Toogood Estate Zin Chic Old Vine Zinfandel
Veins and Vines: A Historical Perspective of Winemaking in the Sierra Foothills
Part 1: Gold and the First Wine Makers of the Sierra Foothills.
Eureka!
Gold mining and wine making. The two professions may seem utterly alien to each other, but a decade before the American Civil War in Northern California’s Sierra Foothills, they not only were two occupational mainstays that have defined the area’s historical legacy, they have also contributed to California’s rich cultural identity.
The news of James Marshall discovering gold at Sutter’s Mill in the late 1840s electrified the nation, if not the world. By the 1850s, the golden Sierra Foothills were teeming with fortune seekers ardently striving to stake a claim and make a name for themselves. Images of the Sierra Foothills in the early 1850s suggest those of crusty miners zealously panning streams, and creeks for nuggets of golden fortune, bearded curmudgeons duking it out after swilling whiskey at the local saloon and rickety horse-drawn carriages plodding into dusty towns, commandeered by pistol-packing pioneers and other eager entrepreneurs. Amongst this rugged, ragtag treasure-seeking mob, a handful of vintners also arrived, planting grapes in the Sierra Foothills as early as 1848, and creating a new viticultural area that, over time, has produced some of California’s best wines.
In 1849, a man named Stevens planted 32 vines in Rescue, El Dorado County. During the boom of the 1850s, other “orchardists” entered the scene, planting fruit that was sustainable in the warm climate of the Foothills. Arguably drawing from Stevens’ success, they too began cultivating grapes, and (not surprisingly) began making wine. However, the few gallons produced were for private consumption only, since generating an income from wine in the 1850s was a virtually impossible plight. They made their money by overseeing ditch systems, owning surface placer mines and operating hotels. By the end of the 1850s, and at the advent of the 1860s, more and more vineyards began to emerge in Amador County, dotting small parts of the grassy foothills with small emerald carpets of wine.
Two varietals that were first grown were the Mission and Catawba grapes: neither of which would be considered world-class wines by modern standards. The Mission, first introduced by Franciscan missionaries in the late 1700s and early 1800s, was heavy, cloyingly sweet, and contained little varietal character. It was typically used in making ports and Angelica, a fortified wine (like port, with brandy), which did no more than give the local mining population a terrible hangover the next day. The Catawba (which grew well in the country’s most successful wine district of Hamilton, Ohio), was, conversely, tart and overly spicy, requiring cooler climes and faring poorly in the Foothills.
By the end of the 1850s, however, experimentation was the order of the day. A noted orchardist by the name of Dr. Samuel Page included such varietals as the Black Humburg, the White Muscat of Alexandria, and something called the “Black St. Peter’s Grape,” that many believe to have been another moniker for the first Zinfandel grapes (which would become a staple of the Shenandoah Valley). It wouldn’t be until the 1860s that wine making as a profession would flourish. Nevertheless, we raise a glass to the pioneer winemakers of the 1850s. If it weren’t for them, the landscape of the Sierra Foothills would contain nothing more than a handful of dusty, abandoned mining structures: skeletons of a bygone era.
Thankfully, a few relics of the old wine era have endured the long day’s journey into night (and back into day again). One winery, Toogood Estates in El Dorado County, courts the historical muse in this zaftig, full-fleshed zinfandel. The vines, at 150 years old (1859), are the oldest in the county. It’s big, sassy, brassy, and will belt out a tune on your tongue – like a west coast showgirl entertaining the local miners and other denizens of 1850s Sierra mining towns. It’s a wine you can sink a pick into: big berries, rich and meaty, and with a spicy aftertaste that sifts through it all. It's a wine that'll make your taste buds exclaim...."Eureka!"
Next! Veins and Vines 2 - The 1860s: Sierra Wines and the Civil War.
Showing posts with label Wine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wine. Show all posts
Friday, October 23, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Wine Wanderers #5
Farneta 2006 Primitivo (Sonoma-Carneros)
The Legend of the Primitivo
The road to into Amador County slinks through a large, open, golden field, sporadically studded with lonely, deep emerald clusters of oak trees. It’s empty. Our wheels are digging up the asphalt, following the stream of the road, coursing along beneath us to the soft, reverberating, percussive twang of Johnny Cash’s guitar. His golden whiskey voice is rich, soft and lingering; heart all filled with rusty nails and beer bottles.
The next turn, and the sun sinks into the horizon, breaking open like the yolk of an egg, spreading orange and red over a big sky, and the distant, resonating voice of Patsy Cline moves through the air like a ghost, the song a sweetly mournful ballad telling a cold tale of yet another unrequited love. These are voices of legends singing of legends drifting through the air.
We're entering Amador County, life and belongings in tow, and we're listening to and thinking about legends - and not legends that the cowboy crooners relate in song and poem. We're remembering a bottle of wine from about five counties away (one that is not unlike the one we're entering now) that we decanted in early August. We think about another legendary varietal that wandered into that county like a dusty wrangler into an old saloon, and took root, like a prospector on a stool of an old whiskey bar.
Nobody really knows how the Primitivo varietal entered Sonoma. We do know, however, it's not that old, actually, and that it was introduced into the US in the 1960s (some assert it to be around 1968 to be precise). Its origins are still a matter of speculation, for the most part. It’s related to the Zinfandel varietal, and, like it’s estranged sibling, has its roots in Croatia. Primitivo entered the Apulia region of Italy (a region in the country’s “heel) around 1700. During the latter part of the 20th Century, studies were undertaken to understand Primitivo and its genealogy. Initially, it was assumed that it and the Zinfandel were descendants of the Plavac Mali Varietal, and that a divergence occurred after many decades. Others argued (like Croatian-born Mike Grgich of Rutherford’s Grgich Hills wines), that Primitivo was a descendant of Zinfandel. Finally, after travelling throughout Europe and undoubtedly quaffing several glasses of Zin and Primitivo, a team of experts decided that the two varietals were a kind of parent to Plavac Mali, giving the ancestry of the Primitivo, perhaps, even more mystery, if not legend.
Our memory of the Carneros-harvested 2006 Farneta Primitivo lingered in our heads like an old song. The rich aromas of raspberries, plums and cherries were prevalent in its taste as well, and the pepper and blackberry qualities made our tongues quiver like the lick of a steel guitar in a Hank Williams song. The 2006 Farneta is actually a blend of Primitivo (77%) and Zinfandel (23%), making it a perfect family reunion. In this Farneta blend, the slightly more tart, brambly Primitivo blended well with the sweeter, fruitier Zinfandel.
So, like the song says, "There's a Wide Open Road" ahead for the Primitivo here in California, whose flavors precede its reputation, and definitely its legend. Amador wineries such as Sobon and Charles Spinetta specialize in this varietal in their wines and blends. We certainly hope to hear about it fondly, over and over again, like an old tale told 'round a cowboy campfire. Better yet: we hope to drink more of it.
The 2006 Farneta Primitivo retails at about $35.00 per bottle. Legend has it that it pairs well with a pot of chili, or a juicy, Texas-sized steak.
The Legend of the Primitivo
The road to into Amador County slinks through a large, open, golden field, sporadically studded with lonely, deep emerald clusters of oak trees. It’s empty. Our wheels are digging up the asphalt, following the stream of the road, coursing along beneath us to the soft, reverberating, percussive twang of Johnny Cash’s guitar. His golden whiskey voice is rich, soft and lingering; heart all filled with rusty nails and beer bottles.
The next turn, and the sun sinks into the horizon, breaking open like the yolk of an egg, spreading orange and red over a big sky, and the distant, resonating voice of Patsy Cline moves through the air like a ghost, the song a sweetly mournful ballad telling a cold tale of yet another unrequited love. These are voices of legends singing of legends drifting through the air.
We're entering Amador County, life and belongings in tow, and we're listening to and thinking about legends - and not legends that the cowboy crooners relate in song and poem. We're remembering a bottle of wine from about five counties away (one that is not unlike the one we're entering now) that we decanted in early August. We think about another legendary varietal that wandered into that county like a dusty wrangler into an old saloon, and took root, like a prospector on a stool of an old whiskey bar.
Nobody really knows how the Primitivo varietal entered Sonoma. We do know, however, it's not that old, actually, and that it was introduced into the US in the 1960s (some assert it to be around 1968 to be precise). Its origins are still a matter of speculation, for the most part. It’s related to the Zinfandel varietal, and, like it’s estranged sibling, has its roots in Croatia. Primitivo entered the Apulia region of Italy (a region in the country’s “heel) around 1700. During the latter part of the 20th Century, studies were undertaken to understand Primitivo and its genealogy. Initially, it was assumed that it and the Zinfandel were descendants of the Plavac Mali Varietal, and that a divergence occurred after many decades. Others argued (like Croatian-born Mike Grgich of Rutherford’s Grgich Hills wines), that Primitivo was a descendant of Zinfandel. Finally, after travelling throughout Europe and undoubtedly quaffing several glasses of Zin and Primitivo, a team of experts decided that the two varietals were a kind of parent to Plavac Mali, giving the ancestry of the Primitivo, perhaps, even more mystery, if not legend.
Our memory of the Carneros-harvested 2006 Farneta Primitivo lingered in our heads like an old song. The rich aromas of raspberries, plums and cherries were prevalent in its taste as well, and the pepper and blackberry qualities made our tongues quiver like the lick of a steel guitar in a Hank Williams song. The 2006 Farneta is actually a blend of Primitivo (77%) and Zinfandel (23%), making it a perfect family reunion. In this Farneta blend, the slightly more tart, brambly Primitivo blended well with the sweeter, fruitier Zinfandel.
So, like the song says, "There's a Wide Open Road" ahead for the Primitivo here in California, whose flavors precede its reputation, and definitely its legend. Amador wineries such as Sobon and Charles Spinetta specialize in this varietal in their wines and blends. We certainly hope to hear about it fondly, over and over again, like an old tale told 'round a cowboy campfire. Better yet: we hope to drink more of it.
The 2006 Farneta Primitivo retails at about $35.00 per bottle. Legend has it that it pairs well with a pot of chili, or a juicy, Texas-sized steak.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wine Wanderers #1
A glass raised to wine, and a short, long-winded intro.
Wine.
The sound of the word is almost crystalline, clear and pure. The word conjures a wide array of images, from ancient Roman revellers, inebriated and cavorting in orgiastic excesses through medieval monks stomping in large oaken vats to a modern-day wine snob peering, sniffing and sipping from a long-stemmed glass. From tippler to teetotaller, almost everyone knows it by definition: an alcoholic beverage (typically) created from fermented grape juice. Wine goes and flows far beyond that definition, however, and these days, most wine drinkers are well aware how rich, hearty, and complex the world of wine is.
What you are enjoying (or SHOULD be enjoying) in your glass or goblet right now is six millennia of history. Originating 6000 years ago in an area that now includes part of Georgia and Iran, wine has travelled through may countries, many thousands of years, wandering into Europe via Middle Eastern Traders, quaffed by priests and prelates in the temples and palaces of Ancient Rome, and flowing via mercenary and merchant into through medieval Italy and into France, Spain and (later) Germany. There, monks would store wine in caves for Catholic celebrations (wine was sparse during those times, as beer and ale was the drink of choice, especially in Northern Europe). During the Renaissance, it only was became an agricultural essential for survival, but was cultivated into an art form. Spanish Conquistadores spread the vine into Latin America and planted it in the California Missions of the 18th Century. In the 20th and 21st century, wine is now grown in some of the more unique areas of the world, including India, Southern Canada, the American Midwest, African and New Zealand.
This blog will serve not only to share our experiences with wine (from my computer here in the viticultural region of California Sierra Foothills), but will, in a hopefully not-so limited fashion, give our readers drops of information. There is an almost infinite store of information about wine out there including, regions, varietals, blends, growth, vinting, fermentation and consumption. Your memory will inevitably have a hangover if you attempt to overindulge and absorb it in one sitting (and no,we are not going to cork this 2002 Mulet Rouge Barbera we ourselves are trying to absorb right now). In this blog we will outline experiences we have had with every bottle we come across, from Two Buck Chuck to French Champagnes, in flavor, aroma, richness, age, and location, as well as our experiences consuming it (when, with whom, occasion). This blog serves as a tribute to one of the greatest beverages in history: and to that, we raise our nearly empty glasses and say "salute!"
Wine.
The sound of the word is almost crystalline, clear and pure. The word conjures a wide array of images, from ancient Roman revellers, inebriated and cavorting in orgiastic excesses through medieval monks stomping in large oaken vats to a modern-day wine snob peering, sniffing and sipping from a long-stemmed glass. From tippler to teetotaller, almost everyone knows it by definition: an alcoholic beverage (typically) created from fermented grape juice. Wine goes and flows far beyond that definition, however, and these days, most wine drinkers are well aware how rich, hearty, and complex the world of wine is.
What you are enjoying (or SHOULD be enjoying) in your glass or goblet right now is six millennia of history. Originating 6000 years ago in an area that now includes part of Georgia and Iran, wine has travelled through may countries, many thousands of years, wandering into Europe via Middle Eastern Traders, quaffed by priests and prelates in the temples and palaces of Ancient Rome, and flowing via mercenary and merchant into through medieval Italy and into France, Spain and (later) Germany. There, monks would store wine in caves for Catholic celebrations (wine was sparse during those times, as beer and ale was the drink of choice, especially in Northern Europe). During the Renaissance, it only was became an agricultural essential for survival, but was cultivated into an art form. Spanish Conquistadores spread the vine into Latin America and planted it in the California Missions of the 18th Century. In the 20th and 21st century, wine is now grown in some of the more unique areas of the world, including India, Southern Canada, the American Midwest, African and New Zealand.
This blog will serve not only to share our experiences with wine (from my computer here in the viticultural region of California Sierra Foothills), but will, in a hopefully not-so limited fashion, give our readers drops of information. There is an almost infinite store of information about wine out there including, regions, varietals, blends, growth, vinting, fermentation and consumption. Your memory will inevitably have a hangover if you attempt to overindulge and absorb it in one sitting (and no,we are not going to cork this 2002 Mulet Rouge Barbera we ourselves are trying to absorb right now). In this blog we will outline experiences we have had with every bottle we come across, from Two Buck Chuck to French Champagnes, in flavor, aroma, richness, age, and location, as well as our experiences consuming it (when, with whom, occasion). This blog serves as a tribute to one of the greatest beverages in history: and to that, we raise our nearly empty glasses and say "salute!"
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