VOL. 7 No. 3 (9/3/96)

Dear Faithful Subscribers:

She is a 120 pound muscular brown-haired beauty with great legs and a very trim waist. She is also quite athletic with powerful shoulders and a graceful stride. The Vigneron also noted that she has quite a healthy appetite and eats anything put in her bowl. Unfortunately, L’Agent’s hope of a June wedding among the vines at the Clos with grandchildren to follow is not in the cards since she - Leylah - is a two year old Brindled Great Dane!

I am sure our faithful subscribers after having their hopes of a vineyard wedding dashed thought - How is Bud handling this? Well, to say the least he has his paws full. Bud at 60 pounds is not a midget, but his head only comes to the middle of Leylah’s shoulder. As in the ullage on Port bottles - middle of the shoulder is not a good sign. After the initial get acquainted circling and sniffing, Bud tried to show Leylah who is the big dog. If Bud gets up on his hind legs he can barely get his head even with hers. She has taken to literally running over him when they run together and he passes easily under her legs. When she does this Bud tries to keep his head up but her chest and weight easily push it down as she strides over him. Bud has retaliated with growls and attempted ear bites. Leylah thinks this is fun and responds by putting his whole head into her mouth and gently shaking. At feeding time they each eat half of their own bowls and then switch places and eat the rest of the other’s bowl. Entering and leaving an open door has taken the significance of getting position in the paint. They both try to be first and more than once the Vigneron has been body blocked by 60 pounds on one side and 120 pounds on the other. Inside the house Leylah changes her tactics and she leans up against Bud and pins next to the sofa of the Vigneron’s desk. Bud tries to push back but he is clearly out weighed and out muscled so his only way to escape is to ignominiously duck under Leylah’s legs and depart with a growl.

L’Agent notes humorously that when she asked the Vigneron how the dogs were getting along, he replied that Leylah was picking on Bud. Shortly thereafter, the artist in residence complained to L’Agent that Bud was picking on Leylah. Stay tuned for further developments.

1994 finally provided enough grapes for Clos Pepe South to fill up a five-gallon American oak barrel with pinot noir and a three-gallon American oak barrel with two-thirds cabernet franc and one-third cabernet sauvignon. The Vigneron could now try his hand at winemaking as well as grape growing. The pinot noir was picked on August 13, 1994 with a brix of 23 and a PH of 3.5. The cabernet franc/cabernet sauvignon was picked on September 5, with a brix of 22 and a PH of 3.2. The Vigneron fermented each wine separately for approximately five days and then put it in the oak barrels. The barrels were topped off every three weeks and went through one egg white fining. On May 12, 1996, the Vigneron was able to bottle 26 bottles of pinot noir and 11 bottles of the cabernet franc/cabernet sauvignon blend.

He entered them first in the Orange County Fair Home Winemaker competition and it should be no surprise to our faithful readers that they medaled. The cabernet franc/sauvignon received a bronze medal and the pinot noir received an honorable mention. At the Orange County Fair there were 443 wines entered, of which 340 received awards. There were six double golds, 39 gold, 80 silver, 111 bronze and 104 honorable mentions. The Vigneron also entered them in the Los Angeles Fair Home Winemaker competition.

1995 was an exciting and challenging year for L’Agent. First there was the apartment over the stable that had to be converted into a "darling" caretaker’s abode. There was wallpaper to choose, furniture to order and the perfect shade of paint to pick. While that was in progress there was the challenging opportunity to convert the mobile home into an English cottage. L’Agent seized the opportunity and with the Vigneron’s checkbook, surmounted the challenge. Then 1996 dawned and the checkbook became the captive of root stock, tractors, end posts, stakes, drippers, etc., etc. L’Agent grew restless and bored with nothing to make "darling." Growing one dimensional grapevines on precise spacing with regular rows was not very exciting for the L’Agent. It was too much like Bach and L’Agent is a Mozart groupie. What to do - that is the question - what to do??

One weekend, while the Vigneron was judging wines at L.A. County Fair, L’Agent came up to the Clos alone. She decided she would work on the landscaping around the pond - really the vineyard reservoir - and the entrance to the property. The Vigneron thought this was a good idea but he cautioned her to coordinate with Jeff N. L’Agent said no problem and away she went.

Several weeks later Jeff N. called the Vigneron to advise him that the sprinkler lines for the pond were within 8 feet of the vineyard end post and the tractor needed 25 feet to turn around. To avoid crushing the sprinkler heads they would have to be put in cement footings. Jeff also noted that several of the planned olive trees were too close to the vineyard and they had to be moved several feet closer to the pond. Moreover, Jeff seemed perplexed as to why anyone would want grass next to the rows of grapes and was sure that the tractor would do the grass in. However, Jeff was more disturbed by the sprinklers which were watering the grass. He politely advised the Vigneron that the sprinkling of the grass would cause mildew among the vines near the pond and he would not be able to stop it with spraying. When the Vigneron advised L’Agent of this potential calamity, her response was "So we lose a couple dozen vines, you’ve planted 18,607, what’s the problem??" When the Vigneron advised Jeff N. of the lay of the land regarding the sprinklers, he rolled his eyes and muttered something like "It’s your vineyard."

For those not acquainted with the true identity of the ‘Artist in Residence’ of Clos Pepe Newsletter fame, I’m Wes Hagen, second son of l’Agent. The man with the Boss Truck. (Although we call it a ‘rig’ in the Valley.) Being the only full-time family resident (squatter) of Clos Pepe North, I have been (finally) asked to tag a touch of commentary on the end of Steve’s masterful work-in-progress. He also insists I begin compiling the Newsletter catalog into a screenplay, believing that his true fortune awaits in Hollywood. We’ve already cast Brando as Steve and Sally Field as l’Agent. We are still waiting for Brad Pitt’s reply to play the Artist in Residence. (The property department is still looking for the best deal on 20,000 plastic picnic knives).

It should be noted at the onset that my reluctance to include addenda in past Clos Pepe Newsletters is a result of the following:

1) The Vigneron was hesitant to pull me from work on the ‘Great American Novel’, knowing that such distractions would greatly reduce his chance of ever receiving his (contracted) 10% of the book’s profit.

2) The quail and rabbit shooting debacle left the Vigneron with serious doubts concerning the Artist in Residence’s moral compunctions (Although I still insist that they taste better when you kill them yourself.)

3) It is my belief that the Vigneron’s reluctance to include an ‘Addendum’ is based on feared retribution for his slanderous and often sensational portrayal of the Artist in Residence as an inept pumpkin farmer (it was a bad season for everyone), a semi-slacker, and a guy that cares little for formal footwear or hard work. Sure, maybe the truth hurts. But I get less coverage than an overweight spotted dog that can’t even write a decent haiku.

4) Finally, I never had much to say about the vineyard. But now that has changed.

The Artist in Residence now splits his time between three avocations. (Isn’t youth grand?) Besides teaching six hours a day at the Lompoc School for Incorrigible Youth (a.k.a. Maple Continuation High School), writing fiction and pursuing publication, I now work forty to sixty hours a week at Babcock Vineyards and Winery. It’s true! I am now the assistant to one of the finest winemakers in the world. (Brian Babcock was named one of the Top Ten Small Winemakers in the World by the James Beard Society in 1995. Try his Eleven Oaks Sauvignon Blanc or Sam Genovese.)

My romantic dreams of working in a winery were quickly crushed as reality dealt me a violent and tiring blow. As an intern, I get to do the interesting stuff. Last week I spent the better part of a day in a bladder-press, taking it apart piece by piece and brushing each removable part until I could see my own countenance reflected in the steamy, 110° stainless steel. Cleaning and swelling every barrel in the barrel-house was a kick in the pants, as was ‘sparging’ bottles on the bottling line for six hours straight. Netting fifteen acres of syrah gave me a great tan, and I’ve learned to ignore the hundreds of hornets and honey-bees that swarm around my head as we crush yet another five tons of Sauvignon Blanc.

Wine making has next to nothing to do with romance, dear readers. Its about hoses and I-Line clamps and blisters and bugs and gaskets and moving juice and wine from one place to another. Although I have racked more than 20,000 gallons in a month, I still haven’t seen anything that looks remotely like a rack. Lifting barrels and cases of wine might be good exercise, and I do admit there is something masochistically pleasurable about going home at 10:30 p.m. sore and covered with Gewurztraminer lees, but I have to wonder if two years at Davis might have been a less torturous introduction to the wonders of Crush.

Once in a while I do stare out into the vista of golden, oak-dotted hills, a raw and majestic landscape framed by a smog-free sky, and understand what Tolstoy figured out late in his life. Working the soil feeds the soul. And paradoxically, the harder I work for Brian, the more alluring the wine business becomes. In between menial tasks (muck the tanks, wax on, wax off, grasshopper), I spend some time in the laboratory doing cluster samples, brix and Ph testing, chromatography, yeast and malolactic fermentation, and I start thinking about the future and about tons of Clos Pepe Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, tight and ripe clusters staring me in the face. Neatly stacked barrels and some chilled tanks might fill the hay barn nicely. I could have an intern make me lunch while I checked the progress of the barrels. Can you imagine a Clos Pepe wine library filled with ten-thousand cases of estate-grown vino? I can. Artists make good wine-makers, I’ve been told. And picture me in ten years’ time next to a bunch of French oak, a wine thief in my hand, asking if you would like to barrel-taste the new ‘aught-six’. A Davis grad would kill to be in my position.

Well, faithful readers, time to draw to a close.

Steve and Cathy and Bud

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