This morning I received a magazine, the inaugural issue, Mutineer. It billed itself as ‘not your parent’s beverage magazine’. I wasn’t completely surprised to see it. I had met the magazine’s editor-in-chief, Alan Kropf, while he was in Oregon for Pinot Camp. He had said that we would be getting a copy of the magazine, and this morning we did. So of course I began thumbing through it and noticed an article by Alan, The Great Oregon Wine Mutiny.

Let me just get it out in the open now, I am by no means a literary critic. This should come as no surprise to anyone that reads this blog regularly or knows me personally. I am also no expert on pop culture; I am a farmer and craftsmen. I should also go on the record as saying I make a modest living and have never been to Paris, the Grand Cayman Islands, don’t have accounts is Swiss banks and have never tasted a single drop of Petrus. I am not a wine expert, with the exception of the wines in barrel at Patton Valley, which I know like the back of my hand. In other words I have little use for ‘lifestyle magazines’.

Thumbing through several pages of Mutineer magazine, I found the article written by Alan. He had visited Oregon last fall and written an article about, well mostly, Doug Tunnel and his winery, Brick House Vineyards. Doug has been growing grapes in the Willamette Valley for probably close to 20 years now and had a whole other life before he decided to become a vintner. A fascinating character to say the least, Doug is the sort of guy that a lot of people might write a story about. In fact, many actually have.

Alan didn’t wade into the subject with the usual kind of wine wank. He seemed to be trying to get past the bottle and the brands and get down to what I think is interesting about wine; the people behind the wines and the nature of their relationship to their vineyards and process. I actually had to let out a ‘fuck yes’ when I read Alan’s description of Doug; “It is hard to tell where the vineyard stops and where Doug begins…”. If any of you have met Doug Tunnel you would likely agree that it would be hard to find a more elegant and accurate way to describe him.

Alan, and Mutineer, doesn’t go into petty tasting notes. They don’t list the scores assigned to the most recent Brick House releases. They don’t add to the hype that surrounds the legend of Doug Tunnel, they simply describe why Doug is worthy of that sort of attention. Alan circles the subject, tries to look past the haze of Branding and Marketing and get down to the very essence of what great wine really is; someone’s connection to a piece of ground and their commitment to honoring it. Mr. Kropf manages to slice through all of the trivial aspects of wine like Brick House Chardonnay cuts through rich foods; directly and seemingly without trying. In the Letter from the editor, Alan defines Mutineer ’s mission; “… the world of wine, beer, spirits, and all fine beverages has been somehow perverted within the void that exists between maker and drinker.” He also states that; “… the people, ideas, and culture surrounding the world of fine beverage are far more relevant and interesting than countless pages of beverage ratings… the Mutineer, will NEVER reduce something as complex and beautiful as a fine beverage to a mere number.” To that I say; can I get an Amen!

I haven’t read the entire magazine, yet. But I wanted to Post on what I think Mutineer could do for the current state of wine writing. I think, based on this one article in the first issue, that it could provide a view point that is not only lacking, but is very much needed; the point of view that wine is an honest product made by honest people and deserves to be addressed honestly. All of the pretension that surrounds wine comes from someplace AFTER is has left the vineyard and winery. There are plenty of publications that raise wine to collector’s items, symbols of elitism or make it into an intellectual pursuit on par with quantum mechanics or medieval history. Hopefully Mutineer can return wine, in the public eye, to what it has always been…real.   http://www.mutineermagazine.com

I've had a couple of whirlwind weeks; a week of sales in Ohio, Oregon Pinot Camp, and Pinot Days in San Francisco.  So I am easing back into things by not writing in my typical 'draw a line in the sand' style and instead will comment on a few things that I think need to be commented upon.

First.  While in Ohio I, along with my distributor, dropped in on an account that has been a supporter of Patton Valley.  Vue, in Hudson Ohio, is a beautiful space.  It was lively, comfortable and stylish.  I met the wine buyer, Mike Tomeselli in his red wine cellar.  He quickly began pulling corks and I soon found myself sitting at the bar with a glass of a kick ass Hermitage ( several actually ) and a plate of food paired with it, prepared by Chef Rick Carson.  The whole point of me mentioning Vue is because I was deeply impressed with Mike's hospitality and very much impressed with Ricks food.  It was the sort of experience I would tend to expect from great food cities such as NY, Chicago, Portland or SF.  If you find yourself in Hudson, Ohio do yourself a favor and stop by Vue, if you don't find yourself in Hudson, make the trip ( http://www.vue-restaurant.com ).

Second.  Oregon Pinot Camp has to be one of the best 'trade only' wine events there is.  Why, you ask?  I think there are a couple of reasons; because many attendees told me so and because I had a lot of fun myself.  For those of you not 'in the know' Pinot Camp is an event sponsored by 50 different wineries in Oregon.  We bring in about 200 wine buyers from around the country and make every attempt to brain wash them about the virtues of Oregon wines.  Participants attend a rigorous schedule of tastings, panel discussions, vineyard tours, lunches, dinners and of course visits to local hangouts ( just to get the full Oregon experience ).  I have to say that it is great to meet the people who support you in an environment where you have a chance learn who they are.  It is also great to meet people who don't know your wines and see them get excited about your wines and Oregon wines in general.  Be warned, if you step into a shop or restaurant staffed by an Oregon Pinot Camp participant you will likely get caught up in their enthusiasm for Oregon wines.  I think the brain washing worked!

Third.  Pinot Days in San Francisco was an amazing event.  I have never seen so many Pinot Producers under one roof.  Oregon was greatly out numbered, but I think we showed very well.  I personally liked the opportunity to get pushed into the vinuous mosh pit with some of California's top Pinot producers.  I want my wines to be tasted against the best, to be compared with the benchmarks of greatness.  I honestly believed Patton Valley held its own against the 'competition' but would certainly welcome readers comments in that regard.  Pinot Days also gave me the opportunity to meet; face to face, once and for all, the King of Wine Bloggers, Alder Yarrow of Vinography ( http://www.vinography.com ).  I frequently post on Alders blog and he has not yet banned me from the site.

So that is what I have been up to, again please excuse my neglect.

   So it was with much enthusiasm that I read his article in the May 6th, 2007 New York Times ( co authored by Daniel Patterson ) titled " Talk Dirt To me" ( http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/06/style/tmagazine/06tdirt.html?pagewanted=1&n=Top/News/Science/Topics/Soil ).

   In the article McGee takes on one of the Community of Wine's hottest topics; Terrior.  He states early in the article that " The idea that one can taste the earth in wine is appealing...", " The trouble is that it is not true".  In typical McGee fashion he goes on to make a series of scientifically backed arguments that dispel the myth that wine is capable of tasting like the soil that the wine came from.

   He also says; " If you ask a hundred people about the meaning of terrior, they’ll give you a hundred definitions, ...".  I couldn't agree more with McGee here and I think this is the fundamental problem with any discussion of Terrior, you simply cannot be sure that any two people are talking about the same thing.  I have on this blog and elsewhere taken the stance that the word terrior should be stricken from our collective vocabulary and replaced with 'sense of place' or perhaps Matt Kramers' "somewhereness ".

    Terrior, has become a loaded word in today's wine lexicon.  It somehow denotes that only some wines are capable of showing 'terrior'.  That it is terrior that makes a wine great.  That wines dominated by earthy, mineral or soil notes show terrior and others that display more fruit do not.  Most of all I dislike the apparent criteria put forth by many wine writers that ' too much  oak, extraction or ripeness, covers up terrior'.  The problem is no one has yet to tell me  just how much oak or extraction is too much or how ripe is too ripe.  Hell most wine writers have a seriously outdate notion of what 'ripeness' is ( I have addressed this previously ).  In other words terrior is subjective.  If I were to take the advice of those with this limited view of what terrior is I would: pick my grapes as soon as they changed color ( around 17 brix ),  press them immediately so as not to extract anything from the skin, and ferment them only in stainless steel.  In other words the wines that best show terrior would be Rose's.

    'Sense of place' has no magic attributed to it.  It isn't something special that only certain vineyards from certain places are capable of obtaining.  I often assert that ALL wines display a sense of place unless a winemaker goes to great lengths to cover it up ( yes, many do ).  It isn't just wines dominated by earthy characters that show a 'sense of place', fruit flavor profiles can be specific to a place as well.  'Sense of place' also doesn't give the false impression that some parcels of land will simply make great wine no matter what; if La Tache were poorly farmed and the wine carelessly handled it too would be terrible.  'Sense of place' doesn't accept wines marked by microbial signatures as authentic reflections of place; reduction is reduction, Brett is Brett, they have no relation to place what so ever ( in fact they destroy place ).  'Sense of place' also gives as much credit to a vineyards geography; its elevation, slope, aspect, specific wind and rain patterns as it does to its soils.

    Most of all 'sense of place' doesn't require anyone to subscribe to a total bullshit world view.  McGee goes to great lengths to dispel the notion that vines take up flavor molecules from the soil and deposit it them in the wine.  He is right in doing so.  He dispels the myth that wines taste like the soil they are grown in.  He dismantles the foundation that terrior rests upon.

    What McGee does not do is strip wine completely of its influence by place.  He does not negate the importance of soil, aspect, climate etc in the final analysis of a wines 'character'.  Why does he not do so?  Why does he not kill, once and for all, the notion of terrior completely?  Simply because he cannot.  The truth is too strong.  Wines do reflect the places they come from, the earth does speak through them.  The problem is that terrior takes the arrogant position that we, as humans, can understand just what the earth is saying.  'Sense of place' give us the wiggle room needed to understand wine, it doesn't reduce the possibilities it expands them.  Most of all it allows us to be humble enough to say that though the earth is speaking, we don't understand everything it says.

    I was urged to write this by a sales rep that works in Southern California.  It is in regards to your practice of blending Syrah with Pinot Noir.

    I want to be clear that this is not an attack on any particular 'style' of Pinot Noir.  I am simply asking that you stop blending other varietals with Pinot Noir and labeling it as varietal Pinot Noir.

   I suspect that a vast majority of you engaged in this practice are in compliance with California labeling laws, that though week and insufficient, make doing so well within your rights.  I am not objecting to you blending syrah, or any other varietal, with Pinot Noir for legal reasons.  Neither am I 'crying foul' because we here in Oregon must live with much more stringent laws for labeling our beloved Pinot Noir.  I am asking you to stop doing this to honor the nobility of the Pinot Noir grape.

   Pinot Noir, as a wine, is most capable of reflecting a sense of its origins both in terms of where it is grown and how it is made.  Its wines display levels grace, sophistication, finesse and elegance that simply cannot be achieved by other grapes. It is the inherent character of Pinot Noir that makes it one of the great grapes of the world.  Like the breeding of fine horses, dogs or livestock; Pinot Noir too deserves to maintain a purity of its bloodline.  The blending of of syrah, or other varietals, with Pinot Noir is to make it something other than Pinot Noir, to 'soil' its purity and nobility.

   Now I do understand that most of the wines made this way are not; premium, single vineyard wines of distinction.  I do understand that a majority of these wines are being sold at price points under $20, perhaps even lower, that are attractive to 'new' consumers of wine.  It is for this reason that I am compelled to write this letter. 

    Many of these new consumers have, quite simply, not yet had the opportunity to experience great Pinot Noir.  By offering them these misleading wines, you are biasing there attitudes, pallets, and opinions creating a standard that is not in the image of true Pinot Noir.  These consumers then spend thier lives lost in a sea of wine never knowing, never understanding what an honest and beautiful wine Pinot Noir can be.

    Your actions are effecting the countless producers of 100%, honest and true, Pinot Noir.  Your 'rabbit in the hat trick' wines are creating an obstacle between producers of pure pinot noir and the consumers that deserve more honest wines.  You are creating false and confusing expectations in consumers.  This will only serve to make wine more intimidating and alienate would be customers. 

    Please, stop tainting Pinot Noir with other varietals.  It isn't good for our industry.   It isn't good for consumers. Most of all it just isn't good for the future of Pinot Noir.

Jerry D. Murray

    There is a commonly held opinion that 'native' or 'wild' yeast fermentations somehow express 'terrior' while cultured yeasts somehow destroy it.  Mr Smith then turns the argument to the age old one of 'what is terrior'.  Like Clark, I agree that cultured yeasts leave a minimal imprint on wines and that 'place' is much more resilient  than wine critics would have us believe.  I, and I suspect Clark too, is tired of people defining terrior as a wine that smells earthy.  I hear it all the time, someone sticks their nose into some wine that clearly has a flaw and declares that the wine shows terrior.  I suspect that Clark is frustrated with people mistaking the band aid character of Brett or the toasty funky hints of pediococcus or the blue cheese tones of lactobacillus as 'terrior'.  I know for  a fact that I am.  

    I have stopped using the word 'terrior' precisely because it means so many things to so many people.  What it means to me is that a wine reflects the place it was grown, that the unique combination of geology and geography that defines every vineyard is expressed in the wine, that a wine has a 'sense of place'.   There is nothing unique about aromas and flavors generated by spoilage microorganisms.  Let me be clear:  in my opinion, in order for a wine to express place it must be clean!  So I can see how Clark might be frustrated by the prevalent attitude about 'terrior' and the bias against things that are wrongfully perceived to destroy it.

    However I do not take Clark's stance on the menacing nature of 'wild' or 'native' yeasts, not completely.  I do agree that there is considerable risk in allowing these yeasts to conduct fermentations.  I would however point out that each cultured yeast was itself, at one time, a wild yeast.  It was simply selected for because it had beneficial properties and was propagated  to become a cultured yeast.  Therefore, I believe, there is nothing inherently wrong with these 'wild' yeasts.

    I employ what I call 'spontaneous' fermentations exclusively in my Pinot Noir, that is I allow the yeasts living in my winery or vineyard to ferment my wines.  These yeasts perform very well, in fact the only problems with stuck fermentations or microbial spoilage I have had have been in wines fermented with cultured yeasts. I do think that these yeasts do impart a unique character to the wines, as would any yeast, but never to the point of dominating the characters I believe are the result of 'place'.  I go to great lengths to prevent the development of spoilage microbes that would otherwise destroy this sense of place, as many winemakers do.  I simply find that using native yeasts works well for me.

     Part of the appeal of cultured yeasts is the degree of 'control' they allow a winemaker to exert.  They allow winemakers, with the help of a variety of tools, to more fully shape a wine.  The use of ever increasing technology, cultured yeasts included, allow winemakers to, like god, create wines in their own image.  I have heard california winemakers say that by manipulating vines with irrigation they can choose thier harvest date months in advance.  All of these things no doubt have led to an overall increase in wine quality and should be considered a good thing.  Why wouldn't a winemaker embrace these technologies?

          Because someone has to do things the hard way.  Someone has to explore the greatest rewards that only come by assuming the greatest risks.  I don't want winemaking to be easy, I don't want it to be predictable.  Like a craftsmen working with period tools; a blacksmith with only fire and hammer, a carpenter with only hand powered tools, I approach my work.  Not because there is no other way but because it is the way that feels most right.

      In barrel the wines showed what I thought was intense  fruit, great depth and brooding complexity.  All of this buried beneath an aggressive tannic core.  Time smoothed things out and going to bottle I was very proud of the the wines.  I had been with them every step of the way, I knew where they were weak and what made them strong.  I was proud but I knew they weren't perfect.

     We do a small reserve blend, all from our estate, a mere 90 cases, the Cuvee Lorna-Marie.  It gives me an opportunity to show just what our vineyard can do in a given season.  It is meant to be the best wine we can make. 

     Last week Harvey Steinman of the Wine Spectator ( online ) gave the 2005 Patton Valley Vineyard Cuvee Lorna-Marie Pinot Noir  94 points.  The next day my e-mail was packed with people inquiring about the wine.  Wine buyers who had tasted the wine, sometimes on numerous occasions, were now wanting to get some.   New customers faxed, called and e-mailed.  I was being congratulated by friends around town.  My bosses were thrilled. 

     I have met Harvey and I believe he carries himself in a very professional manner.  I will admit, that like most wine makers, I have mixed feelings about wine critics and the 100 point scale.  I will not raise Harvey or any other wine writer to the level of villain, include them in some sort of conspiracy theory or blame them for the current state of wine.  They have a job to do, and they do it.  I sent him the wine and am glad he liked it.

     It is the same wine it was before it got the 94 points.  It is the same wine I punched down twice a day during fermentation.  The same wine I topped weekly and racked carefully.  The same wine that hung on those vines all summer, threatened by powdery mildew.   More flattering than the 94 points have been the comments from fellow wine makers, customers and sommeliers.  To be honest I always believed in  the wine.  I had a sort of  secret crush on it, I loved it.  Deep down inside I honestly believed that it wasn't just good but great.

     It is good to know that some else does too. 

Most of these regions are so old that today is but a point in a continuum of wine production that offers no view of the regions early claims to greatness. Today is just too far from the beginning to be able to offer any idea of what those early days were like. Even in the New World, notably California and Australia, the age of the industries are too old to remember their true pioneers, except in old pictures and news clippings.. Time serves to erase memory and effectively obscures the people and conditions that not only create wine regions but elevate them to peaks of greatness.

It was May 7^th 2001 that the Oregon Wine Industry began for me. I had moved to Oregon just year earlier and was touring wine country with a group of ‘wine people’ that included a chef friend of mine. I had increasingly become not merely interested in Pinot Noir, but damn near obsessed. This tour was to visit a number of wineries and vineyards, most arranged to meet and taste with the winemakers. In addition to meeting some of the top winemakers in Oregon, Steve Dorner of Cristom and Terry Casteel of Bethel Heights among them, I also met the starting point of Oregon Pinot Noir. David Lett, of the Eyrie Vineyards, hosted us at his winery in McMinnville.

The wall of the Eyrie winery was covered with old black and white photos of a young man and his wife, brimming with optimism and cradling armfuls of sticks. These sticks were Pinot Noir vines that would be pushed into the ground, in 1965, on an old farm in the Dundee Hills of Oregon’s Willamette Valley. That pushing into the red clay soil of those sticks was the beginning of not just an industry but a story of one of those legendary and fabled wines It was May 7^th 2001 in front of those pictures that I decided that my life would be spent among barrels and vines.

As the legend is told me; in 1979 someone, without David Lett’s knowledge, entered his 1975 South Block Pinot Noir into a wine tasting to be held in Paris. In 1976 the french were devastated and humiliated when several California wines beat them in a blind tasting, conducted by french wine experts. The french hoped for vindication in 1979. They would not have it. The 1975 Eyrie won first place, defeating wines from places and made by people that had previously defined what Pinot Noir should be.

In 1980 there was another tasting held in hopes of reestablishing France’s superiority. This time on the burgundians home turf of Beaune, sponsored by burgundy legend Maison Joseph Drouhin. This time the Eyrie took second. The wine was so convincing that a few years later the Drouhin’s themselves would plant vines in Oregon.

A legend had been born. Now Oregon was on the map as a fine wine region, less than 20 years after the first Pinot vines were planted. David Lett now emerged as a pioneer and thus was born the legend of Papa Pinot. At the center of legend was the 1975 Eyrie South Block Pinot Noir.

As a young winemaker I spent a lot of time and a lot of money seeking out wines that I thought would teach me something about what Pinot Noir should be. You cannot hope to create something great if you do not know what great is. You gather with other young winemakers and taste wines and talk. We would often talk about the 1975 Eyrie South Block Pinot.

I would day dream of some how coning someone into buying a bottle for me to taste. I would fantasize about eating at Nick’s Italian Café or Tina’s Restaurant and David would be there humbly dispensing some of the treasure to anyone who had an empty glass. I think my time would of been better spent imagining myself becoming an NBA star or an Astronaut. I eventually relinquished my hopes of ever tasting the ‘75 Eyrie, it was just a myth, it never really existed.

The other night I went to a local restaurant to celebrate the birthday of one of my dearest friends, who happens to be the marketing manager for the Eyrie Vineyards. We were standing outside of the Red Hills Provincial restaurant in Dundee waiting for a friend to join us when my friends husband reached into his wine bag and slowly slipped a bottle out showing just the neck label. The label simply read 1975. I knew immediately that what he had in his hand was not just a bottle of wine, not just a great bottle of wine but a legend.

We sat at the table and went through a couple bottles of champagne and white wine ( including an ‘87 Eyrie Chardonnay that was beautiful ). My attention was focused on the ‘75. Finally the time came to uncork the myth.

You get nervous around a wine like that. Like the first time you doubt weather there really is a Santa Claus, you are not sure you want reality to dissolve magic. I sat anxiously as the now 33 year old cork, wet and mushy, was slowly being pulled from the wine. What if it was dead? What if it had fallen apart; a hollow core of acid, tannin and aldehydes. We might have to accept the wines mortality and with it our own. If a wine of legend cannot live up to its own myth, how am I supposed to?

The cork was expertly removed and the birthday girl placed the bottle to her nose. She grimaced. The first pour went into her glass, she swirled the glass in her hand and dipped her nose into the crystal bowl. "It’s corked. It think it is corked" she declared. I took the second pour from the glass. Like an Apostle taking Jesus off of the crucifix, I wanted my own proof of its death. I wasn’t about to let someone else declare it dead for me. I wanted to identify the body, as if I had known this wine all my life, as if I were its next of kin.

I have long learned that there are a lot of compounds in wine that have ‘fungal’ smells and have myself mistakenly declared a bottle corked because it simply smelled fungal. When I stuck my nose into that ‘75 Eyrie I certainly smelled ‘fungal’ characters. I then switched my attention to looking for the smell of chlorine. The one thing that separates cork taint, TCA ( trichloroaniasole ) from other fungal smells is that of chlorine.

What I smelled was more of a musty basement aroma, forest floor, mushroom. I swirled the wine quickly, as if doing so was some sort of CPR I could use to bring the wine back to life. I wasn’t the first to taste it, I was still afraid that I might find out that the Wizard was just a man behind a curtain. One of my winemaker friends tasted first and I knew from the movement of his eye brows alone that this was a legend not yet ready to die.

Over the next 40 minutes we were all mesmerized by the aromatic roller coaster this wine was taking us on. Fungal earthy tones followed by spices, flowers and fruit. The wines color was quite intact for its age, the fruit still there, the acid bright and focused. In the mouth the wine was pure, sexy, red velvet. It was a complex mix of pie cherry, cranberry, exotic spices, molasses. The wine showed courage and grace. It was unaware of its age and refused to use a walker or wheelchair. It was the kind of wine that wants to die alone at home, only after its knee’s, hip’s and hand’s have given out. This wine needed no help or excuses. This wine more than lived up to its own Legend.

    One such group I taste with is all wine makers.  We tend to be analytical with the wine, commenting on what we like and don't, as well as the condition of the wine.    We also work backwards with the wine; speculating on how the wine was handled, what the vintage was like, how the climate shapes the character of a wine, and of course trying to figure out how they accomplished the things we like and how they could have avoided the things we don't.  We are wine makers, it is just the way we are.

      The most recent tasting had a Piemonte nebbiolo theme.  We had 7 wines that we pulled corks from, poured them immediately and got to swirling, sniffing and slurping.  We are all Oregon Pinot Noir producers, we all make wines in a New World style; soft and lush, sweet with fruit.  We were completely unprepared for the tannins that over the next 40 minutes would precipitate on and parch our tongues.  Each wine was described, to some extent, as; tannic, hard, bitter, chalky, drying, etc.  The format of the tasting is to taste through all of the wines, making notes, then discuss each wine separately before 'disrobing' ( the wine of course ).  This format of tasting and later discussing forces us to go back to wines repeatedly over time.

      By the end of the tasting many of these wines had totally redeemed themselves.  With air they had softened and opened up, showing the powerful elegance the region is known for.  Then came the meal.  Once these wines were put into the context of food, any issues we had had with the tannins had completely disappeared.

      Sometimes you don't learn your lesson and the lesson gets repeated.  What I learned was that every wine behaves on its own timeline that will not submit to your desires.  That every wine will reach its particular zenith, like a star in the night sky, in its own due time.  I also learned that each wine has a place that it is most right.  Sometimes it is on the back patio in the late afternoon sun, other times it is with friends or next to fireplaces, most of the time it is on the table with food.

   It got me to thinking about what "small brand" means.  In the article it states that Willamette Valley Vineyards produces " ...more than 100 ,000 cases per year-huge by Oregon standards...".   Willamette Valley is one of the largest producers in the state yet qualifies as a " Small Brand " by WBM.  I am constantly trying to put the size of Oregon's wine industry into perspective for those that live and work outside of it.  I did some digging around to try to use this honor bestowed upon Willamette Valley Vineyard as a point of reference.

     According to The Oregon Wine Board; in 2006 Oregon's wine industry sold 1,628,608 cases of wine.  That means at 100,000 cases Willamette Valley Vineyards produced 6% of the wines sold in 2006.  This might seem large but consider Montana Wines in New Zealand, where last I heard ( around 2005 ) ,  produced 50% of the wines produced in New Zealand. 

     WBM lists the " 2007 Top 30 U.S. Wine Companies " and not one Oregon winery is listed.  In fact if we were to insert the 1,628,608 cases produced by the entire state of Oregon in to the list we would be #14, just below Don Sebastiani & Sons ( #13 ) and above C. Mondavi & Sons.  Towering high at the top of the list was of course E&J Gallo at 66 million cases sold world wide.

      Last year I had the opportunity to visit Gallo's Sonoma Winery.  The winery was equipped to handle 50,000 tons, a scant 5 or 10% of Gallo's total production ( I can't remember exactly ).  In 2006 Oregon, again as a state, harvested 34,400 tons.  I find it mind boggling that just one of Gallo's wineries could hold ALL of Oregons production and still have plenty of room for more.

      To take this a step further the winery I work for, Patton Valley Vineyard ( http://www.pattonvalley.com ), crushed about 50 tons, or a mere .1%  of Oregon's production in 2006.  We are not by any means the smallest winery in Oregon.  We would represent about .0038% of Gallo's production alone.

     Why do I bother to bring this up?  Hopefully I can illustrate how hard it is for Oregon to compete on the world stage of wine.  It is hard for Willamette Valley to wade in the same water as; the Gallo's, Constellation Brands, Bronco Wine Company ( creators of two-buck-chuck ) and the like.  It is even harder for the literally hundreds of smaller producers like Patton Valley Vineyard. 

    Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining.  I think the industry being small here is what makes it special.  We have to be driven by things other than the bottom dollar.  Nearly 36% of our vineyards are certified sustainable, organic or biodynamic ( Oregon Wine Board ).  Our industries commitment to things in addition to profit reflects the larger attitude of Oregonians in general.  We love what we do and where we do it so much that we find some things more important than the almighty dollar.  This more than anything makes me proud to say I make wine in Oregon.

         " Winegrowers slogged through mud to salvage what they could.  Some producers picked early and will make some nice wines, but they will constitute a minority."

     Today I had the opportunity to meet with  a dozen winemakers and taste some of the wines of the 2007 vintage.  We assembled at a nearby winery at the invitation of its owner.   Winemakers were invited to bring either a beauty ( nice wine ) or a beast ( something that needs work ) for a group tasting followed by a candid discussion.  Though several of the wines had noticeable flaws, the wines actually showed very well.  Many of the issues will likely be cured as the wines mature.  Others will need a little help.  What I found most interesting is that very few of the wines seemed diluted by the rains.  Instead most of the comments centered around green tannins, and acid issues.  Don't get me wrong, the 2007's are not going to be the most concentrated wines Oregon has produced ( think 2001 ) nor are they insipid and watery.  They are elegant and I thought that is what Pinot noir is supposed to be.

     These wines have only been in barrel for 3 months, most  not yet finished with Malolactic Fermentation.  Making judgements about a wine, much less the quality of an entire vintage, at this stage in it's development is simply not fair.  The wine has too far to go.

      Don't write '07 off.  Oregon will make some beautiful wines in 2007, despite Mother Natures best efforts.  They are different than what we have been making in recent vintages.  Most of the winemakers I know are very excited.  We are looking foreword to what the wines will become.  We hope that consumers will taste the wines, finished wines that is and judge 2007 for themselves.