Ama/Les Lunes/Populis and the Manton Valley AVA

So...I'm officially calling it: the Manton Valley AVA is going to be the next big thing in California wine.  And the folks who are going to put it on the map are my friends Martha, Diego, Sam and Shaunt.

On Friday, May 29, 2015, I set out for Manton, California at 4:30am in order to make a 9am start time to help these guys plant a new Chardonnay vineyard.  The first leg of the drive was from my house in Oakland to the town of Red Bluff, about 3 hours north on I-5.  More or less, this is where large scale monoculture/agriculture ends in the central valley before it gives way to a volcanic desert and increasingly higher foothills leading up to the Cascade range.

After you leave Red Bluff, you drive another hour+ northeast toward Mt Lassen.  It's a pretty desolate part of the state -- essentially no agriculture, no industry, no homes.  Just miles and miles of hot, dry-ass plains and desert. It looks a lot like the Sahara.

  

As you make your way toward Mount Lassen, the terrain becomes increasingly volcanic. At first a few lava balls in the distance...

...and then a LOT of volcanic matter everywhere.

All the while, Mt Lassen looms in the distance.  Even in 90 degree weather in June during a drought year, the mountain remains snow capped.  Pretty gorgeous.

This landscape remains more or less consistent as you climb from sea level up to 3,000 feet elevation.  And then, just a few miles from the town of Manton, the landscape changes instantly and dramatically: One moment there's parched desert everywhere as far as the eye can see...and then you cross a small, fast moving stream to enter Manton and everything is immediately lush and verdant.

It's kind of a freak of nature: A network of spring-fed creeks and mountain streams pouring off Lassen and other neighboring mountains, and they all converge around the town of Manton. It's a genuine oasis.

The town of Manton, itself, is super small, sparsely populated, and has a definitive rural hillbilly vibe. My own earliest childhood memories are of living in a trailer in a rural 1,100 person town in Vermont, so I don't say any of this lightly or while looking down my nose -- but still: Manton, CA is certified backwoods. The local guys working in the vineyard with us were sharp as a tack, experienced, far more physicaly capable than myself and incredibly friendly and cool...but they still look like extras from Deliverance.

The demography of Manton is pretty wild, too -- this is not your typical California town.  The most recent US Census says the average per capita income in Manton is below $20k/year, there are zero same sex couples in the town, there are less than 20 people under the age of 20, and in the last decade the 18 square mile town has dropped from 380 residents to 342, with the majority or residents over the age of 50. In other words, Manton, CA is the Boonies and it's becoming more Boonies-like every year.

Anyhow, all of the above is back story.  The point of this post is to shine a light on the vines and the wines.  The vineyards I toured in Manton are nothing short of incredible.  Almost everything I saw is super old, own-rooted (ungrafted), organically farmed, dry farmed, bush trellised, and the vines dig deep into iron rich, loamy volcanic soils.  And unlike most vineyards in California, there is very little plowing done throughout the year.  That means the tall grasses, flowers, bugs, birds and everything that makes my favorite vineyards in Europe so memorable all exists in spades in Manton  -- and it's all been this way since the early/mid 1900's. Not because it's some viticultural utopia; but rather because Manton is so depressed and off the beaten path that no economic engine for change has existed since vines were planted by European immigrants almost a century ago.  Everything just stays the same...

And just like in my favorite vineyards in rural Italy or France, it's all about polyculture in Manton. Grape vines share space with tomatoes, home gardens, pastures for livestock and ancient oaks and conifers. Walking these vineyards feels a lot like being in an ancient vineyard in Sicily.  ...except it's ancient Chardonnay, Cabernet Franc, Tempranillo instead of Nerello or Carricante.

Anyhow, the reason I was in Manton for the day was to help my friends and new Farm Wine signees, Populis/Les Lunes/Ama wines.  Ama Wines is Martha Stoumen (former assistant winemaker @ COS and currently Chris Broc's right hand lady) and Diego Roig (Formerly @ Williams Selyem).  Les Lunes is Sam Baron and Shaunt Oungoulian, both who were at Dom. Valette in the Macon, COS etc.  Together, all four of these guys collaborate and make the Populis wines.  So, basically it's three different labels all made in the same shared cellar by varying combinations of the same four folks.  From left to right, this is Martha, Diego, Sam and Shaunt:

They are very silly people who are very serious about wine.

Despite their impressive bona fides and obvious talent/expertise/work ethic, these guys have no money. The vineyards they farm (and they do farm them themselves, btw) are immaculate, 100% dry farmed, organic, but...the winemaking is super low budget and old school.  Everything is vinified and aged in a minimally appointed (but still gravity flow!) basement cellar near my house in the East Bay.

And when I say the "cellar" is "gravity flow", what I really mean is that these guys dump fruit into plastic sewer piping, snake it through a broken window and into a basement where the fruit is crushed mostly under foot.  It then is fermented in what they called "plastic botte" (actually 12hl polymer tanks. lol) and then into old neutral oak barrels. Aside from a borrowed press one day and one small pump, there isn't a single piece of modern winemaking equipment.  Pretty rad.



So anyhow, I'm really looking forward to sharing these wines.  The first one is a blend of 3/4 own-rooted Chardonnay planted in the early 1970's + 1/4 Colombard planted in the 1960's.  The second is massale selection Carignan planted in 1948.  Great, super pure and delicious wines.  Party time.

Ermes Pavese Vineyard Photos (2014)

Kevin Kelley's Incredible Petillant Naturel

I'm pretty amped up to pass along a little sneak preview of something very exciting that's coming down the pipeline in early December:

A few weeks ago my brother and I ambushed Kevin Kelley (Salinia, NPA, etc) on a Saturday night at his cellar where he greeted us with two unfinished, partially 2nd-fermented flutes of one of the most fascinating and exciting local wines I've had in a really long time:  A 100% redwood valley, mendocino sauvignon petillant naturel, comprised of a blend of primarily 2011 wine, plus a touch of 2010 skin fermented wine added for depth and alcohol (the 2011 base wine started off at a mere 10.9%abv!).  The final introduction of fresh juice necessary for second fermentation in bottle comes from this year's 2012 sauvignon harvest - but no additions, no filtering/fining, no packaged champagne yeasts, no disgorging, and zero sulfites.  We could tell immediately that the wine was going to become deliciously rustic and wild stuff when finished...if it finished, that is.  

After all, bottling true petillant naturel is a process I've heard numerous winemakers regard as amongst the most challenging and risky in all of winemaking:  Underestimating the percentage of fresh juice means no bubbles.  Overestimating the percentage means too many bubbles and exploding bottles.  Unhealthy fruit and/or too much sulfite means a stuck fermentation in the bottle, that may or may not reawaken months later and result in - you guessed it - more exploding bottles.  And you only get once chance per vintage, so growers who experiment with petillant in the cellar often give up after cleaning up a lot of broken glass and wasted wine.

Anyhow, Kevin's petillant was obviously still midway through the second fermentation and weeks away from completion: quite cloudy, with present, but not fully developed bubbles.  Similarly, the wine's aromatics were still in a primary/stone-fruit state, versus the intense minerality and more subtle, almost beer-like qualities that would ultimately (hopefully!) define the finished product.  But awkward adolescence aside, we could already tell it was going to be an incredible wine. 

Those of you who were able to try last year's "Taken Rustic" from Kevin, can consider it a prototype of sorts for the upcoming release.  "Taken Rustic" received an avalanche of press and buzz, and many of you have asked me about it following its mysterious introduction and immediate disappearance from the market last year (40cs were produced - and largely consumed at NoPa, Slanted Door, and by my mother).  Regardless, I think you'll find this year's incarnation even more refined and expressive.  Whereas last year's wine was a first time experiment, this wine is the result of numerous trials&errors over the past 12mos to perfect the temperature, balance of fresh juice:fermented, and technique necessary to produce a true, delicious petillant naturel.  The closest analogs to which I can equate these wines are Movia's "Puro" or Camillo Donati's Malvasia...but Kevin's sparkling wines are even more intense in mineral/texture, while still being driven by lees/fruit.  Perhaps most thrillingly - and unlike many petillant naturel's from the EU - the wine is built for the cellar and evolves dramatically:  I ordered last year's bottling at NoPa recently, and after 12mos in bottle, all the subtle funk and cider/beer-like qualities have fallen away to reveal a delicate, extremely pure and gin-clear sparkling wine.  In short, it's very exciting, incredible stuff, and there is *nothing* like it made in this country.

So, the happy ending to this post is that Kevin delivered me three sample bottles of the finished wine a few days ago and it is just outstanding:  without question, one of the most soulful, pure, and outright delicious domestic wines I've ever tasted; one glass of which will make even the most devoutly europhile wine drinker fall deeply back in love with Calfornia wine.  Aromatically, it is just bursting with pineapple and stone fruit + the almost lemongrass-like tang from the 10% 2010 skin-fermented fruit.  On the palate, it is grippy, tart, and bone dry.  

Kevin is only bottling a few hundred cases of this wine, and despite the considerable cost of the project (heavy duty Champagne bottles for this one wine, alone, cost $10K), he is pricing the wines at a virtually non-existent profit margin that will allow it to be poured by the glass at our favorite restaurants, and at an incredibly reasonable and sub-industry standard price.  In order for the project to continue the price will necessarily have to increase in future vintages, but for now, everyone just wants the wine to get out into the world and into glasses for the holidays.  

L'Chaim.

Renardat-Fache

Mid-Summer is always a skitzophrenic time for me.  It's right about the point when, every year, I start getting bored with wine.  All I want to do is hike, eat fresh produce, and be away from alcohol, restaurants and my cellphone.  And being the mental case that I am, I soon start worrying that I'm not cut out for the wine business, that I should be doing something foolish like helping children or working to save the environment, and that This Is My Last Summer Carrying A Bag.  This temporary infection of healthfulness and professional insecurity typically lasts 4-6 weeks...or until right about the time the new vintage of alpine French wines arrive.  Because as soon as that container lands, immediately all I can think about is sharing these fresh wines with their existing small cult of followers, converting those who've never tasted them, and gulping them down, myself, with all manner of fatty alpine french foods.

Cerdon

Elie is the biggest boss you've seen thus far.

Perhaps the most exciting, and limited of all these wines is Renardat-Fache's Bugey Cerdon.  I realize that many - if not most - of you have had Cerdon before, and we can all agree that even the cheapest, shittiest, most industrial versions of this demi-sec sparkling Gamay-based wine are still pretty delicious!  Having said that, I am humbled that the portfolios I represent hold more than a few "best in the appellation" growers, and that in the region surrounding the village of Cerdon (a tiny, tiny town wedged deep into one of the Bugey's many valleys, just off the highway between Lyon and Geneva), Renardat-Fache is an obvious one. 



For me, there are myriad reasons that make this THE wine in the appellation, but I'll stick to the big ones:

1) There are 170 hectares of land under vines in Cerdon.  163 of those hectares are Gamay, and 6 are Poulsard.  3 of those 6 hectares of Poulsard are, and always have been, the property of Renardat-Fache.  Elie is a HUGE fanatic about Jura reds, and particularly those of Pierre Overnoy, and though the vines are far lower yielding and more difficult to farm, he is proud to have them play a starring role in the family's wine.  And ultimately, the inclusion of a significant volume of Poulsard is why the wines retain an extra degree of texture and depth that you won't find in other Cerdon.  ...and it's also a major contributor, for me, why the wines are not just simple dessert wines, but also ideal as an appertif, or with liver or charcuterie:

the best head cheese and pork belly i've ever had.  from here.

2) The overwhelming majority majority of Cerdon is fermented either by direct-injection carbonation (like soda), or industrial méthode champenoise (like cava).  Elie Renardat-Fache employs "ancestral method" which involves a) partial primary fermentation in tank for many months at very low temperatures to 6% abv, then b) second fermentation for bubbles and an additional 2.5 degrees of alcohol, then c) the sparkling wine is taken out of the bottle by an impressive and quite elaborate device (below) which maintains the wine's natural pressure while removing lees and preventing fermentation to "dry"...and then E) the wine is re-bottled in a second, and final vessel.  Needless to say, this is quite a complex process just to produce a few thousand bottles of $15 sparkling pink wine...but then you taste it and realize why Elie's gone the extra mile. 

3)  These are seriously some of the most dramatic, steepest vineyards I've ever seen in my life.  Steeper than the Mosel, steeper than the Ribera Sacra - STEEP:

4) Kids love dipping their 1,700-calorie sugary butter tart in it.

-Al

Cantina Noussan.  Saint-Chrisophe, Valle d'Aosta, IT

After spending some time in the Valle d'Aoste in June 2012, I can say with confidence that Franco Noussan is bottling the freshest, realest, most  un-tinkered with wines in the region. Granted, there is plenty of solid wine made there and due to the virtual absence of barriques and an apparent local affinity for tart, low-abv% reds (i.e. my soft spot), I enjoyed almost everything I drank there...but no bottles we opened even approached the raw purity of Franco's wines. I don't want to waste anybody's time with a bunch of wine nerd babble, but below are a few observations:

Franco Noussan

Franco
Franco is a stocky, barrel-chested, +/-5'8" guy whose energy, enthusiasm, and outward kindness make it easy to forget that he's a grandfather, and well into his 7th decade on the planet. Save a blown out hip, there is nothing "old" about him (and while the pictures don't show it, his facial features and expressions are very similar to my boss Jeff Vierra's).  Franco lives with his wife in a slate-roofed farmhouse above one of his vineyards in the village of Saint-Christophe. He works at a local community college and makes wine when he's not doing that. He works all the vines himself, does all the cellar work himself, and the only assistance he takes is from family during the harvest. Franco is a boss.

Geography/Vineyards
The landscape here is unlike anything I've seen in all my 13yrs of wine travel - The scale and severity of the peaks that loom over the vineyards is just jaw-dropping. I thought I'd seen it all at Foradori, but this takes the cake. Most of the vineyards are in the town of St. Christophe, which is really just a tiny 30-house neighborhood a few miles north of Aosta above the highway between Torino and Mt Blanc. Once you get below the snowline in this part of the region, the landscape is just trees and a cleared land for agriculture. The soil is extremely mineral-poor and rocky, and there is NO water so everybody has to irrigate young vineyards, and we saw very few vines that didn't have some "emergency" irrigation...that's always a bummer for me to see, but whatever. I think it's worth mentioning that I saw zero limestone or granite - In the past, reps have told me about the various soil types of their growers in the region, but I didn't see or hear shit: clay and rocks, that's it. Franco has an amazing patchwork of tiny vineyards: 15 parcels scattered all around a 20min perimeter surrounding his house, with all different grapes, vine ages, aspects etc. The grand total is <9ha, though, so it's still a pretty small operation, even by LDM standards. 

The Cellar
In a small, tight, low-ceilinged cellar dug into the hillside underneath his house, Franco keeps one of the cleanest work spaces I've ever seen in the business. It's evident that the guy doesn't have much in the way of money or resources to work with (his wines sell for <7 €/bottle in Italy), and I suspect this has something to do with why his tanks are gleaming and the grout between his floor tiles is bleached - It almost feels like a hospital. Anyhow, everything is fermented in 200-300L stainless steel tanks, with no new wood for anything (we had one pinot w/ neutral wood, but that was it).  The "flow chart" looks something like: small pneumatic press>small stainless tanks>no starter yeasts or bullshit>no tech, filtering, or any trickery after fermentation. 

Wines
Franco Makes: Pinot Gris, Pinot Nero, Torrette, a blend called "Cuvee de la Cote", and some delicious LH Pinot Gris. We've all worked with the Torrette before, but the "Cuvee" and Pinot Gris really surprised and stuck out to me. Cuvee de la Cote is an old vine blend from parcels near his house in St. Christophe: a little more minerality and fruit than the Torrette. The Pinot Gris was a perfect stylistic mid-point between Alsace & NE Italian "pinot grigio": really simple, and fucking great. 

-AL