Judging a wine by its label
Would you buy a bottle of wine because its label featured an image of Adolph Hitler? Would you not buy that bottle because of the image? Would you buy it if you thought it offered good value, regardless of the label?
Those are some questions that came to mind when I read recent stories about an Italian winemaker who, since 1995, has been putting historical political figures on his labels. Ones with Churchill’s image languished on the shelves. A Hitler series, though, is a strong and consistent seller. Alessandro Lunardelli is a small producer just northwest of Florence and he has been making wine in the same location since 1985. He is unapologetic about his marketing scheme.
According to his company’s web site, the Historical Series consists “of bottles of wine of optimal quality with labels that remind us of the life lives of celebrated personages of Italian and world political history such as Che Guevara, Churchill, Francesco Giuseppe, Gramsci, Hitler, Marx, Mussolini, Napoleon and Sissi.
“Thanks to this invention, the wine company Alessandro Lunardelli has obtained a lot of attention from the media all over the world both for the originality of the idea and for the quality of the wines. Today approximately half of the bottles of wine produced by the company are dedicated to the to the Historical Series which by now amounts to over 50 different labels, and has become a cult object among the collectors.”
While the labels have met Italian legal tests to ensure they are not promoting Nazism, in recent weeks the world press has got hold of the story and Lunardelli is facing increasing pressure about his scheme. To this point he remains steadfast that they are historical depictions. And he’s getting publicity beyond his wildest dreams.
Repugnant images aside, wineries everywhere are in a continuous battle to be noticed in the marketplace. How does one particular bottle get noticed on a store shelf that might have hundreds of different labels?
Some producers prefer conservative, classic labels whose only image might be a small company logo. On these labels the words do the talking. Chateau Margaux, one of France’s legendary Premier Grand Cru Classé producers of Bordeaux wines, includes an image of the three-story mansion on the estate. But the 2000 Chateau Mouton Rothschild is entirely etched in gold and copper, and dominated by a curlicued ram (my son, Evan, poured a couple for a group at the Calgary Petroleum Club earlier this month, at $1,000 each).
Closer to home, playfulness has made its mark for Okanagan wineries. Among those leading the way was Blasted Church Winery. Owners named the winery to tie into the legend of a church being moved from an abandoned mining camp to Okanagan Falls in 1929. Legend has it that dynamite charges were successful in loosening the nails used in construction to make disassembly easier. Labels feature cartoons of characters and events and are described by broadcaster Jurgen Gothe as “outrageous, colourful, cartoony, off-the-wall, and—this is the clincher—nothing at all like a BC wine label.”
Over in Naramata, owners of Therapy Vineyards and Guesthouse have had a wonderful time adopting Sigmund Freud as their mascot and producing wines like Freudian Sip, Freud’s Ego, Super Ego and the wonderfully named Rosé, Fizziotherapy. The colourful Rorschach blot that is featured on many of the labels has helped Therapy wines become instantly identifiable on store shelves.
Interestingly, one fad that seems to have fizzled is the obsession Australian winemakers had with animals. Not so long ago, any image on a wine label that included a koala bear, kangaroo, emu—and even more common birds and amphibians—could be assumed to be announcing an Aussie wine. The glut of Australian wines and a consumer who eventually tired of slightly sweet one-dimensional wines seems to have taken its toll, though. I haven’t checked import numbers, but my instincts tell me that the more interesting low-priced wines of Argentina, Chile and Spain have eroded the Australian dominance.
I freely admit that I am drawn to interesting wine labels, especially when I am just browsing to find something I haven’t tried. I’m not sure that a label featuring a picture of Adolph Hitler would make me reach for my wallet, though.
La Dolce Vita, August 29, 2013
Those are some questions that came to mind when I read recent stories about an Italian winemaker who, since 1995, has been putting historical political figures on his labels. Ones with Churchill’s image languished on the shelves. A Hitler series, though, is a strong and consistent seller. Alessandro Lunardelli is a small producer just northwest of Florence and he has been making wine in the same location since 1985. He is unapologetic about his marketing scheme.
According to his company’s web site, the Historical Series consists “of bottles of wine of optimal quality with labels that remind us of the life lives of celebrated personages of Italian and world political history such as Che Guevara, Churchill, Francesco Giuseppe, Gramsci, Hitler, Marx, Mussolini, Napoleon and Sissi.
“Thanks to this invention, the wine company Alessandro Lunardelli has obtained a lot of attention from the media all over the world both for the originality of the idea and for the quality of the wines. Today approximately half of the bottles of wine produced by the company are dedicated to the to the Historical Series which by now amounts to over 50 different labels, and has become a cult object among the collectors.”
While the labels have met Italian legal tests to ensure they are not promoting Nazism, in recent weeks the world press has got hold of the story and Lunardelli is facing increasing pressure about his scheme. To this point he remains steadfast that they are historical depictions. And he’s getting publicity beyond his wildest dreams.
Repugnant images aside, wineries everywhere are in a continuous battle to be noticed in the marketplace. How does one particular bottle get noticed on a store shelf that might have hundreds of different labels?
Some producers prefer conservative, classic labels whose only image might be a small company logo. On these labels the words do the talking. Chateau Margaux, one of France’s legendary Premier Grand Cru Classé producers of Bordeaux wines, includes an image of the three-story mansion on the estate. But the 2000 Chateau Mouton Rothschild is entirely etched in gold and copper, and dominated by a curlicued ram (my son, Evan, poured a couple for a group at the Calgary Petroleum Club earlier this month, at $1,000 each).
Closer to home, playfulness has made its mark for Okanagan wineries. Among those leading the way was Blasted Church Winery. Owners named the winery to tie into the legend of a church being moved from an abandoned mining camp to Okanagan Falls in 1929. Legend has it that dynamite charges were successful in loosening the nails used in construction to make disassembly easier. Labels feature cartoons of characters and events and are described by broadcaster Jurgen Gothe as “outrageous, colourful, cartoony, off-the-wall, and—this is the clincher—nothing at all like a BC wine label.”
Over in Naramata, owners of Therapy Vineyards and Guesthouse have had a wonderful time adopting Sigmund Freud as their mascot and producing wines like Freudian Sip, Freud’s Ego, Super Ego and the wonderfully named Rosé, Fizziotherapy. The colourful Rorschach blot that is featured on many of the labels has helped Therapy wines become instantly identifiable on store shelves.
Interestingly, one fad that seems to have fizzled is the obsession Australian winemakers had with animals. Not so long ago, any image on a wine label that included a koala bear, kangaroo, emu—and even more common birds and amphibians—could be assumed to be announcing an Aussie wine. The glut of Australian wines and a consumer who eventually tired of slightly sweet one-dimensional wines seems to have taken its toll, though. I haven’t checked import numbers, but my instincts tell me that the more interesting low-priced wines of Argentina, Chile and Spain have eroded the Australian dominance.
I freely admit that I am drawn to interesting wine labels, especially when I am just browsing to find something I haven’t tried. I’m not sure that a label featuring a picture of Adolph Hitler would make me reach for my wallet, though.
La Dolce Vita, August 29, 2013
the not so great grape debate
The new and beautiful Black Hills Estate Winery has none of its popular Nota Bene wine available for sale, despite increasing its production in recent years. As usual, the most recent vintage release is sold out. Would Black Hills benefit from focusing on an export market?
(Black Hills Estate Winery photo)
I paid little—no, make that no—attention to a February event in Vancouver billed as The Grape Debate. Put on by UBC Alumni Affairs, Wines of BC and the UBC Research Centre, the event put a question to a half dozen BC wine experts: should BC focus on developing a signature varietal?
There is only one real reason why proponents of the idea would have owners tear out many of the large variety of vines now grown in the province’s scant 4,000 hectares of vineyards. It would force growers to focus on the development of an export industry and make it easier to develop a name for BC wines in other countries.
The wine snobs, aka the pro side, didn’t win over the audience. But they did plant the seed, if not the vine, that BC wineries are getting it all wrong in continuing to explore just how this province’s countless microclimates and terroirs can be exploited. Focus on Syrah in the hot areas, Pinot Noir in cooler climes and whites like Chenin Blanc and Rielsing around Kelowna and northward, the signature varietalists say.
There are flaws in that argument though. First, why limit choices for your local market when BC consumers buy and drink nearly all of the production in the province, and lots of imports, too? After all, there is a business adage that says that 80 per cent of your sales are made to 20 per cent of your customers, and it is cheaper and easier to increase sales to existing customers. After all, they have already said they like your product, casting votes with their wallets.
Perhaps more importantly, sales directly from the winery provide the biggest profit margin. No commissions to sales reps, trucking costs and retail markup that spread the wealth along the supply chain. About 20 years ago, on a tour of Sumac Ridge, the guide told our group that direct sales were responsible for the lovely tasting room and gift shop.
Wine and tourism go hand-in-hand and, while international exports might result in tiny increase of visitors, tourists from close by are responsible for the vast majority of visits to wineries.
The math simply does not compute for BC to focus on the export industry. We have high production costs here and few advantages that other countries enjoy. No cheap land and labour, like South America, no vast vineyard tracts that invite the use of technology such as mechanical harvesters, like California, no ability to out-produce what local purchasers demand, like New Zealand, which has three times the vineyard space that BC has, with only a quarter of the size and an almost identical population.
So Canada would be exporting an expensive product to compete against countries that have huge advantages, and wineries would be getting a smaller share of the sales than they get from bottles they sell on site with less paperwork and none of the risk that goes with having a shipment go “missing” in China (it has happened) or being rejected, with little recourse.
Admittedly, I’m a local product guy. I prefer my food to come from producers as close to home as possible. I think that shipping products all over the world often makes no sense at all. Two decades ago I listened to a conference speaker say that as long as there are Danish cookies for sale on Canadian grocery store shelves, the economics of food will never make sense. Just because international shipping has cost advantages (fuel tax avoidance being the key reason) doesn’t mean it makes sense, especially when environmental responsibility is factored in.
And yes, I am aware that my position could ultimately lead to fewer imports on wine store shelves here in Canada. Being a great enthusiast of BC wines, I could live with that. Happily.
May 2013 - La Dolce Vita
There is only one real reason why proponents of the idea would have owners tear out many of the large variety of vines now grown in the province’s scant 4,000 hectares of vineyards. It would force growers to focus on the development of an export industry and make it easier to develop a name for BC wines in other countries.
The wine snobs, aka the pro side, didn’t win over the audience. But they did plant the seed, if not the vine, that BC wineries are getting it all wrong in continuing to explore just how this province’s countless microclimates and terroirs can be exploited. Focus on Syrah in the hot areas, Pinot Noir in cooler climes and whites like Chenin Blanc and Rielsing around Kelowna and northward, the signature varietalists say.
There are flaws in that argument though. First, why limit choices for your local market when BC consumers buy and drink nearly all of the production in the province, and lots of imports, too? After all, there is a business adage that says that 80 per cent of your sales are made to 20 per cent of your customers, and it is cheaper and easier to increase sales to existing customers. After all, they have already said they like your product, casting votes with their wallets.
Perhaps more importantly, sales directly from the winery provide the biggest profit margin. No commissions to sales reps, trucking costs and retail markup that spread the wealth along the supply chain. About 20 years ago, on a tour of Sumac Ridge, the guide told our group that direct sales were responsible for the lovely tasting room and gift shop.
Wine and tourism go hand-in-hand and, while international exports might result in tiny increase of visitors, tourists from close by are responsible for the vast majority of visits to wineries.
The math simply does not compute for BC to focus on the export industry. We have high production costs here and few advantages that other countries enjoy. No cheap land and labour, like South America, no vast vineyard tracts that invite the use of technology such as mechanical harvesters, like California, no ability to out-produce what local purchasers demand, like New Zealand, which has three times the vineyard space that BC has, with only a quarter of the size and an almost identical population.
So Canada would be exporting an expensive product to compete against countries that have huge advantages, and wineries would be getting a smaller share of the sales than they get from bottles they sell on site with less paperwork and none of the risk that goes with having a shipment go “missing” in China (it has happened) or being rejected, with little recourse.
Admittedly, I’m a local product guy. I prefer my food to come from producers as close to home as possible. I think that shipping products all over the world often makes no sense at all. Two decades ago I listened to a conference speaker say that as long as there are Danish cookies for sale on Canadian grocery store shelves, the economics of food will never make sense. Just because international shipping has cost advantages (fuel tax avoidance being the key reason) doesn’t mean it makes sense, especially when environmental responsibility is factored in.
And yes, I am aware that my position could ultimately lead to fewer imports on wine store shelves here in Canada. Being a great enthusiast of BC wines, I could live with that. Happily.
May 2013 - La Dolce Vita
Join the club
On a dreary grey day recently a box was delivered to my office by courier. One glance at the size and shape of the box immediately made the day brighter. It contained, I knew without even checking the label, a selection of a half dozen bottles from one of my favourite wineries.
As I drove home later that day with the box on the seat beside me, I thought back to my first experience with a wine club, probably about 20 years ago. The concept was a relatively new idea and being able to get wine delivered to the door seemed like a magical concept.
My first delivery from Sumac Ridge Winery—this was back in the day when it was still owned independently by the legendary Harry McWatters—contained a dozen bottles in a wooden case. Along side was a box containing six etched wine glasses with the Sumac Ridge name, and a waiter’s corkscrew. I still have the box, the distinctively-shaped glasses and the opener.
The box delivered to my office last week came from Serendipity Winery, one of my favourite small producers, located on the Naramata Bench. It’s the only wine club I belong to at the moment, primarily because we buy most of our wine on visits to wineries when I go out to do interviews and tastings for this column and Wine Trails magazine assignments. But Serendipity is a small producer and I don’t want to chance missing out on a release because my Okanagan visits don’t always take me to Naramata.
Inside the box were three reds, a rosé and two white wines. Tasting notes for each were included, as was a personalized letter from owner Judy Kingston. The letter explained her selections, included comments from her daughter, Katie, acknowledged our meeting at a Calgary tasting last month and thanked me for the stories I have written about the winery.
In a random survey, conducted by going into the web sites of wineries that popped into my head, I found that about two-thirds have wine clubs. I can’t think of a good excuse for those who don’t. Having commitments ahead of time, with credit card use permission, is money in the bank. Just as importantly, it allows wineries to maintain an on-going relationship with customers.
Serendipity Winery offers three levels of membership in its wine club. The first is really just a free subscription to an emailed newsletter and the opportunity to buy special releases. The second ships 6 bottles twice a year and the third tier ships 6 bottles three times a year. Membership to in the second and third tiers also includes an invitation to a summer barrel tasting and barbecue and the option of spending a day in the vineyard, learning to prune or pick grapes along a row named for the member.
In my informal survey, I found that most wine club memberships offer discounts to other wine purchases, as well as tasting notes. Some include free shipping, recipes and restaurant discounts. Poplar Grove members who refer new members get a $10 credit for purchases. Black Widow members get preferential booking at the winery’s bed and breakfast. Some offer options for different numbers of bottles in a shipment and in the frequency of those shipments.
The most obvious benefit for members, though, is the same as it is for wineries. It gives the member an on-going relationship with the winery. Show up at the tasting room and mention you are a wine club member and the likelihood is that you will get extra-attentive service, waived tasting fees and an invitation to take a tour. In essence, you become part of the winery’s family.
Many years ago, on our first visit to Sumac Ridge, we were told that people who visit the winery and make purchases are the ones who enable a winery to expand and offer better experiences for visitors. Why? Because other than taxes, all the money from those purchases stays in the winery’s pockets. There are no sales commissions, shipping fees or wholesale discounts. Other than the shipping costs, wine club memberships offer the same benefit to the winery, with the added level of security that comes with the pre-ordering of products.
If you like wines from a particular winery, consider checking the web site to see if it has a wine club. It’s a great way to stay connected.
April 2013 - La Dolce Vita
As I drove home later that day with the box on the seat beside me, I thought back to my first experience with a wine club, probably about 20 years ago. The concept was a relatively new idea and being able to get wine delivered to the door seemed like a magical concept.
My first delivery from Sumac Ridge Winery—this was back in the day when it was still owned independently by the legendary Harry McWatters—contained a dozen bottles in a wooden case. Along side was a box containing six etched wine glasses with the Sumac Ridge name, and a waiter’s corkscrew. I still have the box, the distinctively-shaped glasses and the opener.
The box delivered to my office last week came from Serendipity Winery, one of my favourite small producers, located on the Naramata Bench. It’s the only wine club I belong to at the moment, primarily because we buy most of our wine on visits to wineries when I go out to do interviews and tastings for this column and Wine Trails magazine assignments. But Serendipity is a small producer and I don’t want to chance missing out on a release because my Okanagan visits don’t always take me to Naramata.
Inside the box were three reds, a rosé and two white wines. Tasting notes for each were included, as was a personalized letter from owner Judy Kingston. The letter explained her selections, included comments from her daughter, Katie, acknowledged our meeting at a Calgary tasting last month and thanked me for the stories I have written about the winery.
In a random survey, conducted by going into the web sites of wineries that popped into my head, I found that about two-thirds have wine clubs. I can’t think of a good excuse for those who don’t. Having commitments ahead of time, with credit card use permission, is money in the bank. Just as importantly, it allows wineries to maintain an on-going relationship with customers.
Serendipity Winery offers three levels of membership in its wine club. The first is really just a free subscription to an emailed newsletter and the opportunity to buy special releases. The second ships 6 bottles twice a year and the third tier ships 6 bottles three times a year. Membership to in the second and third tiers also includes an invitation to a summer barrel tasting and barbecue and the option of spending a day in the vineyard, learning to prune or pick grapes along a row named for the member.
In my informal survey, I found that most wine club memberships offer discounts to other wine purchases, as well as tasting notes. Some include free shipping, recipes and restaurant discounts. Poplar Grove members who refer new members get a $10 credit for purchases. Black Widow members get preferential booking at the winery’s bed and breakfast. Some offer options for different numbers of bottles in a shipment and in the frequency of those shipments.
The most obvious benefit for members, though, is the same as it is for wineries. It gives the member an on-going relationship with the winery. Show up at the tasting room and mention you are a wine club member and the likelihood is that you will get extra-attentive service, waived tasting fees and an invitation to take a tour. In essence, you become part of the winery’s family.
Many years ago, on our first visit to Sumac Ridge, we were told that people who visit the winery and make purchases are the ones who enable a winery to expand and offer better experiences for visitors. Why? Because other than taxes, all the money from those purchases stays in the winery’s pockets. There are no sales commissions, shipping fees or wholesale discounts. Other than the shipping costs, wine club memberships offer the same benefit to the winery, with the added level of security that comes with the pre-ordering of products.
If you like wines from a particular winery, consider checking the web site to see if it has a wine club. It’s a great way to stay connected.
April 2013 - La Dolce Vita
Naramata bench takes the show to calgary
We always love our visits to Naramata, where more than two dozen wineries now keep us busy for days. It seems like we can never keep up. We visit two new wineries and another three open before our return.
It felt like another happy visit to the area north of Penticton on a visit to Calgary last week, where we attended a couple of fundraising events as guests of the Naramata Bench Wineries Association, the invitation coming from the association’s tireless coordinator, Tina Baird.
I got a particular kick while standing in line as we waited for a VIP tasting. Sal D’Angelo, one of my favourite winemakers and owner of one of my favourite wineries, wandered by and stopped to chat. He’s excited about the pending release of two port-like dessert wines, both made with ice wine and fortified with brandy made from his own grapes. La Dolce Rosso (red) and La Dolce Bianco (white) are ready for bottling and will be available in small quantities this spring. We barrel tasted these port-like wines last fall and they were wonderful.
We took our seats along with about 50 other guests (the events, fundraisers for Alberta Theatre Projects, were hosted by Willow Park Wines and Spirits), carrying glasses of bubbly rose-coloured wines. Another nine glasses were ready at each place setting. As we sat I noticed another Naramata friend, Judy Kingston, owner of the amazing gem, Serendipity Winery. Two of her wines were featured in front of us.
Surprises are always the best part of any tasting and they started early in this one. The bubbly we were handed as we entered the mezzanine turned out to be from Elephant Island Orchard Wines, whose makers prove each year that great wines can be made without grapes. It turns out the bubbly, called Unconventional Wisdom, was made from apples, with a dosage of cassis added to the fermented juice later. I doubt there were many in the room who would have guessed this was a fruit wine. Elephant Island was also the maker of the last sample we tasted, a dessert wine they call Stellaport, made from Stella cherries. It was very nice, and paired spectacularly with a cheese from Nova Scotia selected by Calgary restaurant and cheese shop owner Janice Beaton. Dragon’s Breath is a luscious white, creamy cheese, blue in every way except in colour. Apparently it isn’t exposed to air, which keeps the mold from colouring.
Kingston introduced her two offerings, 2009 Merlot and 2009 Cabernet Franc, the latter of which was the best wine of the bunch, in my opinion.
Therapy Vineyards brought along a rare treat, barrel samples of 2012 Artist Series Riesling and 2012 Pinot Noir. It’s nice when wineries trust their audience to share barrel samples, because they are definitely not the finished product. But they do give an indication of how the wines will eventually turn out. The Riesling paired very well with a delicious ceviche.
One of Naramata’s best kept secrets is Van Westen Vineyards, which is quietly making a name for itself with exceptionally good and very highly rated wines. Owner Robert Van Westen was on hand to talk about his 2011 Viognier, a creamy and aromatic gem and 2009 Vulture, a very nice Cab Franc.
Hillside Estate Winery winemaker Kathy Malone also had a turn at the microphone, talking about her 2012 Rose and a 2009 Reserve Merlot, a peppery and rich effort that is an indication, she said, of what an exceptional year 2009 was for red wines in Narmata.
As we made our way through each wine, half of them paired with food, it felt very satisfying to see these Naramata wineries demonstrating to a Calgary audience just how good a terroir the Naramata Bench is, and the quality of winemaking that has put the region on the map in such a big way.
March 2013 - La Dolce Vita
It felt like another happy visit to the area north of Penticton on a visit to Calgary last week, where we attended a couple of fundraising events as guests of the Naramata Bench Wineries Association, the invitation coming from the association’s tireless coordinator, Tina Baird.
I got a particular kick while standing in line as we waited for a VIP tasting. Sal D’Angelo, one of my favourite winemakers and owner of one of my favourite wineries, wandered by and stopped to chat. He’s excited about the pending release of two port-like dessert wines, both made with ice wine and fortified with brandy made from his own grapes. La Dolce Rosso (red) and La Dolce Bianco (white) are ready for bottling and will be available in small quantities this spring. We barrel tasted these port-like wines last fall and they were wonderful.
We took our seats along with about 50 other guests (the events, fundraisers for Alberta Theatre Projects, were hosted by Willow Park Wines and Spirits), carrying glasses of bubbly rose-coloured wines. Another nine glasses were ready at each place setting. As we sat I noticed another Naramata friend, Judy Kingston, owner of the amazing gem, Serendipity Winery. Two of her wines were featured in front of us.
Surprises are always the best part of any tasting and they started early in this one. The bubbly we were handed as we entered the mezzanine turned out to be from Elephant Island Orchard Wines, whose makers prove each year that great wines can be made without grapes. It turns out the bubbly, called Unconventional Wisdom, was made from apples, with a dosage of cassis added to the fermented juice later. I doubt there were many in the room who would have guessed this was a fruit wine. Elephant Island was also the maker of the last sample we tasted, a dessert wine they call Stellaport, made from Stella cherries. It was very nice, and paired spectacularly with a cheese from Nova Scotia selected by Calgary restaurant and cheese shop owner Janice Beaton. Dragon’s Breath is a luscious white, creamy cheese, blue in every way except in colour. Apparently it isn’t exposed to air, which keeps the mold from colouring.
Kingston introduced her two offerings, 2009 Merlot and 2009 Cabernet Franc, the latter of which was the best wine of the bunch, in my opinion.
Therapy Vineyards brought along a rare treat, barrel samples of 2012 Artist Series Riesling and 2012 Pinot Noir. It’s nice when wineries trust their audience to share barrel samples, because they are definitely not the finished product. But they do give an indication of how the wines will eventually turn out. The Riesling paired very well with a delicious ceviche.
One of Naramata’s best kept secrets is Van Westen Vineyards, which is quietly making a name for itself with exceptionally good and very highly rated wines. Owner Robert Van Westen was on hand to talk about his 2011 Viognier, a creamy and aromatic gem and 2009 Vulture, a very nice Cab Franc.
Hillside Estate Winery winemaker Kathy Malone also had a turn at the microphone, talking about her 2012 Rose and a 2009 Reserve Merlot, a peppery and rich effort that is an indication, she said, of what an exceptional year 2009 was for red wines in Narmata.
As we made our way through each wine, half of them paired with food, it felt very satisfying to see these Naramata wineries demonstrating to a Calgary audience just how good a terroir the Naramata Bench is, and the quality of winemaking that has put the region on the map in such a big way.
March 2013 - La Dolce Vita
winery visits create lasting memories
We have, Angela and I, visited probably a hundred wineries over the years. Wineries in BC, Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Vermont, California, Washington, Idaho and Italy have all left their mark in one way or another. Some of those visits have been memorable because of the wine and others because of the facilities or location. Mostly, though, it’s the people who make the difference.
More than 20 years ago we were holidaying in California. While in San Francisco we joined a day tour that would take us to the Muir Woods and the Napa and Sonoma Valleys. We didn’t know a lot about wine back then, except that we liked it with meals. A visit to Sebastiani Vineyards and Winery helped change that.
Sebastiani was one of the three wineries we visited on that day. Our small group was shepherded into the tasting room, located close to the centre of downtown Sonoma, and we were given a short course on how to taste wine.
”See, swirl, sniff, sip, slurp and spit.” It was a lesson that I’ve never forgotten. The enthusiastic tasting room host quickly had us all holding our glasses against a white piece of paper, explaining that the more common practice of holding it up to whatever light source might be available isn’t helpful because the direct light and other background colours don’t provide consistency in comparing one wine to another. We quickly went through some simple instructions on how to swirl the wine without sloshing it out of the glass (the safest way is to keep the glass’s base on the table or countertop), how to appreciate the wine’s aroma, how to sip (and slurp air through the liquid to release more taste) and, finally, to spit. In only about ten minutes we learned much about how to appreciate wine.
Another winery visit was memorable simply because the location was so unexpected. We were in Quebec City for a conference and again took a bus tour of the region. Among the stops was a visit to a winery on Ile d’Orleans, an island in the St. Lawrence River, just a few minutes from Quebec City. It was easy, on that warm, sunny day, to picture a windswept winter’s day with snow blowing across the river and icy temperatures attacking the vines. But the vineyard had only two kinds of grapes, both hybrids, that were produced to withstand miserable Quebec winters. The wines, admittedly, weren’t memorable, but the visit was.
On a driving trip through Vermont we pulled into a small vineyard where the winery didn’t appear to be open. As we began to make our exit, a fellow waved us down and invited us into the winery to do some tasting. The winery wasn’t actually open, but he was a genial host and we left feeling that we had been treated to some exceptional hospitality by a man who was passionate about growing grapes and making wine.
Seven years ago we drove from our farm accommodations near Montalcino, in the heart of Tuscany. We followed the directions of fellow tourists, who had extended an invitation to us from the Italian-American owner of a winery just outside of the border that demarcates the Brunello di Montalcino appellation. There was no human activity in evidence and no cars parked in the graveled courtyard parking lot but, as we were about to turn and leave, a man waved at us and jogged over to our tiny Smart Car. “Are you the Canadian writer?” he asked. Soon we were on a tour of the tourist accommodations and winery, but not before he had made a quick cell phone call. Eventually we learned he had called the kitchen’s chef to prepare lunch for us. We were seated on a deck that provided a postcard view, and provided with plates of cold cuts, cheese, fruit, vegetables and bread. One bottle of wine was opened and another sat ready for us to enjoy. The owner insisted on leaving us alone to enjoy the meal and the view, and the tour continued when we were finished eating. We left feeling we had been transported, for a few magical hours, into a fantasy land where life was perfect.
Here in BC we have enjoyed countless wonderful visits to wineries. I would put tastings at Silver Sage Winery near Oliver at the top of the list, though. Owner Anna Manola and her sister often staff the tasting room and their sense of humour has guests laughing the entire time. The women represent the passion and commitment that we have enjoyed as we visit wineries wherever we travel.
When we first began to visit wineries we quickly came to appreciate how energizing it is to be in the presence of people who are happy at their work. In the two decades since, we have rarely been disappointed.
November 2012 – La Dolce Vita
More than 20 years ago we were holidaying in California. While in San Francisco we joined a day tour that would take us to the Muir Woods and the Napa and Sonoma Valleys. We didn’t know a lot about wine back then, except that we liked it with meals. A visit to Sebastiani Vineyards and Winery helped change that.
Sebastiani was one of the three wineries we visited on that day. Our small group was shepherded into the tasting room, located close to the centre of downtown Sonoma, and we were given a short course on how to taste wine.
”See, swirl, sniff, sip, slurp and spit.” It was a lesson that I’ve never forgotten. The enthusiastic tasting room host quickly had us all holding our glasses against a white piece of paper, explaining that the more common practice of holding it up to whatever light source might be available isn’t helpful because the direct light and other background colours don’t provide consistency in comparing one wine to another. We quickly went through some simple instructions on how to swirl the wine without sloshing it out of the glass (the safest way is to keep the glass’s base on the table or countertop), how to appreciate the wine’s aroma, how to sip (and slurp air through the liquid to release more taste) and, finally, to spit. In only about ten minutes we learned much about how to appreciate wine.
Another winery visit was memorable simply because the location was so unexpected. We were in Quebec City for a conference and again took a bus tour of the region. Among the stops was a visit to a winery on Ile d’Orleans, an island in the St. Lawrence River, just a few minutes from Quebec City. It was easy, on that warm, sunny day, to picture a windswept winter’s day with snow blowing across the river and icy temperatures attacking the vines. But the vineyard had only two kinds of grapes, both hybrids, that were produced to withstand miserable Quebec winters. The wines, admittedly, weren’t memorable, but the visit was.
On a driving trip through Vermont we pulled into a small vineyard where the winery didn’t appear to be open. As we began to make our exit, a fellow waved us down and invited us into the winery to do some tasting. The winery wasn’t actually open, but he was a genial host and we left feeling that we had been treated to some exceptional hospitality by a man who was passionate about growing grapes and making wine.
Seven years ago we drove from our farm accommodations near Montalcino, in the heart of Tuscany. We followed the directions of fellow tourists, who had extended an invitation to us from the Italian-American owner of a winery just outside of the border that demarcates the Brunello di Montalcino appellation. There was no human activity in evidence and no cars parked in the graveled courtyard parking lot but, as we were about to turn and leave, a man waved at us and jogged over to our tiny Smart Car. “Are you the Canadian writer?” he asked. Soon we were on a tour of the tourist accommodations and winery, but not before he had made a quick cell phone call. Eventually we learned he had called the kitchen’s chef to prepare lunch for us. We were seated on a deck that provided a postcard view, and provided with plates of cold cuts, cheese, fruit, vegetables and bread. One bottle of wine was opened and another sat ready for us to enjoy. The owner insisted on leaving us alone to enjoy the meal and the view, and the tour continued when we were finished eating. We left feeling we had been transported, for a few magical hours, into a fantasy land where life was perfect.
Here in BC we have enjoyed countless wonderful visits to wineries. I would put tastings at Silver Sage Winery near Oliver at the top of the list, though. Owner Anna Manola and her sister often staff the tasting room and their sense of humour has guests laughing the entire time. The women represent the passion and commitment that we have enjoyed as we visit wineries wherever we travel.
When we first began to visit wineries we quickly came to appreciate how energizing it is to be in the presence of people who are happy at their work. In the two decades since, we have rarely been disappointed.
November 2012 – La Dolce Vita
What's in a name
Being attracted, or repelled, by a winery name is pretty much like judging a book by its cover. But who among us hasn’t done just that?
When I’m standing before a shelf full of wines, or even driving around wine country, I occasionally find myself surprised at the response I feel to the name of the winery. It can be positive or negative, but it is often a strong one, strong enough to influence my shopping or visiting.
Years ago, we had several enjoyable visits at Scherzinger Vineyards near Summerland. Those were in the earlier years of the Okanagan wine industry’s rebirth and like many others, this one didn’t indicate that it had much professional input into its marketing and branding. On one visit the owner, whose first name now escapes me, admitted that the Scherzinger name was proving to be a challenge in drawing people to the winery, and in ordering its wines in stores and restaurants.
Why? Most people don’t know how to pronounce the name, he said. Shkare-tsing-ah, or Share-tsing-ah, would be the likely German pronunciations, but others opted for Sure-zinger and even more creative ones. Eventually the winery was sold. Enter Bernie Hadley-Beauregard (speaking of names!) of the Brandever marketing firm. The winery was rebranded as Dirty Laundry Vineyards and it’s been a popular attraction ever since.
It’s actually quite remarkable, the Hadley-Beauregard influence on winery names and images. A quick scroll through the Brandever website reveals that he has been the marketing guru behind Blasted Church, Moon Curser, Monster Vineyards, Therapy Vineyards, Tantalus, Hard Row to Hoe, Laughing Stock, Megalomaniac and 8th Generation, all Okanagan wineries. Other labels for international contracts include Nauti Buoy, Foreign Affair, Stubborn Fool and Whatchamacallit. Do you think this guy has fun at his job?
Of course not all winery names have curb appeal. I purposely used to drive past Golden Beaver, thinking that its amateurish stab at a double entendre wasn’t a good indication of what I might find the winery. It has since been renamed. Same with Hollywood and Vine, which was just a little silly to me. The Summerland winery was sold earlier this year and renamed Saxon Winery, perhaps not a great name, but a step up, nonetheless.
Not surprisingly, geography and animals dominate BC winery names, the latter likely inspired by the success Australian wines had with their branding efforts. I’m not a great fan of generic geographical names like Lake Breeze, Hillside, Seven Stones and Desert Hills. They seem to lack an effort in their naming, somehow. More specific geographic names like Mission Hills, Mt. Boucherie, Elephant Island, Hester Creek, Kettle Valley and, in Creston, Skimmerhorn, at least evoke a locality.
Birds and animals have been quite successful on labels in this province. Think of Burrowing Owl, Quail’s Gate, Stag’s Hollow, Red Rooster and Wild Goose.
Family names, of course, also remain popular. House of Rose, Meyer Family Vineyards, Nichol Vineyard (although the Nichols are no longer involved), Lang, Herder and D’Angelo, for instance.
My favourite names and labels create a sense of story before one even knows about their history. That’s why Blasted Church was such a success, I think. Who doesn’t want to know the story behind the name. Add to the mix the incredibly innovative and still unique cartoons that appear on each label and the branding has led to prolonged success.
Therapy Vineyards is another that presents a full package of possibilities for marketing. The slogan, “Everybody needs a little Therapy”, is memorable and the use of Rorschach blots is brilliant. More recently, the name and image of Sigmund Freud have been used to great success and there is a sense of humour that abounds in the image. Who doesn’t want to indulge in a bubbly called Fizzio Therapy, for example, or Freudian Sip?
Here in Creston, the name Baillie-Grohman Estate Winery was chose for a historical character, an Austrian adventurer who was the early designer of dikes that allowed farmland to be reclaimed. There is a legend that says that Baillie-Grohman first visited the Kootenays on a mountain goat hunting trip with none other than Teddy Roosevelt. History and marketing can go quite nicely together.
Winery names are endlessly fascinating. And so are each person’s response to them.
December 2012 - La Dolce Vita
Bigger can be better, especially when it comes to large format bottles
Our hostess at Spain's Freixenet gallery explains the names of various wine bottle formats.
I’m a big fan of large format wine bottles. Perhaps because the first one (at least the first one larger than a magnum, or 1.5 litre bottle) came as an unexpected gift from our sons.
They were both living in Calgary at the time and neither was rolling in money. But they somehow came up with $400 to give Angela and I a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino. The vintage was 1997, one of the great years of the century for Brunello, and the size was 5 litres, the equivalent of nearly 7 normal, 750ml bottles.
I researched and consulted with experts before concluding that the optimum time to drink the wine was probably 2007 or 2008. If that same wine had been in 750ml bottles the time fame would have been bumped forward a year or two—wine ages more slowly in larger containers because proportionally less surface area is exposed to air, the key aging factor in wine.
In the years that the bottle sat in my cellar it provided a great source of conversation for fellow wine lovers, and there were no shortage of offers to accept an invitation when the bottle was eventually opened. From the get-go, though, I knew that we would use it as a fundraiser for Rotary and a dozen of us thoroughly enjoyed our evening of Italian food and what turned out to be a wonderful bottle of wine.
To be honest, it’s a little nerve-racking opening a large bottle before invited guests arrive. First, there was the challenge of scraping the hard was seal from around the cork—I eventually moved the production out to the carport because chips of wax were flying everywhere. The large cork came out cleanly and I carefully maneuvered the giant bottle to pour the contents into my collection of decanters so that the precious wine could aerate for a couple of hours before dinner.
In the years since, I’ve purchased several different large format bottles, mostly at fundraising auctions. They were all 3 litre bottles, which are commonly referred to as double magnums. A more romantic term for that particular size is the Jeroboam, the smallest of five bottles named for biblical figures. The others are the Methuselah (8 bottles), the Salmanazar (12 bottles), the Balthazar (16 bottles) and the Nebuchadnezzar (20 bottles).
Interestingly, those definitions aren’t carved in stone, despite their historic references. Some references say that a sparkling wine Jeroboam holds 3 litres and a still wine Jeroboam holds 4.5 litres. That clears the way for the Rehoboam, which holds 4.5 litres of bubbly. It seems strange that the 5 litre bottle doesn’t’ seem to have a name.
This particular subject has been on mind since we visited Coeur d’Alene recently to attend a Metropolitan Opera production that was shown live by satellite in movie theatres. We stopped in at Costco and, as always, I checked the wine selection. To my surprise, there is currently a variety of large format bottles on the shelves. The ones that caught my eye, though, were two 5 litre offerings from Castello Banfi, which is located a stone’s throw from the Tuscan hill town Montalcino. From our stay in the area, I have a vivid memory of the long Lombardy poplar-lined road that leads visitors to the winery. The bottles were blends—one of Sangiovese, Carbernet Sauvignon and Merlot, the other of Sangiovese and Cab Sauv.
The former, called Centine, now rests in my cellar, awaiting another special occasion. It won’t require the same aging as a Brunello, so I’m thinking that our Christmas dinner at my sister’s home in Calgary, which always attracts a large group, might be just the opportunity.
November 2011 - La Dolce Vita
They were both living in Calgary at the time and neither was rolling in money. But they somehow came up with $400 to give Angela and I a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino. The vintage was 1997, one of the great years of the century for Brunello, and the size was 5 litres, the equivalent of nearly 7 normal, 750ml bottles.
I researched and consulted with experts before concluding that the optimum time to drink the wine was probably 2007 or 2008. If that same wine had been in 750ml bottles the time fame would have been bumped forward a year or two—wine ages more slowly in larger containers because proportionally less surface area is exposed to air, the key aging factor in wine.
In the years that the bottle sat in my cellar it provided a great source of conversation for fellow wine lovers, and there were no shortage of offers to accept an invitation when the bottle was eventually opened. From the get-go, though, I knew that we would use it as a fundraiser for Rotary and a dozen of us thoroughly enjoyed our evening of Italian food and what turned out to be a wonderful bottle of wine.
To be honest, it’s a little nerve-racking opening a large bottle before invited guests arrive. First, there was the challenge of scraping the hard was seal from around the cork—I eventually moved the production out to the carport because chips of wax were flying everywhere. The large cork came out cleanly and I carefully maneuvered the giant bottle to pour the contents into my collection of decanters so that the precious wine could aerate for a couple of hours before dinner.
In the years since, I’ve purchased several different large format bottles, mostly at fundraising auctions. They were all 3 litre bottles, which are commonly referred to as double magnums. A more romantic term for that particular size is the Jeroboam, the smallest of five bottles named for biblical figures. The others are the Methuselah (8 bottles), the Salmanazar (12 bottles), the Balthazar (16 bottles) and the Nebuchadnezzar (20 bottles).
Interestingly, those definitions aren’t carved in stone, despite their historic references. Some references say that a sparkling wine Jeroboam holds 3 litres and a still wine Jeroboam holds 4.5 litres. That clears the way for the Rehoboam, which holds 4.5 litres of bubbly. It seems strange that the 5 litre bottle doesn’t’ seem to have a name.
This particular subject has been on mind since we visited Coeur d’Alene recently to attend a Metropolitan Opera production that was shown live by satellite in movie theatres. We stopped in at Costco and, as always, I checked the wine selection. To my surprise, there is currently a variety of large format bottles on the shelves. The ones that caught my eye, though, were two 5 litre offerings from Castello Banfi, which is located a stone’s throw from the Tuscan hill town Montalcino. From our stay in the area, I have a vivid memory of the long Lombardy poplar-lined road that leads visitors to the winery. The bottles were blends—one of Sangiovese, Carbernet Sauvignon and Merlot, the other of Sangiovese and Cab Sauv.
The former, called Centine, now rests in my cellar, awaiting another special occasion. It won’t require the same aging as a Brunello, so I’m thinking that our Christmas dinner at my sister’s home in Calgary, which always attracts a large group, might be just the opportunity.
November 2011 - La Dolce Vita
thinking about wine and literature
Literature and wine are close allies. From the Bible—“Wine was created from the beginning to make men joyful, and not to make men drunk. Wine drunk with moderation is the joy of soul and the heart,” (Ecclesiastes 31:35-36) to Shakespeare—“Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used; exclaim no more against it,” (Othello) we literally grow up among references to the stuff.
My favourite reading material in summer leans to mysteries and thrillers. The season seems to lend itself to fast-paced plots and interesting characters. This summer has been no exception and, between a couple of terrific historical thrillers by David Liss, I turned to a book that had been loaned to me by a friend, herself an aspiring writer of mysteries.
Blood Safari, by South African novelist Deon Meyer, is a great read. In addition to the page-turning frenzy inspired by his plot, Meyer succeeds in helping to unwind for the reader the complexities of a nation and continent that, for most of us, remains pretty much a mystery.
I was struck by a wonderful exchange between the book’s two main characters on the subject of wine and alcohol. The male, a non-drinker, sat at dinner with his female client, who had hired him as a bodyguard. He asked her to explain the appeal of alcohol.
“I like red wine. I like the names. Shiraz. Cabernet. Merlot. Pinotage. They roll beautifully off the tongue, they sound so secretive. And I love the complex aromas. There is a mystique to the flavours.
“…It’s like sailing on a trade route past islands of fruit and spices. You can never see the islands, but from the aromas that waft over the water, you can guess what they look like. Exotic, bright colours, dense forests, beautiful people dancing by firelight. I love the colours and the way they look different in sunlight or candlelight. And I love the flavour, because it forces me to taste, to concentrate, to roll it around my tongue and look for the goodness. And I like all the things it stands for—the bonhomie, the company of friends. It’s a social symbol that says we’re comfortable enough with each other to enjoy a glass of wine together. It makes me feel civilized and grateful that I have the privilege to enjoy something that has been made with so much care and knowledge and art.”
Game, set and match, I thought, savouring the words coming from the mouth of a woman who was expressing many of the same sentiments I feel when I sip a glass of wine. But Meyer is a good writer, and he demonstrated that there is another side to this coin. The bodyguard replies:
“Wine doesn’t taste nice. Period. It’s not as bad as whisky, but it’s worse than beer. It’s not nearly as nice as grape juice. But grape juice isn’t sophisticated, even though it looks different in sunlight and candlelight. Sweet wine is the exception. But nobody drinks that in cultivated company, not even a good late harvest. Why not? Because it simply does not enjoy the same status. And there’s the whole answer. Status. It’s an old thing. Our civilization originated in Mesopotamia, but grapes didn’t thrive there. The Mesopotamians made beer out of grain and everyone drank it. But the rich don’t want to drink what everyone drinks. So they imported wine from the highlands of Iran. And because it cost more, because the common people could not afford it, it gained status, regardless of how it tasted. So they created the myth—wine is for the cultivated tongue, for the well-to-do taste. Eight thousand years later, we still believe it.”
So there you have it—two people who are polar opposites on the subject, each making a very convincing argument about why they feel they way they do. Perhaps it is a good reminder that, when we have guests, we would do well to remember that we don’t all share the same tastes.
August 2010 - La Dolce Vita
My favourite reading material in summer leans to mysteries and thrillers. The season seems to lend itself to fast-paced plots and interesting characters. This summer has been no exception and, between a couple of terrific historical thrillers by David Liss, I turned to a book that had been loaned to me by a friend, herself an aspiring writer of mysteries.
Blood Safari, by South African novelist Deon Meyer, is a great read. In addition to the page-turning frenzy inspired by his plot, Meyer succeeds in helping to unwind for the reader the complexities of a nation and continent that, for most of us, remains pretty much a mystery.
I was struck by a wonderful exchange between the book’s two main characters on the subject of wine and alcohol. The male, a non-drinker, sat at dinner with his female client, who had hired him as a bodyguard. He asked her to explain the appeal of alcohol.
“I like red wine. I like the names. Shiraz. Cabernet. Merlot. Pinotage. They roll beautifully off the tongue, they sound so secretive. And I love the complex aromas. There is a mystique to the flavours.
“…It’s like sailing on a trade route past islands of fruit and spices. You can never see the islands, but from the aromas that waft over the water, you can guess what they look like. Exotic, bright colours, dense forests, beautiful people dancing by firelight. I love the colours and the way they look different in sunlight or candlelight. And I love the flavour, because it forces me to taste, to concentrate, to roll it around my tongue and look for the goodness. And I like all the things it stands for—the bonhomie, the company of friends. It’s a social symbol that says we’re comfortable enough with each other to enjoy a glass of wine together. It makes me feel civilized and grateful that I have the privilege to enjoy something that has been made with so much care and knowledge and art.”
Game, set and match, I thought, savouring the words coming from the mouth of a woman who was expressing many of the same sentiments I feel when I sip a glass of wine. But Meyer is a good writer, and he demonstrated that there is another side to this coin. The bodyguard replies:
“Wine doesn’t taste nice. Period. It’s not as bad as whisky, but it’s worse than beer. It’s not nearly as nice as grape juice. But grape juice isn’t sophisticated, even though it looks different in sunlight and candlelight. Sweet wine is the exception. But nobody drinks that in cultivated company, not even a good late harvest. Why not? Because it simply does not enjoy the same status. And there’s the whole answer. Status. It’s an old thing. Our civilization originated in Mesopotamia, but grapes didn’t thrive there. The Mesopotamians made beer out of grain and everyone drank it. But the rich don’t want to drink what everyone drinks. So they imported wine from the highlands of Iran. And because it cost more, because the common people could not afford it, it gained status, regardless of how it tasted. So they created the myth—wine is for the cultivated tongue, for the well-to-do taste. Eight thousand years later, we still believe it.”
So there you have it—two people who are polar opposites on the subject, each making a very convincing argument about why they feel they way they do. Perhaps it is a good reminder that, when we have guests, we would do well to remember that we don’t all share the same tastes.
August 2010 - La Dolce Vita
