An Anderson Valley Adventure

Map of the Anderson Valley

The Anderson Valley is an AVA within an AVA within an AVA. If that sounds confusing, imagine you've been handed a large, gift-wrapped box with a card attached that reads 'North Coast AVA.' "How delightful," you say, "I thoroughly enjoy the wines from several of the six grape-growing regions north of San Francisco, like Sonoma and the Napa Valley." Excitedly, you tear open the box, only to find a smaller box inside! This one bears a note with the words 'Mendocino AVA.' Knowing this is one of California's most diverse growing regions, your curiosity as to what lies within is piqued. Of course, you are not surprised when you open that box to find yet another within. This one is labeled 'Anderson Valley AVA,' and you breathe a sigh of relief. By now you're pretty certain that there is a bottle of wine inside (and if there isn't, the person who gave it to you is kind of a jerk). Based on what you've heard about the Anderson Valley, you feel confident that the cooling influence of Pacific fog rolling in from the coast will have helped to produce a nuanced wine that is low in alcohol and high in acidity, whether it is red, white, rosé or sparkling.

Fog rolling in over the Anderson Valley

The wines of the picturesque Anderson Valley often bear a striking resemblance to those from Alsace--the region that France finally seems to have declared permanent victory over in the perpetual game of Red Rover it has been playing with Germany for centuries. Like their Alsatian counterparts, the reds are primarily light-bodied, earthy Pinot Noirs, while whites like Riesling, Gewürztraminer, and Pinot Blanc stun with precision and aromatics. In fact, this region is so enamored with the wines of that region in northeastern France that each February, the International Alsace Varietals Festival is held there. 

Cabot Vineyards (based in Humboldt County) makes a great example of Anderson Valley Pinot Noir. The 2010 vintage is soft and earthy, with notes of spice, red cherry, and strawberry. Served alongside the Domaine Allimant-Laugner Pinot Noir from Alsace in a flight, it is interesting to compare the differences and similarities. Other notable producers in the area include Navarro Vineyards, Handley Cellars, Goldeneye Winery, Londer Vineyards, and Philo Ridge Vineyards, Roederer Estate (known for sparkling wine). 

More fog rolling in over the Anderson Valley

Located just over two hours north of San Francisco and encompassing the towns of Boonville, Philo and Navarro, the Anderson Valley is unique in its geography in that the vineyards cut laterally through a coastal mountain range, rather than lying between ridges. Combined with the cooling effects of the nearby Pacific Ocean, this produces a wide diurnal range, meaning that temperatures are radically different between daytime and night. Warm daytime temperatures enable the grapes to slowly reach physiological ripeness without the sugar levels going through the roof, while cool nights--sometimes up to 50 degrees cooler--allow the fruit to maintain its acidity. This type of climate helps to create a wonderfully balanced end product.

If you plan to visit the Anderson Valley, you may want to brush up on your Boontling. What's that you say? Your high school didn't offer Boontling as a language option? Whatever, I'm sure Spanish will be really useful. If you want to impress the locals in Boonville, you'll have to speak to them in the esoteric, English-based language invented by residents of this 700-person town in the late 19th century. Drawing also on Scottish Gaelic, Irish, Pomo Indian, and Spanish, the language is spoken nowhere else in the world, which is a shame because its 1000-plus words are extremely colorful and creative in nature. To get you started, the most important word you need to know is 'frati'--Boontling for wine, of course. But don't get can-kicky and throw a wheeler if you pike to Boont and the locals want to shark because you're a brightlighter.* They're a pretty insular community. But they make some damn good wine.

A little bit of Boontling poetry

*Translation: Don't get angry and throw a fit if you travel to Boonville and the locals want to fight because you're an outsider. 

What's in a Number? (Why We Should Ignore Wine Scores)

It started out innocently enough. To make wine-purchasing easier for consumers and to give smaller wineries a chance to compete with the most revered vineyards, numerical rating systems for wine were developed some time during the mid-20th century. Previously, only tasting notes could be relied on to predict whether or not one might enjoy the contents of any particular bottle. To the American public, whose burgeoning interest in wine was just beginning, the flowery prose of wine literature could be intimidating and esoteric. The numerical system seemed to be the necessary antidote.

Several different scoring systems were developed, including the 0-20 scale, the 1-5 scale (using either numbers or stars), and Robert Parker's infamous 50-100 scale, all of which are still in use and vary by publication. Within each system, a certain number of points is allotted to each of several different categories: the color, the nose, the taste, the finish, and the overall impression. 

Wine rating systems

It all seems very logical and scientific. Where could the system go wrong? A major problem is that wine rating systems forget to take into account one very important factor: personal taste. Even the critics, who are trained to recognize wines that are technically well-made, often wildly disagree on scores. A 95-point wine in one publication may be a 79-point wine in another. Many things can potentially account for such a discrepancy--perhaps one of the reviewers was slightly under the weather the day he or she tasted the wine, maybe one of the bottles wasn't quite tasting right on the day it was sampled, or perhaps the wine being reviewed was a delicate Pinot Noir from Burgundy and one reviewer had spent the earlier part of the day sampling many powerhouse California Cabernets and had begun to suffer from palate fatigue (professional wine critics may taste hundreds of wines in one day!). Or maybe the two reviewers just have different taste in wine. 

Consumers will vary even more in their personal preferences--some love big, rich, tannic reds, while others prefer them soft, subtle, and aromatic. Neither is "right" or "wrong," but each will have very different opinions of, say, an Argentinian Malbec or a Poulsard from Jura. And just like opinions will differ from consumer to consumer, so too will they from consumer to critic. Of course, some people do find that their palates align consistently with that of a well-known critic, and in those cases, scores can sometimes be a reliable indicator of how much they might enjoy a particular wine. But the average person picking up a magazine and seeing a wine that has received a high rating from a critic with whom they are unfamiliar has no way of knowing if they personally can trust that critic. After all, if you love oaky, buttery California Chardonnay but the critic reviewing it does not, how can you expect an unbiased score? 

An example of a "shelf-talker"

The rise of the wine critic has created bigger problems than just consumer confusion at the wine shop. Many sommeliers and wine buyers will only purchase bottles that have received an arbitrary minimum score, for instance, 90 points (the perceived difference between an 89-point wine and a 90-wine is staggering and can make or break a wine). In wine shops, "shelf-talkers" are often displayed alongside the wines, allowing shoppers to read tasting notes and select wines based on their scores. A friend working in wine sales once told me that one of his accounts had tasted a wine and loved it, but refused to buy it unless he could find a 90+ score for it. They told him it did not matter which publication it came from--it could have been the local paper from a small town in Kansas, for all they cared, so long as they could post a score in the top decile. This, they knew, would sell the wine.

This type of buyer behavior has contributed to the oft-discussed "Parkerization" of wine. Robert M. Parker Jr., whose newsletter The Wine Advocate launched him to a level of influence perhaps higher than that of any other critic in any field, has a very particular palate. He loves wines that are low in acid and high in alcohol, body, oak, and concentration (which makes sense, considering the number of wines he would taste each day--only the biggest and boldest are likely to stand out). While there is nothing wrong with enjoying wines made in that style, his praise is so desired (and even necessary for financial success) that winemakers throughout the world have actually begun to shift their winemaking practices in order to create wines that will receive high scores from him. There is even a company that analyzes the chemical compounds in clients' wines to project the score each wine will receive from critics like Parker. Clients are then advised on the best way to complete the winemaking process in order to maximize scores. Sadly, these practices have led to a world in which many wines have lost their unique regional and varietal character in favor of an "international" style that is easy to sell. Plantings of indigenous grape varieties throughout the world have unfortunately been ripped out in favor of more marketable grapes like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Chardonnay.

Some helpful tasting notes

Without scores, how can non-expert wine-drinkers be expected to navigate wine shops and lists to successful determine which wines they might enjoy? It's actually easier than one might think. It helps to have a minimal wine vocabulary so you can describe what you like. Think of the wines you have enjoyed in the past. Do you like them to have a lighter body (think about the texture of water in your mouth) or a fuller body (more like whole milk)? Do you prefer them to be completely dry, or do you like a little bit of sweetness? Would you rather your wine have bold, ripe flavors of fresh fruit, or a smoky, earthy aroma? If you find yourself struggling to answer these questions, start at a trusted wine bar or shop and tell your server or salesperson that you are interested in trying different styles of wine to determine your preferences. They will likely accommodate you and let you experiment with different ends of the spectrum. Keep track of the words that are consistently used to describe the wines you like (and the ones you don't like--this can be useful to know as well). The next time you are in a wine shop, bar, or restaurant, you will have the vocabulary to explain what you are looking for. Engaging in a discussion with a person who is familiar with the wine selection is far more useful than reading stagnant words on a piece of paper--they can ask you questions about your preferences to determine if a wine is truly a good match for your palate. Ideally, if the sales person or sommelier makes a good recommendation, you know you can trust them again in the future.

If you know the words that signify the wines you like, wine reviews can be helpful as well--just ignore the scores. The words in wine reviews are much more reliable (and slightly less subjective) indicators of what is inside the bottle. Levels of tannin and acidity will be indicated, and flavors will be described. I personally know that I dislike anything with flavors of raisin, so I can safely skip over wines whose reviews mention that dreaded dried grape flavor. On the other hand, I consistently enjoy wines with aromas that are described as "mineral" or "herbal," so those words give me the go-ahead to buy. 

The cereal aisle: more intimidating than the wine section?

The numerical rating system is too precise a method for evaluating such an imprecise, subjective matter. A wine shop can be overwhelming with all of the choices available, but so can the cereal aisle at the grocery store or the toothpaste section at Walgreen's--and you would never think to consult a stranger who knows nothing about your personal taste to help you decide between Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes. There are many better ways to choose a cereal, and similarly, a wine. 

Happy Father's Day, Cabernet Franc

Cabernet Franc grapes

Did you remember to call your father this past Father's Day? Maybe you sent him a card, bought him a tie, or took him out to lunch. Perhaps you even enjoyed a great bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon together. If so, chances are there is one very important father you forgot to acknowledge: Cabernet Franc. 

You see, when a mommy grape and a daddy grape love each other very much, they spontaneously cross-pollenate and a new grape variety is born. In this case, Sauvignon Blanc and Cabernet Franc had a little too much to drink one 17th century night in southwestern France, and we now have them to thank for the existence of cabernet sauvignon. Sauvignon Blanc has since gone on to lead a rich and fulfilling life, achieving worldwide fame for tart and aromatic white wines in New Zealand, France and beyond. But poor Cabernet Franc has received little recognition, unjustly overshadowed by a son who grew up to be bigger and stronger than his father. 

When the movie Sideways became popular, strange things happened to the wine industry. No one could have ever predicted that the musings of one fictional, disgruntled wine snob could have effectively destroyed the entire merlot industry while simultaneously making pinot noir the most sought-after grape on the planet, but they did. That's old news, though. One scene, however, is often glossed over in discussions of the movie--that in which the aforementioned wine snob embarks on a derisive rant against cabernet franc, dismissing it as being "hollow, flabby, and overripe." This criticism had little effect on the cabernet franc industry because, well, no one has seemed to give much of a damn about Cabernet Franc before or since.

Miles and Jack are NOT drinking any fucking Merlot!

But they should! Softer, subtler, more perfumed and less tannic than the cabernet of the sauvignon variety, Cab Franc can produce truly beautiful wines in the cool soils of St.-Emilion and Pomerol in Bordeaux, and in the even cooler soils of the Loire Valley. These wines tend to have pronounced aromas and flavors of juicy raspberry, cassis, wet stone, tobacco, green bell pepper, and violets. Most notably, this under-appreciated grape gets top billing in the revered Premier Grand Cru Saint-Émilion Château Cheval Blanc, the Cab Franc/Merlot Bordeaux blend whose virtues the main character in Sideways spends much of the movie extolling. Elsewhere in Bordeaux, cabernet franc is generally treated as an "insurance policy" in case the cabernet sauvignon grapes fail to properly ripen, relegated to the lowly status of a blending grape--adding a touch of seasoning to tame the aggression and power of its bolder offspring. 

Château Cheval Blanc

Luckily for fans of this underdog grape, winemakers in parts of Canada, New York State, and Washington seem to be waking up to the potential of the wines it is capable of producing. Cabernet Franc is also gaining momentum as a varietal wine in Australia, Italy, Chile, South Africa, New Zealand, and California. A particularly pleasant surprise, though, is the 2009 Batič cabernet franc from Slovenia. Like the Cabernet Franc grape itself, Slovenia doesn't get a lot of credit in the wine world. But this country, home to the oldest living grapevine in the world (400 years and counting!), is producing wines that are certainly worthy of worldwide attention. Father-and-son duo Ivan and Miha Batič make a rich, juicy cab franc with a gorgeous perfume of flowers and herbs, a silky texture, and flavors of dark chocolate, spice, and ripe fruit. If there was ever a wine that could make the world appreciate cabernet franc for more than just siring a famous and beloved son, this is it. Do yourself a favor and give this grape some belated Fathers' Day love soon!  

 Ivan and Miha Batič