1997 No. 2

Dear Faithful Subscribers:

The Vigneron and the Artist-in-Residence are continuing with their educational improvement. They completed the UC Davis one-day course entitled Introduction to Wine Analysis. The course was held in the Enology Lab at Davis. We learned how to spot Whatman Papers to determine malolactic fermentation, how to test wine for free and total SO₂, how to calculate the percentage of alcohol in wine, how to determine the level of pH, titratable acidity, volatile acid and residual sugar. The Vigneron and the Artist-in-Residence can now pipet and titrate with the best of them.

The Artist-in-Residence brought a bottle of his 1996 Syrah and the Vigneron’s 1995, Clos Pepe’s least successful venture, to use as test samples. Despite doing all the tests, the Vigneron still cannot figure out what is wrong with the 1995. Perhaps he should give it away as a stocking stuffer.

The Vigneron’s fond images of the Davis Enology Lab as the squeaky-clean holy-of-holies of the winemaking art were brought low by the somewhat sad condition of the venerable building. It is older than the Vigneron and not holding up nearly as well. The work of the lab has long since outgrown its space; there is something crammed into every nook and cranny. At the end of the course, we took a tour of the wine cellar, which makes Frank G.’s overstuffed garage look under-utilized. The walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with wine racks filled with bottles of all sizes and shapes. The floor space is also covered floor-to-ceiling with shelving similarly crammed and all varieties of winemaking equipment are stored in the spaces between the shelving.

The cellar maintains a winemaking "library" of Davis-made wines dating from the 1930s. The highlight of the course was the tasting at the end. The instructor pulled out a 1950 cabernet from the Davis Oakville vineyard which was superb. None of the attendees guessed the wine was 47 years old.

After the class concluded around 5:30 p.m., the Vigneron and the Artist-in-Residence jumped in the vineyard truck and trucked the 400 miles back to the ranch. We couldn’t stand to be away from those vines for one more night.

In most cliches, there is a kernel of truth (no cliche intended). In March the Vigneron and the Artist-in-Residence spent another weekend at Davis, this time in a two-day course called Introduction to Sensory Evaluation of Wine. The course is a combination of lecture, wine-component tasting and then at the end, finally some real wines.

We started with a lecture by Dr. Noble, who developed and copyrighted the "Wine Aroma Wheel," which lists over 100 wine aromas. Besides the obvious fruit, vegetable and floral smells, it contains such well-known aromas as Methyle Anthranilate and Linalool. A free bottle (perhaps a magnum, the way things are going) of the Clos Pepe 1995 to any faithful reader who can identify Linalool off the top of his or her head. (Hint: female readers may have an advantage.) The Artist-in-Residence spent a considerable amount of time memorizing the descriptors on the Wine Aroma Wheel and now uses them incessantly. What is it about English majors that makes them so verbose and unable to use common everyday words? (Not to be intimidated by Dr. Noble, the Artist-in-Residence even took the literary license of translating her scientific aroma descriptor "sweat socks" to "funky sneakers.")

We then studied the visual characteristics of wine. As part of this session, we tasted and were asked to identify a "mystery" wine. The Artist-in-Residence confidently opined it was a Riesling, the Vigneron was sure it was not. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe a Sémillon, but definitely not a Riesling. When the wine was finally identified, it turned out to be an Alsatian gewúrztraminer — uncomfortably close to a Riesling. Close enough for the Artist-in-Residence, who crowed about his victory in most undignified and ungentlemanly fashion.

We then moved on to wine odors — first the floral characteristics of white wine and then "off" odors and what causes them in the wine making process. For the floral components we were given eight wine samples doctored with grapefruit, butter, banana, oak, vanilla, etc. The Artist-in-Residence correctly deciphered the eight aromas, which made him even more insufferable. We then shifted to the major wine components of acid, sugar and tannin. The Artist-in-Residence, sure he was on a roll, was visibly dejected when the Vigneron correctly selected the four acid samples and the four sugar samples in the correct order of the strength of the component. The Vigneron attempted to console the Artist-in-Residence by commenting that, after all the wine he has drunk in his lifetime, he ought to know his acids, sugars and tannins by now.

The next day we finally started tasting real wine. We were lectured by Dr. Boulton, an Australian enology professor whose thesis was that many standard winery practices, such as cold-soaking grapes, skin contact and filtration, do not have an appreciable sensory (tasting) impact on the wine. The Artist-in-Residence was impressed with this revelation (after working the 1996 harvest at Babcock winery, he is now an expert) and was surprised by the Vigneron’s observation that most of what Dr. Boulton said about red wines was consistent with the way the Vigneron and Frank G. have been making wine for the past several years because that is the way their fathers and grandfathers did it. The Vigneron hopes the Artist-in-Residence now has a little more regard for the traditional ways, but doubts it.

We spent the last afternoon blind-tasting six white wines — which were three different varietals — and six red zinfandels — really red, not pink or white. By this time, we were all experts; the aroma descriptors for the white wines rolled as fast as the Aroma Wheel could be turned and everybody was finding butterscotch, honeysuckle, Linalool, bananas, pineapples and all the other exotic descriptions of white wines. We then switched our attention to the zinfandels and the group — now all experts — was quite positive that they were all clearly flawed to some extent and the only question was how egregious was the flaw.

We have come successfully through the frost season and had an excellent bud break. In 1996 we planted 4.0 acres of Davis 5 green vines instead of dormant bench grafts (one year vines that have the French varietal grafted in the nursery during the winter) due to a miscalculation in the size of the chardonnay vineyard. When we pruned them in the fall of 1996 they were the puniest and most anemic vines in the vineyard. To give them a boost in 1997 we installed grow tubes. Grow tubes are a new phenomenon and are plastic cylinders about 3½ inches by 3-4 feet. They act as a miniature greenhouse and boy do they work. The Davis 5 clones are 2-3 feet taller than the other three dormant bench grafted clones. The issue with grow tubes is cost — 23¢-85¢ per tube; with 4,000 plants, that adds up, plus the labor cost of installing and removing them. We won’t even get the benefit of using them year after year; we will only use them one more time with our pinot planting in 1998. Hopefully, we will be able to sell them. If any of our faithful readers would be interested in a gross or two, please call. In any event, L’Agent can design needlepoint covers for them and hawk them out of the gift shop.

After bud break we had the field grafters come in and chip bud 6,900 of the 5C root stock to the Wente clone. Chip budding or field grafting is the older method of grafting. You let the American root stock grow one season and then in the spring of the second year you cut off a bud of the clone you desire, cut a notch in the root stock, insert the bud and tie it up. When it takes, you cut off the top of the root stock and away you go. It is an amazing operation to watch and requires a lot of skill. The success rate is the same as dormant bench grafts - about 98-99%. This spring we also ordered 525 dormant bench grafts of the four clones to replace the 1995 planting failures and plants that the gophers got. Presently all of the vines are up on the stakes and we are now tying them to the fruiting wire. After that, aside from periodic sulphuring, we wait until harvest time.

In past editions of the newsletter, we have noted that the 1995 Clos Pepe and Chateau Guadagnini, Santa Ynez Vintage, had some problems — aside from who made it. Initially, in the barrel,it tasted fine, albeit a little thin and acidic due to its early picking (caused by someone who shall remain nameless but whose initials are "F.G.", who scheduled a vacation in Switzerland the week before the grapes were fully ripe). After bottling in 1996, the wine developed a somewhat musty, distinctly "off" aftertaste (an aftertaste so peculiar, it was not even in Dr. Noble’s aroma wheel). The Vigneron was perplexed, but not yet ready to assign his 18 cases of the 1995 vintage to the vinegar barrel. Frank G., in his usual philosophical manner, commented "We just made lousy wine. God will give us another vintage." The Artist-in-Residence, putting his head together with the avant-garde young winemakers of Santa Ynez, developed the theory, along with his buddies, that the problem was a lack of sulphur.

In the spring of 1997, the Vigneron, Frank G. and the Artist-in-Residence bottled a case of the 1996 so they could submit it to the Orange and Los Angeles County Fair wine judging competitions. Where it garnered a bronze medal at each. The Artist-in-Residence, to avoid another disaster with the 1996, had his buddies calculate the amount of sulphur at 50 ppm for the 135 gallons of wine (commercial wineries use between 75 and 125 ppm of sulphur). The Vigneron suggested to the Artist-in Residence that Frank G. would not hear of sulphuring the wine. (In his first winemaking effort 20 years ago, Frank G. apparently added too much sulphur and ruined the wine. He still refuses to consider using sulphur.) The Vigneron suggested to the Artist-in-Residence that he take the indirect approach and appeal to Frank’s engineering side (rather than his Italian side) by proposing an experiment with just a small amount of the vintage. We could use our 15-gallon barrel to see whether sulphur added before bottling would make any difference in the wine’s taste after bottling. The Artist-in-Residence, however, did not see the wisdom in the indirect approach and made a frontal assault on Frank G., bolstering his comments and certainty by citing the authority of the great, but yet unknown young wine maker turks from Santa Ynez. As expected, Frank was unimpressed. The Artist-in-Residence then conducted his own experiment: he offered Frank G. two glasses of wine, to one of which he had added sulphur. Unfortunately, in a momentary lapse from his Davis training, he neglected to measure the sulphur. Nevertheless, he challenged Frank G. to detect the difference. Frank G. was up for it — he picked out the sulphured wine by merely smelling it.

Meanwhile, the Vigneron had not tasted the 1995 since bottling it in the late summer of 1996. He discovered some bottles at the ranch and decided to try it again. Lo and behold, the "off" aftertaste had vanished. He had L’Agent blind-taste it and she agreed that the aftertaste was gone. Even the Artist-in-Residence agreed. What a puzzlement. L’Agent, seizing on burgundy descriptions of young burgundies as going through a "dumb stage," has decided that this was what happened to the 1995 and that it has now come through its "dumb stage." (She keeps hoping the Vigneron will come out of that stage too.) In any event, she is already rewriting past editions of the newsletter to change any derogatory descriptions to the 1995 to references to its "dumb stage." So, those of you who have saved past issues of this epistle, as I’m sure all of you have, you now own collector’s items. L’Agent does not find it material that our wine is not a burgundy, which is made with pinot noir, but a bordeaux blend — 2/3 cabernet franc and 1/3 cabernet sauvignon. The bordelaise would never call their wines "dumb" — they use that term to describe the rest of the world’s wines.

The area between the Santa Rosa Road and Highway 246, west of the 101 freeway (where Clos Pepe is located), is at times referred to as the Santa Rita Valley. It is now being recognized that Santa Rita Valley is going to be a premiere location for growing burgundian wines, that is, chardonnay and pinot noir. Between Clos Pepe and Babcock, the Melville Vineyard from Calistoga is planting a hundred acres, mostly in chardonnay and pinot noir. Across Highway 246 from Clos Pepe, Fess Parker has purchased 600 acres and is going to put in 125 acres of chardonnay and pinot noir grapes. On the Santa Rosa Road, Sanford, Gainey and Santa Barbara Wine Company are all planting new vineyards. Next year, Fiddlehead is putting in 125 acres of pinot noir. If any of our faithful subscribers have some extra cash, now would be a good time to get in on the vineyard game before it gets taken over by all the heavy hitters.

Yes, the Artist-in-Residence (Wes Hagen) has been replaced by the Viticulturist-in-Training. Same person, different outlook. Writing the Great American Novel(s) isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. It’s hard to write a marketable book if you haven’t been abducted by aliens, killed your wife, or had extramarital relations with someone famous. Oh well. I just wanted to write interesting literature. Growing grapes is much simpler. You do the work, the plants respond. The wrath of nature can slow you down, but I’d much rather face a raging storm than a New York publishing house.

As for the grapes, they’re looking great. We couldn’t have asked for a better growing season. Cool, foggy nights. Warm days that become temperate as the Santa Rita Valley fills with coastal air, as it does every midday. Average June weather looks something like this: fog until 10:00 AM, then bright sunshine, with windy, cool afternoons and evenings. The wind’s been strong this year, and some vines have sustained physical damage and scarring. While everyone seems to think that "stressing" a vine is good, the opposite is true of young vines.

Getting that plant 30 inches up the stake and getting some canes laid on the fruiting wire is vital at the end of the second growing season. Having dormant canes on a wire during winter will "prime" the vines to produce next year. Come spring, that dead-looking wood will start throwing fruit and a canopy to protect it. The wind has made training the vines more difficult, and we worked through the vineyard as fast as we could. Young vines are trained by loosely tying them (vertically) to the stake with 1/2 inch green tie-tape. When the vine is tall enough, it is either laid on the wire, all canes pointed South (unilateral cane-pruned cordon), or it is cut, and the lateral shoots are laid on the wire, going both directions (bilateral cane-pruned cordon). By the time we trained the vineyard once (18,000+ vines) the other side was filled with leaf-laden canes waving in the wind (a few of them actually were ripped free from the stalk by the wind).

Working in the vineyard every day is close to heaven. Your hands start looking really bad, you don’t bathe quite so often, but your office is a sea of magical green that literally turns water into wine. Sure, the 6:15 wake-up call might seem a bit early, especially with no time clock save the knowledge that nature waits for no man. In the vineyard by 7:00. Start cooking through the vines by 7:30. Leave the rows and the crews at lunch. Maybe make a few calls or go on a trip to get equipment or materials. You can’t ask for a better existence. Come three or four in the afternoon, I’m free to write, fish Gaviota on my kayak, play golf, or dote on my beautiful girlfriend Kathryn. All that, and I get invited to a lot of tastings and dinners.

The Viticulturist-in-Training has been hanging out with the likes of Richard Atkins (owner of Sanford and Benedict Vineyard), Richard Sanford, Greg Brewer, Dan Gainey, Fess and Ely Parker, Bryan Babcock, Rick Langoria, etc. All of these wine-biz gunslingers (myself included) have met twice to discuss a super-secret project that will be made public in August, around the time of the SBCVA Harvest Festival. Very exciting to Clos Pepe in particular, this news bodes well for our business and our property value. On the subject of business booms, Fess Parker will most likely buy 640 acres adjacent to Clos Pepe. At a cozy Hitching Post dinner with Ely and Bryan Babcock, Ely told me that they plan to have a wine-making facility there, and due to the popularity and profitability of their other tasting room, it can be inferred that hordes of tasters may be searching Highway 246 in the years to come.

The Davis-4 Chardonnay which John Krska recommended we put on the wire last year, is bearing beautiful fruit this year. Estimating harvest is difficult on such a small scale, but I would be happy if we get half a ton and make a full barrel of wine over at Babcock. The Vigneron would be happy if it were enough to sell. (Vigneron being influenced by L’Agent?)

Lily the wonder dog wants equal billing in the Clos Pepe Newsletter, and continues to show jealousy when she sees Bud’s (and only Bud’s) paw-print on the back page of the newsletter. Quoth the 108 lb. pup: "All that corpulent hound does on Clos Pepe is chase ducks and beg for food. I’m in the field all week keeping the workers safe from gophers and rabbits, barking at visitors, keeping Wes company, and this is the respect I get. I’m the vineyard dog, and Bud knows it." When asked about Bud’s heroics in the Long Beach Fire, Lily responded: "That? That was nothing. He told me in confidence that he thought it was a barbecue. He woke up the Vigneron to beg for a piece of tri-tip." Lily believes she will gain her due respect as soon as the ‘101 Dalmatians’ craze has waned.

Well faithful readers, it is time to bring this epistle to a close. We have received some comments that while our faithful readers love these letters, sometimes they can be too much of a good thing and we shall, with the assistance of our able editors, try to keep them to a dozen pages.

Cathy, Steve and Bud

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