I just wrote a little piece for our newsletter, basically summing up what our Tour de Tanks event was like for us this past month. It was a warm-and-fuzzy, feel-good essay which in retrospect isn't quite what Tour de Tanks is all about, at least for us on the work side of the equation.
First off, it's not warm. Average temperature back in the cellar was 53F. And, second, after a long day speechifying, the only thing that made me feel good was a glass of wine or four. And the only thing fuzzy was my beard.
Granted, we all try to make everyone's visit as nice as possible. And I, for one, have a unique position in that I get to get up in front of almost two thousand people during the month and say something. Stuff. Whatever seems to come out of my mouth. I've learned over the years that it's sometimes best to not put too much of a filter between my brain and my tongue, even though I think I've said a couple wine-world shocking comments. (It's kind of the point in making a point: nobody ever remember the safe slow talker, just the loony who let his mouth run and made a couple interesting points.)
I spent a lot of time trying to push the idea--that I have been pushing since the very beginning--that we in this part of the world need to get off our collective asses and focus on something. The idea of "diversity is our strength" has reared its head in our grapegrower/winemaking conferences, and I have to say it makes me sick. Just think if there were 50 varieties of grapes in Bordeaux or Burgundy? Those places would cease to exist in anything that even mildy resembles their current form. Additionally, I doubt we would have such unearthly pleasures as Chateau Cheval-Blanc and Domanine de al Romanee-Conti. Generalization is anathema to beauty and wonder.
I harped on Chambourcin a lot during the past month. It's an easy target here in PA because for some reason it seems to be ubiquitous for a local winery. It usually produces an tart, acidic nicely colored red wine with an interesting flavor profile. Most importantly for local growers, it yields well, is disease resistant, and seems not to exhibit any of the obnoxious herbaceous flavors that vinifera reds seem to show when not ripened fully. But ultimately my issue with the grape is the fact that it allows us to lose focus on the task at hand.
Chambourcin is grown in the Beaujolais region of France with perhaps 6000 acres planted (so I'm told.) The French who have been making great wine for many more years than all of the wineries in PA combined relegate the grape to their table wines. Mind you, this isn't a bad thing. Chambourcin makes really nice red wine when it's grown properly. It's good juice. (I personally think it's best as a rose or perhaps a Port-style wine.)
See, I got distracted again. The task is to find out what our region can be known for, what we're best at, and what can put us on the map. What will make world-class wine in our region? I have stuck my neck out time and time again and said that Merlot is probably our star, or at least one of them. It's not easy to grow, it's not easy to ferment, but once it's in a bottle, it's easy to sell. (Don't kid yourselves....Sideways the Movie did not slow down sales of the variety.)
So, what does it take? If I knew, I'd be doing it already. Maybe we need consistency. Maybe we need a little luck. Who knows. If you have any ideas, I'm game.
First off, it's not warm. Average temperature back in the cellar was 53F. And, second, after a long day speechifying, the only thing that made me feel good was a glass of wine or four. And the only thing fuzzy was my beard.
Granted, we all try to make everyone's visit as nice as possible. And I, for one, have a unique position in that I get to get up in front of almost two thousand people during the month and say something. Stuff. Whatever seems to come out of my mouth. I've learned over the years that it's sometimes best to not put too much of a filter between my brain and my tongue, even though I think I've said a couple wine-world shocking comments. (It's kind of the point in making a point: nobody ever remember the safe slow talker, just the loony who let his mouth run and made a couple interesting points.)
I spent a lot of time trying to push the idea--that I have been pushing since the very beginning--that we in this part of the world need to get off our collective asses and focus on something. The idea of "diversity is our strength" has reared its head in our grapegrower/winemaking conferences, and I have to say it makes me sick. Just think if there were 50 varieties of grapes in Bordeaux or Burgundy? Those places would cease to exist in anything that even mildy resembles their current form. Additionally, I doubt we would have such unearthly pleasures as Chateau Cheval-Blanc and Domanine de al Romanee-Conti. Generalization is anathema to beauty and wonder.
I harped on Chambourcin a lot during the past month. It's an easy target here in PA because for some reason it seems to be ubiquitous for a local winery. It usually produces an tart, acidic nicely colored red wine with an interesting flavor profile. Most importantly for local growers, it yields well, is disease resistant, and seems not to exhibit any of the obnoxious herbaceous flavors that vinifera reds seem to show when not ripened fully. But ultimately my issue with the grape is the fact that it allows us to lose focus on the task at hand.
Chambourcin is grown in the Beaujolais region of France with perhaps 6000 acres planted (so I'm told.) The French who have been making great wine for many more years than all of the wineries in PA combined relegate the grape to their table wines. Mind you, this isn't a bad thing. Chambourcin makes really nice red wine when it's grown properly. It's good juice. (I personally think it's best as a rose or perhaps a Port-style wine.)
See, I got distracted again. The task is to find out what our region can be known for, what we're best at, and what can put us on the map. What will make world-class wine in our region? I have stuck my neck out time and time again and said that Merlot is probably our star, or at least one of them. It's not easy to grow, it's not easy to ferment, but once it's in a bottle, it's easy to sell. (Don't kid yourselves....Sideways the Movie did not slow down sales of the variety.)
So, what does it take? If I knew, I'd be doing it already. Maybe we need consistency. Maybe we need a little luck. Who knows. If you have any ideas, I'm game.
Carl,
ReplyDeletePerhaps what you need is more variety in the bottle, versus variety across bottles. I would think PA could do well with a blend easier than a single- or predominant-varietal. ...Since you can try to construct the wine you want, instead of relying so heavily on the vineyard to produce it.
I'm sure you already to some of that. Enough, though? I guess that means growing several grapes well, though. If it was easy.... :]
, Lee