Introducing Sparks*

James Sparks excitement. James Sparks great wine talk. And now James Sparks scrumptious sparkling wine.

But I guess for some of you I need to back-up. Let me introduce you to Kings Carey, another tiny winery that could and can in Santa Barbara County. It's pretty much all James Sparks, with tasting and marketing assistance from his wife Anna Ferguson-Sparks, and that's how you get the winery's unusual name: the couples' hometowns were (respectively) Carey, Idaho and Kings Point, New York. Sparks is better known as the winemaker for SB stalwart Liquid Farm, crafting some of our county's best Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, plus an annual killer rosé of Mourvèdre. (More on rosé in a bit.)

As with many winemakers working for someone else, Sparks also wanted to follow his own muse too. Hence, Kings Carey, producing a tiny 600-1200 cases a harvest, almost always single vineyard, single varietal. It can get tricky, as Sparks has no vineyards of his own, and he's also meticulous about what grapes he chooses to work with. He insists on organic fruit--as he puts it, "organic is proactive, not reactive"--and that means from year to year what he gets to make might change. But whatever he makes, you will want to drink, promise.

Even better, you can taste at his small winemaking facility that just celebrated its first year in a spot just past the Welcome to Solvang sign (after you leave the town going west) on the 246. Yes, he's the tasting room person, too (most of the time), so you need to book ahead, but it's worth checking out the spot that was a motel in the 1970s (one room in the space was clearly a large shower at some point, and perhaps a chilling room in Kings Carey's future) and most recently where Broken Clock Vinegar Works did something very different with grapes. 

What Sparks does is minimal, and that's why his wines tend to sing of site and varietal. It's fun to be able to side-by-side his two Chardonnays, a 2021 MarFarm from SLO with bright lemon curd loveliness and creaminess, alongside a 2021 from Spear (he's got a soft spot for this vineyard and who could blame him?) in the Sta. Rita Hills, a bit richer than the wine from a bit further north (more heat?) even if made with no new oak. Another difference between the two Chardonnays--the Edna Valley had some residual sugar, so Sparks filtered that out. So he will intervene when he has to. But that's always up to what each wine and vintage suggests he needs to do to let it shine.

Sparks particularly has an affinity for Grenache. His talent is to let the grape sing tenor without merely burying its brightness in dark berry baritone. Take the 2021 To Market Grenache he's pouring right now. At 12.5% ABV it's up to you how and when you hope to love it--give it a quick chill, and it's your warm weather red if you don't want to rosé; serve it cellar temp, and it's a versatile red for apps and cheese or weightier fish or lighter meats. 

And I promised to discuss rosé, didn't I. The Liquid Farm each year is one of our county's standouts, made from Mourvèdre, walking the knife edge of lean and fleshy to the point you keep drinking it trying to decide. That kind of balance isn't easy. But Sparks replicates it with a different but equally pleasing rosé for Kings Carey, made from Grenache, 4-hours skin contact, foot stomped, aged on the lees for 6 months in neutral 400L barrels. So steely and bright it asks where the heck the sun is, and why aren't you out in it and imbibing this delight? 

While I won't walk you through the full lineup--there's equally enticing and lively Syrah and Semillon too--Sparks' most exciting current project is sparkling. To create bubbly in small production is truly a labor of love, as you're not making enough to buy machines to riddle your bottles for you, to point out just one labor-intensive process. While his blanc de noir is still in production--méthode champenoise wine is sort of like trying to make aged bourbon, as it's going to be a many year investment until you release round one--he has released a 2021 Kings Carey Sparkling Pinot Noir Rosé from Spear Vineyard. (See, great grape source is back again.) Of course, it's been a ten-year thought process, he insists, to get to making bubbly. All that thought shows in the glass, that breadiness you want without any heft, that lift from the effervescence, and then the sweet/sour fruit tumbling like a coin that will land the way you placed your bet, every time. If this is just the "simpler" first effort, it's hard to imagine how terrific that blanc de noir will be upon release. 

Then again, Kings Carey was meant as the place where Sparks could play. You'll know that as soon as you glimpse one of the bottles, all sporting busy for a wine label art from Philadelphia-based Hawk Krall. Sparks admits to his love 1960s and '70s art with a Vegas neon feel, hence the art choice that's as bold as his wines are refined. Kings Carey teaches us about a perfect balance we never even imagined existed.

* And, yes, instead of making it clear this post is about a talented winemaker, I had to make a reference to an album title from 1977. Sorry, James! At least Sparks are having a moment again, now.

A Dees-licious Wine Dinner at The Lark

 

So I could simply say just read that menu and that would save both of us a whole lot of work--you can probably taste the yumminess just from that.

But I still want to write about how well a wine dinner can synch, for the one last night at The Lark (ok, actually held at sister property the SB Wine Collective, but created by The Lark team) featuring wines from the wondrous Matt Dees--namely Mail Road and Kimsey--danced like Rogers and Astaire, harmonized like the Temptations, even comically contrasted like Laurel and Hardy.

Let's start with dessert, shall we? See what wine paired with it? Now, when does a wine dinner end with rosé? But it totally worked, here, its copper color fitting in with the playful mix of balled melons, and the wine's acid cutting the sweet of the granita. Even the kick of the Aleppo pepper--and it was pretty kicky--turned the dish into something more (the borage flowers, so pretty and a bit tart, didn't hurt). Such a clever, refreshing course.

And refreshing might be the key word for Dees' approach to whites, too. That Mail Road Chardonnay illuminated the brilliance of the unique Mt. Carmel Vineyard, a site Dees clearly loves. (He likes his vineyards a bit harsh and unforgiving--remember he gets to work with Radian and Bentrock, too.) If you're looking for oak, this is the wrong wine for you--it's a pure expression of its fruit, with lime zest zing and then enough acid you could almost cut with it. 

Or cut a surprisingly rich dish like the opening halibut crudo, that I joked was halibut potato salad because of the grilled corn aioli that leaned a tad into its mayonnaise-ness, especially with the addition of some pickled green tomato. (I mean this is the most loving way.)  Still, that fish was rich and nearly unctuous. And then the perfectly fried avocado nuggets.... Chef Jason Paluska put together a dish cohesive and unusual all at once, and it set the tone for the rest of the delicious evening.

That's Dees explaining that when the block of marble comes in from the amazing vineyard sites he gets to play with, in this case Mt. Carmel in the Sta. Rita Hills and Kimsey in Ballard Canyon, you can either take a chisel to it and make it something else or take some sandpaper to it, and make it shine. One guess what he does.

Which he does no better than the Mail Road Pinot they poured last night. Here's how Antonio Galloni aptly put it: "A wine of structure and power…dark, sumptuous and enveloping on the palate…the 2015 possesses remarkable fruit intensity…Black cherry, plum, spice, leather and menthol…Don’t miss it." We didn't--and thanks to the staff for keeping refilling the glasses, too--very generous.

That powerful pinot was an on-the-nose match for the richness of the duck liver mousse, not quite as gamey as foie, but lavish and creamy, sort of like if meat and gelato had a baby that could live at room temp. This dish's accoutrements were equally brilliant bites, cashews roasted in duck fat so extra umami-ed, and Rainier cherries poached and plump. I might have said I would have spent the rest of my life at the Wine Collective if someone would keep bringing me boards of mousse and glasses of pinot. 

Yes, it's almost hard to see the lamb ribs in there, but that just attests to this dish being all about its strewn-composition, the smoke on the meat, the char on the eggplant and peppers, the juice of the pluot, the bite of the watercress. So much to take in, you just keep savoring bite after bite. And then there's the Kimsey Syrah, a bold wine, as it needed to be to stand up the fat and sweet lamb, but then it just cascaded with flavor, blackberry, a hint of anise, sage, black pepper, and more. 

Here are Chryss's two subs for the meaty things she doesn't eat. She says they were as good as they looked. And the couple of bites I snuck said the same.

The Lark is going to keep doing these winemaker dinners, and now that all of us vaccinated folks can sit inside next to each other and not die, they're going to be a lot of fun. The next one will be with Graham Tatomer.

And one tiny issue--why is "served to share" still a thing? I imagined COVID would have knocked that one out of the kitchen playbook, but even without the fear of cooties, it's often just awkward, especially with something like the mousse board. And our end of the table sat three people with dietary restrictions, all different (one gluten free, one pescatarian, one lactose intolerant), so they had to bring up a bunch of different dishes too. I get the largesse of it, and the sense we all dip into the communal plate and all that. But that's also not quite reason enough. 

Ain't Europe Grand (Tour) with Chryss and George (Day 9)

Puttering about Passau

Today was our first day in Germany but the weather didn't recognize international borders. Our shore excursion is through drizzle+, depending upon the moment (Chryss above amidst flowers one of the rare breaks), and it turns out Passau is getting ready for flooding, so town crews are about installing the flood gates Danube-side. Here's Old Town Hall and some civil servant buzz.

Passau is actually where three rivers meet, with the Ilz across the way from where we docked and then the Inn running into the Danube and making Passau perfectly pointy in a Pittsburgh kind of way. The historic portion of town between the rivers is hilly, with narrow "streets" and lots of great views.

And slippery cobblestones in the damp, too. So there's lots of looking down when you want to look up. It's best to keep stopping and peek around, including around all the giant Viking-provided red umbrellas. (We are an easy to spot group.) The umbrellas do make for some challenging framing of appropriately gorgeous photos; here's the Domplatz (cathedral square), not looking as good as I want it to.

That said, it's an enchanting town, to say the least, from passageways like this one

to a roofline asking for a photo

to signs on a fenced in yard at one house like this one, that makes me want to hug a hunde.

While not getting interior tours, we do get to see into a few buildings like the Bishop's Residence, which proves once again how humble the religious were, and how seriously they took their vows of poverty. Totally men of the people.

Luckily some of the old gods fought back, and Bacchus was well-presented here (never deny the power of the god of wine).

Since Passau is castle-less (there's a fortress, but that seems like such a step down) we make up for that by actually getting to hear an organ recital in its major cathedral, St. Stephan's. It's a crazy Baroque god-fest of a church, having been rebuilt in the late 17th century after the old one burned down. Here's a glimpse of one spire between the streets.

The organ is arguably the world's largest cathedral organ at almost 18,000 pipes. To be accurate, it's five separate organs, all of which can be controlled from one console, but that's supposed to give it even more character, if only because they get to write things about one of them like, "Over the long nave in the attic in a separate organ chamber is the 'Fernwerk' (echo division); its sound floats through grates (the 'Holy Spirit hole') into the nave." If you ask me, Holy Spirit Hole sounds like the name for a dive bar for clergy.

Our domorganist, as he was billed, for the day was Ludwig Ruckdeshel, who took us through a three-piece 20 minute concert that got ever more challenging (aka Modern!), so some folks, despite having to pay to get in, left before he had the organ let loose its final internal organ-stirring blast. We got some Bach, a self-"penned" free improvisation, and then some Jean Langlais that sounds like this if you want to hear a different performance of it.

All that time in the church didn't keep the river from rising, especially on the town's other side along the Inn River. As an American, can you imagine a scene that looks like this?

No railing, no warning signs, no life buoys. Raging river easy to step into and wash you downstream. Do they even have lawyers in Germany? Maybe instead of lawyers everyone has decided to be an artist. I'm down with that. They even have an Art Alley, Höllgasse, where the town cuts breaks for artists to have studios. Hey, Santa Barbara, give Passau a call. The route is marked with luminescently painted cobblestones, so you can't get lost.

We get a few minuted to wander through on our way back to the Tir for lunch and our beguiled by this little guy, who has made the trip back to the States with us. The devil made us to do it.

A Sailor's Life for We

Again, while the idea of eating at any of the ridiculously attractive spots in town itches at us, it's just too hard to pass up what awaits us pre-paid on the boat. Here's a host of lunch items, and note how many greens there are. You've got to eat healthy if you do that much eating.

For instance, it's awfully hard to pass up dessert, which at home we rarely have even for dinner, but then for lunch it's an ice cream delight like this, doing a classic Germany choco-cherry combo for you.

We leave Passau a bit after 3--we did get back into town to walk off some of that lunch first-- but it seemed worth showing, once again, the joys of river travel, with views that top views that top views. Bye bye, Passau.

And so we don't get immediately to dinner, let's talk about what we drank that night. One of the better Viking rules is there's no corkage fee, so I'd been wanting to score some wine and have it with our dinner. In our post-lunch walkabout we found the terrific little shop Bachl Feinkost, which is sort of a bit of everything--cheese/charcuterie shop, wine shop, and wine bar. Seeing what were clearly locals enjoying themselves made me assume we'd found the right place and the owner was very helpful and spoke English, a plus for us with only our Stein-lessons of German to lean on. Most striking is the store seemed well-stocked with bargains. We chose an Austrian Manfred Gruber rosé that cost a mere 8.5 Euros. (Oh, the cabins all have little fridges, so keeping it cold was no problem.)

It turned out to be great for it's price, bright and refreshing, wild strawberry and key lime, and a mere 12% ABV. Lots of grip and great with dinner, even if I kicked mine off with something that could have used a heavier wine, rindfleischsuppe mit leberknodeln. Of course I just pointed.

If you've been reading along you know your knolden by now--that's dumpling--but this isn't just any, it's a liver dumpling. Now, that might sound nasty, but this was tempered well, just organy enough to make it clear you were a bit offal. That edge was soothed by the soup, a rich beef broth. This isn't a dish I eat much in the U.S.

My main went perfectly with the steely rosé, though, a quite rich maultaschen, aka German ravioli with goat cheese and spinach and some extra creamy sauce since it wouldn't be rich enough otherwise. I did not call it Baron Von....

For dessert I went back to that choco-cherry pairing, but in donauwelle this time. Googling about to see other versions of this pastry, it often looks a bit more homey than the version the Tir served up, but that's the cruising life for you. How elegantly each layer is arranged.

And then more dessert came, but that was sort of my fault. As you should know, this terrific trip was thanks to all the hard work Chryss put in to get her Ph.D.--it was Roger and Judy's graduation gift. It was clear the Tir crew liked to do little post-dinner celebrations, so I asked for one for Chryss and tonight was the night. Some sweet singing, some not so accurate spelling, but it was lovely all around.

Speaking of the fearless crew, here some of them are, but it doesn't highlight the dining room crew that got to know your likes and dislikes and would deliver dinner with a sweetly sung, "Bon appetit!"

Or include head bartender Harris, who of course I had to befriend as early in the cruise as possible. You spend a lot of time in the lounge on a small boat that sails most evenings. Sure, you sneak out to get some shots of one of the first of 68 locks that we'd elevator through on our way to Amsterdam.

Meanwhile, back in the lounge, this is the evening Harris points out he realizes I care about beer in more than a guzzling manner and says, "Here's something we don't have on this ship." And he takes out this

We are due to have time in Bamberg, where Schlenkerla is brewed, in a few days, but to get to enjoy some early is a surprising treat. Such smoky depth. Which we totally, didn't have. Thanks, Harris.

Go back and read Day 8 of Ain't Europe Grand (Tour) with Chryss and George 

Go ahead and read Day 10 of Ain't Europe Grand (Tour) with Chryss and George

Sip This: Château de Berne Emotion

Who could say no to a Provence rosé with a funky, fancy bottle (curvy with white striping) and easy-on-the-wallet pricing at $16? That’s all from an estate that also houses a Relais & Châteaux inn, the Michelin-starred restaurant Le Jardin de Benjamin, and a cooking school, 25 miles from the Mediterranean yet at a bit of altitude too, around 1,000 feet.

Want ot read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Sip This: Kings Carey 2016 Rosé of Grenache

This is wine done to bare-bones goodness, from its seemingly hand-drawn, homespun label (courtesy of Philadelphian Hawk Krall) to its direct, refreshing, delicious strawberries washed in light lemon loveliness in the glass. It’s made, in small lots, by James Sparks, whom you should know from Liquid Farm, which produces one of the county’s best chardonnay.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Eating Local with Excited Ease

While there's the old saw the more scenic the location, the less good the food needs to be (aka, she sells shit shows by the seashore). That could not be less true for something like the Buttonwood All Farm Dinner that took place August 13. Because in this case the scene is everything--the feast all came from the very farm your eyes also feast on, from the Anaheim chiles to the heirloom tomatoes to the tail-to-snout pig to the wine. Heck someone might have tasted a stolen Semillon grape off the vine before dinner and had Buttonwood's Semi-Semi (semi-sweet Semillon) with dessert. (Wasn't me.)

When people talk local food challenges, they clearly don't live in a halcyon spot like Buttonwood, as there's no challenge at all to live off this land. It doesn't, of course, hurt to have the chef in charge be Jeff Olsson from New West Catering and Industrial Eats. Is there anyone cooking better in the County right now? He can hit on so many registers so well; take a passed app that supposedly came from pig head but had little funk or weirdness, just piggy goodness. And then there was a Thai melon salad with more kick, and garlic, than I'd expect to find amidst the watermelon and canteloupe (it totally works). And if you went looking for the eggplant in the Moroccan lamb tagine, it took a second to discover it was pretty much melted onto the lamb, a lusciously fused sauce of sorts. And how clever is it to take the risk and not fry a relleno, just roast that chile, skin it, and stuff it with piquant goat cheese and sweet corn? Dollop on a spoon of the roasted salsa and the too often heavy (or worse, soggy) dish was so light you wanted to have another, or four.

So much food, I'm not going to talk about it all, for I have to get to Karen Steinwach's wine, don't I? Again, no one suffered empty-glass-syndrome unless it was self-inflicted. We even got some of the sold out rosé saved just for the dinner, and what's better than a syrah rosé, grown to be made the wine (it's no runoff!), in a very Provencal style--light, crisp, dry. Made for outdoor imbibing, especially if you've got a spare pond and 100+ friends to hang out with. Or the robustly gorgeous (no, not an oxymoron if you make your wine right) Trevin (Merlot, Cab Sauvignon, Cab Franc, Malbec), a 2010, which is the current release, so that tells you how much they realize you've got to age that Bordeaux blend if you want to turn its angles to angels.

But then there's the heavenly setting. If wine country needs a poster child, that Buttonwood pond needs to hit the casting call. Undulating hills and oaks and the wind across the water and vines. Plus that air that's to me the soil at work, so clean. It was quite a night.

Why Santa Barbara Might Need to Blush about Its Roses

To claim you don’t like rosé is about the same as saying you don’t like cheese or people. While Limburger or a crowded bus might be too stinky for you, have you tried a nutty-gouda delight like Ewephoria or met Pope Francis? While these particular examples might not float your cheese or human character boat, I promise there’s a rosé out there that will.

Especially if you’re drinking Santa Barbara County rosé. That point became transparently clear at a recent Santa Barbara Vintners Road Trip to Santa Barbara itself, the first after the group had such success bringing the brand to Los Angeles recently. On a relatively balmy day on Sama Sama’s back patio, 15 area producers poured a rosé or three and made clear, as usual, for variety this region can’t be beat.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Santa Barbara Vintners blog.

(P.S. that cocktail in the photo was from the rosé dinner later that evening at Sama Sama)

A Rosé Cocktail Will Drink as Sweet

Trying to do things with one hand behind your back is tricky, sure, but sometimes it means you get awfully clever with your free hand and do something wonderful. That’s the way to consider the challenges facing The Good Lion as they develop cocktails for the Vintners Festival Grand Tasting on Saturday, April 23. The Good Lion will be serving up drinks in the Connoisseurs Club section of the event (where Industrial Eats will be too, as if you need more incentive).

But these won’t be just any drinks. First, the event only has a beer and wine license, so they can’t use any hard alcohol. Second, while the previous three times they’ve had this gig they worked with Santa Barbara area bubbly – a relatively common ingredient for many cocktails – this time it was suggested they try to make drinks with rosé.

In a recent phone call Brandon Ristaino, owner of The Good Lion, began by saying he’d just finished reading Spritz: Italy’s Most Iconic Aperitivo Cocktail, and “I was all juiced up on aperitif cocktails. We’ve always liked using sherry, for example. But this was challenging: do you stir it or shake it or float it? We decided to shake it. We’ll use short shakes; it takes up some of the room ice would, so we consider it a flavored dilutant.”

The two cocktails, then, will be the Papaya King, made with papaya, Santa Barbara county rosé, Cochi Americano, orange bitters, lemon, and black pepper and the Strawberry Fields Forever, made with strawberry, Santa Barbara county rosé reduction, Lillet rosé aperitif, lime, vanilla, and soda.

Ristaino talks about the involved research process coming up with new drinks, including running through flavor bibles well before any liquids get mixed together. In this case, “the melon notes in rosé pair well with tropical fruits, so that’s how we got to papaya.”

He’s also had papaya on the brain, for he’s working on a new project he hopes will open early summer in Santa Barbara’s Funk Zone that will have a more tropical/Caribbean flavor to it than The Good Lion. “That was tricky, as we like to source locally,” he explains, “but then we found these dudes in Carpinteria with a big greenhouse growing passion fruit and papaya and soon bananas.”

The strawberry-centered drink was even easier, as rosés often have strawberry notes. Do be prepared for some interesting possible variations if you try one of the drinks twice. “We’re going to be working with a mix-and-match case of rosés,” he points out. So while he and his team will try to decide as they open which wine profile – and remember Santa Barbara rosés are made from varietals ranging from Pinot noir to Mourvedre – matches best for which drink (the Strawberry Fields will tend to get the richer rosés), consistency might not be easy.

Ristaino is looking forward to the event, as such appearances are The Good Lion’s marketing. “Rather than spend thousands on PR I’d rather do something more organic and get drinks in people’s hands and meet them,” he insists. So stop by and do just that.

A Rosé Explainer and Buying Guide

To be just a mite fanciful, one could consider rosé the platypus of wines. Neither red nor white, it's cute and interesting (and good by a pool), but hard to figure. So we here at KCET decided it's time for a rosé explainer, followed by some of the better Southern California versions you can get right now. And while they can age if you can keep your hands off them, they are meant for instant seasonal pleasure.

Want to read the rest then do so at KCET's Food Blog.

Sip This: Tribute to Grace Rose

A Tribute to Grace Rosé of Grenache 2014: Line up all the synonyms for grace — elegance, attractiveness, lissomness — and you’ve barely scratched what makes this rosé a stunner. Winemaker Angela Osborne hails from New Zealand but is a champion of grapes grown in the Santa Barbara Highlands, aka the high desert near Cuyama.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Sip This: Press Gang Cellars Rose

Press Gang Cellars Savanna Rhea Grenache Rosé 2013: The only bad thing about this delightful rosé is that winemaker Kyle Knapp made a mere 24 cases of it. Knapp, who in addition to owning this garagiste outfit is also the assistant winemaker at Beckmen Vineyards, has a thing for Grenache, and picks grapes specifically for this wine—it’s no saignée, and therefore fuller-flavored despite its gorgeous pale pink hue.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.

Sip This: Mulderbosch Rose

Mulderbosch Cabernet Sauvignon Rosé 2013: With Valentine’s Day upon us, why not turn to a pretty rosé at a good price (retail $13), so you can have even more to spend on your loved one?

Want to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.

A Passel of Pinks

Come spring an oenophile's fancy turns to rosés. They definitely got a bad rap for years thanks to the proliferation of sickeningly sweet white zinfandels that began with Sutter Home in 1975. But even that wine was a mistake, a stuck fermentation that meant the yeast didn't eat up the sugars as it should -- the winemakers found the result interesting and when consumers went gaga for it, a new trend was born. Once again we learned that trends and taste aren't the same thing.

Want to read the rest then do so on KCET's blog.