Oh! Sweet Nuthin’: The Quest for Vinous Immortality

January 13, 2014

lane tanner pinot noir

“Thought of you as my mountaintop
Thought of you as my peak
Thought of you as everything
I’ve had but couldn’t keep”
– The Velvet Underground, “Pale Blue Eyes”

The recent passing of Lou Reed hit me hard.  As a teenager growing up in sleepy Santa Maria, the world created by The Velvet Underground transported me to a place far removed from the sprawling broccoli and strawberry fields of the valley.  Characters from Andy Warhol’s Factory and New York’s seedy late ‘60s underground were vividly captured by Reed, evoking a time and place that, 45 years later, still feels timeless.

This loss of a hero got me to thinking about wine (all roads seem to lead me there nowadays).  As an adult, I have often found this same transformative experience through great wine bottles.  Unlike The Velvet Underground & Nico, however, which will sound exactly the same 100 years from now, wine, no matter how great the vintage or producer, is finite by its very nature, prone to inevitable decay. The memory of a great bottle is persistent and haunting because we know we will never have quite that same experience again.

So for those whose art is wine, how does one find the same sense of immortality allowed through the mediums of film, painting, or music?  In the Old World, it is the site, the terroir, which is prized above all else.  Each successive generation is passed the torch of great land, from Romanee-Conti to Clos de la Coulee de Serrant.  Yet it is the human element that must channel Mother Nature and define the voice of a given place in a lifetime; as the vineyard passes from one generation to the next, so too an inevitable stylistic shift happens.

In the New World, on the other hand, we often place the human element above all else.  Technical innovations and stylistic touches often trump the expression of site, for better or worse.  The greatest practitioners of this style focus less on sense of place and more on sense of self, driving so intently toward a personal vision that they capture something utterly unique.

The greatest wines and winemakers of the world, however, be they from France or Germany, Oregon or California, manage to marry these two philosophies; they showcase a special place while putting their own personal, inimitable stamp on it.  One such winemaker that I had the chance to share a table (and more than a few bottles) with numerous times this past harvest is Lane Tanner.

Lane retired her namesake label with the 2009 harvest; she still consults here and there, but she is, essentially, done with full time winemaking.  Unlike the typical scenario in Europe, there is no scion to carry on her namesake; all we have left is the string of superb vintages she crafted from 1984-2009.  These wines, whether from consumption or from decay, will eventually disappear, leaving only the memories they created and the imprint of their influence.

Rather than dwell on this unfortunate fact of wine, however, I’ve begun to embrace the unique beauty in its life and death cycle.  The fact that I am alive to enjoy these wines in their prime (her ’90 Sierra Madre was a transcendent experience), to learn the farming and winemaking lessons that Lane has been gracious enough to pass on, to have a hero from my hometown; these are things to celebrate.

Perhaps it’s fitting that, here in the Wild West, our vinous heroes ride off into the sunset.  And maybe one of wine’s greatest qualities is its fleeting nature: it forces us to be present in the moment, to embrace those sharing a table with us, and to stop and appreciate something beautiful.  So as you pop a bottle of Lane Tanner’s ’94 Sierra Madre Plateau, and cue up “Sunday Morning” on the stereo, take a moment to appreciate the unique, and ephemeral, beauty of the experience; ‘cause when it’s gone, it’s gone.

We have a VERY limited quantity of library 4 packs from Lane.  Limit 1 per person.  Featuring:
– 1992 Sanford & Benedict Vineyard Pinot Noir
– 1994 Sierra Madre Plateau Pinot Noir
– 1995 Sierra Madre Plateau Pinot Noir
– 1996 Sierra Madre Vineyard Pinot Noir

Click here to purchase wine

The French Connection

November 25, 2013

“This is a wonderful Pinot Noir, it’s very Burgundian”… “I think you’ll really enjoy this Syrah, it’s a dead ringer for something from the Northern Rhone”… “Their Chardonnay is beautiful, it drinks just like a great Chablis”.  We’ve all heard these comments (and I’m certainly guilty of uttering them) in regards to Californian wines.  It’s almost as if the greatest compliment we can pay a balanced wine from the New World is that it tastes like something from the Old World.  After almost 30 years of high-alcohol, ultra-ripe wines, it’s understandable that those of us championing this return to wines of balance and place would want to connect the dots to Europe’s more classically structured, subdued wines.  But if we expect to stand head to head with, rather than on the shoulders of, these old world giants, we have to start proudly owning our unique sense of place.

Santa Barbara County, despite its youth, has already carved out numerous small micro-regions with their own distinct site character.  Santa Maria Valley, Santa Maria Bench, Los Alamos Valley, Sta. Rita Hills, Happy Canyon of Santa Barbara, Ballard Canyon, and the Los Olivos District all have distinctive soils, macroclimates, and topography found only in this special part of the world, and the producers advocating for these areas, now more than ever, are capturing their idiosyncratic essence.

Take Justin Willett.  The winemaker behind Tyler, Lieu Dit, and Vallin (does he ever sleep?!?) is crafting wines at refreshingly low alcohols, with a vivid savor of place.  While his inspiration comes from Burgundy (Tyler), the Loire (Lieu Dit), and the Northern Rhone (Vallin), the wines could clearly have come from nowhere else but California.  The beet root and black pepper of his Bien Nacido Pinot Noir from Santa Maria; the guava, papaya, and musk notes of the Lieu Dit Sauvignon Blanc from Happy Canyon; the lush blueberry and cracked pepper of Vallin’s Santa Ynez Syrah; these are wines that stand on their own as benchmark examples of what our area is capable of.

Or sample the Grenache of Angela Osborne.  It comes from Santa Barbara Highlands, a vineyard so remote and wild that it feels like stepping onto the moon; 3200 ft. elevation, soils so sandy that they look like a dune, scrub dotting the landscape, snow in the winter.  This is a place with real character, from a winemaker who has tapped so deeply into her own wavelength that she’s essentially a genre of one.  Tasting this wine, one senses the feral high desert in its origins, the California sunshine, the passion of a woman walking the vinous tightrope with no harness; the essence of what this new movement is all about.

And let us not forget our pioneers, the wild ones who started on this path of balance and never strayed from it even when fashion swung away from them.  Jim Clendenen of Au Bon Climat; Lane Tanner; Adam Tolmach at Ojai; Stephan Bedford; Fred Brander; they have helped shepherd and inspire this new generation, and are still making beautiful wines, further defining what makes our region so special.

It is a thrilling time to be a wine lover in Santa Barbara County.  We have one of the most unique growing regions on the planet, with incredible soils, a huge range of climates, and topography to make any European envious.  And now, in a big way, we have a wine culture that is starting to take proud ownership of this utterly singular sense of place.  Perhaps one day, years from now, we will hear jealous murmurs in Burgundy: “Have you tried this?  It tastes just like a Pinot Noir from the Sta. Rita Hills…”

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