2006 - Spring - One Art of the Winemaker: Blend but Don’t Break |
Wine marketers tout the Artistry of Wine, often treating us to a scene of a refined gentleman scrutinizing a full glass of wine in the sepia light of the barrel room, or some guy with a clean shirt and a fresh shave among the backlit vines…contemplating one grape.
In real life, winemaking requires a great deal of down and dirty dishwashing, slippery slimy shoveling, filing finicky federal forms. Plumbing repair is an essential skill, customarily practiced in unflattering postures not often displayed in the Louvre. Coaxing transmissions of old trucks in the mud in the dark takes talent but not much artistry. Since our European crushers like to break just as a truck full of grapes groans up the drive, a fluent grasp of foreign expletives can be helpful, although these chants are rarely confused with opera.
But Art? Wherefore Art thou Art? The one true manifestation might be blending.
In real life, winemaking requires a great deal of down and dirty dishwashing, slippery slimy shoveling, filing finicky federal forms. Plumbing repair is an essential skill, customarily practiced in unflattering postures not often displayed in the Louvre. Coaxing transmissions of old trucks in the mud in the dark takes talent but not much artistry. Since our European crushers like to break just as a truck full of grapes groans up the drive, a fluent grasp of foreign expletives can be helpful, although these chants are rarely confused with opera.
But Art? Wherefore Art thou Art? The one true manifestation might be blending.
Most of the great red wines in the world are blends, including the Blue Blood Bordeaux, the Randy Rhones, the Tuscan Classicos, the You Bet Shiraz! Australians, and my favorite Californians. Even the fabled Pinot Noirs of Burgundy (and, ahem, Aptos) are usually blends of different clones. Some of the blends originally came together by serendipity. French farmers in cool climates hedged their weather bets by planting several varieties with different biorhythms, figuring they might salvage some crop despite an ill-timed rain during bloom or harvest. In a good year, when they all ripened...Voilà! La Cuvée! Art! In some regions, rigid regulations specify the blend and the proportions in order to use renowned names like Chianti or Chateauneuf du Pape.
The best blends, however, are made deliberately…as a craft…sometimes by artists. I have winemaking friends who qualify. There’s really just one caveat. The collaboration needs to taste better than any of the constituents separately. Otherwise, why bother? Sometimes one wine may have appealing strengths, such as fruity aroma with generous acidity, but shy on body and color. If another clean wine is missing some fruit, but boasts tannin and ink in spades, the blend may surpass either. There is one Big Rule: There is never a justification to bIend just to dilute a flaw. That merely creates a larger tank full of flawed wine. Life is too short to drink (or sell) that stuff.
Back in our early days, we experimented with blends of Zinfandel and Petite Sirah…a California pre-Prohibition classic. Those vines were budded over to Merlot, and, while I love the Merlot, I really miss the old guys! We made the Ménage à Trois Vins in 1998 for about 5 years, blending the non-traditional partners of Syrah, Merlot, and Primitivo, tinkering a bit with the proportions every year. Our Coyote Cuvée blends, starting in 2004, apply Bordeaux models to grapes from the Wiley Ranch with pleasing results. The Newt South Wells draped a California mantle over an Aussie blending inspiration. Our Malbec has a small contribution of Cabernet, and we occasionally add a small percentage of Chardonnay to our other whites. The red blends need extra barrel age to get their stories straight about just what they were doing unchaperoned in the dark corner of the winery for two long winters. Don’t ask, don’t tell, just pour. (Update 2015)
The best blends, however, are made deliberately…as a craft…sometimes by artists. I have winemaking friends who qualify. There’s really just one caveat. The collaboration needs to taste better than any of the constituents separately. Otherwise, why bother? Sometimes one wine may have appealing strengths, such as fruity aroma with generous acidity, but shy on body and color. If another clean wine is missing some fruit, but boasts tannin and ink in spades, the blend may surpass either. There is one Big Rule: There is never a justification to bIend just to dilute a flaw. That merely creates a larger tank full of flawed wine. Life is too short to drink (or sell) that stuff.
Back in our early days, we experimented with blends of Zinfandel and Petite Sirah…a California pre-Prohibition classic. Those vines were budded over to Merlot, and, while I love the Merlot, I really miss the old guys! We made the Ménage à Trois Vins in 1998 for about 5 years, blending the non-traditional partners of Syrah, Merlot, and Primitivo, tinkering a bit with the proportions every year. Our Coyote Cuvée blends, starting in 2004, apply Bordeaux models to grapes from the Wiley Ranch with pleasing results. The Newt South Wells draped a California mantle over an Aussie blending inspiration. Our Malbec has a small contribution of Cabernet, and we occasionally add a small percentage of Chardonnay to our other whites. The red blends need extra barrel age to get their stories straight about just what they were doing unchaperoned in the dark corner of the winery for two long winters. Don’t ask, don’t tell, just pour. (Update 2015)