From the look of things today, we are going to need all the help we can get if we’re going to steer ourselves out of this economic morass. This task is so formidable, there’s actually a rumor floating around that embattled Illinois Senator Roland Burris is going to quit so that the Punahou Kid can resign, reclaim his former seat, and hand the Presidency over to Joe Biden (could anyone blame him if it were true?). But rather than dwell on speculative fantasy, I, for one, am ready to do my part and right here am making my patriotic pledge: Your West Coast Oenophile will, just like the chastened, stimulus-laden bankers on Wall Street, continue to undertake my responsibilities and accept not a penny more than $500,000 in annual salary until this financial crisis has fully abated. Even if that means foregoing the Napa Valley Wine Auction this coming June.
Speaking of investment bankers, the Ginkgo Girl and I dropped in on my longtime friend Alan Jones on our way back from Sonoma last night. Alan is a former Exonian who preceded me in college at a couple of not-so-preppie student organizations, Black Praxis and Foley House before veering off to business school at Wharton. From co-op to coöpted, as I like to kid him, but then his wine collection and recently expanded wine cellar dwarf my humble assemblage, so perhaps he had the better idea.
Alan’s hospitality remains legendary and his pours are generous to a fault (or so the CHP tried to assert nearly two of decades ago), so he warrants citation on these pages. But I would be remiss in not elaborating on the splendid tasting we attended earlier in the day.
Not every winery can be described as idyllic, nor need they be to make exceptional wine. I have known several, like Starry Night and Kalin Cellars, to be housed in industrial parks, racking barrels six tiers high in cramped warehouse spaces and contracting itinerant bottling lines twice a year. Yesterday introduced us to a septet of little-known bonded ventures clustered in an industrial complex outside the town of Sonoma. It would have seemed more symmetrical had this cooperative tasting billed as The Eight Street Wineries included eight distinct labels, and, in fact, it did, but our typically tardy arrival prevented us from reaching MacRostie Winery, the sole venue housed separately from the rest. Nonetheless, I can assuage my guilt, and appease them for this transgression, by offering earnest plaudits for their many excellent Chardonnays I’ve had the pleasure to imbibe over the years.
The seven wineries we did manage to visit, as part of my never-ending quest to source an intriguing array of West Coast wines for Sostevinobile, were, in no particular order: Enkidu, Anaba Wines, Ty Caton, Talisman, Parmalee-Hill, Three Sticks and Tin Barn Vineyards. A more eclectic montage of monikers would be hard to assemble. And certainly each brought forth a wine, if not several, that I hope will find its way onto our roster.
I’m not ashamed to admit that my cuneiform reading skills have slacked off considerably, so I’ll take Enkidu winemaker Phil Shaehli at his word pertaining to the genesis for each of the esoteric labels he assigns to his wines. Babylonian floods aside, however, the true standout was his accessibly-appointed 2006 Tina Marie Pinot Noir. We found ourselves equally enjoying the 2006 Durell Vineyard Pinot Noir across the way at Three Sticks, no surprise considering the pedigree of both the vineyard and veteran winemaker Don Van Staaveren. With a quartet of 2005 Pinots, the Ginkgo Girl and I were evenly split on which of Talisman’s releases we preferred, but then isn’t that the true beauty of wine?
Don van Staaveren is also winemaker for Parmalee-Hill, a name that adorns so many labels—Flowers, Kistler, Patz & Hall, Saintsbury, Saxon-Brown, Steele—it’s almost impossible to keep track; little wonder their eponymous label is consistent across the board. Tin Barn was like a small time warp, in that their current releases all hail from vintages three to four years previous than most other wineries are now offering. Orson Welles, who, to be sure, turns agitatedly in his grave at the mere mention of his namesake restaurant in San Francisco, may have uttered the catch phrase, but Tin Barn’s wines really are sold when their time has arrived—case in point, their ready-to-drink-now 2003 Syrah Sonoma Coast, Coryelle Fields Vineyard. At the other end of the Rhône spectrum, Anaba presented both their red and white Coriol blends, the former being predominantly Grenache, the latter skewed heavily in favor of Viognier. Both were quite breezy, but proprietor John Sweazy truly stood out among the pack with his 2007 Anaba Sonoma Coast Chardonnay.
I am neither being remiss nor showing favoritism by holding my last comments for Ty Caton. Being the inveterate punster that I am (I still insist that proprietress Marcy Roth of Sausalito’s Bacchus & Venus wineshop should change the store’s name to Grapes of Roth), I lobbied shamelessly for a limited-release, vineyard-designated Napa Cabernet, Ty Caton To Kalon, but it is not to be. Oddly, though, amid his generally excellent lineup of estate-produced varietals, his almost faithful Bordeaux-style meritage, the 2005 Ty Caton Estate Field Blend stood out as the pinnacle of his winemaking talents.
And, on that note, it’s time to bring this post to a close and curl up with the Ginkgo Girl. This week has me traveling to Paso Robles, with much ground to cover and much to report on my wine explorations. Never let it be said that this erstwhile ’Kissie doesn’t earn his $500k the hard way!