Harvest Approacheth

I’ve never jumped out of an airplane, but it’s a good movie shot when the guys are getting ready to jump and they’re collecting their thoughts quietly with the drone of the motors on the soundtrack. That’s what it feels like to me now at bloom + 105. One-hundred and five days after bloom is the traditional Burgundian harvest, and here we are after a big rain just below good sugar and pH levels, looking at a week of dry weather, waiting and waiting.

When the grapes come in, we’re going to be ready. We have a new galvanized pegboard for hanging clamps and gaskets. We have an intern, Pamela, and Justin, Zach, and Lee waiting to help. We have a new wooden tank soaked up and ready for gris, and a diaphragm pump cleaned and ready for pump-overs. Most importantly, Michael has fixed up U-96, a 1979 Willmes membrane press that Lowell harvested from the scrap yard. It can press 3 tons—of whites! We will continue to use the basket press for delicate red squishing, but now we can get the most of our home-grown program with an appropriate, retro press.

So we just keep waiting. Birds are doing their jobs. The botrytis is out there on a few bunches, and the rain can’t have helped the situation. We have pretty dry canopies, so we hope they dry off and dry up and give us a great year.

Going Back in Time Takes a While

Finally, after four years of planning and work, I have mowed a row of grapes. Illahe’s friend and teamster Mark Sougstad, who is driving in the picture above, handed me the lines and walked in front of me with his hat held above Doc’s head so I could aim his ears down the middle of the row. The bar of the mower clacks loudly but Doc doesn’t make a sound and the mower bumps around, much more than the tractor. Whereas some of the parts on Marvin Brisk’s mower are made in modern factories, the mower was assembled by hand and could have been done with different parts from the 19th century. I would guess that no other winery is approaching pure sustainability in this way.

As you’ll note from the other picture, Doc and Bea are pulling a wagon in between bales of food. We did have a tractor bale those things, so we still put some diesel into the project, but with only a few acres of hay and about four acres of pasture, a sack of oats and the occasional apple, our team should be able to mow the bottom 30 acres of vineyard next year.

That’s a big ‘should’ since so far we’ve only mowed an acre. I hope to get up to three acres mowed this year and at least the reserve grapes pulled up to the winery by horse.

Mark plans to take Doc and Bea down to California to do some horse logging next month and have them back before harvest. They’ll have more practice and be healthier when next year rolls around. If we can mow 30 acres a few times we may save a few gallons of diesel. I’ll work on the math when quantity matters.

Now, only quality matters. We have never been closer to bringing true Oregon terroir into your bottle. Let us know when you want to come thank winemakers Doc and Bea.

Mahi Mahi Tacos and Illahe Pinot Gris

Illahe fans everywhere are beginning to write in with their recipes to match
our wines. This recipe for fish tacos comes from Santa Barbara, California
from our esteemed graphic designer, Merry Young, who believes that it was a
perfect match with our pinot gris.

Remember, it takes a lot of beer to pair with great wine.

You'll probably want to make the salsa and stick it in the fridge before you
start in on the tacos. Merry says it's great with sweet potato oven fries,
in the Santa Barbara tradition.

*Beer Battered Mahi Mahi *

Canola or olive oil

1/2 cup all-purpose flour (or whole wheat, or a combo)

1/4 cup extra flour for dredging

2/3 cup beer (PBR works well)

1/4 tsp cumin

1/4 tsp paprika

pinch of cayenne

1 egg, lightly beaten

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 pound or so of Mahi Mahi (tilapia, flounder, etc.)


In one dish, whisk together 1/2 cup of the flour, beer, egg, baking powder,
salt, pepper and spices. In a separate shallow dish, place remaining 1/4 cup
flour.

Heat enough oil to shallow-fry the fish in a large non-stick skillet over medium-high
heat. There should be enough oil to cover the bottom of the pan, plus a
little more.

Pat dry and season both sides of the fish fillets with salt and black
pepper. First, dredge fish in flour dish, turning to lightly coat both
sides, then shake off excess flour. Second, dunk fish in beer mixture and
turn to coat both sides, let excess drip off.

Add the fish to the hot oil and cook 2 to 3 minutes per side, until cooked
through and opaque. Remove the fish from the oil. Place on a paper towel
lined plate. Cover and let rest a few minutes.



*Mango Salsa*

1 ripe mango, diced or 1 1/2 cups (I use Trader Joe's frozen mango chunks)

1/4 cup finely chopped red onion

1/2 medium red bell pepper

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

2 tablespoons rice vinegar

1 tablespoon or so chopped fresh cilantro



Combine all ingredients in a medium bowl. Let chill a half or so and stir
before serving.

Corn tortillas are the best, and can be fried quickly in the oil or wrapped
in paper and microwaved, or even steamed if you have such a contraption.

*Notes on the Grands Jours, Days 3,4,5*

Days three, four, and five were just as action-packed as the first two days.
Day three was the Beaune tasting, and it included cremant, haute-côte, and Macon producers along with the lesser-known villages north of Beaune.

The wines were thoroughly enjoyable, and this was the spot for finding affordable wines. I’ve heard that Beaune’s Aloxe wines (which didn’t include the Corton wines here) are good deals for pinot noir, but the pinots of Savigny, Ladoix, and Chorey are pretty good, too. Of course the producers vary, and I’d have to look through notes to remember which ones I liked the best, but there are wines with great complexity and seriousness. Claude Rateau’s spring to mind.

There was a twenty-foot-long table of Macon wines set up for attendees to serve themselves, and I went through tasting Pouilly-fuisses. I’m not an aficionado of Macon chardonnays, but I did find it interesting that Pouilly-vinzelles, which was also there, was of equal quality to some of the Fuisses, and I had never heard of it before.


This exhibition hall in Beaune was a sea of wine. If I were an importer, this is where I would start. The wine was fine and affordable and not laden with fame.

Day four brought us down to Mercurey to the barrel factory of Mercurey to taste the Côte Chalonnaise. Buxy, Mercurey, Givry, and Montagny are the big names but God help me if I could make out any vast differences between them. One of the big names here is De Villaine, who makes a famous aligoté in Bouzeron.

In the Côte C, they grow white and red, and the difference in producers, like in Macon and Beaune, seemed to make a bigger difference in wine quality than the magic of terroir. That’s probably the big lesson of the Wednesday and Thursday sessions of the Grands Jours.

The truly fun thing on Thursday was the lunch—a huge buffet with salads, meats, cheese and desserts of all kinds to pair with the wines. I saw a guy eating a huge plate of runny white cheese for dessert. The after dinner coffee was good, the sun came out, and our tasting team including Peter Julian and Stephane Kat (former salesman at Camile Giroud) cracked up about the French nasal laugh, which made me feel like I was at summer camp.





On the last day we made it to Meursault, Pernand, Chassagne, and Pommard. At least I think we did. I know we were in Pommard and up on a hill near Corton, and that we tasted some Bâtard-Montrachets. The fatigue almost made me sick of wine tasting, but with the famous names and the incredible
scenery of the hills and the Chateau de Pommard, I was able to make it to the finish line this year. The big disappointment of the day was that some of the Corton-Charlemagne producers did not do too well with their ‘07s or ‘08s, but that is a general statement when some were wonderful. Volnay seems
to produce a wine with more oomph and interest, and Pommard with less. One producer in Pommard was great—I think it was Moissenet-Bonnard. He gave me his tarif (price list) since I showed an interest, and they were all pretty expensive. I guess I’ll have to keep working.



The overall lessons for Illahe after all this tasting were: A) Burgundy is a different animal from Oregon wine. Oregon wine, even when made in Illahe’s completely natural style, is less tannic and more palatable than most of Burgundy’s at the expense of complexity. The more modern-style wines were similar to what I’m used to tasting here. There’s no reason to want to make Burgundy, but we would like to make wines that are palatable *and* complex, so we’ll work in that direction. B) There’s no reason to grow Chardonnay here unless
you love doing it, and C) we have excellent prices.

Brad Ford

Notes on the Grands Jours, Day 2

During day two of the GJ, we did the Côte d’Or. Unlike my first Grands
Jours day two, we went from south to north. We started in
Nuits-Saint-Georges, had a snack in the Château de Clos de Vougeot, skipped
through Chambolle, whose tasting is in an old barn, and finished in
Marsannay. The first time I made this trip, I was overwhelmed by the grands
crus. I wanted to be able to say I’d tried Chambertin and Bonnes Mares and
all that stuff. Since that was over, I tried to get around the lines at
grand cru barrels and search more for the character of the places. I still
got around to trying a couple St. Vivants and the Clos de Tart, just to
make sure they were keeping up.

The wines are all wonderful. I’m a wimpy wine reviewer, but I was really
happy with the heart of Burgundy, even though most of it was from an
off-vintage. The quality creates the legends that abound in this place.
Myths abound, too. The storytelling is fun, though, because this is where
wine lovers all congregate, and it’s the people who really care that
perpetuate and inflate all these stories. My head was filled with the
stories. I think I came out with two points that seemed real, anyway, and
were reflected in the aromas and palates of these wines.




The first was that the tannin character of the wines tends to be high at
the ends, and low in the center, like a suspension bridge. Nuits and Fixin
have plenty of tannin, and it smooths out as you get closer to Chambolle. A
writer named John Gilman (http://www.viewfromthecellar.com/index.html)
pointed this out to me, and I found him to be right. Is it that the terroir
naturally makes the wines this way?

Probably to a certain extent. But another thing I heard when my friend
Stephan was talking with another winemaker was the word “Americanization.”
It was in French, so I didn’t understand the whole conversation. I asked
him about it later and he said that it was the word that described modern
winemaking, and it seems to be characterized by more fruit flavor, less
tannin, less acid—in a word, less of everything that helps a wine age, but
helps a wine taste better initially. In a way, this could also mean that
the wine is more controlled to produce these attributes and therefore has
fewer flaws and more factory corrections.




The defenders of the faith demand that if a wine is made this way it’s
flawed. This isn’t a wine flaw we covered in class. As the culture
influences me, I’m beginning to lean toward enjoying the wines of Nuits and
Fixin. They are more tannic, rustic, and real. We tried lots of
ten-year-olds made in this style, and they're fascinating. And they’re a
lot cheaper.

Notes on the Grands Jours, Day 1

Chablis is the first stop on the Grand Jours tour. There, they also pour
Auxerre, Tonnerre, Vézelay, Irancy, and Saint Bris. Saint Bris is notable
since it’s made from sauvignon blanc. It tended to be aromatic and balanced
just under a percent of sugar. I would say the Saint Bris seems to be a
world away from white Bordeaux or New Zealand, and definitely a fun change
from a thousand Chablis.

They do make reds, especially in Irancy and Vézelay. The majority are
thinner than in the south—no big surprise—but also have nice noses and are
not oaky. The reds were acidic and so were the whites. We tasted mostly
2007, a cold year.

When it comes to Chablis wines, I found that a person could make a nice
Cartesian graph to explain them. On one axis, let’s say the X, we have
growth designations from Bourgogne to village to premier to grand cru. On
the Y we have oak. As you move along the X axis, the wines tend to go up in
oakiness.


Anyone can probably guess that as you move up and away, the Chablis also
get more and more expensive. The surprise of the day was that what was
interesting to me didn’t line up directly with the price. The lines of
people at the tables lined up directly with the price. Not that the
expensive stuff isn't good. It is. That isn't a surprise.

There was a really nice, balanced premier cru, Vosgros, that I loved, and
some of the Fourchaume and Montmains were great. My faves had a little oak.
A really smart importer could find some wonderful wine in this region
cheaper than grand cru. Then that person could import it to Oregon and we’d
all be happier.

Also, I might try to find a premier cru Chablis made in Oregon. Let us
know if you have found one.

Notes on the Grands Jours

Bethany and I knew our bags were pretty heavy with seven bottles of Burgundy and a cremant and a vin de paille from Jura, so we were going to switch the load between our bags to even it out. But the one I thought was heavier was already gone when our clerk told us that the second was too heavy. Bethany heroically suggested pulling out the books we’d saved from the Grands Jours de Bourgogne week of tastings, around 20 of them, and our bag was all right to go.
During our trip, including a few dinners and an extra tasting at the Hospice de Nuits, we tasted more than 1000 wines each. It gave me a lot of fodder for blog entries. We started the Grands Jours tastings in Chablis, then tasted the main areas of Burgundy over the next four days from Marsannay down to Pouilly, and I think there’s even another little town south of there, but I don’t have the book. Before that, we were farther north, in Paris, and we had a wonderful night at the restaurant of wine guru Tim Johnston of Juvenile’s wine bar.


Tim came to our table after we’d had a bottle of South African riesling and started chatting. He poured us some Beaujolais and we drank a bit of his birthday-barrel single malt. He found out we were going to Burgundy. After seeing the disgust on his face, I noted that he had no Burgundies among his glass pours. He said something like, “I only have good wine.”
There’s no good wine in Burgundy? Nope. And little good in Bordeaux, either. So if you want to follow the example of a successful restaurateur in your own cellar, you would only purchase Rhône, Bandol, Loire, east-of-France (Germany, Austria) and new world stuff. Now, he did say that he probably wouldn’t like the bottle of Illahe we gave him, either, but I’m blaming it more on the fact that our bottle was made from Burgundy’s king of grapes than it was grown and made in Oregon.
It was a great night. It’s always fun to hear different opinions. (Oh, he also mentioned that he kicked the director of the movie Mondovino out of his bar!) In the following week I tasted some spectacular wines from all over Burgundy. Whether they are priced fairly is another subject altogether.

To the Grand Jours we go!

Brad and I have the amazing opportunity to attend the 10th Grand Jours de Bourgogne. We leave Thursday and start tasting Monday...Every day we go to different Chateaus around Burgundy for the event. I think when I stumble out of this next Friday I will be a little more versed in Burgundy wines.





http://www.grands-jours-bourgogne.com/home-grands-jours-de-bourgogne,797.html?

au revoir,
Bethany

In Search of an Illahe Yeast.

To date, Illahe has done a handful of native fermentations but it hasn’t been a main part of the program. We’ve used a special yeast from Evesham Wood and we’ve used about 10 different commercial yeast. Most of the commercial yeast have given us wonderful results, so we have been happy. Yet from what Michael and I learned at the Oregon Wine Symposium, there may be a good reason to start looking at native ferments more closely.

Dr. Mat Goddard of Auckland University presented his research at the symposium that he had found yeast in fermentations that were genetic matches to yeast found in the vineyard. Not just yeast, but Saccharomyces—the wine yeast. This contradicts the research we learned in school. For example, Charles Edwards says in his book, Wine Microbiology on page 7, “Kloeckera…as well as others present in grape musts such as Candida [et al.] are also called ‘native,’ ‘natural,’ or ‘wild’ yeasts because they originate in the vineyard or the winery.” They are also called spoilage yeast, and they don’t include Saccharomyces. Moreover, in his section on native fermentations, he talks mostly about how spoilage yeasts affect wine.

Neither Dr. Goddard nor anyone else denies that these yeast do exist and do come from the vineyard. The important point is that Saccharomyces, if he is right, does come from the vineyard. But not only this, a vast array of different and interesting yeast with different genes come from the vineyard.

Isn’t this obvious? How was wine made historically if not from Saccharomyces? The explanations I had heard before were that yeast came from the winery walls and equipment and had floated there from oak trees, where they had been found before. Oddly, Dr. Goddard could not find Saccharomyces in the winery, though at some times of year it definitely exists and in great quantities.

The other fascinating thing about his discussion was that none of the yeasts he found were commercial strains, indicating that a wine can be made from its own terroir. Nonetheless, one of the components is bound to be the spoilage yeast of the terroir, so a native ferment will have to be managed closely.

In following Cristom and Eieio (whose excellent vin de terroir I had not too long ago) and many others, Illahe will begin a serious native yeast program this year. In the handful of native fermentations we’ve had, I had assumed they started from other innoculated fermentors. I still think it might have happened that way: a punchdown tool or even a hand moving from one fermentor to another to clean it could have innoculated the must. They were successful and acted like innoculated fermentors, but this research suggests that these wines may have been native Illahe yeasts. Finding a local, strong fermenting yeast would be something that we would love for complexity and uniqueness.

Brad Ford

Tonkatsu with Illahe Viognier

For me to post a recipe is pretty ridiculous since I’m an average cook and there must be twelve better recipes for tonkatsu. But this is the only one with Illahe viognier in it, so I’m going to serve it to you anyway. Tonkatsu was one of the best things my beautiful friend Yone would make for me when I was a bartender in Tokyo.

And this is a beautiful viognier! I just read some thing on the internet dissing it, and all I can add is that if you think everything with the word ‘viognier’ on it must be Condrieu, I would say this is Willamette Valley viognier, and it stands on its own. A perfect balance of pleasing aroma moving between tropical fruit, apricots, pears, apples, to sweet spring flowers, backed up by a lawn being mowed a block away.

Oh, where was I? The recipe. It’s like most tonkatsu recipes I’ve read (whence it derives). Salt and pepper the pork chops and let them rest a bit. That’s a good time to shred up some cabbage, cut a lemon into wedges, and heat up oil in a sauce pan to medium-hot. I used olive oil and it worked just fine, but I had run out of vegetable oil. After the salt has worked its way into the chops, fill a plate with flour, a wide bowl with egg for every two chops, and a plate with panko. I’ve tried it with regular white bread crumbs and it’s okay, but the big panko pieces are nice.

Into the egg bowl, whisk in two or three tablespoons of Illahe viognier per egg along with a tablespoon of Dijon. C’est tout. Dip the chops in the flour, the egg mix, and the panko, and then fry it. Do the first side for about five minutes, golden brown, then flip. I used a meat thermometer since I had thick chops, up to 145F. If you don’t have a thermometer, I would say about 10 minutes for an inch. Put them on a bed of cabbage with the lemon, squeeze on some lemon, and drizzle with soy or teryaki or some nice salty brown sauce. You might even want to look up a tonkatsu sauce if you have ambition.

Make rice if you like, but make sure you have wine left for dinner.

Sunset Magazine vs. Brad Ford

Sunset Magazine had a nice article in it today, that I forwarded to Brad because there were mentions of a few small Oregon towns that we are fond of.

Brad decided to take matters into his own hands, as usual, and write his own top 10 small towns list because he obviously disagreed. I invite you to compare.
Bethany


Sunset Article:
http://www.sunset.com/travel/top-20-small-towns-western-us-00400000040172/

Brad Ford's Top Ten Oregon Small Towns:

10. Astoria.
It has too much yuppie crap in it, but thank God there are some empty buildings, some evidence of manufacturing, fishing, and logging, and the dream of adventure when you're looking out to the mouth of the Columbia.

9. Lebanon.
No town has less yuppie crap in it than Lebanon. There's only one coffee shop, but otherwise the smell of people living on the land is real. I think there's still an A&W.

8. The Dalles.
Beautiful train tracks run right through the middle of this slaughter-town. All the beauty of a port with sun and a dessicated landscape. It's one of the few towns that still has a trace of Indian heritage in it.

7. Pendleton.
It's yuppifying a little, but only insomuch as the rodeo is popular. Otherwise, it's far away from the world and even a little way from the freeway. Luckily, they still don't have jobs there.

6. Tillamook.
Who could dislike a town that gets 80 inches of rain a year? I remember being there on Halloween and seeing the local kids in real costumes all happy and excited. Their parents work in dairies. That's America.

5. Rainier.
It sits on a hill overlooking Longview, which is reason enough for any town to be rated well. A handful of old two-story buildings, a dock on the Columbia, and a couple taverns. You could live your whole life there and never go to Clatskanie.

4. Fort Rock.
This is a really little town. You can't do anything here except wander around. There is a museum run by a nice lady. There's an abandoned gas station. Also, Fort Rock is right there.

3. Harrisburg.
This town is built right on the Willamette and everyone either works in the paper mill or on a farm. I think the mill is open for now, but when it closes down it'll really get good there. This is the kind of place that makes you want to sit by the river and polish off a bottle of Old Charter.

2. Gardiner.
The only viable businesses in Gardiner on the mouth of the Umpqua are a tavern and I think a body shop. It has a few old houses that are reasonably maintained. Thank God it has seen better days, and you get to talk to people at the tavern just thrown randomly into their lives, not fighting it a bit.

1. Hines.
Hines is great because it isn't even Burns. Once in history, someone probably thought something was going to happen in Burns, since it was on the railroad. Now it's just in the middle of the desert. It has the smallest Indian reservation in the state right next to it with a casino, so I've heard. So you can go over there, but neither at the casino nor in Burns are you in Hines, which is clearly the end of the line. Whatever part of California or Seattle you are from, you will go back refreshed from your trip to that motel in Hines secure in the fact that your life is fast paced and fascinating.

Best 9 from 09, by Illahe winemaker Michael Lundeen. Part 1

Photo Credit: David Owen

Well, detailed below is the first installment of my compilation of best
bottles from 2009. I’m calling it my “best 9 from 09.” What became
clear to me as I considered and compiled the memory of these wines was that
not only were these wines which I found to be fantastic, but were enjoyed in
great company and in most cases the experience of the occasion was
fantastic as well. This served as a great reminder to share great (or even
modest!) wines with friends and loved ones, as the experience of one
certainly seems to enhance the other.

1 - 1998 Château Faugères, Saint-Emilion, Grand Cru
This delicious bottle was gifted to me by my counterpart at Illahe Brad
Ford, and I am now, after having consumed said bottle, especially thankful
indeed. I brought the bottle with me on a bachelor party weekend last
summer for a good, old friend of mine, Mr. Brian Budke. In the crowd were
a number of serious food and wine nerds (in which company I would happily
place myself), so I was pleased to have such a grand feasting occasion to
pull out such a grand bottle. If memory serves, and it rarely does
anymore, the meal was a double-header of lamb chops and grilled, marinaded
steak. The meal was a rich tsunami of flavors to be sure, but the
Faugères rode high on the waves all the way through. A profound challenge
in the face of Merlot haters, this 85% Merlot, 10% Cab Franc, 5% Cab Sauv
blend was glorious. The dark fruits, though wonderfully mellowed, were
still alive and perfectly harmonized with any spice and oak contributions.
The palate was quite full but seamless and long. I remember the wine was
in very good company thanks to some deep cellar raiding on the part of Mr.
Budke and one Mr. Kurt Heilemann in the form of a Rioja Reserva and another
aged Bordeaux. However, on that occasion, none could touch the Château
Faugères. Not a trace of astringecy left after the nearly ten years in
bottle, it was as if the wine had been waiting all its life for that meal.

2 - 2003 Castello di Verduno, Barbaresco, Rabajà
Castello di Verduno is a small family producer in Italy’s Piedmont
region, with holdings in both Barolo and Barbaresco. Their methods are
quite traditional, that is no small oak “barriques” for wine ageing,
only large ovaline and botti which could be anywhere from two-hundred to
several thousand gallons. With that said, the winemaker Mario Andrion is
young and educated in modern winemaking so the wines now benefit
beautifully from his blend of modernity and tradition. Mario is also a
good friend of mine and allowed me to come work a harvest with him in 2005.
It was then that I really fell in love with the wines of Piedmont, but
most especially Nebbiolo. Back to 2009. I received a case of Castello di
Verduno wines from Mario in trade for some winemaking supplies and I’ve
been parcelling the wines out as slowly as possible. Well, round comes by
birthday in September and I thought that was as good an occasion as any so
out comes the Barbaresco. Enjoyed it with my fiancée Desiree and good
friends Dave and Leslie as well as some excellent and very convincing
Piedmontese food at Alba Osteria in Portland. I was skeptical at first of
2003, since much of Europe was very hot that year and there were many
reports of overripe or otherwise unbalanced wines. Not the case here. It
had a gorgeous nose that only Nebbiolo can have, where very dark primordial
aromas of tar and leather mingle with seemingly misplaced delicate aromas
of flowers, especially roses. It was vibrant enough that the red and black
fruits rose up to take center stage after a few minutes in the glass.
Beautifully harmonious, the palate, undoubtedly aided by the warm vintage,
was plush and round with not a trace of astringency. My conclusion was
that the wine could probably have aged another year or two, but it was so
enjoyable that not only did I not care but the wine so overshadowed the
meal that I have no recollection of what I ate that evening! Despite the
small production, Castello di Verduno wines can be found here in the states
and are surprisingly well-distributed in the Portland area. Their Barolos
and Barbarescos, single vineyard and otherwise, can all be found and are
great bargains compared to the more famous producers from that esteemed
region.

3 - 2003 St. Innocent, Pinot Noir, Anden Vineyard, Willamette Valley
So, the former Anden Vineyard is a bittersweet subject for many in the
Willamette Valley. One of the older vineyards around, it was until
recently owned and farmed by local legend Al MacDonald. Anden, and its
adjoined Seven Springs, have cranked out wonderful pinot noir for many
years which found its way in to many a notable single vineyard bottling.
When the property was leased in its entirety several years ago to one
entity, many esteemed wineries lost forever the rights to some of their
favorite fruit. St. Innocent is no exception to this misfortune, and
unless you want one hell of an earful on the subject, I don’t recommend
broaching the subject with winemaker Mark Vlossak! Fortunately, Mark has
much to be proud of regarding the many wines he made from the Anden/Seven
Springs property over the years, and this 2003 Anden is a shining example
in my book. So, I had occasion to mark some minor celebration with our
good friends Matt, Jean, and Amy Driscoll of WildAire Cellars, and we found
ourselves at the always pleasing Thistle in McMinnville. Thistle is one of
the new generation of farm-to-fork restaurants, run by the young duo of
Eric Bechard and Emily Howard. The dishes are always locally sourced, hand
crafted, and inspired. Well, I know St. Innocent to produce some powerful
pinot noirs that hold their own against food in their youth and then age
beautifully, so I embarked on a pairing of very tender steak and roast
vegetables with great results! The pinot was so plush, again thanks in my
opinion to a warm 2003 vintage, but balanced. The palate was still lively
while moderately full bodied, and reminded me that when done right pinot
noir is a nearly unmatched food wine. The cascading aromas of bramble,
violets, cherries, raspberries, oak, toast, leather and more was nearly
mesmerizing in its complexity. In a word, delicious! Only the vibrancy of
the fruits told me that the wine could have actually aged a little longer,
but again, it was too good to care, let alone have regrets! Anything St.
Innocent produces is recommended in my book, but if you can get your hands
on any of the Anden/Seven Springs bottlings, I think they are worth any
reasonable price you could pay.

Brad Top 10 Wines of '09, 7-10

7. 2005 WildAire Reserve – A person who works in the wine industry in Oregon gets to try a bunch of limited-production wines that should be incredibly popular but aren’t quite yet. Matt Driscoll is making this wine with the best techniques and with as much heart as anyone in the valley, and his 2005 is starting to sing. I think it’s sold out, but never fear, there are vintages after 2005 to grab, too. Matt has a sticker on the back of his F-150 that says “No Wimpy Wines,” and he isn’t about to let that happen to a WildAire. He demands low yield and high extraction, giving his wines power and long finish. The 2005 envelopes the mind in velvet, coating the entire tongue and enriching the nose with purple aromas of plum and Turkish delight. Behind all this is waxed fir, black caps, and Snickers pie. I only wish I would have drunk this with game instead of pasta, but that’s only in my imagination.

8. 2001 Château de la Peyre, Fargues, Sauternes – You get two experiences as a foreigner in wine country. One is the experience where no one knows you from Bob Hamilton and you get a tour and a tasting. There’s nothing wrong with this and, in fact, it can be pretty relaxing. The other experience is that you know someone who knows someone and you get a lot of talking and tasting in a little cellar that a handful of wine lovers ever visit. Château de la Peyre, whose holding is next door to the famous Château de Fargues, whose owners also own Château d’Yquem, is made in a large outbuilding in a suburb filled with ranch houses. Here, we got the second kind of tasting from a Sauternes producer who makes red wine, dry whites, sweet table whites, white brandy, and the regular old sweet, botrytized stuff we know as Sauternes. We tried all of them, including three vintages of the brandy. Despite the impossible amount to drink, I still remember the 2001, though we couldn’t buy it. It had orange peel, caramel, honey, and oak coming out of a dark yellow/orange liquid that the winemaker said had about 30 brix after his three passes through the vineyard. Top that off with the diesel oil smell of botrytis and you have a wine that you can remember 8 months later.

9. 2006 Remy Wines Lagrein – Michael makes wine here and so does Matt, but their vineyards are elsewhere. Remy’s lagrein comes from Illahe, so I have no idea how she makes such mind-blowing stuff. American oak and magic is all I can come up with. My dad planted lagrein because Bryce Bagnall had told us that he thought the valley was the perfect place for it, and even if it wasn’t, a person could blend it with pinot to give the pinot color. A person could do that, but we never will because Remy has already made a Cinderella out of this poor obscure grape. I had this wine most recently at an Oregon Wine Board dinner with some slow-roasted duck. Good pairing. It’s not the most palatial mouth you can have in a red: it is more refined and less rococo than a big Italian. You have to keep in mind this is a cool-climate grape. What it offers is perfect balance between the tropical tiki of its oak and the wild berries and cherries of temperate regions, filling the senses with worldly happiness.

10. 2002 Broadley Vineyards Marcile Lorraine – It’s not every day I walk down from the office in the pole barn and get to taste one of the best wines of the year. Thanks to wine club member Gary Mudge, it happened during harvest at the exact right time to keep me going. Broadley’s stout, expressive pinots are the stuff of legend, but I had a bad bottle once, so I was glad Gary brought this wine around. It had true charpentier, brown leather, blueberry, spicy, figgy, candied cherry smells—like drinking in a home library with walnut bookshelves and an oil lamp burning with a blanket over your lap while reading a leather-bound volume of Jane Eyre. At least that’s what I was thinking about at the end of harvest. The wine kept me going.

Brads Top 10 wines of '09, 5 & 6

Photo Credit: David Owen

5. 2008 Genius Loci Cuvée Desireé – One of the fun things about working with Michael is seeing how what he does differently from Illahe affects his wine. In 2008 he began using oak to age his pinot gris. Is it the oak that gives it the broad, accommodating mouthfeel, while still allowing for a strong pillar of acid to support the tent of happiness it creates on the tongue? That can’t be the only answer; one answer is excellent attention in the vineyard, a nice, warm spot for pinot gris, and wise choice of yeast. I’m sure that Michael’s time with Brian O’Donnell at Belle Pente helped him understand the different methods of gris-making, since Brian uses a traditional Alsatian method, and Michael something in between that and a modern stainless method. Michael coddles this wine, giving it a high self-esteem and a can-do attitude that springs forth with flavors of peach, apple, and truffle.

6. 2001 Cristom Marjorie – Cristom never ceases to amaze me. 2001 was supposed to be an off year, yet this wine, eight years out, was packed with deep flavors, in the prime of its life, and was downed at a party in about 20 minutes. I was the only person at the party. No, not really, it’s just a popular wine in a heavy bottle and it continues to be what Oregon pinot noir is all about—complexity, depth, and style. Cristom always seems to me to have a raspberry or blackberry jam aroma that is very pleasing. As we work with native and whole-cluster ferments, Cristom’s wine reminds us that everything’s going to be okay. Let’s keep small domaine wines as an important part of ecotopia, please.

Brad's Top 10 Wines of 2009, 3-4

3. 2001 Henri Gouges Les Pruliers, Nuits-Saint-Georges, Burgundy – This wine had everything a Burgundy should have and enlightened me further about old world/new world wines. The flavors of the area are hard to match, and I would never try, because we simply have different grapes and different programs. I particularly loved this bottle because after a two-hour tasting in Christian Gouges’s cellar in 2006, it took me two bottles to get back to something as great as I had tasted there. He whipped out a 1973 that was powered with mincemeat, spices, and dirt. Earth itself doesn’t migrate into your wine according to the best evidence I have, but earth flavors exist in these wines and are nice in the deux mille un mixed with aromas of raspberry and delicate small flowers in the spring air. Surround in a bit of oak (neither Gouges nor many of the Burgundies I know are powered by oak) and wait 8 years, and you get wines like this. The real thing.

4. 2004 Evesham Wood Seven Springs –Speaking of aging, if there is one winemaker that looks forward to the magical 5-10 year window of pinot noir maturity, it’s Russ Raney. And, lo, I just happened to have a 5-year-old sitting around. I remember 2004 since it was the first year I made wine. I was making Illahe (which wasn’t called Illahe) at Vitae Springs Vineyards in South Salem, and Forrest Klaffke came by on a warm day. He looked at my brine bins with crushed pinot in them and I asked his opinion of the vintage. He said “Normal.” So, in a normal vintage, Russ produced this spectacular wine—easy to drink after five years, with an aroma of ash wood, a box of nails, ferns, and strawberry compote. That’s true complexity. He harvests earlier than almost anyone, following the heuristic that 105-110 days after bloom is the sweet spot, and this always seems too early until five years later. Buy cases!

Brad’s Top Ten Wines of 2009

I was lucky in 2009 to get to visit Bordeaux, and so my first three wines remind me of that trip and the serious culture of winemaking over there. The culture starts out serious, anyway, and relaxes during a tasting. The wines aren’t in order of greatness—that’s just too difficult. Here are the first two with more to come.

1. 2005 Château Franc-Cardinal, Côtes de Francs, Bordeaux – Thanks to friend Peter Holdorf (see next wine) Bethany and I got to meet winemaker Philip Holzberg, who gave us an extensive tasting of his château’s wines. Franc-Cardinal is on the eastern edge of the wine-growing area of Bordeaux, not far from St. Emilion and Pomerol. In this area, Cabernet Sauvignon is planted much less often, and Philip’s vineyard is mostly merlot, with cabernet franc and malbec to support the blend. Philip’s wines bear little resemblance to the maligned merlots of California, except that they do have deep black, blue, and red fruit aromas. Aside from the differing terroir, the Franc-Cardinal has a good upbringing in a variety of oaks that define its final character. Philip has accomplished local coopers to choose from as well as a few Burgundian coopers he also likes. One of his local coopers makes him an NAV barrel with alternating staves from Nevers, Alliers, and Vosges. (He could just blend three barrels together, right? I suppose that would defeat the purpose of knowing local coopers.) The 2005 stood out as a strong vintage that wasn’t only ripe, but interesting, yet all his past vintages were wonderful in their own way. Franc-Cardinal is well-priced and I would highly recommend buying a case if you can find it.

2. 2005 Château Peter Holdorf, Peter’s Garage, Petit Palais, Bordeaux – Peter was our host in Bordeaux in June. He manages to make a great wine with no knowledge of SO2, no destemmer, and really no modern winemaking equipment at all. He uses old barrels, and I think he tops them up every once in a while, though we did notice that a common practice there is to tight-bung a barrel and turn it to 2 o’clock and leave it for a year. I don’t remember what he uses for yeast, but I’m going to imagine that he uses indigenous yeast and lets malolactic fermentation happen naturally—probably a lot easier in Bordeaux than Burgundy because of the heat. The wine is rich and layered, though it doesn’t have the oak contribution of the rest of Bordeaux’s boutique wines. I was left wondering why his wine tasted better than so many other bottled Bordeaux, and I think it might be because Peter picks his grapes by hand. He has a good relationship with his neighbors, and they allow him to glean their vineyard after the mechanical harvesters drive through and bash the grapes into their hoppers. One more point for natural winemaking.

Wine Press Northwest Reviews!

Illahe Vineyards & Winery

2007 Pinot Noir

Willamette Valley, 1,700 cases, 13.5% alc., $20

Excellent. Named after a tribal term that the French would refer to as terroir, this operation in Dallas, Ore., once sold grapes to Cristom and Joe Dobbes. This entry-level release features aromas of Cherry Garica ice cream, blueberry, tar and leather. There's a follow-through of flavors with nice leafiness, a nice blast of acidity and assertive tannins. The cherry candy finish will play nicely with pork tenderloin that's rubbed with herbs de Provence or pasta tossed with cherry tomatoes.

Illahe Vineyards & Winery

2007 Reserve Pinot Noir

Willamette Valley, 200 cases, 13% alc., $38

Excellent. Co-winemakers Brad Ford and Michael Lundeen showcase 50% new French oak, but the program still allows for fresh aromas of a nice Hawaiian Fruit Punch to emerge above mint and allspice. It's an easy drink of raspberries and cherries with a bit of grip at the end.

Food Day

A big thank you to Katherine Cole of the Oregonian for not only mentioning Illahe, but the Salem-Dallas-Richreall corridor in the lastest Food Day "100 things we love." We are nestled in the hills of Dallas, Oregon, along with Amalie Robert, Freedom Hill, and Croft Vineyards.


"Wines from the Salem-Dallas-Rickreall corridor: Talk about a wine country sweet spot! There's no denying that the Salem area has tons of top vineyards, with Bethel Heights, Cristom, Evesham Wood, Seven Springs, St. Innocent, Temperance Hill and Witness Tree among the standout producers. This year, my tastebuds have been dragging me slightly westward to the Dallas/Rickreall region's producers, such as Amalie Robert, Illahe Vineyards and Johan Vineyards. Blame it on the Van Duzer Corridor, which channels cool Pacific winds through these vineyards at the end of hot summer afternoons. It's only a matter of time before this quality swath of the Willamette Valley gets its own official subappellation." Katherine Cole



http://www.oregonlive.com/foodday/index.ssf/2010/01/what_were_drinking.html

Illahe Vineyards

Illahe Vineyards


Another great review! Check it out.