Welcome to the sweet life
Lorne Eckersley is the retired publisher of the weekly Creston Valley Advance. He is a wine enthusiast and former columnist (La Dolce Vita ran in papers in the Kootenays and beyond, and on-line), past contributing writer for Wine and Food Trails magazine and myvancity.ca. He is an opera, theatre and music lover, foodie and traveller. Join him as he searches for the sweet life, or la dolce vita, and chronicles his efforts in weekly columns, blog entries, magazine articles and photographs. He now works part-time for Baillie-Grohman Estate Winery, offering tastings and conducting tours.
Residents of Creston, in the southeast corner of British Columbia and just a few miles north of the Idaho Panhandle, he and his wife, Angela, having been visiting wineries for more than 20 years.
"The passion we find in the owners, winemakers and employees is contagious," he says. "Rare is the time we don't walk away from a winery feeling better than when we walked in. And I spit the samples when I am the driver, so it isn't from the alcohol!"
They have tasted and toured throughout British Columbia, as well as Idaho, Washington, California, Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Vermont, Italy, France and Spain.
Residents of Creston, in the southeast corner of British Columbia and just a few miles north of the Idaho Panhandle, he and his wife, Angela, having been visiting wineries for more than 20 years.
"The passion we find in the owners, winemakers and employees is contagious," he says. "Rare is the time we don't walk away from a winery feeling better than when we walked in. And I spit the samples when I am the driver, so it isn't from the alcohol!"
They have tasted and toured throughout British Columbia, as well as Idaho, Washington, California, Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Vermont, Italy, France and Spain.
This week's la dolce vita
When gold trumps platinum in wine awards
Baillie-Grohman Estate Winery owner Bob Johnson (left) and winemaker Dan Barker show off their Platinum and Gold medals won in the recent BC Wine Awards.
Bob Johnson couldn’t contain his smile when I dropped in for a visit to Creston’s Baillie-Grohman Estate Winery on Sunday. In his pocket were two medals from the recent BC Wine Awards. One, a Platinum, feted Baillie-Grohman’s 2012 Cabernet Franc as one of the best six wines in the province (5 platinum medals were awarded and another was bumped up to Wine of the Year). But it is the Gold that really thrills him.
“Only two Pinot Noirs in the province were awarded Gold medals,” he beamed. “If there was any doubt about our ability to grow quality grapes in the Creston Valley, it’s gone now.”
Baillie-Grohman is on a run with its Pinot Noir, with a string of fine vintages and each getting better as the vineyards, now seeing their sixth harvest, mature. Johnson believes that the area will become known for Pinot Noir. And it’s hard to argue with him. Creston’s other two wineries at this point—Skimmerhorn and Wynnwood—have both had success growing the Heartbreak Grape.
So what is it about the Gold medal that thrills Johnson even more than the Platinum? It’s easy, it turns out. The Cabernet Franc is made with grapes grown in Osoyoos, on a vineyard that is proving that it just might be situated in the best Cab Franc location in the province. But the Pinot Noir is grown right in Erickson, on the hillside behind the Baillie-Grohman winery. It’s a testament to the location, viticulture practices (Bob’s wife, Petra Flaa, manages the vineyards) and the winemaker’s abilities.
“It’s all in the fruit,” Dan Barker insists.
“No,’ it’s a combination of great fruit and great winemaking,” Johnson counters.
Barker? It’s a bit of a surprise that he is here at all. Like Skimmerhorn’s winemaker, Mark Rattray, Barker wasn’t sure until the eleventh hour that he would be allowed to return to make this vintage. He and Rattray are New Zealanders, and are the only winemakers their respective contractors have ever had. But they were caught up in the controversy generated by employers like Tim Hortons bringing in foreign workers, and the issue had both winery owners biting their fingernails.
And it’s not like the owners simply prefer to have Kiwis making their wines, even though they have both had great success.
“We have never had a single application from a Canadian winemaker, not one,” Johnson says. He isn’t just referring to applications coming in over the transom—Baillie-Grohman and Skimmerhorn have to prove to immigration officials that they have advertised extensively within Canada. Qualified Canadian winemakers are busy working in the Okanagan, Southern Ontario, Vancouver Island and other grape-growing regions and in no way could anyone worth his or her salt justify taking a 6-8 week job hundreds of miles from other wineries.
Kiwis, though, are an emu of a different colour. These fellows are happy to come to Canada in their off-season for a couple of months. It’s added income but, perhaps just as importantly, it adds to their professional experience base. Check the resumes of most top winemakers and they will show experience working in more than one region. Different regions, different climates, different grapes, different wines, different challenges. It all adds up to a quality of experience that one simply can’t get in one place.
I left Baillie-Grohman after a very happy visit, but not before Johnson, Barker and I hopped in a four-wheeler and drove the length of the vineyards, stopping to taste grapes as we moved along. Most are at or near their desired ripeness, though winemakers like to push the envelope, letting the grapes develop more intense flavours as well as sugar.
Barker’s observation sums up why he enjoys making wine half way around the world from his award-winning Moana Park Winery.
“In New Zealand a great week of ripening can add nearly one brix of sweetness to the grapes,” he says. “Here, last week, we had grapes that ripened more than four brix—it’s astonishing, completely different than we get back home.”
I left the pair promising to return later in the week to take more photos, and to pick a row of grapes. Hard to refuse the offer when in my hands are bottles of Platinum and Gold medal winning wines.
That evening, unable to wait, I opened the 2012 Cab Franc. At their worst, Cab Francs are thin and grassy. At their best, they are full-bodied, aromatic, and complex, with a softness that balances out the tannins. This was unquestionably the latter. More earth than tobacco and leather—two common Cab Franc characteristics—the 2012 version has a marvelous balance, is wonderful on the nose and boasts a finish that just won’t quit. It is an outstanding example of what this grape can become.
Just a little teaser before I close. Stacked on a couple of pallets in the tasting room (B-G is now closed for the season) are cases of the winery’s first ever sparkling wines, soon to be transported to Summerland for disgorgement, dosage and re-capping. Rich in colour and four years in the bottle, this one is due for release in November. It will be our New Year’s bubbly, and I can hardly wait.
La Dolce Vita, October 9, 2014
“Only two Pinot Noirs in the province were awarded Gold medals,” he beamed. “If there was any doubt about our ability to grow quality grapes in the Creston Valley, it’s gone now.”
Baillie-Grohman is on a run with its Pinot Noir, with a string of fine vintages and each getting better as the vineyards, now seeing their sixth harvest, mature. Johnson believes that the area will become known for Pinot Noir. And it’s hard to argue with him. Creston’s other two wineries at this point—Skimmerhorn and Wynnwood—have both had success growing the Heartbreak Grape.
So what is it about the Gold medal that thrills Johnson even more than the Platinum? It’s easy, it turns out. The Cabernet Franc is made with grapes grown in Osoyoos, on a vineyard that is proving that it just might be situated in the best Cab Franc location in the province. But the Pinot Noir is grown right in Erickson, on the hillside behind the Baillie-Grohman winery. It’s a testament to the location, viticulture practices (Bob’s wife, Petra Flaa, manages the vineyards) and the winemaker’s abilities.
“It’s all in the fruit,” Dan Barker insists.
“No,’ it’s a combination of great fruit and great winemaking,” Johnson counters.
Barker? It’s a bit of a surprise that he is here at all. Like Skimmerhorn’s winemaker, Mark Rattray, Barker wasn’t sure until the eleventh hour that he would be allowed to return to make this vintage. He and Rattray are New Zealanders, and are the only winemakers their respective contractors have ever had. But they were caught up in the controversy generated by employers like Tim Hortons bringing in foreign workers, and the issue had both winery owners biting their fingernails.
And it’s not like the owners simply prefer to have Kiwis making their wines, even though they have both had great success.
“We have never had a single application from a Canadian winemaker, not one,” Johnson says. He isn’t just referring to applications coming in over the transom—Baillie-Grohman and Skimmerhorn have to prove to immigration officials that they have advertised extensively within Canada. Qualified Canadian winemakers are busy working in the Okanagan, Southern Ontario, Vancouver Island and other grape-growing regions and in no way could anyone worth his or her salt justify taking a 6-8 week job hundreds of miles from other wineries.
Kiwis, though, are an emu of a different colour. These fellows are happy to come to Canada in their off-season for a couple of months. It’s added income but, perhaps just as importantly, it adds to their professional experience base. Check the resumes of most top winemakers and they will show experience working in more than one region. Different regions, different climates, different grapes, different wines, different challenges. It all adds up to a quality of experience that one simply can’t get in one place.
I left Baillie-Grohman after a very happy visit, but not before Johnson, Barker and I hopped in a four-wheeler and drove the length of the vineyards, stopping to taste grapes as we moved along. Most are at or near their desired ripeness, though winemakers like to push the envelope, letting the grapes develop more intense flavours as well as sugar.
Barker’s observation sums up why he enjoys making wine half way around the world from his award-winning Moana Park Winery.
“In New Zealand a great week of ripening can add nearly one brix of sweetness to the grapes,” he says. “Here, last week, we had grapes that ripened more than four brix—it’s astonishing, completely different than we get back home.”
I left the pair promising to return later in the week to take more photos, and to pick a row of grapes. Hard to refuse the offer when in my hands are bottles of Platinum and Gold medal winning wines.
That evening, unable to wait, I opened the 2012 Cab Franc. At their worst, Cab Francs are thin and grassy. At their best, they are full-bodied, aromatic, and complex, with a softness that balances out the tannins. This was unquestionably the latter. More earth than tobacco and leather—two common Cab Franc characteristics—the 2012 version has a marvelous balance, is wonderful on the nose and boasts a finish that just won’t quit. It is an outstanding example of what this grape can become.
Just a little teaser before I close. Stacked on a couple of pallets in the tasting room (B-G is now closed for the season) are cases of the winery’s first ever sparkling wines, soon to be transported to Summerland for disgorgement, dosage and re-capping. Rich in colour and four years in the bottle, this one is due for release in November. It will be our New Year’s bubbly, and I can hardly wait.
La Dolce Vita, October 9, 2014
Bruichladdich continues to lead the way
Master distiller Jim McEwan travels constantly, a scotch whisky evangelist to the world, as he promotes Bruichladdich, Islay and his beloved Scotland.
“You should come to this tasting,” my son said. “You can get your bottle of 40-year-old signed.”
The bottle in reference is a single malt from a distillery on the tiny island of Islay, in northwest Scotland. The maker was Bruichaddich and its distiller, the redoubtable Jim McEwan was due to arrive in Calgary a few weeks after our conversation. On his schedule were two evenings of tastings and tale-telling at Willow Park Wines and Spirits, Western Canada’s largest retail liquor store and host of a dazzling array of events throughout the year. It is also, since last spring, my son Evan’s place of employment.
I have been a fan of Bruichladdich (brook-laddie) whisky since my first sip. The distillery was built in 1881 and had a succession of owners until it was deemed surplus to the needs its ownership and shut down 1991. In 2001 it was sold and reopened under the management of McEwan, who for years worked in Japan for Suntory.
Whisky takes years of aging before it is ready for market, so what does a new owner do for cash flow in the meantime? In Bruichladdich’s case, they were lucky. When the distillery was mothballed it had a large inventory of whisky in barrels in storage. Hence, my bottle of 40-year-old, which was released for sale about a decade ago. Only a small quantity was produced and it was, when we purchased it at a fundraising auction, retailing for about $2,400 at the time. (My wife bought it for me, and didn’t pay nearly that much!)
So there I was a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday evening, seated at a front row table with my sons Evan and Ryan at my side. In front of each of us were six glasses, each containing a sample of Bruichladdich single malt. They were poured from bottles that sell for $70-$330 each. A plate of cheese, nuts and smoked salmon on crackers was also on our table, as were bottles of water.
As the 7 a.m. start time arrived, 125 people in the room hushed as the stage lights flashed on and the sound system began pumping out The Proclaimers’ hit song 500 Miles. McEwan boogied his way into the spotlight, then grabbed Willow Parks’ scotch department manager David Michiels for an impromptu reel, working the room like the whisky world rock star he has become. At 62, McEwan is slender, handsome, energetic and captivating. There are few who match his reputation as an ambassador for single malt whisky, and he travels the world to promote his passion.
As the music died down he launched into what would become a spell-binding 90-minute presentation, filled with solid information, Bruichladdich history and practices, endless promotion of Islay and an impassioned plug for Scottish independence. Had McEwan been a standup comic I would have happily paid to see the show.
Bruichladdich is a bit of a modern world anomaly. There are 57 employees making whisky the old-fashioned way—copper stills that operate at lower than usual tempers, malted barley dried by the heat of burning peat dug from the island’s bogs, no chill filtering and no colouring added.
“At Bruichladdich, we believe the whisky industry has been stifled by industrialization and self-interest – huge organizations have developed that require a stable status quo to ensure that their industrial processes can run to maximum efficiency, producing the maximum ‘product’ with the minimum input and variation, all to the lowest unit price,” McEwen says. “We reject this.”
Evan informs me that there are distilleries that produce 10 times what Bruichladdich does, with only 2 employees. If I wasn’t already a big Bruichladdich fan I would become one, with that piece of information alone.
The master distiller led us through the tastings, each one distinct and reminiscent of a Hebridean island’s sea air. My favourite was Octomore, which also happens to be the world’s most heavily peated single malt. Even so, it was delightfully fresh and fruity, with smoke and peat less overwhelming than others I have tried.
Later, I lined up to get my 40-year-old bottle signed. McEwen broke into a grin when he saw what I had just handed him and asked why it was unopened. I said I was waiting for the right occasion and would know it when the time comes.
“Would you email me and let me know when it does?” he asked.
The evening was one of my favourites of the many, many events I have attended as a media guest at Willow Park Wines and Spirits. With each one I have been impressed by the commitment the business has to customer education. It is a sure way to build a loyal clientele and a wonderful resource for people with a genuine interest about the products.
The bottle in reference is a single malt from a distillery on the tiny island of Islay, in northwest Scotland. The maker was Bruichaddich and its distiller, the redoubtable Jim McEwan was due to arrive in Calgary a few weeks after our conversation. On his schedule were two evenings of tastings and tale-telling at Willow Park Wines and Spirits, Western Canada’s largest retail liquor store and host of a dazzling array of events throughout the year. It is also, since last spring, my son Evan’s place of employment.
I have been a fan of Bruichladdich (brook-laddie) whisky since my first sip. The distillery was built in 1881 and had a succession of owners until it was deemed surplus to the needs its ownership and shut down 1991. In 2001 it was sold and reopened under the management of McEwan, who for years worked in Japan for Suntory.
Whisky takes years of aging before it is ready for market, so what does a new owner do for cash flow in the meantime? In Bruichladdich’s case, they were lucky. When the distillery was mothballed it had a large inventory of whisky in barrels in storage. Hence, my bottle of 40-year-old, which was released for sale about a decade ago. Only a small quantity was produced and it was, when we purchased it at a fundraising auction, retailing for about $2,400 at the time. (My wife bought it for me, and didn’t pay nearly that much!)
So there I was a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday evening, seated at a front row table with my sons Evan and Ryan at my side. In front of each of us were six glasses, each containing a sample of Bruichladdich single malt. They were poured from bottles that sell for $70-$330 each. A plate of cheese, nuts and smoked salmon on crackers was also on our table, as were bottles of water.
As the 7 a.m. start time arrived, 125 people in the room hushed as the stage lights flashed on and the sound system began pumping out The Proclaimers’ hit song 500 Miles. McEwan boogied his way into the spotlight, then grabbed Willow Parks’ scotch department manager David Michiels for an impromptu reel, working the room like the whisky world rock star he has become. At 62, McEwan is slender, handsome, energetic and captivating. There are few who match his reputation as an ambassador for single malt whisky, and he travels the world to promote his passion.
As the music died down he launched into what would become a spell-binding 90-minute presentation, filled with solid information, Bruichladdich history and practices, endless promotion of Islay and an impassioned plug for Scottish independence. Had McEwan been a standup comic I would have happily paid to see the show.
Bruichladdich is a bit of a modern world anomaly. There are 57 employees making whisky the old-fashioned way—copper stills that operate at lower than usual tempers, malted barley dried by the heat of burning peat dug from the island’s bogs, no chill filtering and no colouring added.
“At Bruichladdich, we believe the whisky industry has been stifled by industrialization and self-interest – huge organizations have developed that require a stable status quo to ensure that their industrial processes can run to maximum efficiency, producing the maximum ‘product’ with the minimum input and variation, all to the lowest unit price,” McEwen says. “We reject this.”
Evan informs me that there are distilleries that produce 10 times what Bruichladdich does, with only 2 employees. If I wasn’t already a big Bruichladdich fan I would become one, with that piece of information alone.
The master distiller led us through the tastings, each one distinct and reminiscent of a Hebridean island’s sea air. My favourite was Octomore, which also happens to be the world’s most heavily peated single malt. Even so, it was delightfully fresh and fruity, with smoke and peat less overwhelming than others I have tried.
Later, I lined up to get my 40-year-old bottle signed. McEwen broke into a grin when he saw what I had just handed him and asked why it was unopened. I said I was waiting for the right occasion and would know it when the time comes.
“Would you email me and let me know when it does?” he asked.
The evening was one of my favourites of the many, many events I have attended as a media guest at Willow Park Wines and Spirits. With each one I have been impressed by the commitment the business has to customer education. It is a sure way to build a loyal clientele and a wonderful resource for people with a genuine interest about the products.
