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“Value for money” and “California” aren’t often used together these days, such are the vagaries of the exchange rates between the UK and USA, but this pair of wines pleasantly demonstrate all’s not lost when it comes to finding good wines from the Golden State. Pine Ridge Vineyards is the producer, founded in 1978 by the Andrus family, now with significant holdings in Stags Leap District, Rutherford, Oakville, Carneros, and Howell Mountain. With Seghesio now part of the Crimson Wine Group, Pine Ridge finds itself represented in the UK.
The white takes 79% Chenin Blanc, from the Clarksburg appellation and harvested at low sugar levels to retain freshness and low alcohol, supplemented by 21% Viognier, from Lodi and picked at 24° Brix to give a more voluptuous, spicy angle to the wine. Neither variety I’d really considered as being Californian specialities, perhaps South Africa a more likely point of origin, but this really does work exceptionally well. (Pine Ridge Chenin Blanc-Viognier 2011 – £15.75)
The red we tasted is much more “typically” Californian; a Pinot Noir that blends from three districts to give a fine example of what the Central Californian coast has to offer. San Luis Obispo makes up almost two thirds of the blend, endowing it with a dense, ripe character, unmistakably non-European, with the early-ripening Santa Barbara County fruit adding a brighter, refreshing note, and the tiny amount from Sonoma County that area’s characteristically “earthy” quality. (Forefront Pinot Noir 2010 – £22.90)
It’s been a long time since I studied at UCSB and enjoyed exploring the coast and countryside of Santa Barbara and ‘SLO’; back then I seem to remember it was big and buttery Chardonnay we couldn’t get enough of; how times change.
Undoubtedly Jeffrey Grosset is best-known for his superb Rieslings, with both the “Polish Hill” and “Springvale Watervale” wines considered the benchmark for the variety from Australia. Both these wines hail from the Clare Valley, where Grosset’s winery is based at Auburn. Since 1981 his work with Riesling, and his advocacy of the screwcap as a forward-looking method of closure for wines, has been legendary.
I’d never taken the opportunity to taste his “Piccadilly” Chardonnay until the end of last year when this small batch of 2007 came my way. The Piccadilly region is in the Adelaide Hills, a region where the likes of Shaw & Smith and S. C. Pannell were up to this point my reference point for the area’s wines. It’s the “second coldest place in South Australia” according to Grosset (and Brian Croser, whose Petaluma winery laid much of the foundations for viticulture here), but try as I might, I couldn’t find out where the first is.
There’s been quite a bit of mainstream wine writing recently about the “new” move towards restraint in Australian wine making, and how the “ABC” (anything-but-Chardonnay) moniker is outdated, but tasting this wine, some 5 years old now, you realise how much bunkum these statements are. Those producers who have always respected the terroir they’re working with, choosing varieties that suit those places, and taking a less “interventionist” path in their wine making have been turning out great wines for ages.
Subtle hints of grapefruit with crisp, deliciously refreshing acidity and a structure that makes it a versatile partner with food, I’d wager this would be tricky to pick out from a line-up of good Burgundies as somehow “typically Australian”. Matured in French oak barriques (50% new) for 10 months, only half the wine underwent malolactic fermentation, once more showing how that wine making decision has so much to do with the final flavour profile of Chardonnay in particular.
You’ll see from the prices below how factors like the strength of the Australian dollar have had a marked impact on premium wine from there too; and the very special price the 2007 was offered at which we’ve passed on.
Grosset “Piccadilly” Chardonnay 2007, Adelaide Hills (£22)
Grosset “Piccadilly” Chardonnay 2009, Adelaide Hills (£29.80)
What the critics said:
Lisa Perotti-Brown
Parker.com’s www.erobertparker.com 4 March 2010
91 points
Aromas of guava, apricots, oatmeal, cream and a whiff of cedar. Pleasant viscous texture complimented by a buttery character and a good concentration of stone fruits. High acidity gives freshness throughout the long finish.
James Halliday Australian Wine Companion 2010 Edition
91 points
A pronounced grilled nut aroma complements the fresh pear fruit on the bouquet; there is a little bit of grip to the palate, with more toasted, nutty complexity framing the gentle pear flavour; quite savoury on the finish.
Nick Stock
WBM 100 April 2009
93 Points
Grosset’s Chardonnay is looking every bit the part with edgy solids-derived complexity layered across Adelaide Hills stone fruits and citrus hints – mouthwatering stuff. Peach and orange citrus flavours are dressed in gently nutty oak complexity with a creamy texture and a punchy, driven finish.
A return to the variety that was amongst the first to open my eyes to wine’s ability to provoke more than a simple choice of red or white. That would have been a Ravenswood Zinfandel, with its tagline of “no wimpy wines” neatly encapsulating the variety’s bold, upfront and downright bolshy nature. This was a notch up again, the Seghesio “Sonoma” Zinfandel 2008, a wine with more intricacies than a Le Carré novel and more depth than the Marianas Trench. At some 15.5% alcohol, “wimpy” wouldn’t be a term I’d use for it either, although, as with so many “high alcohol” wines, its balance and overall impression swiftly dismiss such considerations.
If you consider that it was in the 1880s that Zinfandel really took hold in California, the fact that Seghesio was founded in 1895 gives you a good idea of how long the family has had to get to grips with the nuances of the variety. Susceptible to uneven ripening, often planted in too-warm climes in order to maximise yields rather than quality, there’s much that can go wrong, which is why with Seghesio you’re glad of their ancestors’ foresight in gaining some of the State’s prime Zinfandel territory in Sonoma County. And whilst it should go without saying: never, ever, mistake the abominations that go under the terms “pink” or “blush” Zinfandel for the real thing.
Astonishingly, this is the “baby” of the collection; “Old Vine”, “Cortina” and “Home Ranch” all take the Zin experience up a gear. The perfect Saturday night wind-down wine, paired simply with duck leg, fries and salad, it made me think how we normally suggest that a wine’s cost should equate roughly to what you’re eating. In this case, the simple meal was around £4 each; the wine’s £20 a bottle. The food was fine, but it’s the wine that was memorable, and sometimes that’s just the way it should be.
Seghesio “Sonoma” Zinfandel 2008 & 2010 (£20)
Ok, so taking Yoda as the source (or force?) of my title isn’t the most original thing, but it does get straight to the point of this post; does the size of the winery matter when we consider its wines?
The point arose from reading so many of my fellow wine suppliers’ sites where they claim to source from “only the small producers”, immediately setting up the fallacy that “small” equates with good, and even “better” than large. It pertains to all spheres of business I suppose, the assumption that supporting the little guy is somehow more noble and genuine. But it’s a dangerous road to travel, and none more so than with wine.
Take Italy as an example, where usefully the Gambero Rosso guide gives production figures for those wineries included. A few posts ago I suggested that Terre di Talamo was a moderate sized producer on the Tuscan coast with a production of some 160,000 bottles per annum; in retrospect that’s not all that large, but then if you add in the Bacci family’s other holdings, does that make them all of a sudden “medium” or “large”? Still in Tuscany, many would cite Poggio Antico’s Brunellos as amongst the finest of the region, with a production of 120,000 bottles. But then who would argue that Castello Banfi are not capable of similarly exceptional wines, with a production of 10,500,000 bottles.
Where land is at a premium, what some would consider “large” producers in their own region seem small by these Tuscan standards. Up in Piedmont we have the likes of Bruno Rocca with 60,000 bottles or Cascina Luisin with 30,000 bottles, both significant players in Barbaresco. Then enter Angelo Gaja with some 350,000 bottles; does that make him unlike-able because of his output?
Then there is the ability a certain size affords a producer who is, for example, concerned with the environment. Talk to any farmer and they will tell you the economies of scale means that to be organic, or even biodynamic, can become more feasible with the resources, both monetarily and inventory-wise, when you achieve a critical mass. Witness Cazes, France’s largest biodynamic producer with vast vineyard holdings, especially when compared to a little Burgundian producer who’s following exactly the same principles.
We “like” working with small producers, for a range of reasons but I wonder how many of these are simply due to sentimentality; it somehow feels right, is more personal and possibly makes one feel more “connected” to the wine’s place of origin. But it shouldn’t become a raison d’etre, just something that happens to be so.
Ownership, however, does somehow rankle when it’s not “local”, although once again, it shouldn’t detract from the quality of the wines in question. Take a giant like LVMH and their holdings such as Cloudy Bay, or Cape Mentelle. Or the “F” Series Framingham wines written up and highly-scored by Jamie Goode on his blog the other day (http://www.wineanorak.com/wineblog/new-zealand/the-remarkable-f-series-wines-from-framingham). Look at Framingham’s website and you’ll read phrases like “out of the mainstream”, “small batch winemaking”, “follow our hearts”, “when Framingham wines are sold out, they’re gone” (this last phrase, however, I guess is applicable to all wineries, large or small, that would be the gist of “sold out”).
You’ll have to delve elsewhere to see that Framingham is owned by Sogrape, the Portuguese company who also brings you Mateus Rosé and owns Finca Flichman in Argentina amongst other significant holdings around the globe. They in turn bought the estate from Pernod Ricard a few years back. Does this denigrate the wines? Of course not, or at least it shouldn’t. Does it make one prefer to support a “small” producer instead, one who gets their hands dirty in their own vineyards? Quite possibly. Such is the dilemma we’re faced with everyday, whether it’s buying a bulk-transported brand in a supermarket or making the trek to an independent (another contentious term I think, but that’s another post) wine merchant to seek out something a little different.
Wherever the wine comes from, “small” or “large”, it’s an open mind and unprejudiced palate that should always be the arbiter of taste, not fashion or sentimentality. We’re happy to have a great bunch of “small” producers whose wines we push, and are equally pleased to support those from our “medium” and “large” producers too.
 have the moules... now where's the frites? Strangely mild over the last few days, but at least the fog and ‘mizzle’ have gone so time to take the opportunity for a Sunday walk with Robbie (FRJ’s mascot). Porth Beach was busy so it was up onto the headland and a great view of some nice clean waves coming in at Whipsiderry with a good few out taking advantage. Clamber down the rocks, sometimes with steps cut in them (this was an Iron Age settlement long before Newquay’s clubs and lap-dancing bars; at least I don’t think they had them then), and across mussel-strewn rocks and you get around to Whipsiderry Beach.
 rockpool, mussels, cave: between Porth & Whipsiderry  rest in peace Paule... Needless to say Robbie negotiated the trek more ably than us (sometimes more mountain goat than JRT), and promptly ran around the deserted beach as we headed towards the steps up the cliff. To think a few years ago the council were considering cleaning off the memorial to Paule here when the sea and elements have worn it all on their own accord. Paule Le Trocquer-Cardiet was a French teacher at a local Newquay school who lost her battle with cancer not long after arriving, aged 30. This graffiti was a tribute from some of her French friends, with mermaids and sea creatures decorating her first name. This was her and her husband’s favourite spot. Graffiti with a purpose if ever there was.
The Terre di Talamo estate is in Tuscany’s coastal region, Morellino di Scansano, ‘Morellino’ referring both to the local name and variation of Sangiovese and the red wine itself. A reasonable sized producer (~160,000 bottles), Terre di Talamo is owned by the Bacci family who also have vineyard holdings in Chianti and Montalcino. The soils are quite distinctive, with free-draining surface soils over a layer of clay about a metre and a half down which helps keep water available during hot summer months and has a cooling effect on those surface elements.
Apparently long before the contemporary Morellino di Scansano came on the scene, the area was famous for its sweet wine made from appassito (dried) Morellino grapes. In some wines of the region you’ll still find the Alicante grapes which also went into this sweet wine, a reminder that once the area around the coast was ruled by Spain for centuries (Alicante, a form of Grenache, is thought to have been introduced from Spain).
This example has the plush richness you’d associate with Sangiovese grown in this more temperate region than Chianti (and soils are acidic versus alkaline in much of Chianti), but with just 3 months in barriques it isn’t the burly wine that many Morellino are, more approachable but nonetheless distinctively Tuscan coast.
Terre di Talamo “Tempo” 2007, Morellino di Scansano (£15.45)
Why do so many wine lists chose to omit vintages alongside their wines? Of course it avoids reprinting when vintages change, and completely avoids the problem of presenting a customer with the wrong vintage since they’ve no idea what year they ordered in the first place. But that’s sheer laziness; after all, many such establishments print daily ‘specials’ menus for their food offering.
One could argue that most such places have wines that are pretty much commercial, manipulated wines on their lists and frankly you wouldn’t notice the difference from one year to the next, and there is something in that. However, try a wine that’s at the lower reaches of the price spectrum that’s over the hill and you’ll know it; if a French Colombard, South African Chenin or Chilean Sauvignon is currently 2009 I’m suspicious. Wines at this level rarely hold up well after a year in bottle and it’s good to know you’re ordering something that’s vibrant and refreshing rather than tired and insipid.
But it’s not just at this level that vintages are being left off lists, and with most wines over the £25 mark on a list it really is telling the consumer just what they need to know to make an informed decision. It’s not some rarefied wine-speak that only those ‘in the know’ understand; at it’s basic level it’s a statement of authenticity, a declaration of the content’s provenance. Just as it’s good to know that your steak comes from a cow and not simply ‘meat’, or that it’s been hung for 21 days, vintage is one of the fundamental characters that distinguishes wine from virtually every other beverage.
So-called ‘split vintages’, whereby two years are listed just to cover themselves, are just as poor, and again just tell the consumer the restaurant simply isn’t that interested in the wines it’s selling. As Eric Asimov pointed out recently in the New York Times, it goes further than that, “While vintages are important, good producers are even more important. That is, even in years that are not generally appealing to you, specific producers can find a way to make those wines interesting.” Hence why even in what’s considered to be a poor year, there are still gems to be found from those wine makers who are truly interested by what they bottle.
So the next time you’re presented with a list without a vintage in sight, why not ask the question “What year is that?”. You’ll be doing yourself, and the producers a favour.
 Rabaja vineyard from the winery, with Bruno Rocca's tell-tale feather emblem In the late 1950′s Bruno Rocca’s parents, Francesco and Maria Adelaide, moved out from the village of Barbaresco and bought a little parcel of land including a piece of vineyard. Fast forward 60 years and Bruno Rocca, with daughter Luisa and son Francesco, are now proud custodians of some 5 hectares of the “Rabajà” cru in Barbaresco. Should you be able to find someone willing to sell, a hectare of vineyard here will now cost in the region of €350,000; such is the luck and foresight of ancestors. As you can see from the pictures, the Rabajà vineyard stretches around in an amphitheatre-like crescent, facing south west and with an almost constant breeze that seems to facilitate perfectly the ripening of the Nebbiolo grapes.
Theirs is not the only holding in Rabajà; other producers also have parcels here, but all work together to preserve and improve its potential for being not just one of Italy’s finest vineyard sites, but the World’s. Indeed, when I visited in October last year, Luisa, when asked at lunch what she drank when out with friends, was quick to answer that it was always other producers’ wines. It nicely pointed to the fact that whilst the UK wine trade is quick to play to one-upmanship and the “my producer’s wine is better than X’s”, that trite comparison doesn’t exist amongst the grower-producers themselves. They are all in it together and the common goal here is to promote – Barbaresco, Nebbiolo, and the area.
 Rabaja cru So if you have some land that is undoubtedly World-class, and thereby very expensive, which needs careful custodianship by hand rather than machine, the price of the wines will no doubt be similarly expensive; that much is a given. Where the quality versus value really comes into play is in looking at Rabajà alongside Maria Adelaide; both have virtually identical yields, are vinified again the same, and have the same oak ageing regime. The Maria Adelaide is from a special selection of the vintage’s finest grapes, and yet is a third as much per bottle again. Clearly produced in smaller quantities, does it justify this increase in price?
Both are exceptional wines with huge characters and potential for development in the bottle into great wines, and both clearly exemplify Bruno Rocca’s position as a “modernist” producer in Barbaresco (using stainless steel for fermentation before ageing in small-format wood; these are clean, faultless wines). Yet I do think Maria Adelaide has, as no doubt is intended, a certain character that puts it just ahead of Rabajà. If you take a generous glass as being a quarter of the bottle, that’s £23 for the Maria Adelaide versus £16.50 for the Rabajà; even allowing for the various duty and tax elements, it is a lot for a glass of wine.
In the context of the region, the land, and the sublime character of top-flight Nebbiolo, however, that’s really remarkable value. Four or five times the cost of a mass-production glass of commercial wine in your local pub for something that’s vibrant and unique is actually, I think, a very good return for your money. Admittedly, beyond the reach of most of us for a regular bottle of choice, but not to grace the table alongside a special meal or occasion.
Bruno Rocca Barbaresco 2008 (£42)
Bruno Rocca Barbaresco “Rabajà” 2007 & 2008 (£66.20)
Bruno Rocca Barbaresco “Maria Adelaide” 2007 (£92)
Bruno Rocca Barbera d’Asti 2009 (£20.95)
Bruno Rocca Barbera d’Alba 2009 (£26.75)
Then at the other end of the scale of Bruno Rocca’s production we have the Barberas, different grape variety, quite different characters. At most Barbaresco producers it’s the Barbera d’Asti that’s viewed as the premium wine compared to Barbera d’Alba, but due to the younger age of the vines in their Asti holdings, that’s a viewpoint that’s reversed at Bruno Rocca. It’s also reflected in the price, but for me the Barbera d’Alba is the standout wine value-wise from these two wines.
Two articles, both from New Zealand, cropped up this week that nicely interlink with the impact of the wine trade on the planet. The first, in the Marlborough Express, talks about the local council in Marlborough investigating the use of water in the wine industry there. Large quantities of water are used in wineries, primarily in cleaning tanks and equipment, and whilst many have procedures for treating and often re-using this water, others simply spray it on the ground. Where this happens high levels of sodium and potassium have been recorded which reduces the soil’s ability to absorb water. Whilst there are guidelines for sodium levels, as yet there are none for potassium, hence the focus of the study.
Apparently the average quantity of waste water for every 75cl bottle of wine is some 7.5 litres in New Zealand. And that’s in a country where irrigation isn’t always required; hotter climates like those in California and some Australian regions can use a few hundred litres of water per litre of wine produced in watering the vines, especially where high yields are the goal. As with many ‘green’ issues however, all’s not black and white; coffee, corn, rice and tomato production to name but four use far greater quantities of water. It’s also good to see that the wine industry is so active in looking for ways to reduce its environmental impact and improve matters.
The second article reports that in 2011 bulk exports of wine from New Zealand accounted for 35% of the total, that’s some 168 million litres of wine worth $1.89 billion NZ dollars. Bulk wine is transported not in bottles but in large tanks giving big savings and a lower carbon footprint, and is then treated and bottled when it arrives in the UK. It’s why you’ll find Kiwi Sauvignon Blanc at such reasonable prices in supermarkets, often under a label that is the imagination of the marketeers. There’s another potential cost however, and that’s quality. Stabilising wine after a month’s journey across the world often means using relatively high levels of sulfur dioxide and other treatments before it’s bottled. It’s why quality in the wine world is still synonymous with estate-bottling, ensuring that what you’re drinking is as the wine makers intended.
For us it’s worth the extra cost to keep that link with the wine’s origins, both in terms of vineyard and with the wine maker’s craft.
 Petrolo's "Torrione" 2004 You realise pretty quickly that Petrolo differ from the norm when you look at their website; a quote from the Beatles and a video of Jimi Hendrix “All along the Watchtower” – “I can’t get no relief. Businessman they drink my wine.” – greets you. Sitting just outside the demarcated Chianti zone, their 2 wines are thus classified IGT Toscana. Don’t let that fool you; these 2 wines are amongst the most sought after and impressive that Tuscany, and indeed Italy, has to offer. “Galatrona” is probably considered the country’s finest Merlot, and has a retail price around £90 a bottle. “Torrione”, literally ‘tower’ in Italian, is 100% Sangiovese and sits at a more reasonable £30-ish a bottle.
The estate’s run by Luca Sanjust, who I last spotted the night before Liberty’s January tasting with Gennaro Contaldo and Jamie Oliver in Barbecoa; he keeps good company and Jamie O rates his wines as his favourites, bar none.
Sunday dinner this week was a slow-cooked casserole, and “Torrione” 2004 leapt out as the ideal bottle, and as it turned out an inspired choice. 8 years development have created a seamlessly smooth, rich Sangiovese that epitomises the variety’s finer points. Tannins have developed into a structure that carries the wines still evident fruit on a fine back, with Sangiovese’s acidity still nicely in touch. The richness of the food perfectly dances with the wine’s ability to distract one’s attention and create that perfect play between food and wine; which one deserves more attention?
I hadn’t revisited Petrolo’s wines for some time and was glad I did. These are the kind of wines that make you realise just what tremendous value Italy offers in wine. There are a good few French vignerons who’d do well to taste these before setting their own ludicrously high prices.
 Petrolo Estate from the tower on Fifteen Cornwall trip Nov 2011 Petrolo is also a big supporter of the Fifteen project; the above was taken by Danielle (Twitter @FRJwinegirl) during Fifteen Cornwall’s visit with the trainees in November 2011.
Petrolo “Torrione” 2004, IGT Toscana (£30)
Petrolo “Torrione” 2005, IGT Toscana (£30)
Petrolo “Torrione” 2008, IGT Toscana (£30.20)
Petrolo “Galatrona” 2007, IGT Toscana (£89.30)
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