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October 4 2007
As my mailbox continues to fill up with magazine covers with a green bent, including my wine magazines, and I get press releases from wineries with one eco story after another, I guess I’ve started drinking the populace-oriented kool-aid about doing a little bit more than just recycling.
I mean, after all, I can’t just stand back as our earth gets warmer and watch passively with the possibility that Napa might become too warm to grow Cabernet.
Doesn’t most altruism start with a dose of self-interest?
Perhaps my work starts with a little prostelyzing …
Yeah, I know …
My wife and I went to an informal birthday gathering last night for a friend—a pottery friend — the guest of honor—and other people that constitute a band of folks that take pottery at the local art center, including my wife. It is a pretty loose bunch of people with all kinds of viewpoints, most settling along the lines that represent the small contingent of blue people in a red state.
Several bottles into the evening for the group, I flippantly asked the hostess if she recycled while holding an empty wine bottle, while casting my effervescent wine-fueled gaze at several other bottles. It was a light moment. She said she didn’t recycle. I added, with a joking nudge, “You’re not a conservative that thinks global warming is fictitious are you?”
Then, as I was mentally re-calculating the relative intelligence of my jousting with this certain Mensa member that went to Cornell and is an engineer, she launched into the following that is loosely paraphrased:
“It actually costs more in energy and emissions to re-use glass then it takes to make glass in the first place.”
Okay. I stood corrected.
She continued, again loosely paraphrased, “If you’re really interested in the environment you should be against all development that involves cement production and the use of concrete.”
I reached for a fresh glass … and a fresh bottle.
I think I might have learned something.
Did you know that, concrete is second only to water as the most consumed substance in the world? Every year, almost one ton of concrete is produced for every human on the planet.
Cement is the principal ingredient in concrete. Producing one ton of cement results in the emission of approximately one ton of CO2, created by fuel combustion and the calcination of raw materials. Cement manufacturing is a source of greenhouse gas emissions, accounting for approximately 7% to 8% of CO2 globally. (See this .ppt for more information)
Yikes.
All those CO2 emissions are the primary culprits in ozone depletion which contributes to greater atmospheric temperatures. Greater atmospheric temperatures is, of course, global warming.
Cement and concrete is bad, bad, bad.
So, there you have it. They key to cocktail conversation? Provoke somebody. The key, apparently, to ensuring that your Cabernet continues to enjoy a sense of place for the next several decades in the same place that it currently spends its fruit-bearing days? Stop concrete production. Oh, and by the way, the calcination process that occurs in cement production is comprised mostly of mineral aggregate—stones, gravel, and sand … or, in other words, the stuff that makes our wine taste “of place.”
Recycling is good, but scorning concrete is apparently better. Ah, the things I learn when wine is the social lubricant.
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October 2 2007
The European-ization of America through the marketing filter of P.T. Barnum-like promotion continues unabated with Food Trails now getting their moment in the sun, trailing the ubiquitous Wine Trail, but never quite merging.
Culinary destinations abound in Europe, but are just starting to penetrate our consciousness in the states.
It seems like Oregon is kind of leading this travel marketing around food movement—complete with a couple of downloadable little ditties like “Foodies, Rejoice.” And “99 Bottles of Pinot Noir” (Hint: when you listen to the songs, keep an ear open for the mixed in fuzz from playing a record—nice touch)
Portfolio magazine, a new, glossy magazine (kind of like Vanity Fair for the Fortune magazine set) had an interesting article last month on food destinations in the U.S. invoking the good name of Napa Valley as a reference point.
Time was when Napa Valley was just Napa Valley—a sleepy, mostly agricultural corner of Northern California that looked a little like Tuscany and felt a lot like a backwater.
Then came Napa Valley wines, which turned the region’s name into a brand. These days, every place wants to be the Napa Valley of something. Colorado claims to be the Napa Valley of the Beer World; Kona, Hawaii wants to be the Napa Valley of Coffee; and America’s Hereford beef farmers assert that the entire Midwest is the Napa Valley of Beef.
With all the claims to fame, where is a hungry traveler to turn? We’ve picked five lesser-known North American locales that have organized themselves into foodie-friendly destinations and offer good eating. While they may be familiar to some, none attract Napa Valley-like hordes.
The article goes on to highlight the North Carolina Barbecue Trail, the Okanagan Wine Trail, the Oregon Ale Trail, the Vermont Cheese Trail and the Fresno County Fruit Trail.
Not to be outdone, I read in my local weekly business newspaper, the Indianapolis Business Journal, that Indiana is trying to get into the game, as well. Apparently, this culinary tourism is hot stuff.
According to the article the International Culinary Tourism Association and the Travel Industry Association teamed up to study how food impacts travel decisions. According to the study, 17 percent of American travelers go out of their way to hit local food and wine hot spots while traveling. And within that 17 percent –about 27 million people- 16 million of them travel purely for the restaurant stops.
The Food Network brass aren’t dummies, how else to explain “Feasting on Asphalt” and “Diner’s Drive-In’s and Dives?”
Mentally, I tie this foodie destination movement in lock-step with the wine trails that are all over the country, even if the two don’t seem to intermingle that well. When the wine and food travel marketers can play nice and do collaborative efforts together, similar to Oregon, then we’ll really be on to something pretty cool.
Then if you take this more European-like reverence for food and drink together with a more laissez-fair attitude similar to what is highlighted in Alder’s post at Vinography, I think our culture will be immensely for the better.
However, Indiana is talking about developing a Tenderloin trail, after our semi-famous (notorious?) pork tenderloin sandwiches and the Hoosier Pie Route—a food trail for pies. Given this information, I have one question: Coupled with Indiana wines noted for being sweet, are we advancing the movement of food and wine pairings or setting it back a couple of decades?
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September 27 2007
Having been employed in and around the wine industry for a scant 12 months, I still consider myself an outsider. It’s good, I think, to not be inured by others historical preconceptions and it fits my ethos of open-mindedness. Plus, it allows me to call my shots here without much compunction.
I do, however, have to say that one of the things that I love about the wine industry is the diversity of opinion, on all subject matter. It’s like a Haight-Ashbury for modern man.
That said, one of the debates I’m growing weariest of is bashing against the perceived fondness of critics for ripe, fruit-forward “hedonic” wines, high alcohol wines that don’t pair well with food. Likewise, I’m weary of the old-school vanguard that continually deride the critics, their influential palates, and the sway they hold on the public.
Unfortunately, in order for it to be a debate, you have to have both sides engaged in dialogue. However, getting to this debate is like chasing the wind. And, unfortunately, a couple of the biggest wine critics don’t deign to respond to THEIR critics, leaving many in a sort of simmering, frustrating quietude, with no discourse on their differences.
A pretty good example of this is an article at Appellation America by Dan Berger. Now, my caveat here is two-fold: first, Appellation America is doing some of the most thrilling wine writing in the industry these days and second, Dan Berger has forgotten more about wine than I know. That said, the folks at AA could sharpen their editing and Berger could sharpen his writing pen if he truly wants to get serious—not invoking the name Laube or Parker in a 5000 word two-part screed is the kind of civility you would expect, but the kind of weak-kneed writing that renders what is essentially a long-form op-ed piece toothless. If you’re going to call your shot, you gotta call your shot. Otherwise it’s politics.
That aside, his two part story on regionalism (read: terroir) is a darn fine read, albeit heavy on opinion and light on source references, that covers a lack of character in Rutherford Cabernet as a reference point for Napa wine. It highlights high alcohol as a by-product of the overripe flavors currently in vogue and gives a sort of viticultural lesson with the reasons that this occurs in the vineyard.
A summary of his article can be found in the following quote:
(Speaking in reference to a lack of terroir in Rutherford Cabs at a recent tasting) What has driven it out is the derision of some high-profile writers who prefer walking-around wine rather than classic dry, food-oriented wine. And to that end, they have warped the grape, twisting it into a style that’s atypical of what the historic model represented.
The article in its entirety can be found in two parts, here and here.
This sort of writing is interesting if the industry would make some progress on this issue, divide into camps with clearer lines of demarcation or something … critics of Laube and Parker, both of whom are asserted to have “New World” palates that don’t respect the finesses, elegance, restraint, subtlety, and specificity of wine, just simply lob barbs across the transom hoping to find an audience of believers to mobilize, and that’s about it.
In contrast to this heavy sense of regionalism/terroir-ism is the following quote from a recent UC Davis presentation. This response came unattributed, but it’s from an industry insider and was in response to the following question:
Will global brands dominate wine in the future such as a wine version of Budweiser, or will appellation brands continue to be important?
The response:
I think we will have both and these are kind of like parallel universes. In the new world, appellation essentially is a marketing tool and a marketing trick. I think it has very minimal real meaning. It’s a branding exercise. In the old world, appellation still has a little bit of meaning – and so the two are just not equivalent – they are two different animals. We call them both appellation, but they aren’t really. Appellation in the old world has so much more rigor associated with it as far as farming practice, varieties, spacing, trellising – all that stuff is so proscribed. In the new world everything goes – to the point where appellation I think is essentially meaningless.
Well, that sums up the other side, for sure. And, anybody with this opinion is certainly going to make wine that appeals to an audience, notably an audience that follows Parker or Laube ratings.
But, to make this more confusing … in contrast to this talk of Rutherford Cabs, lack of type in Napa, fruit bombs versus food wines and glancing references to “influential critics” is no less than Robert Parker himself.
He says in the October issue of Food and Wine, referring to Paso Robles:
There are now a half-dozen or so properties producing wines that are revelations of elegance, finesse, complexity and flavor concentration. In fact, each year I spend 10 days there tasting, and each year the quality improves. Major progress has largely come not from makers of Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot, but from a group of producers often referred to as the Rhone Rangers, specializing in grape varietals of the Rhone Valley of France.
The greatest headway has been made west of Highway 101, where most of the top vineyards are located. These are hillside vineyards planted in limestone soils of various elevations, but almost all are within 10 to 15 miles of the Pacific Ocean. These limestone soils, prevalent in many of France’s finest vineyards, seem to encourage wines of great intensity as well as elegance.
Paso Robles remains a work in progress, but I believe the region already shows some of the most striking potential in all of California.
Hmmm … what is Parker saying here? He is indicating that Paso Robles might be the TRUE Napa Valley of California, if that makes sense. He is invoking the French as a part of wines historical legacy, he is using the words finesse and elegance and complexity. He is offering subtle endorsement for Rhone varietals, not a Cabernet, or varietal that California hangs its hat on.
He is saying that he won’t be pinned down. In fact, he is subtly using the Karl Rove tactic of using somebody’s strength against them in a kind of wine industry equivalent to a John Kerry swift boat dis-credit tactic.
Smells like politics? Kind of like chasing the wind, huh?
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September 25 2007
The last thing I did last night before turning the lights out was rip an ad out of the September 3rd food issue of The New Yorker. From the US “Office of Champagne,” the ad noted that only wines from Champagne, France should bear the regions name. I shook my head thinking this Champagne thing would make for some good blog fodder.
Then, I woke up and fired up the computer this morning and within the first couple of hours I was copied on an email from our CEO—he was forwarding a comment posted to our blog from a lawyer that wanted to make sure we knew that a completely innocuous blog post that contained a completely innocuous noun-verb combination was in fact a trademark violation for his client. Do they send “cease and desist” letters via blog comments now?
Can you say coincidence? Yes. Can you also say, “completely ridiculous?” Er, maybe that’s trademarked by somebody. All, I know is if you’re a lawyer billing $200 an hour or more chasing this stuff down on the web and leaving comments about innocent word usage, sign me up for that gravy train. I’ll chuck my job now to go to law school.
This stuff is getting out of hand. Next thing you know, with fall on the way, “hot chocolate” is going to become a proprietary word.
In both instances, Champagne and this obscure trade magazine don’t want their trademark to be “genericized” by the court of public opinion.
But, here’s my question: Who cares?
What am I missing here? Why is this a big deal?
If you live in the south you know that if you want a soda you ask for a Coke. The conversation goes like this,
“Can I have a Coke?”
“What kind do you want?”
“I’ll have a 7-up.”
Coke is a word for soda. Now that I think about it, “7-Up” is pretty close to being genericized for lemon-lime soda.
Is this a bad thing? Don’t marketers work a lifetime to associate their product with a consumer’s thought process?
This same genericized thing can be said for “chapstick,” “kleenex,” “xerox,” “crock-pot,” “google” and a whole bunch of others words …
The Champagne ad copy went on to say, “Even names of American wine regions like Napa valley and Walla Walla Valley are also misused.” For now, we’ll look around the fact that usage of the word Champagne and use of the name Napa Valley are apples and oranges.
Now, I’m not talking about wine from elsewhere in California going into a wine labeled as “Napa Valley.” That is, in fact, misleading. I’m talking about “Champagne” that refers to a complete brand category for sparkling wine. In my mind there’s a difference. Napa Valley is a place. You don’t refer to all cabernet as “Napa Valley” as in, “I’m going to buy some “Napa Valley.” But, by gosh, most people refer to Champagne as an entire category for sparkling wine. Heck, this battle should have been waged 40 years ago, not in 2007. And, I would think that the French, being the superb marketers that they are, what with all of the international success they’ve demonstrated in exporting consumer brands of all stripes for a global market, would understand that. Maybe I’m being a little facetious.
So, the net of the copy of the ad says,
“Masquerading as Champagne … might be legal, but it isn’t fair. In a country of consumer rights, a federal law tests our traditions.
There are many fine sparkling wines, but only those originating in the chalky hills of Champagne, France can bear the region’s name. A legal loophole allows some U.S. wines to masquerade as “Champagne.” Even names of American wine regions like Napa Valley and Walla Walla Valley are also misused.
Unmask the truth. Demand accurate labeling. Sign the petition at http://www.champagne.us
The web site has more propaganda.
So, what’s your take? Are French Champagne producers well within their right? Or, are the French completely missing an opportunity to turn this into a positive for their benefit?
Would it matter if I told you that a four color ad, run once in the New Yorker, costs 100K? Does that seem like a good spend of that kind of money?
For addt’l reading on the history of the word “champagne” and its usage, see this CNN article.
Leave a comment or hit the poll to your right.
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September 24 2007
I would hazard a guess that you could spend a month of Sunday’s in a wine magazine archive from the last twenty years and still not come up with two magazine articles from two different magazines published in the same month that referenced hawks in the vineyard.
Odd, I know. I thought so, too. Sometimes the romantic story of the winery is so often featured that the downright more interesting aspects of vineyard life are downplayed.
Forget hand-sorting fruit and natural fermenting, tell me about owls picking off gophers in the vineyard.
But, I digress …
The September Business 2.0 article featuring Fred Franzia used a hawk as a metaphor for the way Franzia conducts business, saying:
(in reference to Franzia) … Looking up at a hawk flying high over his fields, he wonders whether it doesn’t have a better life than we do.
{in reference to Franzia admonishing the author about “real life”} … This real life comes up constantly, second only to the wars. Real life is a hawk, or the tractor trailer that split in two from the weight of grapes. When I bend down, as instructed, to pick up a gopher skull amid a huge pile of bones outside an owl house built to keep rodents away, those bones are real life. Real life, I quickly learn, is anything except what you would do in Napa.
Then, lo and behold, over in the September issue of Wine & Spirits magazine there is a one page article at the end of the magazine that discusses (and quite well, I might add—it’s a good little piece), vineyard management from the point of view of hawks and owls in order to successfully execute (bad pun, I know) vineyard pest management.
Maybe this is the wine industry version of Shark Week, the notoriously popular programming on the Discovery Channel in which blood thirty viewers get their annual allotment of shark bloodlust.
Who knew vineyard pest management was such a riveting topic … this is something I can get behind. Forget the warm, soft and fuzzy pr aspect of solar panels and buried dung in a horn ala biodynamics; give me some good, swooping, predatory hawk kills coupled with a great horned owls eating a deer. Who doesn’t like, according to the magazine in reference to the great horned owl, “the tiger of the night sky?”
The Wine & Spirits magazine piece says in part:
“Every raptor has its place and its prey,” Schuster explained. ‘Kestrels, sharp-shinned and Cooper’s hawks will go after smaller songbirds that larger raptors aren’t interested in. When a kestrel moves in, starlings vacate the area—it’s like a great white shark at the beach. Larger diurnal raptors (hawks and eagles) are mostly interested in squirrels, rabbits and rattlesnakes, but barn owls are selective feeders—they won’t anything they can’t swallow whole. They go after voles, rats and gophers and they’re seriously nocturnal—they hunt by hearing, not by sight. They can actually hear gophers scurrying under the ground, hover over the hole, and yank the rodent out.”
The above quote is from John Schuster, who runs Wild Wing Company in Sonoma. His company web site can be found here—incredibly interesting in its own right. And, a man after my own heart, a musician by passion, he has opened for Indiana native son, John Mellencamp.
As I think about the serendipitous nature of hawk references in popular media and sustainable viticulture, I’m struck that a wine related book that explores some of the grittier aspects of vineyard life might be ready for an eager public and secondarily, John Schuster might win my vote for “somebody I would most like to share a bottle of wine with who is not my wife.”
If I can’t have an in-person shark week narrative, at least give me somebody who says things like, “By combining owl boxes and raptor perches, you can have a 24-hour killing program.” It makes for good drinking conversation and is certainly the less sustainable side of sustainable viticulture. Bring on that hearty glass of red … wine.
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