Mountain Spring and Early Fall 2003

(Excerpts from the Fall 2003 Newsletter)

The 2003 grapes were green and hard, the barrels were slumbering, and the snow was finally melting.  Before the frenzy of harvest, it’s time to bring wine to the mountains.  I picked up my daughter just before midnight, tugged hard on the mug of black coffee, turned up the vintage rock and roll, and pointed the truck toward the bridge.  We left the flat clack of keyboards, the gnawing doubts about career and country, and the honking hucksterism of the City.  Cruising up Highway 5, the setting moon outlined the silhouettes of the Yolla Bollys while Mars bravely guarded the
Eastern sky.

 

Coming even with the sleeping shadow of Mt. Lassen, I veered westward and climbed toward our destination in the Trinity Alps. Loyal, soft-eared Shasta, (after whom a fine volcano was recently named), naturally approved when dawn peeked through the pines.

 

I have special memories about the water on this trip—gushing out of the mountain everywhere, filling the air with music.   Water and time flow together in the mountains, trickling from high beds of dimpled snow over bare rock, filtering past the precocious anemones, perking the shooting stars, pouring streaks of molten silver down the granite faces. It tumbles through the firs and hemlocks into the sun, nourishing clutches of maidenhair ferns and tiger lilies, down to the spongy meadows where the new green pushes forth with adolescent urgency. Lupines trap morning dew while their buds swell, and hummingbirds impatiently probe the penstemons. In a few more weeks, the same places will see full summer flourish. We’ll walk through belly high blossoms, every crevice crowded with columbine and paintbrush, every boulder ringed with puffs of lavender Lewisia and regal gentian. Late in the summer the corn lily and angelica leaves turn yellow gold in the angular light. Spent but content, the stalks and fronds will sag to the sparse alpine soil, while mice pluck morsels from the fallen pods. On some cold October morning, we’ll hike out with snow tracing lacy patterns on the talus of red serpentine while the foxtail spruces brace for a Siskiyou winter.

Meanwhile, springs are mystical gifts of benevolent deities, and waterfalls are their enchanted playgrounds. Bluegreen lakes are squeaky cold, ospreys are lightning fast, my daughters are smart and tough, and some young men have important new ideas. Gorgonzola and garlic deserve each other, and Primitivo tastes great on a waxing moon.

Every winery, and perhaps every person, makes just so many vintages, and some years are better than others.  Rather than wait with a snooty scowl for the One, the perfect convergence of nature, taste, and human artistry, I’m rather enjoying each of them as they come along.  I like the flavor of wine, but the main pleasure comes from serving it to cheerful people.  You could be next.

Click Here for more photos

   

We’ll be featuring the resurrection of our Sauvignon Blanc from the fig-and-melon scented Musqu clone, a new Merlot and a big Syrah, all from the 2002 vintage. Sneak previews of a few future delights, plus some fine specials at the winery only.

New Wines for Autumn

Sauvignon Blanc 2002 Ventana Vineyard.  Through Salamandre’s early years, we made a lovely Sauvignon Blanc from the rare Musqué clone grown in Arroyo Seco.  Ordinary Sauvignon Blanc clones from cooler areas often carry a green, weedy quality, trespassing beyond the often touted “new mown hay.”  By contrast, the Musqué offers an abundant fig and melon aroma, round feel in the mouth, with an added richness from oak ageing.  The judges at Orange County and San Francisco liked it, too.  When those vines were ripped out after the 1993 harvest, we entered a decade of quiet mourning, especially when we served mussels, clams, or crab.  Doug Meador, the storied pioneer of Ventana Vineyard, saved us some in 2002, and the wake is over!  Summer fruit and herbs.  $15.

Merlot 2002 Arroyo Seco. Every year, there is one wine which stands out above the others, and after several years of Primitivo dominance, in 2002 it was Merlot’s turn. Arroyo Seco Merlot in warmer years normally delivers black plum flavors which relish the vanilla flavor nuances of American oak. “Relish” is too frilly a verb for the 2002 vintage. It loudly demanded more oak. So I obliged. Big wine with uncharacteristically deep color and fruit intensity.Try it brash and young with a steak. $22.

Syrah 2002, Los Lobos. This young fella’s been splitting firewood with a 12 pound maul all day, and he’s rippled with muscles and full of love. Give him a shower and a clean T-shirt, feed him beef, and don’t worry about the elbows on the table. The 97 and 98 Syrahs have aged very well, with jammy fruit, an earthy note, and black pepper for spice…but I’d pop this cork before he reaches the age of consent.

Did the gophers gobble your roses?

Then the vandals slashed your hoses?

Your dahlias stooped and sadly wilted?

Your democracy duped and badly jilted?

 

Did your car break down on the grade?

Your stocks crash down right after the trade?

Your cholesterol’s gone off soaring?

Your television’s too dumb and boring?

 

Well strap ‘em on and take control!

Mars is near and the Giants are on a roll!

Don’t just be an innocent bystander

Come and taste a new Salamandre

 

 

Tel  831-685-0321  FAX  831-685-1860

Web  SalamandreWine.com

E-mail:  newt@cruzio.com

 

Fall Invitational Tastings

Saturday & Sunday Sept 6 & 7, 2003
1-5 PM at the winery

A word about access.  Salamandre Cellars has no tasting room and we are not open to the general public.  Our private invitational tastings are held in the winery, which is carved into the hillside next to our home.  Parking is very limited and our surfaces can be uneven, slippery, and steep.  This is not an appropriate environment for unsupervised children, and it is not accessible to wheelchairs.  We are pleased to make special advance arrangements so that guests with mobility challenges can sample our wines.  Please Call.