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.

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.

Twenty-Five Years of Liquid Gold in the Santa Ynez Valley

 (Theo Stephan, left, and Lisa Thompson, at a Global Gardens cooking class)

Twenty-five years since beginning Global Gardens, Theo Stephan is no less passionate about her mission to preach the glories of good olive oil. With all of her business — the crucial club membership work, retail, product development, tastings, cooking classes — unified under one roof in a bright Santa Ynez cottage, Stephan seems pleased. Ever an educator, she says she’s achieved her goal “when people taste real food and realize how simple and easy it is, especially where we are in California. It’s far reaching — the story of olive oil goes back; you can see olive leaves pressed in Paleolithic stones.”

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

Lapping Up the Fruity, Bitter, and Pungent

 

"Olive oil is a fruit, so olive oil is a fruit juice," David Garci-Aguirre explains to me on a Zoom tasting. "The moment you extract oil from an olive it's at its best." The tasting is sponsored by the California Olive Oil Council or COOC, And Garci-Aguirre knows his stuff, as Vice President of Operations and Master Miller at Corto Olive with 14 years in the field.

COOC has two main functions--certifying olive oil producers who do things the right way and promoting that seal-certified oil to the rest of the state and the world. Despite the gorgeous amount of olive oil trees one might spy touring the state, all of California's production is merely 2% of the oil consumed nationwide. "For the three years I've been with COOC, the mission has been the same, for better or worse," Garci-Aguirre insists. "The climate for consumers is still terrible, as supermarket quality oil is very poor. So we have to find California producers that care and have developed the certification process so customers get fresher oil."

One of the stumbling blocks for this project is the average consumer finds low quality oil familiar and therefore acceptable. Turns out that most production worldwide happens two months later than it does at COOC certified producers. Longer hang-time leads to fermentation, alcohol is the byproduct, and you end up with fusty oil. To top that off, commercial EVO often is a blend of oil from around the world--the sample sent to me was a blend from Argentina, Chile, Greece, Italy, Morocco, Peru, Portugal, Spain, and Tunisia. Turns out that an oil that seems like it should show up in a steamer trunk plastered with exotic luggage labels isn't such a great idea. The sad stuff has traveled distance and sat around. So on your tastebuds is stays greasy and unpleasant.

Light, heat, and air are all enemies to quality. That might make things particularly difficult for those in the Midwest, but here in the Golden State, we have a surfeit of great olive oil--indeed, 65% of the state's oil is now COOC seal certified. Yep, it costs more, but part of that is you get what you pay for. It's also been hard to mechanize harvest, but recent advances lead Garci-Aguirre to say, "It makes me so excited, we are going to be able to democratize fresh olive oil."

So look for the COOC label. Their website will help, and lots of the best you can purchase direct-to-consumer. Perhaps some of it will be like the mind-altering oil made solely from Sevillano sample I got to sip--natural, warming, crystal clean, and no oily aftertaste. It ranked high on all three adjectives in this post's title. Given most of us don't do olive oil shots, it's also good to know that Garci-Aguirre discussed a recent study that suggests the polyphenols in high quality oil protect the integrity of tomatoes, say, during cooking. That oil is going to help the tomatoes on your next designer pizza sing.

Even better, olives make for a sustainable California. In addition to having low water needs, they also score well for carbon sequestration. 

Centuries of Knowledge and Stock Power Kopke Port

 

It would seem trivial to suggest port might have its moment since it's been around for centuries. The Douro Valley, where the fortified wine comes from in Portugal, is the third oldest official wine region in Europe after Chianti and Tokaj. What's more, while that designation for the Douro came in 1756, Kopke has been making wines since 1638. Heck, that's the year Dom Pérignon was born, and I mean the monk, not the Champagne house. If Shakespeare could have lived to 74, he might have sipped Kopke's first vintage. 

That means Kopke's got a track record and a cellar full of deliciously aging wines and ports. I had the great fortune to receive the fancy box of samples you see above in three different stages of unpacking, and then got to take part on a Zoom tasting with Carla Tiago, Kopke's winemaker, and Serge Lozach, managing director of importer Wine in Motion, a few weeks ago. In many ways the hour was an education in port as much as a tasting, so here's a quick report (no pun intended).

It turns out you can use more 100 varieties of grapes to make port, as long as they are native to Portugal. Sometimes Kopke calls the varietals, as they do with their 2012 Colheita Tawny that is equal parts Touring Nacional, Touring Franca, Tinta Roriz, and Tina Barroca, and sometimes they are a bit coy and say "traditional Douro grape varieties." Guess you have to protect the brand. The wines are all fortified to 20% ABV with neutral spirits.

And it's important to introduce the Instituto dos Vinhos do Douro e do Porto, the government-run agency that strictly regulates (and also promotes--could you imagine the ATF doing that here in the U.S.?) port production. They keep an eye on those "brandies" used for fortification, they help decide what it means to call a port a 10 or 20 years old tawny. For that's not a strict math equation, that is, you can't go "current year - # of years on bottle = year wine was made." It's a declaration of style and quality and depth, so a 10 years old might have wines blended in that are older or younger than ten years, but it tastes--consistently--the same. And the Instituto is a big part of that actually meaning something.

Most striking for Kopke is they have helped pioneer white ports, a category the Institute only classified in 2007. The two in the tasting were both fascinating, expanding my mind as to the possibility of port. It pours more golden than white, and both the 2003 Colheita White and the 20 Years Old White were honeyed without toppling into saccharine, and rich with dried fruits, marzipan, and molasses notes. At this point and throughout the tasting winemaker Tiago stressed the "freshness" of the wines, and they definitely felt not just lively but alive, tethered by good acidity to match the sugar. Indeed, all the Colheita--think vintage--bottlings especially seemed evolving, and Lozach insisted when we tasted the Tawny Colheita 2012, to jump ahead a bit, that if we gave in ten more years in bottle, it wouldn't even taste like the same wine.

The 2003 white had a finish that could complete the whole Camino de Santiago (ok, that's in Spain, I know), wile the 20 Years Old White almost had more complexity, if a tiny bit less clarity of purpose. The refinement of the 2003 stood out. What also became clear is how well these wines might pair with a variety of foods. Too often people get stuck in the sweet pairs with sweet mindset, and save port for dessert, but these whites could easily add depth and intrigue to a buttery lobster or a turbot in cream sauce.

The tawny wines also delighted in a completely different register, offering more fresh fruit notes--cherry and plum--but also caramel, cinnamon, even tobacco in the 20 Years Old tawny. 

If you're wondering, since it is a fortified wine, port can last if you store it in the fridge. (Indeed, you want to chill it before drinking, too.) The vintage wines need to be consumed quickly, but the year designates can hold for up to three months. Even though my guess is if you get a bottle from a great house like Kopke, you'll never get close to that deadline.

Santa Barbara Wine Pioneers Open Their Libraries

When winemaker Morgan Clendenen picks up my call to chat about the upcoming Pioneers Pour Again Heritage Tasting, she takes a break from capturing photos at Alma Rosa Winery for social media posts heralding the event. For she’s not just the owner/winemaker at Cold Heaven, she’s an unstoppable marketing force for the wine region, both here and now in North Carolina, where she lives part time.

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