So, Your West Coast Oenophle is comfortably back in the saddle and penning these notes for Sostevinobile. But since taking on responsibilities for BlueStream, my new wine store, as well, I have been spending an inordinate amount of time on the road. Not a great excuse for procrastinating on this blog, but an excuse nonetheless.

Having been at my principal endeavor to launch Sostevinobile far longer than I ever had anticipated, I find myself less focused on discovering and rating new wines these days; rather, I am reengaging with wineries and an assortment of AVAs with which I have established relationships over the past 15 years.

Over this period, I have met with or vetted nearly 5,500 labels in California, Washington, and Oregon, assessing wines for how I might incorporate them into an extensive by-the-glass program for my yet unrealized wine bar operations. Now, as I build a bottle program, I have to assess wines from a different standpoint, as it is far more difficult to intrigue customers into trying an unfamiliar varietal or label when they must commit to a full bottle, rather than gamble on a single glass or demo pour. and, admittedly, part of my recent sojourns has been to validate my presence on the wine scene amidst the yet unfulfilled promise of Sostevinobile.

In the process, I’ve gained new insights into several of the place I have visited. Among these was the back country for Santa Barbara. Up until my recent trip, I had focused on grittier side of US-101, drawn by the cutting-edge endeavors along the Lompoc Wine Trail and the smattering of familiar names throughout the Sta. Rita Hills. Instead, I opted for the serene back roads of Ballard Canyon plus the quaint yet bustling downtown Los Olivos scene. Such a tranquil, idyllic setting! It was like combing Alexander Valley back in the 1980s, long before the transformation of Healdsburg into East Hampton West, when the roads were quaint and the wineries, apart from the fortified walls of Jordan’s twin châteaux, ramshackle and unpretentious. Not that I disparage other wine regions—if anything, there may be too much to love in Napa or Sonoma or the burgeoning enclaves of Paso Robles, so it was most welcome to hearken back to a time when winetasting was a leisurely, economical respite from urban pressures and glitz.

Speaking of Paso, I returned for another session of Rhône Rangers, which continues to resurrect itself from near obscurity to most dynamic trade organization in the industry. Little surprise that this annual February session keeps getting more popular, while interest in the expansive Paso Robles region, with its eleven sub-AVAs continues its post-pandemic boom. No wonder it’s now home to California’s first billion dollar winery, while staking its claim as most innovative wine destination!

I capped the first part of my peregrinations with a four-day stay in Napa. Unlike 2023, when I missed most of Première snowbound on Spring Mountain, this year’s sessions were basked in sunshine. Although I’ve attended this marathon event for countless years on running, this was my first time brandishing a paddle and covering it in its entirety.

Inveterate œnophile ready, willing & able to preserve your legacy

Given the proliferation of turnover in the industry lately, as much of the upcoming generation has been disinclined to take over the realm from their parents, I did have an ulterior motive in attending this benefit, but my efforts to leave with my own winery proved futile—at least for the moment. But I did gain tremendous insight into the Napa community. Yes, it unquestionably has evolved into a more elitist status since I first began trekking here, yes, its emphasis on Cabernet Sauvignon and the strictures of Bordeaux approach a monoclonal level, and undoubtedly prices for its wines and events have grown beyond attainable for most, yet there remains an enormously collegial and beneficent community within the broader AVA that serves as a model for what the wine industry should be all about. Ti saluto (albeit with a $55 glass of Meritage)!

It has been all too long since Your West Coast Oenophile has appeared on these pages. I could plead medical reasons, which did seem to consume me throughout the latter part of 2023 (fortunately, everything has turned out unfounded or has been resolved with minimal intervention). More saliently, I have turned to a new wine venture, called BlueStream, which is a venue I have co-created, not as an alternative to Sostevinobile, but rather as a chance to hone my chops in the retail sector.

It was intended merely to be a consultancy on my part, but I found myself spending some 60-70 hours a week since last June building the website and ecommerce platform, writing and designing all our marketing deliverables, physically assembling the brick & mortar operations, sampling and ordering our entire wine stock, and putting in some 4,000+ miles visiting sundry wine regions from up & down the state.

In other words, scant time to write. But it’s time to get back in the saddle and revive these pages. Thus my report on my return to Solvang, some six years after opportunistic infection landed me in the ICU at Lompoc Valley Medical Center. Years before that, I had made my first sojourn to the February rendition of the Garagiste Festival, just after a couple of tourists at Fog Crest Vineyards insisted I looked just like Miles Raymond from Sideways.

Granted, there are numerous similarities between myself and Paul Giamatti: we’re both, quite obviously, Italian; we both have Ivy League degrees in English; I, too, am a writer longing for recognition of my sundry literary forays and tend to assuage my frustration with a copious amount of daily wine (I do, however, enjoy Merlot and and am alleged to have coined the term “Pinot fatigue”). 

And then there is the alleged physical resemblance, which you can judge for yourself. Similar physique, similar coloration, even a somewhat similar hairline. But c’mon! That ridiculous scraggle of a sculpted beard cannot even begin to stand up to my lush, full hirsuite visage!

But the die had been cast, so when I made the obligatory pilgrimage to Hitching Post, I stood in the middle of the barroom floor and announced “If any calls me Miles, they’re getting punched out!”

It took over six hours to drive last week from San Francisco to Solvang. Being somewhat wary of returning to Lompoc—perhaps the future home of Trump et Fils—I headed straight to the Solvang Veterans’ Memorial Hall for the opening night’s “Rare & Reserve” Kick-off Party. But the delays to my drive meant I only had 30 minutes or so to enjoy these selections, and so I returned to Buellton, where it had all began, 15 or so years ago.

This time no one called me Miles.

*Danish for “On the Road Again”

Your West Coast Oenophile is not above resorting to cliché on occasion. Like for so many others, for years Paso Robles was the place to refill the tank and take a leak when driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles (or vice-versa). But ever since I launched Sostevinobile, this central coast hamlet has become so much more. And since the COVID-pandemic. Paso has emerged as the nexus between these antipoles, drawing thousands of new residents from both North and South while blossoming into a full-fledged resort destination, much as Healdsburg did a couple of decades ago.

Admittedly, the wine communities I encounter outside of Napa & Sonoma often consist of a hodgepodge of endeavors, a handful of prestigious labels alongside a wide swath of lesser endeavors. With its 11 sub-AVAs, however, Paso Robles can now hold its own as one of California’s top-tier appellations. But producing great wines is only part of the equation; marketing and promotion of the region is equally important, if not more so in the  hypercompetitive environment the myopic distribution system has fostered.

Lately, I have been surveying the big chain liquor stores and supermarkets to gain an appreciation of how they handle wines, specifically the California and West Coast producers on which I focus. The lack of diversity in these offerings is both astonishing and appalling. White wines are virtually limited to Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, with perhaps two or three Rieslings like Kung Fu Girl, a paltry Pinot Grigio, and, occasionally, a sacchrine-sweet Moscato. On the red side, there are Cabernt Sauvignons, Merlots, Pinot Noirs, and Zinfandels, with unspecified Syrah blends and perhaps a mislabeled Petite Sirah. Your average consumeer has no idea that wines like Grenache, Mourvèdre, Carignane, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Aglianico, Dolcetto, Sangiovese, St. Laurent, Valdiguié, Kerner, Blaufränkish, Pinotage, Saperavi, Tempranillo, Graciano, Albariño, Arinto, Assyrtiko, Rkatsiteli, Chasselas Doré, Colombard, Sémillon, Roussanne, Marsanne, Dreirebe, Fiano, Vermentino, Verdelho, Verdejo, Arneis, etc. even exist.

Which is why in 2023 trade tastings and associations are more important than ever for the growers and producers of these “esoteric” varietals, in order to gain any semblance of awareness of their wines. And in 2023, no organization does this better than Rhône Rangers, particularly with its revived Rhône Rangers Experience in Paso Robles. I trekked down to the Paso Robles Event Center, a charming faux-Western town near the northern end of the city, for my second visit to this event since the COVID pandemic. Normally, this is the time of year I am inundated with trade events; 2023 was no exception, with Rhône Rangers sandwiched between ZinEx and Première Napa (also the Garagiste Festival in Solvang, but car troubles prevented me from attending). But where the other two events had notably dwindled from their more robust past, Rhône Rangers flourished with even greater vitality this year.

Granted, attendance may have been slightly down, but the reduced crowd made for easy navigation from table-to-table and kept the atmosphere festive.  More importantly, with over 70 wineries on hand, a significant portion traveled from regions outside of San Luis Obispo county, including Ventura, Santa Barbara, Napa, Sonoma, Lodi, Monterey, the Sierra Foothills, and several Oregon locales, testimony to their belief not only in the event but in this organization.

Over the past several decades, I have owed much of my wine education to major trade events, including Rhône Rangers when it was a mainstay at Fort Mason. Most of the other Grand Tastings are now at a standstill, with dwindling attendance and a mere fraction of their constituent wineries participating. Moreover, they have lacked the necessary dynamic to attract the up & coming under-30 age bracket. Coupled with the myopia of the distribution network, it would almost seem that the validity of these events has run its course.

Except for what Rhône Rangers has shown. First, they have a clearly focus, defined not by a theme or region, but in a specific category of varietals. To its advantage, the sheer number of different grapes, along with their propensity for formulating an even wider array of blends, means there is enough diversity here to satisfy almost any taste. Secondly, the singular focus of this event is to create awareness of its membership and the wines they produce. Thirdly, this tasting has just the right balance: not prohibitively costly, which underscores the accessibility of these wines; a healthy balance of (catered) food and wine that keeps things from becoming a drunkfest; no shortcutting the materials and accessories trade and media need to ply their trade and ultimately bring greater recognition to these 23 varietals and the wines they produce.

Lastly, with a casual, down home venue, an up & coming, dynamic destination, and all the right elements in place, little wonder attendees traveled from as far north as the Bay Area and as far south as San Diego. To put things simply, the Rhône Rangers Experience is a sheer joyful event.

Moving forward, the organization has elected new leadership for 2023, with their incoming President heralding from Oregon. And with regional events being revived, it is a clear sign that a focused, committed trade organization still has the ability to make a difference in the wine realm. Suffice it to say, I expect it will be a long time before someone has to ask me “what’s a Counoise?” again!

There are times Your West Coast Oenophile finds himself short on wine. Not that my cellar is depleted, but occasionally I may not have the right wine for that evening’s dinner, or anything approximately close, on hand. So when Sostevinobile duties had me traveling down to Los Gatos for the trade tasting with the Santa Cruz Mountain Winegrowers Association, I considered swinging by Total Wine & More in Daly City on my way back on 280. Coincidentally, just before I departed from San Francisco, I received a Flash Sale notice, offering $20 off the purchase of three or more bottles, and , with that, my mind was set.

The Santa Cruz tasting was most pleasant: small crowd; ample catering:a mere eleven wineries, including Cabernet legends Ridge, Mount Eden, and Kathryn Kennedy to taste through. In other words, hardly the kind of onerous event some tastings turn out to be. Of course, the event was not without its dose of theatrics, but once the histrionics had died down, I headed up the Peninsula to meet a college friend for happy hour at the Stanford Faculty Club.

Admittedly, if I could have secured a position at Stanford, I would probably have finished my PhD in Comparative Literature and remained in academia. It’s a fascinating university, a near-idyllic setting amidst the sprawl of Silicon Valley, and, quite importantly, extremely well-endowed. Having top-notch students would have been a critical factor for me—who wants to be burdened with teaching remedial skills that ought to have been learned in high school?—and to have ready access to a world-class metropolis like San Francisco would have sealed the deal. Little wonder Jim has spent his entire career here.

But an academic career would have kept me from my level of involvement in the wine realm, so ultimately I decided to apply my finely-honed research skills to acquiring an encyclopedic knowledge of the West Coast wine industry, so I feel my time in grad school was not spent in vain. The same, however, could not be said for my side trip to Total Wine. The store in Daly City is vast, at least twice the size of any of the local BevMo shops here. And the chain boasts of having the largest selection of California wines, compared to chains like the aforementioned BevMo, Trader Joe’s, Costco, etc. And, yes, their selection is vast, however…

Now I was in search of a white wine to pair with the chicken dish I had on tap for the evening, and, of course, I was only interested in a West Coast bottling. Total Wine offered nearly an entire aisle of Chardonnays and Sauvignon Blancs, but I was the mood for something else. Off to the side, there was a tiny selection of Other Whites, which turned out to be mostly sweet wines like Moscato, along with a generic Riesling from Kung Fu Girl. But a Rhône White like a Roussanne or Picpoul Blanc? Or an Italian varietal such as Vermentino or Fiano? No Sémillons or Grüner Veltliners. No Chenin Blancs. No Pinot Blancs. Not even a local Pinot Grigio or Ramato! I could find more diversity in a 7-11!

And so, I returned to the mainstream aisle. After a cursory inspection of the Sauvignon Blancs, I reluctantly combed through the 100+ Chardonnays, hoping to find a clean, unoaked interpretation that suited my needs. And there I discovered that the $20 off three bottles only applied to their Winery Direct selections. Sure, there were a number of high-end labels included here, but an $80 bottle is not in my Wednesday evening dinner budget. But low & behold, virtually every one of their reasonably priced Chards were the private label brands they commission and sell exclusively.—ostensibly generic wines, sourced from whatever available bulk is out on the market, and bottled on some assembly line in American Canyon or the Central Valley. The sort of wine just barely above Two Buck Chuck and suitable (perhaps) for lowbrow art gallery openings.

Ultimately, I grabbed a bottle without even inspecting its label and regretted from the moment I uncorked it. But Total Wine does sell the staple of my pandemic survival, VYA Sweet Vermouth, for $5/bottle less than what I pay in San Francisco, so my trip was not a complete waste of gas and time…