PetersCreek
Codger-in-training
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2005
- Messages
- 753
It pleased this new guy to no end that there are forums here for wine, beer, and spirits like single malt scotch. It gives me a good place to share this story...
My wife and I married back in May '04 and took our honeymoon in Oregon and Washington...much of it through wine country. We made it a point to stop at several wineries along our route, that I'd pre-selected during the trip's planning stages. This story isn't about those wineries. It's about one we found by happenstance.
It turned out that one of the larger estate wineries we'd planned on seeing in the Red Mountain region was closed for the day. So, we wandered about on some of the back roads, where we spotted a sign pointing down a gravel road, to a Blackwood Canyon winery. We droved down the bumpy, dusty road for some time, passing yards, fields, and small vineyards until we came to the winery...such as it was. I wouldn't call it a shack...it was larger. Nor would I call it a house. Perhaps a barn. No, not really but then, it wasn't a a warehouse either. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't one of those quaint cottage or boutique wineries nor one of the polished estate facilities.
A handsome Weimeraner lounged in front of the place, gnawing a bone...stopping only long enough to give us an intense once-over before deciding we were much less interesting than the bone. The entrance led us to a small "reception area" with a bar with a dirty, bare concrete floor, ancient computer parts laying about, and a rather friendly cat. Beyond that, was a dark, musty warehouse-type area full of barrels of all sizes. A younger couple was already there, talking to a squat, somewhat unkempt fellow who turned out to be the owner.
It was hard to know how to take this guy. He didn't look like any vintner I'd ever seen, read about, or imagined. Not only did he look disheveled, his feet were bare and dirty. His hands were only somewhat cleaner. His manner was irritating. He had a grating confidence the frequently strayed to arrogance. He talked of most other wine makers with disdain for their methods and their product. But after tasting his wine, it was hard to argue with his methods, or deny that he was entitled to at least a little hubris.
This guy makes wine like they did 150 years ago in the European tradition. We tried most of his wines...I don't know how many...over the course of two hours. The line was dominated by whites. Now, I'm a fan of German whites...the full range from Kabinett to Trockenbeerenauslese and Eiswein. I'm also quite fond of big cabs. The Blackwood Canyon whites impressed me on both fronts. Every bit as big as the reds from other vintners and the selection was very diverse. Chards, Semillions, Eiswein, even a botrytized wine (I love 'em)...and...a Chardonnay wine vinegar that we sipped from our tasting glasses. I don't usually pair the words "vinegar" and "drinkable" together...but there it was.
Needless to say, we left with as many bottles as we thought our budget and our luggage would tolerate. As I was writing this, I discovered that the website is temporarily down but I intend to keep my eye open for it. It's about time to make an order.
My wife and I married back in May '04 and took our honeymoon in Oregon and Washington...much of it through wine country. We made it a point to stop at several wineries along our route, that I'd pre-selected during the trip's planning stages. This story isn't about those wineries. It's about one we found by happenstance.
It turned out that one of the larger estate wineries we'd planned on seeing in the Red Mountain region was closed for the day. So, we wandered about on some of the back roads, where we spotted a sign pointing down a gravel road, to a Blackwood Canyon winery. We droved down the bumpy, dusty road for some time, passing yards, fields, and small vineyards until we came to the winery...such as it was. I wouldn't call it a shack...it was larger. Nor would I call it a house. Perhaps a barn. No, not really but then, it wasn't a a warehouse either. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't one of those quaint cottage or boutique wineries nor one of the polished estate facilities.
A handsome Weimeraner lounged in front of the place, gnawing a bone...stopping only long enough to give us an intense once-over before deciding we were much less interesting than the bone. The entrance led us to a small "reception area" with a bar with a dirty, bare concrete floor, ancient computer parts laying about, and a rather friendly cat. Beyond that, was a dark, musty warehouse-type area full of barrels of all sizes. A younger couple was already there, talking to a squat, somewhat unkempt fellow who turned out to be the owner.
It was hard to know how to take this guy. He didn't look like any vintner I'd ever seen, read about, or imagined. Not only did he look disheveled, his feet were bare and dirty. His hands were only somewhat cleaner. His manner was irritating. He had a grating confidence the frequently strayed to arrogance. He talked of most other wine makers with disdain for their methods and their product. But after tasting his wine, it was hard to argue with his methods, or deny that he was entitled to at least a little hubris.
This guy makes wine like they did 150 years ago in the European tradition. We tried most of his wines...I don't know how many...over the course of two hours. The line was dominated by whites. Now, I'm a fan of German whites...the full range from Kabinett to Trockenbeerenauslese and Eiswein. I'm also quite fond of big cabs. The Blackwood Canyon whites impressed me on both fronts. Every bit as big as the reds from other vintners and the selection was very diverse. Chards, Semillions, Eiswein, even a botrytized wine (I love 'em)...and...a Chardonnay wine vinegar that we sipped from our tasting glasses. I don't usually pair the words "vinegar" and "drinkable" together...but there it was.
Needless to say, we left with as many bottles as we thought our budget and our luggage would tolerate. As I was writing this, I discovered that the website is temporarily down but I intend to keep my eye open for it. It's about time to make an order.