and I've plunked a Rehoboam of words upon you. I guess Pinot is just a muse to me. I do want to offer a few more New Find quick hits, , listed in alpha-order, though:

CRŪ Winery: This Central Coast winery that crafts wine from Santa Maria Valley to the Santa Cruz Mountains poured their first vintage of a stunning 2021 Regan Vineyard PN. It's the vineyard where their winemaker Jose Reyes began, and he clearly has an affinity for it. Plenty of big fruit, but also a dreamy undercurrent of herbs and spice and earth.

Nysa Vineyard: Nysa is where Dionysius was raised, so good name, Dundee Hills, OR folks! Until 2004 they sold their fruit to the likes of Tori Mor and Ancien, but now do their own sophisticated wines--my note cryptically claims, "It makes me feel smarter!" I particularly enjoyed the 2017 Leda's Reserve PN. 

Résonance: Simply put, Maison Louis Jadot in America, specifically Willamette Valley, OR. Sourcing grapes from their own estate vineyards, Résonance and Découverte, and others, their 2022 Willamette Valley PN seemed a bit less Oregon-typical (less earthy-mushroomy), but tasted blind I might pick it as a fine Sta. Rita Hills Pinot, and that's high praise from this homeboy.

Coming up next, Old Friends--WOPN 25.

Why Not a Pinot Party?

Twenty-five years is as fine a reason for celebration as any, so that's certainly what happened at Thursday, February 27th's Opening Night Party for World of Pinot Noir. Of course anything feels luxe happening at the Ritz-Carlton Bacara, a hotel that's sort of its own grand Pacific-side world. (Just the collection of the cars you'll never come close to driving parked in the central plaza as you enter tells you that.) But WOPN did its best to spiff up, putting on its metaphorical white tie and tails for the evening. Even the step-and-repeat was attractively classy. (Notice I didn't ruin that effect my getting picture taken in front of it.)

After having your ticket scanned and and your armband affixed (note, they use the clip ones, not the sticky ones--my wrist hairs, unpulled, say thank you), you were ushered into what would turn out to be the sparkling station/room for the whole weekend, and pours of Seppi were handed you. There are worse ways to kick off an evening with wines made in honor of Joseph "Giuseppe" Phelps. Heading out that door, servers offered mini-Wellingtons you could dip into rosemary aioli. Somehow this golfball-sized gourmet delight worked--the flaky crust stayed on, you could eat it three bites tops. You'd been at the event four minutes, and you felt at the least fancy, if not half way to schmancy. 

I'm going to make this look like all I did was eat, but: 1) remember my rules about ballast at drinking events, and 2) food photographs better than wine bottles, if you ask me. So that's mezzi rigatoni pomodoro, the pasta exactly al dente, the sauce essential tomato yet kicked up with gunciale and a hit of Grana Padano. What's more, spiced sausage offered that great fat, with its own heat cutting the fat too, and then the lovely, light cloud-like tufts of whipped garlic ricotta. I fought the urge for seconds and the second didn't win.

This shrimp cocktail positively glowed. (Sorry.) But I was a real sucker for the lighting from under the ice trick. The shrimp were cooked precisely, but that trick of locking them both into each other and into the serving spoon made it hard to unhook them, in a weird way, and I even tried to eat them before I had had much to drink, I promise. 

While it is the World of Pinot, it's always heartening to see providers from our very region, and you can't get one much closer to Bacara than the Cultured Abalone, who not only brought their delicious mollusks but also had a rep on site to tell you about their terrific farm. The presentation of the seared abalone was a straightforward sear in garlic sea salt butter, then hit with herbs and citrus, but these wonders of the sea are so delicious, that's all they need. It was an honor to indulge in them, and to get to nod to what was once a food in great supply on our coast.

OK, yes there was wine. But I've got two more wine-soaked entries to write about WOPN 2025 and its grand tastings, so will go lighter on all that here, if you don't mind. You can see a hint of some of the range of stuff on offer in the photo. I drank from a different bottle of La Follette, a 2022 Heintz, a vineyard that runs deep in lore with Williams Selyem fans. It lived up to my expectations, racy and wild, with good fruit rounded with a bevy of attractive side notes--hillside sage, white pepper, baking spice. I also enjoyed a 2021 Ram's Gate Bush Crispo Vineyard that should be in the dictionary alongside Russian River Valley Pinot. A classic. And other wines we'll get to in future posts.

It was tricky to tell who the crowd was. Certainly a lot of winemakers, but one local who will go unnamed suggested, "Most people stay partying in their rooms and then show up here later and buzzed." I didn't stick around for that, saving myself for two days of grand tastings. Did I mention there would be grand tastings? There was also fine rock n roll from Dan Curcio of Moonshiner Collective, stuck trying to juice us up when there was plenty of juice to drink for that. Maybe you had to hangout until the very end to see if the dance floor got used. I know the step-and-repeat did.

Getting the Most Out of Going Grand at WOPN

Assuming the country isn't fully closed for business in a week (at the rate our fiends in DC are going, it's possible), we get to celebrate the World of Pinot Noir February 27-March 1 at the Ritz-Carlton Bacara. It's even the 25th anniversary for this fest, with, as usual, numerous, worldwide fine purveyors of Burgundian wine there to celebrate.

You can go check out the full schedule of events at the WOPN (yep, pronounced as in a hoppin', WOPN good time) website to see all the seminars--you really do learn stuff as you drink at these, plus folks tend to be funny in either charming or ornery ways (turns out farmers and winemakers are good at both those traits). Then there are lunches and dinners, chances to discover new food and wine pairings, while delighting in some more info and some sparkling tableside repartee. 

But let's face it, the major action happens at the Grand Tastings on Friday and Saturday. See that picture above, that's one of them one of these years. It's a scene, which is part of the fun. The event will be a tad smaller this year than some previous, particularly prior-to-Covid editions--59 producers on Friday, 77 on Saturday--but that just gives you more room to move and an easier job to focus. But not too easy, as each producer generally shares two to four wines. You do the math, but do it before you start tasting anti gets hard.

So you still need a plan. I've tried to do the tip thing in previous years, but here's my most comprehensive stash of ideas:

If you can financially swing it--just ask some baby DOGE bro who has spied on your bank account, he can tell you--do the VIP Grand Tastings, as you get a bonus hour with a much less congested room. Think of it like an old school Disney FastPass, but instead of Space Mountain, you get to hang at the Louis Latour table. 

At least peruse the website to see which wineries will be pouring on the day of your grand tasting. Start deciding who your can't miss Pinots will be. Make one of those the first table you hit--you might even get a chance to chat that way. Don't forget to cheers. (This is a wine event--have some manners.)

No matter when you begin, scan the room before tasting anywhere. Some years it's completely alphabetical, some years regions are clustered together. Find the water table and know where food is. This will help you move more efficiently later.

At best, if you wisely do the sniff-sip-sip-dump tasting method (which I know, hurts, you're pouring out some fine juice, but you don't want to be sloshed an hour in, do you?), you can taste about one wine every 4 minutes (this is based on past experience, promise). You are not going to taste everything. Find whatever is slightly zen in yourself and say that's OK. It might even make what you do taste more precious. (Like life.)

Be strategic. Only drink Pinots from one region, or only drink wines of a single vintage or focus on wines with stem inclusion or only one Pinot clone (as I've written before, there will be so much talk of clones, you'll feel as if you're in a sci-fi movie). 

Be random. Choose based on whether you like the outfits worn by the pourers. Only visit a table when no one else is tasting there (plus then you're sure to get someone to chat a bit). Consult an oracle.  To be honest, having a specific plan or none at all can be just as fun. (Like life.)

Drink water. At the least, a bottle (there will be tables with bottles) an hour, if not more. Don't worry, the bathrooms are very swank at the Bacara.

Eat before arriving--belly ballast helps soak up the wine--but you can snack up at the event, too. All part of the entry fee, after all.

When a place has sparkling--or only has it, and there'll be a few--go for it. Scrubbing bubbles help reset your palate. And given you'll be mostly enjoying Pinot Noir for hours, something to taste beyond cherry/strawberry is very helpful. (And might even be your most memorable sip.) Similarly, if a place will pour you any other varietals, take them. Obviously there'll be some Chardonnay, but on occasion a Syrah might lurk under the table for someone acting appreciative of a winery's official offerings.

Develop tasting table manners. Don't hog the spot in front of a person pouring. Pay attention to other attendees hoping to get their Pinot on, too. Sure, slip to the side if you have a question, or if the pourer is chatty and really wants you to know about their barrel program or their vineyard's limestone composition. Do watch blocking dump buckets, too, not just to be kind, but to avoid a spendy dry cleaning bill afterward.

Take notes. Everyone thinks you're serious, then, so wineries like you better and other WOPN-goers admire your gravitas. Doesn't even matter what you write, although it is good to at least list everything you taste, since the better and longer that list gets, the shorter and poorer your memory will get, too. It's a mathematical proportion, promise. Another bonus of notes--you can laugh later when you try to read them and see how your handwriting deteriorates towards the afternoon's end.

Don't drive yourself home. We're 45 years past the founding of MADD. I don't need to explain this one.

World of Pinot Noir 2024: New Finds

Welcome back to hearing about me ramble around a giant Bacara ballroom in search of vinous pleasure at 2024's World of Pinot Noir Friday Grand Tasting. I will suffer the red-stained maw for you all. I've already posted about Old Friends, so this post we turn to New Finds...even if I cheat a bit with the first two.

Old friend Phil was kind enough to pour me the 2021 LaBarge Pinot at the Santa Barbara Vintners table. LaBarge produces up to 2K cases a year from the farthest western edge of the Sta. Rita Hills, where everything is under the direction of Pierre LaBarge IV (a name made for wine, no?). The Pinot, which I called "chewy, in a good way," loves the number 32, as that's both the percentage of new oak and percentage of whole cluster. Definitely a wine now on my radar, and I'm eager to taste their Albariño, Grenache, and Syrah soon.

I'm always eager to taste what Greg Brewer is doing, and even if he was traveling and not at his WOPN table, I had to drop in anyway, especially for a taste of his Machado Vineyard Pinot--there's no greater, strange uncle Old Friend than that multi-dimensional wine. Brewer-Clifton gets a spot on New Finds thanks to the latest edition to his line-up, the 2021 Perilune Vineyard Pinot, and it's fortunate I had a sip at WOPN as it's already sold out--and not yet released! The 120 acre Sta. Rita Hills site is above Melville at a slightly higher elevation, and lends itself to a bit crunchier, wilder, more herbal expression of Pinot. Brewer just never stops wowing.

I feel a tad funny including a winery that's been around since the year Bill Clinton appointed Ruth Bader Ginsburg* to the Supreme Court as a New Find, but I will anyway. (Here's hoping admitting to your own ignorance is a winning personality trait, Dunning-Kruger be damned.) Talisman is all about Pinot, although it may be a rosé or a Pinot Blanc. Although they started teensy, they've only grown to still pretty tiny--3600 cases a year. But that's characterized by a passion-driven, an outsider might suggest whimsical, approach--they now typically craft 16-18 wines annually from 12 diverse and unique vineyard sites, from Carneros to Anderson Valley. Marta Rich, "proprietress," as her card puts it, was pouring herself, and happy to yank special bottles from under the table. A sure way to win a wine-lover's heart.

That bottle above is a 2017 Adara Vineyard Méthode Ancienne - RC Selection. So while Adara is a vineyard they often source in the Napa side of Carneros, this was a 1.5 barrel production, 100% whole cluster, foot stomped. Truly a creamy, spicy, exotic delight. How rewarding to see folks not just make wine that seems focus-grouped into existence.

A very different kind of passion project is Sonoma's Wren Hop. This is a winery for people who like big, BIG Pinot but still spit out Meiomi. We're talking 100% New French Oak. And lines from their website--and indeed, one of the principals has a marketing career (but can we imprecate a soul for that?)--like, "Structured wines showcasing muscle and grace with a touch of egomania." Or this description of the buxom pleasures of the 2021 Night Bulletin, and I quote en toto as I love it so much: "News that arrives in the middle of the night is never good. Godzilla was known for nuclear fueled, fire breathing midnight attacks on Yokohama. How unsportsmanlike. Our announcement is on the quieter side. This wine was havested in the calm of night when only the sound of pillow punching is audible. Night harvest leads to cold clusters with arrested sugar development and big flavor. That's bulletin worthy. This is a brooding strawberry rhubarb monster. Look for aromas of hibiscus tea and cinnamon stick, followed by ripe red berries, vanilla bean and toasted cedar. You are free to shriek now."

What's cooler is each blend of well-chosen Sonoma fruit gets is vintage-specific name, never to be used again. Shoulder Devil and Double Clutch will not return. To stress the narrative they hope each bottling suggests, the evocative labels are meant to mimic book covers--there are even "spines" as part off the art work. What's wrong with wine that's fun, and perhaps a tad slutty?

A different kind of novelty caught my attention at Norris--the location on their sign read "Ribbon Ridge." I had to ask. Turns out it's the smallest AVA in Oregon, 3.5 by 1.75 miles, in the Willamette Valley. (My ignorance this time doesn't feel too mighty.) In addition to Pinot, they specialize in Riesling, so you have to respect that. The Pinots are the complete flip side from Wren Hop, all about the diaphanous veils of cherry and currant and earth and mushroom doing a delicate dance. What's more, they were pouring a 2022 White Pinot Noir, too. While not unusual for Oregon producers, it's still rarely seen in CA, so its elegant grippiness always entrances me.

So it seems we've moved to the white wine section our program. Not that Madson doesn't make Pinot Noir, but the pourer at their table claimed "I think this is the best wine we've ever made," so who am I to disagree? Plus I found much to love in that 2022 Ascona Vineyard Chardonnay (with 5% Aligote). The 2,500 foot elevation Santa Cruz Mountains site provides minerality and tension and saline, but the lemon drop and quince fruit shines, too. Plus, they suggest it "pairs well with roasted poultry and New Yorker cartoons." I'm all for Roz Chast-onnay. Madson makes a great argument that natural wines can be clean and brilliant. And their website devotes an entire page to Carbon Offset, so let's toast to not roasting the planet along the way.

And my last winery to highlight, Oceano, even offers a non-alcoholic wine, but we'll leave ∅ for another time (although I did hunt down the HTML code for that, so please, some props). Oceano, in SLO, farms Spanish Springs Vineyard--the closest vineyard to the Pacific in all of California. Yep, there's some marine influence. Co-founder and co-winemaker Rachel Martin leans into all the cool climate attributes of the fruit, so the 2021 Chardonnay is lithe and lovely (no malo, of course), picking up all sorts more tropical notes, from kiwi to lemongrass, along with a more typical lemon-lime chardonnay profile, not that it goes Viognier on you or anything. It does goes to show the range of what we know can grow with every sip.

*And Mitch McConnell, just for Amy Coney Barrett, can rot in hell. Nothing to do with wine, but can't help myself.

World of Pinot Noir 2024: Old Friends

I'm a horrible hypocrite, dear reader. While I suggested in my preview post that you MUST HAVE A PLAN to attack World of Pinot Noir grand tastings or you might get lost in crazy clonal seas, what I did on March 1st was anything but. I started just on walkabout. I stopped at tables with people I liked, as interested in chatting as tasting. I drank at tables without "customers," both feeling sorry for the pourer gazing out hoping to lure someone in with eye contact and simply to have plenty of room to stand. The wineries were arranged in alpha order, so I couldn't focus on regions too easily, and didn't bother. And then I was sure to hit someone every so often with some sparkling, just to Scrubbing Bubbles my palate a bit. (Much fancy water in retro-futuristic aluminum cans was consumed, too.)

I did do some math--well after I got done tasting, as wine breaks brain computational function--to discover I averaged a new taste of wine every 3 minutes and 15 seconds. So no matter how any particular pour invited me to linger, I moved on faster than a cad in a romance novel. Just so you know. 

I'm also going to lean on my favorite organizational method for tackling a Grand Tasting, breaking things down into Old Friends and New Finds (that is, new to me, far from a cutting edge sharpener). 

Phil Carpenter is far from old, but he's a dear friend, and no one has a job better suited for him. The man loves wine and adores the ones from SB in particular, and then got hired as the Director of Operations for Santa Barbara Vintners. Score! He got to pour SB wines from folks who didn't pony up for their own tables this year, and that meant stunning wines like a Barden 2020 Radian Vineyard. Of course Doug Margerum knows the region's wine as well as anyone after his years at Wine Cask and running futures, but he seems get just better and better making wine, too. This Radian sang with the forlorn vineyard's wildness. His Barden 2020 Sanford & Benedict was equally the epitome of its vineyard. There are far worse old friends than Phil and Doug, indeed. 

If you've read my wine scribbles you know I have an affinity for Anderson Valley wines, that sweet spot of coastal influence in Mendocino County. (It's also a great off-the-beaten track place to visit, free from crowds and national brands.) As I haven't had a chance to get up that way in a while, it's convenient when they come to me at WOPN. I was sure to taste at the Maggy Hawk table, and was rewarded by a 2018 Afleet they led me to write the note, "Jay-sus!" So if you care for a holy experience, look no further than this winery that likes naming things after racehorses. I can't do better than their own notes (even if this verbiage is for the 2020 vintage): "Wonderful breadth, depth, and personality in spades. Afleet incorporates four distinct blocks from the vineyard and incorporates 60% whole cluster fermentation to craft a wine with a variety of aromatics. Mandarin, stargazer lily, guava and saffron aromas mingle and develop over time. Stem tannin circles the outer edges on the texture and leaves the mid-palate fresh and juicy." OK, I probably couldn't tell apart the scent of a stargazer lily from Lily Gladstone, but I'll take their word for it.

I get a transition handed to me because Maggy Hawk's winemaker Sarah Wuethrich previous worked at Copain, the next winery I want to mention. Although physically situated in Sonoma, Copain has long worked with Anderson Valley grapes, and they nailed it with a 2022 Les Voisins Rosé. My notes say the grapes are from Yorkville Highlands, a slightly warmer AV spot, and while the wine is a pale pink, it's far from bashful on the palate, not anemic in any way. I also adored the 2020 Sealift Pinot from Sonoma County just below the Mendo County line. But at 1200 feet. Pomegranate and raspberry bursts out of the glass, so much fruit, but then the acid hits you like a velvet hammer--I mean that in the best of ways. Somehow all that flavor sits in a 12.5% ABV package. 

Speaking of places I don't get to nearly enough, France. So this WOPN I had to make my annual pilgrimage to the thoughtful men of Louis Latour. You own the most extensive Grand Cru acreage in Burgundy, you just might know what you're doing, especially when you've been working that land since four years after the guillotine came down on Marie Antoinette. It's a vivid education in Old World vs. New Pinot styles, tasting their three wines. They make you think about flowers and stones as much as cherry or plum. Each also got a bit more complex and fuller, ending with a 2020 Corton Grand Cru "Clos de la Vigne au Saint" that you would want to spend a week or two studying. It's wine for contemplation, and thoughtfulness does not throw shade on delight. At a suggested retail price of $190, I am happy for my sips.

Circling back to the almost local, one of last year's New Finds gets to be an old friend, now--I even was sure to taste it in the media room. A mere 1.5 miles from the Pacific near Avila Beach, the family-owned, organically farmed Topotero Vineyard is where Haliotide grows Pinot for their 2020 Extra Brut Rosé. Sparkling wine is their passion--it's all they do--and that focus shines in every bottle. If you could turn shortbread, strawberries, white peaches, and cream into a wine, it would be this--salt and yeastiness, fruit and richness.

California Crows a Cru

Look out Chambertin, Corton, Échezeaux, Montrachet, and Romanée-Conti, for Sanford & Benedict, Bien Nacido, Pisoni, Gap's Crown, and Savoy are coming for you. That was the mild boast in Friday morning's World of Pinot Noir seminar "The New 'Grand Cru' of California," even if chipper moderator David Glancy admitted right off, "There's no such thing, we're making it up." That didn't stop Glancy, however, from saying, as the fun and fact filled two hours came to a conclusion, "If there can be thirty-three Grand Cru in Burgundy, which is much smaller, why not two hundred Grand Cru along the much larger California coast?" Certainly the evidence in the 10 glasses the audience got to taste would suggest he could be right.

Obviously anyone attending an event like WOPN in a place like the coast-hugging splendor of the Bacara might be a tad prejudicial about the value of California grape juice. (Writer meekly raises his hand.) But the very nature of even suggesting a Grand Cru designation means you'll encounter a veritable greatest hits--this session wasn't as much about surprise as affirmation. (The market also implies worthiness--almost all the wines retail for a hefty $90.) The ten wines/sites were split evenly mid-state:

Central Coast

Sanford 2019 Block 6, Sanford & Benedict Vineyard, Sta. Rita Hills

Bien Nacido 2021 Estate, Santa Maria Valley

Talley 2021 Rosemary's Vineyard, Arroyo Grande Valley

Pisoni 2021 Pisoni Vineyard, Santa Lucia Highlands

Mount Eden 2019 Estate, Santa Cruz Mountains 

North Coast

Hyde 2019 Estate, Carneros, Napa

Three Sticks 2021 Gap's Crown, Sonoma Coast

Merry Edwards 2021 Meredith Estate Vineyard, Russian River Valley

Red Car 2021 Estate, Fort Ross-Seaview

Walt 2017 Savoy Vineyard, Anderson Valley

This write-up would be nearly as long as the seminar itself if I took you through the tasting and comments about each of the wines, which feature a talented and well-spoken panel of winemakers, GMs, and farm managers. But here are some the highlights:

*Yep, whenever anyone talks about why Santa Barbara County is a great place for grapes, the free space on the SB Bingo Card has to be "transverse mountain range." Not only did Laura Hughes from Sanford mention it right off, Anthony Avila from Bien Nacido also refered to this key topography. And then other locations tried to explain that, while they lacked the atypical east-west ranges that allow for cooling ocean air to help lengthen SB grape hang times, they had something else that was analogous: Santa Lucia Hills has a north-south wind route off Monterey Bay, according to Mark Pisoni; Ryan Prichard of Three Sticks noted Gap's Crown had the Petaluma Gap working as "Sonoma County's air conditioner."

*As with the French Grand Cru, almost of all the suggested California Grand Cru sites sell grapes to various winemakers, so it's fascinating to see how prized grapes can have different expressions through different techniques. Alison Frichtl of Walt Wines was perhaps luckiest of all--while for the panel she discussed Anderson Valley's Savoy Vineyard, she also has the opportunity to work with fruit from several of the other sites, too, including Gap's Crown and the Sta. Rita Hills. (Note: It's good to have a billionaire couple own your wine company.)

*Wine folks love to talk dirty. By that I mean soil is super important to them, which is no surprise. Terroir might refer to all the environmental factors one grows grapes in, but the root of the French word refers to lands. Pinot Noir evidently likes less hospitable dirt, and the new word of the day for me was chert, an oxidized silica that you can torture vines in, just enough, in the Sanford & Benedict Vineyard. 

*If vineyards aren't organic already, everyone seems to be headed that way. Win, planet Earth!

*Disasters are the mother of invention. (Therefore Frank Zappa = Disaster) Sonoma's devastating fires of 2020 led to many wineries dumping their smoke-infused grapes. At Merry Edwards winemaker Heidi von der Meyden opted to pick early instead, a full 2 Brix lower than she usually would at the Meredith Estate Vineyard. Turned out it was a beautiful wine. So that's when she picks that vineyard ever since.

* Whether we care to bandy about the term Grand Cru or not, Pinot is here to stay. In 1960, California had 531 acres of the grape. In 2022, that number was over 47,000 acres. 

*You can have pretty much any background to end up sitting on a panel at WOPN as a vinous expert. Some folks got into the business the old fashioned way--family. (Thanks, dad!) Some entered through the world of hospitality, getting the bug while serving and drinking wine. Some were scientists wanting to do something non-theoretical. Often travel was involved. Sure, many of them wound up at Cal Poly or UC Davis to study wine, but a degree wasn't a be all, end all.

*The range of deliciousness is great for Grand Cru Pinot. Sometimes there's more saline, sometimes more earth. Sometimes more cranberry, sometimes sarsaparilla. Sometimes a nervous energy, sometimes a plush elegance. Sometimes a hint of mint, sometimes a pop of black pepper. 

All of the time, though, these California Pinots delighted. So call them whatever you want, just be sure to have me over if you pop any of their corks.

WOPN 2024's Seriously Sapient, Sanguine Seminars

So this is my 40th post over the years about World of Pinot Noir, which means two things. 1) It's an incredible weekend of wine and food and fun and excess and Bacara and friends both old and new, and I'd hate to miss it. 2) It's getting harder and harder to come up with a new way to craft a story. Heck, I did one post as a fake Larry King column back in 2020 even before I had any excuse that two turns through the Covid dumbening had softened my cerebral cortex.

Still, more than 200 producers of Pinot Noir. It's a lesson in range of expression, in expression of terroir, in oak's mighty force in aging. It's terms de- and re-associating: for just one example take Old World versus New World, which now means style and not geography (and time in the sense everything old becomes new again). 

It's easy to (try to) focus on just the Grand Tastings, a massive ballroom floor a-crawl with almost too many folks thirsty for Burgundy (and hoping for some surprises under the table, or even up top--sparkling and Chardonnay, and sometimes a smuggled in Grenache or Syrah, yes, a lone Rhone). You sort of can't go wrong beyond trying to do everything. So pick whatever organizational plan you like, whether by location or clone (you will hear so much talk of clones you'll worry you're in a sci-fi movie), or only taste from wineries that start with S and T--that would be 27 stops, and most places at least pour 2 wines. That's an afternoon, easy.

But since you've still got some time to book as the event is February 29-March 2, I'm here to suggest you might want to attend one of the four seminars that happen Friday and Saturday mornings, too. Alas, the "Bubbles and Bites" session is already sold out, as how could you not want to start off your Saturday sparkling, but there are still three other options well worth considering. You sit, you listen, you laugh, you sip. You often get to take part in room polls or get to lob questions at the knowledgeable. So, yes, you will learn and be entertained. How noble.

Friday morning offers the provocatively titled seminar "The New 'Grand Cru' of California." Just think about the inescapable meme, "If your ___ is not from the ___ region of France, it's just sparkling ____" to consider how dogmatic the French are about what kind of wine earns what label. Grand Cru signifies the very very very best growing (cru) sites, i.e. where the best wine should come from. So taking that term and slapping it on California could be fighting words, or at the least, fighting over words. You have to attend to see. As WOPN's site puts it: "Led by David Glancy, Master Sommelier and Founder of the San Francisco Wine School, the seminar will showcase Pinot Noir vineyards from the Santa Maria Valley to Russian River Valley to Anderson Valley, and more. Guests will walk away with a deep understanding of the rich history of farming philosophies, winemaking approaches, and how California vineyards became known for Pinot Noir." 

For a more global perspective, the other Friday morning seminar is "The Legacy Generational Library Tasting--Know Your Winemaker." Moderator Ray Isle, author of the forthcoming book The World in a Wineglass: The Insider's Guide to Artisanal, Sustainable, Extraordinary Wines to Drink Now and the Executive Wine Editor of Food & Wine Magazine, will celebrate the world’s top family-run wineries whose legacy of sustainability and innovation has helped produce some of the most exceptional Pinot Noirs in recent history. And hope to sell some of his books, no doubt. (We can't pretend there isn't a commercial function at these events, can we?) 

Then the still available Saturday event is an opportunity to hone your blind-tasting skills. (I hope yours are stronger than mine from 9:30-11:30 am.) At "Global Wine Conversations: A World of Pinot Noir," (see what they did there?) guests will blind taste 10 wines that epitomize the marquee AVAs from Burgundy, Australia, Oregon, and California. Wine Expert Julia Coney and Master Sommelier Evan Goldstein will let people just like you and me, folks without the slightest of somm degrees, discover what it's like to puzzle through questions of typicity. How does one mentally map the growing regions of the world on one's tongue? Here's your chance to find out.

World of Pinot Noir 2023: New Finds

 

Let's make this very clear to start--by "new finds" I mean to me, probably not to the rest of a wine savvy world. I realize that you don't have to be Oregonian to know about Ken Wright, for example, but you could also be me and not know his lovely wines well at all. And if you want to read the first part of my 2023 World of Pinot Noir coverage, that's over at my Old Friends post.

All that throat clearing aside, let's begin with Chardonnay to really shake stuff up. And a relatively new project, too, Walson Holland, doing boutique-y things based in Ojai, but with grapes from all sorts of fine sites. Take the 2020 Chardonnay from Duvarita, which is so west in Santa Barbara it lies outside the Sta. Rita Hills AVA. Deliciously mineral, magnificently saline, this is a fascinating wine. Plus the marketing is topnotch--check out the release box in that first photo. (It's not a surprise winemaker Benjamin Holland did some time with Sine Qua Non.)

And while we're enjoying whites, I'd be remiss not to single out 2021 Sojourn Cellars Sangiacomo Vineyard Sonoma Coast Chardonnay. Elegant layers of apple and lemon-lime cascade over a steely structure. Given 70% of what Sojourn does is Pinot Noir (which was also scrumptious), it was fun to find this singing Sonoma white.

Then again, Sangiacomo Wines itself, which for 80 years sold their grapes, have only been making their names wines since 2016. (Heck, they have two different websites for the two different operations.) North Coast legend James McPhail makes their wines, 5 Chardonnays, 8 Pinots, 1 Vin Gris of Pinot, or as the person at the table put it, "you only do this when you own the vineyard," since they grow grapes specifically for that punchy product, no saignée for them. Their 2021 Five Clone Pinot Noir Roberts Road Vineyard was ridiculously seductive, with a velvet mouthfeel and their website description nails it: "Bursting with fresh red fruit flavors including raspberry coulis, sun-sweetened Bing cherry, and freshly picked wild strawberries with notes of five-spice rounding the palate."

Sangiacomo Fedrick grapes are just one of the sources for the 2019 MacRostie The Loch, which also features Pinot from Olivet Lane, Rodgers Creek, Gap’s Crown, Wildcat Mountain, and the Dutton Manzana Vineyard. While many wineries tout a single vineyard designate as the peak of their programs, at MacRostie the goal is to blend the best of the best barrels, hence this wine that, in the spirit of the upcoming Oscars I noted "was everything everywhere all at once," and therefore as wildly enjoyable as that film. Winemaker Heidi Bridenhagen has crafted a powerhouse gem.

An equally impressive Sonoma showing was the Pinot from Red Car, whose name makes it clear they started in Los Angeles. (They've been completely Sonoma-based since 2010.) Their 2020 Estate had some charming blood orange notes to its fruit, but the standout for me was their 2020 Heaven & Earth, an organic vineyard at 500 feet elevation eight miles from the Pacific. The pourer said, "When you get up there, you don't see any other vineyards around." Based on the multi-faceted wine, that's going to change, with its brambly blackberry and marine influence.

Let's keep going north, to the Willamette Valley and Ken Wright Cellars. I have to be honest and admit I don't know Oregon wines anywhere near as much as I should, especially once I learned that Wright was the first Oregon winemaker on the cover of the Wine Spectator way back in 2015. (Of course, I don't read Wine Spectator anymore, either, but oh well.) I particularly enjoyed his 2021 Shea Vineyard Pinot, a mere 12.8% ABV but still enticingly floral with a kind of chalkiness that worked, attesting to the marine sediment soil of the site.

That's too neat a segue not to take to get to the wonderful work that Jessica Gasca is doing at Story of Soil. She was pouring back in the hard-to-leave corner where the Santa Barbara Vintners Association ruled the roost, and CEO Alison Laslett and Director of Operations Phil Carpenter hosted wineries that didn't want to pony up the hefty cost for their own table. Gasca was kind of enough to share her sold out 2021 Gold Coast Pinot, and it showed her appreciation for that Santa Maria vineyard where she first got the wine bug as an intern. Profound and round, it kept going and going and was never gone. 

And let's end on what was truly a new experience for me, Haliotide. A tiny, family-run producer in SLO County, they make single vintage, single vineyard sparkling that's some of the best I've had from these parts. What's more, winemaker Nicole Bertotti-Pope and viticulturalist Lucas Pope are hoping to make wine for the future, and sure enough, the 2017 Blanc de Blanc that popped out from under the table was their best, for as my note put it, "They've got ambition." The 2018 Extra Brut Rosé was a delight of grapefruit and bread notes. I would never have guessed something this good would come from a vineyard a mere 1.5 miles from the Pacific in Avila Beach.  

But that's why you go to World of Pinot Noir--your world always gets deliciously expanded every year.

World of Pinot Noir 2023: Old Friends

Excessive and obsessive at once, World of Pinot Noir features over 175 wineries all focused (in theory, as there is always a stray chardonnay or pet nat or cab franc under some kind winemaker's table) on one stinking grape. Sure, pinot noir goes by other names, and let's not even get into clonal variations, of which there are over 40, many of which pourers will proudly enumerate for you as they splash your glass. But, c'mon, it's much ado about one varietal. I know more than one winemaker who shakes their heads sadly about the event, even if they make a pinot themselves.

So why does this annual spectacular, for many years running (when Covid allows) held at the ocean-side wonder that is the Bacara, continually enchant? Sure, it's true of other varietals, but pinot comes in many styles, seductive, elegant, brooding, so it's a wine for your many moods. Pinot is finicky and hard-to-grow, and we all love our problem children. Pinot is one of the most versatile food wines, profligate in its qualities that lead to perfect parings (salmon? Santa Maria tri-tip? sure!). Pinot is perfume, pinot is place. 

WOPN underlines all of that, especially in the Friday and Saturday Grand Tastings. This year, instead of emphasizing terroir by grouping wineries by region, each day was an alphabetical zag and zig of tables. Where you wind up, no one knows, as going in you realize you can't drink it all. So you visit familiar folks, especially when winemakers themselves are pouring. And you visit wineries you never heard of as it's good to expand your vinous horizons. And sometimes you just go to way more Oregon wineries than usual, as your +1 for the day has a daughter in college there. Reasons don't always rhyme.

With all that out of the way, let's get tasting. Last year I hit on the division of Old Friends/New Finds as an organization principle and I liked it so much, it's back this year. Consider it a tradition. I mean, it that's better than the weird post when I did parody of a Larry King column, no?

Speaking of king Larrys, of course I visited tercero's table to see where Larry Schaffer's pinot project was at two years in. Schaffer never lets his winemaking muse get bored--he's got 34 different wines for sale on his website right now, from Clairette Blanche to a carbonic Mourvèdre--and the new 2021 Pinot goes into bottle this week, so we were getting a barrel tasting. He insisted it was "just an inkling of what it was going to be," but a fine inkling it was, all fruit from Kessler-Haak. He only makes fascinating wine, and this Sta. Rita Hills gem is rich and promising.

Rich and delivering was the word across the board with tiny Montemar's production. This one-time garagiste operation currently produces upwards of 1,200 cases a year, still relatively small potatoes, but they get grapes from some of Santa Barbara's best sites. Take their standout 2016 Barrel Select--note they let wines sit a bit--made from 50% Radian and 50% Bentrock grapes. Such wildness and power from the far western end of SRH.

Another bottle singing at its slightly-aged peak was Seagrape's 2015 Mermaid's Pearl. It's no surprise Karen Steinwachs makes terrific wine, but this barrel select, made only in the years she thinks the vintage is worthy of the project, had a perfume and a depth they could lead one to drown. Oh, yeah, mermaid!

Age might be one of the keys when it comes to old friends, after all, as was very clear with the 3L format 2013 Pisoni Paul Lato was pouring at his table. Lato loves going big and old at WOPN, and it's a clever way to show off the structure of his wines. Refined but still with plenty of zingy black cherry fruit, this pinot offers a complexity, minerality, and floral lift that is lovely. 

I was going to try to leave out too much bragging about the glories of the media room, where about 100+ wines await journalistic contemplation, but did have to mention the Fiddlehead 2011 Fiddelstix in magnum that waited for us there. Press isn't really worthy of such goodness, the age giving the wine more earthiness and a soupçon of mushroom. Time is very good to some of us, as long as some of us are wine.

As classic pinot old-timers go, it's hard to beat Willams Selyem, and I've been a proud and glad member of their mailing list since the 1990s at this point. (I am old, too, you see.) They were pouring two of their still young but far from shy 2021s--their Russian River Valley blend from 10 vineyards and their Westside Neighbors. The first offered brightness, freshness, and some whole cluster punch, singing a song from basso to tenor. The Westside Neighbors got by on its aromatics, a big bunch of blueberry, and a stony long finish. Sometimes the classics are hard to deny.

Not that you shouldn't mess around with things, as Aaron Walker can attest to at Pali. Over Pali's brands they now make 50 different wines, and one that stood out was the 2021 Wild Series Sta. Rita Hills Pinot. Created primarily for restaurant lists and wine shops, the Wild Series wines (there's a Chardonnay, an orange and a rosé) are meant to move thanks to their pricing and accessibility and natural fermentation, neutral oak, hands-off approach. Turns out if you start with great grapes, everything will be fine.

And to segue towards the New Finds post, it seems fitting to stop at the Bonaccorsi table. Wine, of course, is memory, and in many ways each sip is its own elegy--singing its last praises as you down it. The tragic loss of Mike Bonaccorsi in 2004 could have been the end of the winery too, but first his wife Jenne Lee did more than carry on, and now Mike's brothers Rich and Joe are in charge. So when you're told the 2019 Fiddlestix is Joe's first wine "tip to tail," you know it's a moment of continuation, transition, and most importantly, beauty. To quote Jeb Dunnuck: "Smells and tastes complex, every sniff and sip revealing something else: intense raspberry, white pepper, watermelon, green tea, red licorice, kumquat, button mushrooms. An almost ethereal weight in the mouth; very lively and bright and beautifully textured, with a hard candy essence to some of the fruit, and a saline minerality toward the firm, tight finish."