California snapshots

In California, the sun always shines. I heard one clap of thunder which was followed by a very brief downpour. I woke up in Sonoma to two mornings of cool fog; by eleven, the sun was in the sky again and temperatures in the mid-20s. Too much sun isn't a good thing, though. As it's barely rained all winter, there's a real drought problem in the state. The winemakers I spoke to in Sonoma and Napa didn't seem to think that was a problem, as they had enough water in reserve. Even if they can get by this year, long-term water shortages must surely be an issue and will affect how winemakers approach their job. The only winery that seemed concerned by the drought was Frog's Leap - the only winery I visited that refuses to use irrigation. Will other wineries be forced to follow Frog's Leap's lead and learn how to dry farm? If so, will wines be leaner and lower in alcohol and owe much more to the skill of the winemaker than California's idyllic conditions?

Mexicans in the morning fog

The vineyards at this time of year weren't teeming with workers, but there were still plenty trimming the vines beginning to flower. Every single worker I saw was Mexican and, as far as I could tell, valued by their employers. The employers' main concern with Mexican labour? - immigration legislation. The tougher legislation becomes, the harder it is for wineries to meet their costs, and it's a real concern for the future, as well as those Mexicans in need of work. Unfortunately public opinion, in the US just as in European countries, hasn't grasped how vital immigration is to their countries' economies.

Frog's Leap

Everything about Frog's Leap sets it apart: the name, the label, the alcohol, the winemaking, the philosophy. Land - not just terroir, but how it's cultivated and what other plants are grown there - is at the heart of it all. There are bees, fruits, and plants surrounding the vineyards, all contributing to the land's biodiversity. Everything is sustainable down to the last degree: all the buildings have been made from fully recycled material. It makes the winery seem quirky and different, but these sustainable practices may make it more financially and commercially stable as California's climate becomes more extreme. And the wines are great too: Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Zinfandel, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon are the grapes, producing elegant, restrained, expressive wines. We were also lucky enough to taste the 1993 Cabernet Sauvignon - these wines have serious ageing potential.

Sauvignon Blanc

Sauvignon Blanc, Cakebread Cellars

Like the good wine snob I try not to be, Sauvignon Blanc isn't my favourite grape: too obvious, too upfront, and too often the same aromas over and over again. However, California opened my mind, as I tasted some really interesting wines full of character and individuality, and quite different from both Loire and New Zealand. My favourite was from Cakebread; partly fermented in old oak barrels and aged for four to five months in neutral oak, the wine has lots of complexity. Although the characteristic flavours of Sauvignon Blanc are there - grapefruit, citrus, melon, capsicum - there's a creamy depth to the wine from the oak ageing and it has the potential to age another five years. Clos du Val also produce two excellent Sauvignons. The 2012 Sauvignon Blanc was grassy with ripe tropical fruits, and very fresh, but it was the 2011 "Signature Series" I was especially impressed by. A blend of Sauvignon and Sémillon, the grapes are separately barrel fermented and aged in neutral oak. After six months, the two wines are blended and aged for another five to six months, again in neutral oak. The seriousness with which the wine is treated is evident in the complex, appealing aromas: grassy, spiky, tropical, toasty, and spicy. A great wine with Thai curry or seafood, and again with ageing potential. 

Crispin's Spirits

another hard tasting; photo courtesy of @winebizkid

I visited this distillery in Mendocino in order to taste the brandies of Germain-Robin, reputed to be as good as those of Cognac, but the visit ended up centring around the spirits of Germain-Robin's former assistant distiller, Crispin Cain. After seriously injuring his back at the distillery over ten years ago, he created a rose liqueur to give himself something to do. He spent a great deal of time perfecting the liqueur and it was finally launched in 2007 to great success. Since then, with the help of his two sons, he has created a series of spirits, all of extremely high quality and great individual character.

The relationship between Crispin and Hubert Germain-Robin, whom he picked up hitchhicking in the 1980s, has clearly been key to the development of his spirits, as Crispin makes great use of the distillery's equipment. Part of the spirits' individuality comes from the old Cognac still installed in the distillery and then from the very old barrels scattered around the warehouse - some of them over a hundred years old. Add to that the imaginative skill of the distiller and you have a set of unique spirits.

I'm still not a convert to vodka, but I enjoyed the four I tasted. The "Straight Vodka" had been made with 10% Viognier, giving it grapey and floral notes, while the three citrus vodkas had each been naturally flavoured, with, respectively, citrus, tangerine, and Buddha's Hand citron. Refreshing but with deep, rich citrus flavours, without any of vodka's harsh alcohol. The Russell Henry London Dry Gin had lots of complex but balanced botanical flavours - juniper, coriander, rosemary, grains of paradise, cinnamon, and cardamon. There are two flavoured versions of the gin, with lime and ginger. Crispin has also started making whiskey; they're still young - he even makes a colourless whiskey - but with lots of potential.

My two favourite drinks were the 1850 Cocktail and the Rose Liqueur, where the enterprise had begun for Crispin. The 1850 is a barrel-aged cocktail, made with Germain-Robin brandy and absinthe, Crispin's whiskey, and herbs - like a Sazerac, but with both brandy and whiskey. Finally, the Rose Liqueur is simply divine: an apple and honey base, giving it a natural, rich sweetness, flavoured with seventeen rose petals, the most important being Don Juan, giving chocolate and raspberry character to the drink. Like California itself: rich, indulgent, and irresistible.

growlers

Every time I've visted an American microbrewery I've looked jealously on at the locals topping up their growlers. These are 64oz bottles (just under 2 litres; Americans serve their drink in fluid ounces, which is very confusing if you've been brought up in the twentieth century on the metric system) which you can buy from the brewery to take home. Once you're done, you come back and fill it up again. This is a great way of getting beer that's only available on tap at the brewery, as well as promoting customer loyalty. As I was staying at the family home of @winebizkid in Chico, we got to take home some growlers from the famous local brewery, Sierra Nevada. Launched in 1979, Sierra Nevada was at the forefront of the craft brewery revolution. Its beers are hop-forward, though produced in quite a range - they also make porters, stouts, wheat beers, and a barleywine. My favourite of the beers I tasted, and which I filled my growler up with, was the Nooner Session IPA - straw-coloured, very drinkable, with citrus and vanilla, and extremely refreshing for those warm Californian nights.

no American home is complete without a couple of growlers

Russian River Brewery

California isn't just about wine, and the first place I visited on my trip was Russian River Brewery, on the recommendation of @drinkaddition who rates it as one of the best American craft breweries there is. The impression he gave me, though, was of a small-scale microbrewery surrounded by upscale wineries, fighting for beer in the middle of wine country. Instead, what I found was a thriving brewpub in the Sonoma town of Santa Rosa; @winebizkid and I had to wait forty minutes to get a table and it was clear everyone was in the mood for beer and not wine. 

This reflects the status of craft beer in the US at the moment. When I visited Portland, Oregon, last September, the crowds at craft breweries and brewpubs were similar: packed with young and old, men and women, all happily exploring flights of beers of intense flavours and extreme styles. American craft brewing isn't just about IPAs, but porters and stouts, wheat beers and blondes, and full-on Belgian-style sours.

In fact, so successful has Russian River Brewery been, it has had to cut back on its availability: demand was too great for it to meet and now it doesn't supply outside of the area, probably explaining why so many are flocking to the brewpub itself. They make too many beers to mention here - we tasted 18 - so I'll just focus on the most representative styles. 

an afternoon's work

IPA

A style which developed in the nineteenth century to preserve beer for long periods of travel, IPA is a dry, hoppy, and sometimes maltier beer than a classic English bitter. An American IPA is even drier and hoppier, with lots of pine nut and grapefruit aromas, with spices coming from the American hops. The two IPAs we sampled were good examples of the American style. Blind Pig IPA (6.75%) was hoppy and very aromatic, with a tangy finish. Pliny the Elder (8%) is the brewery's most popular beer and takes the IPA style to an extreme. They call it a Double IPA, meaning more malt and hops, which gives the beer a very dry finish, with strong pine aromas, and not as fruity. This is a fantastic beer, but that bitter hoppiness is intense. 

My favourite beer, perhaps because it was so English, was the Row 2/Hill 56 (5.8%), made from Simcoe hops from Yakima, Washington (where most American hops are now grown). A pale ale, rather than an IPA, it had many of the characteristics of the above IPAs - grapefruit, pine nuts, a dry, dusty finish - but the hoppiness was more subdued and balanced, making it a great drinking beer. 

Porter/Stout

The difference between porter and stout is a difficult one to distinguish. Part of the confusion comes from the difficulty in defining porter: it's an historic term which has meant different things at different times. It can be brown to dark, hoppy, malty, or neither, medium or high alcohol. If it's black, roasty, and intense, then it may as well be a stout. Stout is more carefully defined - it's a strong black beer - but it's the Irish version that we all think of - made from roasted barley to avoid taxes on malt, making it creamier and more coffee like. 

The OVL Stout (4.5%) was more in this Irish style, with its toast, smoke, roast, and coffee aromas, but its low alcohol meant it was balanced and not too overpowering. Shadow of a Doubt (9.86%), an "Imperial Porter" ("imperial" referring to a higher alcohol beer exported for the Russian monarchy), had that roast coffee flavour, but because of the high alcohol was much sweeter, with caramel and toffee. 

Belgian Style

After my last trip to the US, I wrote about the increasing popularity of "sours" - stinky, funky beers made in a similar manner to lambics in Belgium - so it's no surprise that Russian River make excellent examples in a whole range of styles. The Little White Lie (5%) was a classic Witbier, an historical style dating from the eleventh century when it was the first kind of beer to be hopped. Now, however, the flavours in a Witbier come from spices, as well as the unmalted soft wheat used in the recipe. This Little White Lie had been spiced with bitter orange peel, coriander, and cumin, making it like a creamy, wheaty gin and as ideal for a warm, summer's afternoon.

The rest of the complex range of Belgian-style beers all have similar hard-hitting religious names - Perdition, Damnation, Defenestration, Rejection, Salvation, Sanctification, Supplication, and Consecration. We tasted all of these, but here are my favourites: Salvation (8.75%) is a strong dark ale, with malt, roast, smoke, spice, and lots of complexity, a long, drying finish lingering on to plum flavours. Sanctification (6.75%) is brewed with a long, cool fermentation, using only the funky Brettanomyces yeast. Those stinky aromas were well in balance, with sour citrus flavours. The final two beers were full-on, complex, and mature. Supplication (7%) is aged for 12-15 months in old Pinot Noir barrels alongside sour cherries; the long ageing allows different yeasts - Brettanomyces, Lactobacillus, and Pediococcus (the latter two yeasts really contribute to any stinky, old-sock aromas in a beer) - to develop. The last and most complex beer of the extensive line-up was Consecration (10%), aged for 4-8 months in Cabernet Sauvignon barrels, with the same putrid yeasts. Whereas the Pinot Noir flavours in the Supplication were masked by the sour cherries, the Cabernet aromas were apparent - tobacco, cedar, spice, and dried fruits (the beer had been aged with currants in the barrels).

While waiting for our table, I popped into the nearby Barnes & Noble and purchased a copy of Tasting Beer: An Insider's Guide to the World's Greatest Drink by Randy Mosher (real name, I can only assume). Perusing this book while tasting 18 beers in a range of styles traditionally made all over Europe and the USA was education brought to life. Going to beer school on a Saturday afternoon is a lot less like detention and more like a whole lot of fun.

Californian Chardonnay

Chardonnay from California fulfils all the stereotypes of the state itself: big, bold, brash, unabashed, and brazen. Subtlety goes out of the window, the wine is smothered in new oak, and given full-on malolactic fermentation. The resulting wine is all about the bravado of the winemaker rather than the primary flavours of the fruit, and feels like being smacked in the face by a buttered oak barrel.

Stereotypes do exist for a reason, but my trip to California has shown that many winemakers are determined to prove them wrong and make wine from Chardonnay in all sorts of styles that are as expressive of the grape as of the winemaking process. It's difficult to know whether this is due to consumer demand or the whims of winemakers, but I think it's clear that understanding of how to make good wine from Chardonnay has greatly increased in recent years. 

Of the wineries I visited, Ramey is the one which comes closest to conforming to the image of Californian Chardonnay. All the wines have 100% MLF, and the wines will be acidified after MLF if necessary. They're big, creamy, and smoky. However, the use of oak has decreased, and is contuining to do so. In 2002 (David Ramey started making wine on his own in the late 1990s), the single-vineyard Chardonnays were aged with 66% new oak; that's now down to 45%, and 30% is planned for the 2014 vintage. The AVA wines feature even less oak. 

There is a real commitment to place too. We tasted six Chardonnays back to back, and all of them were expressive of where they were from. Two - the Sonoma Coast and Russian River Valley 2011s - were "appellation wines," but the grapes were still taken from a small set of vineyards rather than from all over the AVAs. The other four, also from 2011, were single-vineyard wines, from Platt Vineyard near Bodega Bay in Sonoma Coast, Ritchie Vineyard from Russian River Valley, and Hyde and Hudson Vineyards in Carneros, Napa. The differences between each wine were subtle and nuanced, a reflection of terroir despite their power. The Hudson Vineyard, in particular, felt like an homage to Burgundy: slightly reductive, with a long, creamy finish, this wine will open up well with age.

Clos du Val, a Napa winery founded in 1972, has also cut back on the use of new oak and MLF, so that just 20% new oak is used in ageing. The Chardonnay Carneros 2012 has a light creaminess with stone fruits, a balanced wine designed to be drunk fairly young (within 3-5 years). Californian winemakers are open to experimenting with different clones of the grape to find the perfect California-Chardonnay match and to create more individual wines. The Lone Cypress Ranch 2012 uses the Dijon Musqué clone, which is more aromatic with more tropical fruit flavours, producing a bigger, but still balanced, and complex wine with more ageing potential. 

At Cakebread, another winery that's been going since the early 1970s, we tasted two Chardonnays, one the current release from 2012 and the other the same wine but from 2008. With 16% MLF and 8-9 months in 20% new oak, I found the 2012 a little subdued and in need of a bit more Californian oomph. However, the 2008 had already developed lots of complex, richer flavours, evidence of how a subtle, balanced wine can mature. 

Frog's Leap, whose first vintage was in 1981, is known for its very non-Californian approach to wine - biodynamic in all but name, lower-alcohol, and restrained flavours. The Chardonnay epitomises their approach, where the character of the grape is all-important. The wine is fermented in new oak barrels for seven days until it's almost dry, when it's transferred to concrete tanks. Newly fermented wine is continually added to these tanks, building up the temperature to 30°C, the yeasts and intense temperature creating new, complex aromas. The temperature gradually cools down, fermentation stops, and the wine is left on its lees, with no stirring, until Easter. The result is a lean and reserved wine, but with structure and body from the lees. 

Chardonnay California style: the driveway to Scribe Winery, Sonoma

All of these are long-established wineries whose wines are available in the UK. Scribe, on the other hand, dates back to just 2007, when it was established by two young brothers on land planted by German emigrants in the 1850s. Their philosophy mirrors Frog's Leap's in so many ways: all but biodynamic, alcohol as low as 11.2% (for their Sylvaner, made in tribute to the original German settlers), and wines restrained and lean, expressive of grape and place rather than winemaking techniques - "more work in the vineyard, less work in the cellar." The Estate Chardonnay, at around 12.5%, was a lean, crisp wine, with complexity from the cool, slow fermentation and structure from the long lees contact - no use of oak or MLF. The Skin Ferment Chardonnay 2013 was a different beast - left on its skins for 90 days in concrete eggs, it was very grapey, almost like a very good grappa. The wine was made as an experiment in 2010, but now it's made every year, yet another completely different, fascinating, and characterful expression of the Chardonnay grape. 

All of these are high-end producers, so it's impossible to say whether this focus on a new, more restrained form of Chardonnay is indicative of a change in taste in the general American palate. There's a feeling, though, that the American public are getting more educated about wine, hence the change in direction for some Californian winemakers. Moreover, everyone I spoke to was keen to stress how food-friendly their wines were, which reflects a definite trend for food and wine pairing. These winemakers seem less isolated and more open than they used to, looking towards Burgundy for inspiration and guidance, creating contemporary wines but happy to use hundreds of years of tradition for guidance. 

Diploma Week Three - Australia

A month after enduring the spirits and sparkling wine exams, we reconvened for three days of tasting New World wine and, thankfully, no exams. I'm a little suspicious of the term "New World"; after all, some of the oldest vines in the world are in Australia and California. However, as the first day tasting Australian wine demonstrated, the development of serious, quality wine, as well as popular, affordable wine, in non-European countries is a relatively recent phenomenon. Our tutor for the day, Michael Buriak, recalled working in the wine trade in the 1980s and stocking his shop's first ever bottle of Australian wine, seen as a novelty item. It sold out instantly, and Australian wine has never looked back - it's now consistently the number one selling wine by country in the UK. (Only the US drinks more Australian wine than the UK, and that's because of the ubiquitous Yellow Tail brand.)

The popularity of Australian wine makes it an interesting category. It's best known for producing inexpensive, high-volume, drinkable wines which unfortunately means that consumers are likely to stick to the inexpensive wines and ignore the high-quality, premium alternatives. This is a perception Australian wine is trying to shift, but when big brands like Jacob's Creek and Hardy's dominate the market it's hard.

Despite having 120-year-old vines, Australian winemakers are still learning their trade, moving on from big, oaky Chardonnay and fruit-bomb Shiraz to produce wines of elegance and subtlety. As I've learnt from working at hangingditch over the last eighteen months, and as this day's tasting further proved, premium Australian wine can be sensational and is getting better and better.

what we tasted

This was a stellar line-up, showcasing Australian wine at its best and most varied. Much of the wine was not the inexpensive stuff that makes Australian wine so popular, but it meant that we gained a real understanding of Australian terroir.

Australia is divided into areas of geographical indication. Although some of these areas are particularly associated with a grape variety or style of wine (e.g. Coonawarra and Cabernet Sauvignon), there are no real rules to them beyond geography. They can be very small or enormous, and there's probably no larger wine region in the world than South Eastern Australia, not that different in size from the EU. If you see the term South Eastern Australia on the label, then it's likely to be an inexpensive wine produced in the bulk regions of Riverland, Murray Valley, and Riverina.

Our first wine was an example of what makes Australian wine so popular. Hardy's Nottage Hill Chardonnay 2013 (c.£8) is a high-volume wine from South Eastern Australia, which basically means absolutely anywhere. It's been given oak qualities through the use of oak chips to give it a semblance of complexity. It's a decent wine that will make a sunny weekend perfectly pleasant. We saved this wine to taste alongside other Chardonnays later in the day, which did not do it any favours.

After that, our tasting was all about quality and varietal/regional typicity. Shaw + Smith are an excellent winery based in Adelaide Hills. Australia is a huge country dominated by arid, inhospitable desert. As with the population centres, quality wine is focused on the cooler coastal regions, which are cooled further by altitude. Thus, there's a concentration of quality wine regions around the city of Adelaide, such as Barossa Valley, Eden Valley, Clare Valley, and Adelaide Hills. We tasted two of Shaw + Smith's wines, both of which were very good. The 2013 Sauvignon Blanc (c£16) was as good a Sauvignon Blanc as I've tasted in a while, while the 2012 Chardonnay (c£25), perhaps still a little too young, had an engaging delicate oakiness - a real indication of how Australian winemakers have discovered the attraction of restraint.

Interest in Riesling, the great and underappreciated German grape, has been revitalised by dry examples from Australia, particularly Eden and Clare Valley. Grosset Wines are a producer active since the early 1980s; winemaker Jeffrey Grosset considers 2013 to be the best Clare Valley vintage he's ever experienced, and the wine we tasted was from Polish Hill, one of the best sub-regions of Clare Valley (c£30). Therefore, the wine had a lot going for it, but its searingly high acidity meant that this wine possibly needs a few years before it drinks nearer its best. A more approachable Riesling came from a famous producer in Western Australia, Leeuwin, whose leading range of wines, "Art Series," features a work of art on the label each year from a local artist. The 2011 Riesling (c£20) was a complex, ageworthy wine, but still full of immediate citrus and sweet spice flavours.

In the same Art Series was the most expensive wine of the day, the 2010 Chardonnay (c£60), an outstanding wine that had everything you'd expect from a oaked Chardonnay: big, rich, toasty, with tropical fruits. Worth £60? If you've got the money, then yes. (The more affordable Leeuwin "Prelude" Chardonnay from the Wine Society gives an indication of what the premium version tastes like.)

Other than Riesling, the white grape that works best in Australia is Semillon. As Michael pointed out, this is one of the world's great grape varieties but is vastly underappreciated. It's there in Bordeaux in white blends and classic sweet wines like Sauternes, but other than it gets largely overlooked. We tasted a couple of Semillon wines, which showed how well it works in Australia. The first was my favourite wine of the day, a 2007 from Brokenwood in Hunter Valley (c£25). Hunter Valley is a region to the north of Sydney, its inhospitable climate as northern as quality wine gets in the country, but which is known for producing great Semillon. This was a fantastic wine: so complex and developed, yet its fruit fresh and young, a wine capable of lots of further ageing. The other Semillon was part of a blend with Sauvignon Blanc, as is common in Bordeaux whites. Produced biodynamically by Cullen in Margaret River, Western Australia, this was an unusual wine with 25% new oak to give it some depth and smoky flavours, as well as fragrant chamomile, thyme, and white chocolate aromas (c£20).

The grape that Australia is most famous for is, of course, Shiraz. The Eileen Hardy 2004 was a particularly interesting wine, as it demonstrated the difficulty Australia has in selling itself as a maker of premium, as well as inexpensive, wines. Produced by Hardy's, one of the country's leading brands, it retails at £40. For its quality, that's still quite a low price, but it struggles to sell. Why? Because who would pay that money for a wine by a brand? The wine was an outstanding example of a complex Australian Shiraz; identifiably McLaren Vale (to the south of Adelaide), with riper fruits than a French equivalent, it was a beautifully perfumed, elegant, mature Shiraz. Even maturer was the 1999 Jim Barry McRae Wood Museum Release. At £35-40 and fifteen years old, this represents incredibly good value. The wine is from Clare Valley; although known for Riesling, the area produces elegant, smooth Shiraz and this is a stunning example, with black fruits, leather and meat, coffee and floral flavours.

As all the great white wines we tasted showed, Australia isn't just about Shiraz. Cabernet Sauvignon is known for its association with Coonawarra (c£16), but it's in Margaret River, Western Australia, that the grape arguably reaches the heights of Bordeaux. The Vasse Felix Heytesbury (c£40), from the area's oldest producer (established 1967), was outstanding and a fitting climax to the day. As with many of the other wines, it demonstrated that the French concept of terroir is very much present in a New World country such as Australia, representing the qualities of the grape and the wine's specific area - and showing also that expensive Australian wine is very much worth it. 

The day's tasting was exhaustive (and exhausting) - and we had two days of other New World wine to follow. None quite matched the extensive, exceptional line-up of Australian wines, but I'm now on my way to California to explore fully the great wines of that region. Expect lots of blogs about sunshine and wine. I'll try not to gloat too much.