Hannah Wallace

Oregon Wine Getaways

Though I'm a native Oregonian, I'd never ventured to the wineries in the southern part of the state—until researching this 12-page story for the October issue of Portland Monthly. But those full-bodied tempranillos and cabernet francs were some of my absolute favorites during the month-long research trip I conducted in July. 

Those and the pinots from Belle Pente, Bethel Heights, Cristom, De Ponte Cellars, Evesham Wood, Eyrie, Lemelson, Lenné, and... Let's just say that Oregonians are spoiled.

I also got to interview maverick winemaker John Paul Cameron about dry farming and the Deep Roots Coalition (a group of Oregon winemakers committed to not irrigating their vines); talk to chef Christopher Czarnecki about where he sources wild mushrooms for the Joel Palmer House in Dayton; and research the latest kerfuffle on closures. (Short version: a handful of Oregon winemakers believe red wines age just as well—if not better—with screw caps as they would with cork closures.)

In addition to the five weekend itineraries in the feature, I suggest a few excursions that make perfect day trips from Portland (which got pushed to the web due to lack of space in the magazine).  So if you just have one day to experience wine country, my recommendations are Hawks view Cellars, Big Table Farm, the adorable town of Carlton, or a bike trip with Pedal Bike Tours.

Personally, I'm excited about the afternoon cheesemaking classes at Kookoolan Farms, which in October include Mozzarella 101, Washed Curds, and Italian Hard Cheeses (all taught by Willamette Valley cheesemakers). Owner Chrissie Zaerpoor told me that the $50 class fee includes generous tastings of topically relevant cheese as well as homemade kombucha. (She and her husband Koorosh also sell everything you need to make cheese at home at their farm store: rennet, curd cutting knives, thermometers, molds, enzymes, and even acid-testing kits.)

Beyond Organic Wine

Food trends are typically followed by parallel trends in wine. Witness the recent focus on organic, biodynamic, and local wines—at restaurants and wine shops across the country. But, just as the locavore movement has begun spurning mere organic produce (consecrating “beyond organic” farmers such as Joel Salatin as movement heros), fans of terroir—let’s call them terroir-ists—are touting something called natural wines. 

For a quick primer, read my blog about natural wine bars (and restaurants with extensive natural wine selections), published in T: Magazine's The Moment blog. If you haven’t read Alice Feiring’s book The Battle for Wine and Love, you should. (For Alice Feiring’s definition of natural wines, see here. There is, so far, no certification process or label for natural wines.)

The Politics of "Green Wine"—and Added Sulfites

This post originally appeared on the Faster Times, generating dozens of comments. Clearly the subject of what does, indeed, cause a red wine headache is still controversial—and it's still up for debate.

A few weeks ago, I posted an article about natural wines—just one of the many "green" wines that are getting more attention (and accolades) these days. There's also certified organic wine. Wine made from organic grapes. Biodynamic wine. And—murkiest of all—"sustainable" wine.

A friend recently posted on Facebook that she'd finally come to the conclusion that she can't drink red wine anymore—she wakes up in the middle of the night with raging headaches. Several people (including me) posted that she's probably sensitive to sulfites and that she should give sulfite-free wines a try. (Another friend posited that it was the histamines in red wine that give people headaches—this actually seems more plausible to me since white wines typically contain more sulfites than red. Reds have more natural preservatives in the form of tannins.) 

A discussion ensued about which wines do and do not contain sulfites. Here's the scoop: all wines contain some naturally-occurring sulfites—they are produced by yeast during the fermentation process. In the U.S. any wine that is "USDA Certified Organic" cannot contain any added sulfites. Those organic wines that do contain small amounts of added sulfites are labeled "made from organic grapes." Winemakers with this label add no more than 100 ppm (parts per million) total sulfites—in the form of sulfur dioxide (known as SO2).

QUEST on KQED Public Media.

This recent radio program from KQED in California tries to clear up some of the confusion about all these different eco-wine categories, including this controversial issue of "added sulfites." Reporter Andrea Kissack talks to so-called biodynamic winemaker Tim Thornhill from Parducci Winery and also interviews skeptics who gripe that natural wines have an "organic funk." Towards the end of the segment, she quizzes Luc Erotran from San Francisco's Terroir Natural Wine Merchant who shuns winemakers who are trying to "surf the green wave" and gives his own definition of natural wines.

According to the Organic Wine Journal, the use of added sulfites is a subject of much debate in the organic winemaking community. "Many vintners favor their use, in extremely small quantities, to help stabilize wines, while others frown on them completely," reads the copy on the Organic Wine Journal's site.

While there's nothing inherently wrong with sulfites—they help wines with any kind of shelf life avoid premature oxidation or possible spoilage—they are a chemical and according to the USDA, 1% of the  population is sensitive to them. For more on the still-mysterious subject of Red Wine Headaches, check out this article by Marian Burros.

Big Wine and an "Omnivore's Dilemma" to Expose It

(This article was originally published in my Food Politics column at the TheFasterTimes.com.)

Thanks to the slew of recent books and movies about our food supply (led by The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Food Inc.), more Americans than ever are aware of where their food comes from and what’s in it. Readers of this column also know that mass-made juice can be loaded with “flavor packs” and concentrates from up to 12 different countries.

But what about wine?

This may come as a surprise, but most of the wine sold in the U.S. today has been processed and adulterated beyond recognition by corporate growers who are intent on maximizing profits. Is nothing sacred?

Over the last 24 hours, I’ve been devouring Alice Feiring’s excellent book The Battle for Wine and Love: or How I Saved the World from Parkerization and am quickly discovering that the wine industry in many ways mirrors the food industry. At many big wineries (both here and around the world), the life is processed out of the grapes even before they appear on the vines (with over-irrigation, which increases yield but also leads to shallow roots and extraripe fruit). Then, during the fermentation process, meddlesome winemakers add everything from industrial yeast, bacteria, and enzymes to tannins and microbial agents—all to “improve” the taste and mouthfeel of a wine, often so it will appeal to a mass-market palate. (OK: they also throw in these additives to speed up the fermentation and control the process. You know, to make the whole thing more scientific.)

Some winemakers are also brandishing hi-tech processes such as micro-oxygenation and reverse osmosis (also called “ultrafiltration”), techniques that allow them to further manipulate wines.

Fiering writes:

In today’s globalized wine scene, winemakers would like to make wine as standardized as possible. Adding industrial yeast to the wine helps. It ensures that fermentation will start and finish when the winemaker wants it to, not according to the whims of nature. This is extremely important when Costco is expecting its new shipment of wine from Gallo in April—plus, the retailer doesn’t want the customer to bring the wine back complaining that it doesn’t taste like last year’s model.

Today, there are hundreds of industrial yeast replicas, including one genetically modified strain that was recently approved for use in the U.S.

At issue here is not food safety or even nutrition (though I wouldn’t be surprised if organic, biodynamic and naturally-made wines turn out to cause less of a hangover and are proven to contain more antioxidants than their processed cousins) but diversity and complexity of flavor.

Feiring believes (and I agree) that these wines are uniformly bland and characterless—they are artificial, their unique terroir masked by the introduction of such “designer yeasts,” chestnut tannins, oak extracts, and other indignities. Often, as Feiring shows, scheming winemakers mess with their vintages solely to achieve a higher score from influential wine critic Robert Parker (which, of course, leads to a surge in sales). After Parker awarded Helen Turley’s rich, syrupy 1993 Zinfandel a whopping 95 points, for example, he started a trend that hasn’t stopped to this day. “The paradigm of a great wine shifted to one big, jammy, oaky fruit bomb,” writes  Fiering. “And the whole industry adjusted accordingly.”

To me, the central dilemma with Big Wine is actually one of transparency. Though I can choose to drink wines that are made in the natural Old World-style, there is no wine labeling law that requires that GMO yeast, tannins, or bacteria (or new-fangled filtering technologies) be disclosed. Even artisanal producers have begun using these “scientific” techniques—but it is unlikely, as Feiring points out, that they’ll divulge them on labels anytime soon.

Part of the pleasure (and risk) of drinking wine comes from savoring its subtle flavors and the ineffable qualities bestowed on the grapes by the terroir, the weather, and the irrigation (and cultivation) methods. Wine made in the Old World style is alive—it changes from year to year and even, once uncorked, from day to day. It has a sense of place.

Feiring’s book is an Omnivore’s Dilemma for the world of wine and winemaking. I just hope it raises the same level of awareness and appreciation for Old World winemaking techniques as Pollan’s book has for polyculture and sustainably-farmed, honest-to-goodness food.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to seek out small producers who create authentic natural wines—people like Oregon vintners Russ Raney of Evesham Wood, Brian O’Donnell of Belle Pente, Jason Letts at Eyrie, and John Paul at Cameron.  (These wines are at the forefront of my mind since I’ve just returned from Oregon. Know any amazing natural wines from other regions?  Please share them below.)

Manure Mix=Floral Bouquet? Polyculture at an Oregon Vineyard

(This article was originally published in my Food Politics column at the TheFasterTimes.com.)

The wines at Belle Pente (beautiful slope), a 70-acre farm off a dusty road in Carlton, came highly recommended by Russ Raney. The grapes here are organic and the winery is biodynamic; winemaker Brian O’Donnell is a recent member of the Deep Roots Coalition. Coincidentally, I’d read a brief article in the Oregonian a few days earlier about how Brian and his wife Jill have begun diversifying their vineyard by raising goats and Highland cattle.

Below: Sheep and chardonnay at Belle Pente

Belle Pente is not easy to find, nor is there a tasting room, per se. But we had called ahead and so Brian was expecting us. As we drove up a gravel road, we sped past the O’Donnell’s farm and cellar, it turns out. (After visiting a few of the bigger area wineries that day, we’d come to expect a sign, if not a parking lot.) It wasn’t until we’d reached the crest of the beautiful slope (from which we had a magnificent view of the valley) that we realized Brian had been waving us down from his tractor.

“Vineyards are inherently a monoculture,” Brian told us, as he poured us a glass of dry Muscat from 2007. He and Jill are trying to change that by adding livestock and native plants to their winemaking repertoire. They’ve had the goats for fifteen years—they got them originally to clear the land of broadleaf weeds so they could minimize the use of herbicide, but they also milked them, making cheese for home use. Whereas the goats prefer broadleaves, the sheep like grass—so both animals help maintain the vineyard, while also adding to the “manure mix.” Ultimately, the grass-fed sheep are sold at auction for their meat. “They turn our pasture grass into food for humans,” said Brian.

The chickens, which are a relatively recent addition, eat the annoying cutworms (which had been nibbling on the tender new growth of the vines at night)—the eggs, said Brian, are a nice side benefit. (They sell the surplus to neighbors.)  The Highland cows are also brush eaters; their manure goes into making some of the biodynamic preparations, so the O’Donnells have no need to import it. (Eventually the cows, too, will be sold for meat.) In an attempt to restore as much of an indigenous natural habitat of the region as possible, he’s also begun planting native grasses such as Blue Wildrye, Tufted Hairgrass, and Slender Wheatgrass in the aisles between the vines. Brian also supplements the animals’ diet with white grape skins, which aren’t fermented.

This sort of integrated farming is a key tenet of biodynamic farming. It’s also a smart prevention strategy. “Introducing (or restoring) biodiversity is a key to maintaining a healthy, thriving vineyard environment that will ultimately require fewer costly interventions in terms of pest and disease control,” Brian said.

The Muscat was crisp and floral. Belle Pente is one of only three Oregon winemakers to make a Muscat, a wine that’s typically found in Northern Italy (sometimes in the Alsace). The grapes for this vintage come from a vineyard down the road in the Yamhill-Carlton District, where the vines go deep into the soil, past thick stones and marine sediments.

We tried a 2007 Pinot, which had a minerally character, and a 2006 pinot gris reserve, which, Brian told us, had a a more Alsatian style. Next we sipped the Murto—a jammy pinot that’s sourced from an estate in the Dundee Hills where the soil is volcanic. It had a spicy kick and a deep earthiness; I could’ve easily had a full glass. Or two.

Since I wasn’t driving, I also wasn’t spitting as my boyfriend and Brian so elegantly were. (I have yet to master the art of elegantly spitting. Plus, when a wine is so delish, spitting seems like a travesty—even if it is early afternoon and you haven’t eaten lunch yet.)

So forgive me, because this is where my notes lose their precision. I did scribble in my notebook that we talked about the principals of biodynamics, which include lunar cycles, preparations (spraying the vines with silica and highly concentrated compost) and integrated farming techniques. I asked Brian how a New Yorker like him ended up on a remote vineyard in Oregon (he fell in love with wines while working for Intel and HP in Mountain View, California in the 80’s), and, as we tasted more wines—an Estate Reserve Pinot Noir with dark black fruit and an excellent estate grown Chardonnay that had just the right balance of oak (it’s barrel fermented but with old oak—a 50/50 mix of French and Oregon oak)—we discussed other risk-taking winemakers such as Branco Cotar in Slovenia and Gravner in Italy. (Gravner, Brian said, is “pushing the envelope.”)

Though there is something exceedingly romantic and right about drinking a wine in the region where the grapes are harvested, I had to ask: where can I find Belle Pente wines in New York City?  Surprisingly, they are distributed to 15 states—including New York. Among the NYC restaurants who carry it are such foodie destinations as Cru, Gramercy, and 11 Madison. Still, unable to resist, we bought a few bottles for friends and family before thanking Brian and bidding him farewell.

The Belle Pente Vineyards at Dusk (courtesy of Belle Pente)

Evesham Wood and the Importance of Deep Roots

(This article was originally published in my Food Politics column at the TheFasterTimes.com.)

Last week, while visiting my family in Salem, I made a stop at Evesham Wood (one of my favorite U.S. wineries) to talk to owner and winemaker Russ Raney.  (Full disclosure: he and his wife attended the same church as my folks so I’ve been a champion of their wines since they founded Evesham Wood in the mid-1980’s.)  I was eager to taste his certified organic pinot noirs and French-style chardonnay but also to hear how the recent heat wave had affected his vineyards and the grapes.

I’d noticed, as we drove up the sloping hillside towards the Raney house (the wine cellar, which is modest in size, is appropriately tucked under the Raney home), how green and lush the vineyard looked. It was a hot, dry Oregon summer day and there appeared to be no sprinklers or irrigation pipes anywhere in sight.

When I asked Russ his secret, he launched into an animated discussion about the importance of not irrigating. It turns out Evesham Wood is a charter member of the Deep Roots Coalition, a group of Oregon growers who spurn artificial irrigation for environmental reasons but also because it affects the resiliency of the vines and, ultimately, the taste of the wine.

“If you irrigate, you can’t taste the difference in the wine from year to year,” Russ said. (Which is sort of the whole point of making and drinking wine, if you think about it: a wine’s unique taste comes from its particular terroir and each vintage is different.) If you don’t irrigate, the vines are forced to go deeper into the soil to find water. They also find minerals there that add to the grapes’ complex flavors.

“The roots grow shallower if they’re irrigated, and they get used to the water,” Russ explained. Whereas, during the week of 105-degree-plus weather, Evesham Wood’s vines—some of which reach as far as five feet down—were just fine because their roots are getting adequate moisture from the soil. By comparison, irrigated vines in the Willamette Valley reach only 14 inches below the surface, tops.

This is why wines from places like Walla Walla, an arid wine region in eastern Washington, are suspect (and, it turns out, controversial)—not only from a water conservation perspective but also from an old-world winemaking point-of-view. Deep Roots purists (the practice is also known as “dry farming”) believe wine should not be grown in dry regions, period.  The vines that get watered with drip irrigation remind me of humans’ reliance on antibiotics: the more we take indiscriminately, the more our bodies require to wipe out serious bacterial infections such as MRSA. Whereas people whose immune systems are strong from years of taking good care of themselves don’t need antibiotics when they get a simple sinus infection or bacterial infection. Their roots are deep.

We tasted some wines directly from the barrels, including a French-style (unoaked) chardonnay and several pinots, discussed the merits of screw caps (best for young whites and rosés, says Russ, not so much for anything that’s red or aged over a few years), and got Russ’s recommendations for other Oregon wineries who are making phenomenal old-world style wines. One of these was Belle Pente Vineyard in Carlton…