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.

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.

House of the Rising Hilt

 

It's only fitting that famed architect Howard Backen gives off a beneficent golden glow, as he's designed so many beloved spaces, from Robert Redford’s Sundance Institute to George Lucas’ Skywalker Ranch, from MGM Studios Theme Park to Meadowood Napa Valley. He's also become a go-to for wineries who want comfort and style shy of outright ostentation, from Cliff Lede to Harlan Estate to, now right here in Santa Barbara, The Hilt Estate. That's not too surprising, as The Hilt's owner, Stan Kroenke, already had Backen design Screaming Eagle for him (even if it's closed to the public), so bringing a favorite architect south made all the sense in the world (especially when money is no object). 

The property recently celebrated its first year open to the public with a to-do featuring Bracken himself, folks from his team, and also many craftsmen and builders from Grassi & Associates, including founder Mark Grassi and partner Paul Niles. The evening was a well-earned love fest for everyone involved, as it's a gorgeous project, managing to provide plenty of space for high-end tasting while still remaining appropriately sized for the property. It doesn't hurt it's one big property, as Rancho Salsipuedes is 3,600 acres nestled into the elbow where Santa Rosa Road meets Highway 1 at the far western end of the Sta. Rita Hills. Only about 200 of those acres are vineyards.

The Barn took the place of old historic barns and mimics them a bit, with wall lumber set about a half inch apart to let the air in. But then you look closely and realize that now everything is screened off, so that flow happens without any buggy accompaniment. Such details abound. Take the two over-sized metal stoves in the two side tasting rooms (which, of course, open to the main room but can be shuttered off if the space needs that)--they provide a kind of hearth that's unique, homey, almost big enough to climb in. You don't just warm a backside in front of one, you get a full-body heat hug.

And, of course, it's an indoor-outdoor space, as this is Santa Barbara, even if one of its more chilly locales, just 13 miles from the Pacific. The wide open side of The Barn frames the low-lying Puerta Del Mar Vineyard and in the distance the Imerys diatomaceous earth mine glitters like a snowy mountain (and hints at the property's own diatomaceous earth that makes the Radian Vineyard such a horrible and therefore wonderful spot to plant grapes). You feel placed here.

Then there's the wine facility itself, which winemaker Matt Dees and his team thought through function first. All the dirty stuff--you know, this is a farming operation--happens outside the building, so it's spectacularly clean inside, even on what turned out to be the last day of 2022 harvest arrivals. There was some water here and there and some activity, but the most unkempt thing in the winery was Dees sporting a true mountain man beard thanks to the demands of the season. The basement barrel room is a football-field long (hey, what is that other thing Kroenke owns?), and you instantly get hit with oak and fruit as you descend the stairs. Dees points out the huge concrete space is sparse enough that if different people figure out a better way to make wine two decades from now, they'll have a blank canvas to begin with. 

Of course the evening also featured a tasting. The wine included The Hilt sparkling, a true beauty of fizz, tension, brioche, pear, and a lean, clean finish, The Hilt Estate Chardonnay (talk to Dees for a bit and he'll passionately convince you Chardonnay is the grape of SRH), almost lets you taste the ocean breeze that whips these vineyards. The Hilt Estate Pinot Noir is a bit more reserved than many SRH Pinot, but that just means it draws you in slowly and seductively to its cherry, spice, and cola. Finishing up was Jonata's Todos (Jonata is the sister property in Ballard Canyon, featuring Rhone and Bordeaux varietals, and now even some Greek grapes--Matt's always experimenting). Todos, as in "all the grapes," is a deep wonder that leads a drinker to much reflection about how full a red blend can be. Only another sip can get you anywhere near an answer.

Of course there was food, too, passed appetizers that never stopped coming, from delicate cheese-bomb gougères to seemingly just-fired arancini to the most adorable and delicious fish tacos that I was tempted to stuff my pockets with, they were so good, but luckily trays of them kept floating about the room so I didn't have to hoard. Thanks, Poe & Co., for the terrific stuff. Of course The Hilt isn't in the business of doing anything halfway, so the food had to be terrific. After all, they flew in a photographer from Sun Valley, Idaho for the gig just because he was their favorite.