Randy Olsen at the National Geographic Society

I had the esteemed pleasure of hearing Randy Olson's lecture on his work this past Friday at the National Geographic Society in Washington DC. For those unfamiliar with Randy Olsen, he is a social photo-journalist with NGS, who quite frankly, takes phenomenal photos of humanity in all its forms. Not only was I treated to his amazing photos and his fantastic commentary (we all plagued the poor man during the reception), but the reception featured a wine I had nearly forgotten, La Créma's deliciously creamy chardonnay. For those of us on a budget (myself included), might I suggest this wine?

For $18 dollars, this chardonnay exhibits a vibrant bouquet with citrus and apricot notes. On the palate it is warm and creamy, with buttercream, honey, and pear flavors creating a rich fullness in the mouth. It finishes smoothly with caramel undertones. For ease of consumption and price, this is often the wine I choose to serve. Pair it with pastas and light fare.

As for Randy Olson, I highly suggest you look up his work. He's a reluctant speaker, but once he gets going, there's a whole wealth of knowledge there. I managed to get him talking about how different cultures interact with strangers. He related an experience where he stood outside of a home in Turkey, and was fed, whereas if he had tried that here in DC, he would have conversely gone hungry. I wonder sometimes if our culture eliminates the enjoyment of humanity; we sprint between job and home without enjoy the great farce that is the human race. We hurry about our lives without giving notice to our neighbors or those around us. A few months ago, a great violinist played inside of a metro stop here in DC. Very few noticed the beauty resonating from his instrument; they needed to get to work. Perhaps we all need to slow down.

But I digress, in the spirit of this piece... slow down... drink more wine.

The Monticello Wine Festival

$15 dollars and 20 wineries from the heart of Virginia's Wine Country (and you could get crabcake sandwiches!) Needless to say, I was ecstatic that my brother agreed to accompany me to the tents of the Monticello Wine Festival on that rainy sunday. Hosted by the wineries of the Monticello wine trail, the event sported artisan food, music, and most importantly, handcrafted wine from the wineries of the Charlottesville Region.

A chill wind wound through the fields and chased off all the riff-raff and less the loud drunken crowds of UVA students, left the festival open for long chats with the hosts. Not to say we necessarily took this luxury with all wineries, but we did enjoy several relaxed chats about terroir.

I won't discuss all of the wineries in attendance for two reasons: 1)there were far too many to reach in one day and 2) some have not reached their stride yet, and do not deserve bad reviews in return for inexperience and underdeveloped terroir- give them time, they'll get there yet.

I'll begin with the Veritas, clearly one of the bigger players at the festival, and consequently one of the few that actually provided bins for excess wine and water (the others expected you to throw it in the grass- hey, it was raining, it'll wash away). Our wine was poured by an affable young lady, who though unable to answer some of my questions about growing conditions, provided a cheery and warm environment despite the chilly wind. Though most of Veritas' wines exhibited excellent body, nothing stood out save for one: The Vintner's Reserve. Our hostess winked as she poured the ruby wine, "We don't usually pour this." Now, for vinos, this is the siren's call. If you tell us that we're special, we'll usually buy it. Though, in this case, the exclusivity was worth it: the wine was my favorite of the day. The nose exhibited warm strawberry notes and the color shone deep ruby-red. Exquisitely balanced, the wine sported strong raspberry and red fruit on the palate without sacrificing the tannic structure. Now, I like oak (even in chardonnay!) but too much oak can turn a fantastic wine south very quickly. Veritas expertly balanced the oak flavors, leading to the smoothest red of the day. The finish was full with creamy vanilla and caramel flavors. No, I didn't buy any, but this one goes down in the books. Fantastic alone, or paired with rich meats. $25-Veritas Vineyard and Winery- www.veritaswines.com.

Unfortunately, the wines went downhill from this point on. Not that they were all bad (some, yes) but the day started with a fantastic red- a hard act to follow. From the Kluge Estate, notables included a fresh and wonderfully dry Blanc-de-Blancs Brut, and the New World Red. The Blanc-de-Blancs exhibited a zest that sorely lacked in this festival of chardonnays and would pair excellently with rich fish courses as well as full-flavored hors-d'oeuvres. The New World Red was surprisingly smooth, though lacking in body despite the tasting notes claims, making it an excellent sipping wine.

This next winery I would have left to the "too young" category but I felt I had to report a previous review by a good friend of mine. She had returned from Afton Mountain Vineyards, announcing that their wines tasted like "feet." Consequently, I now pronounce only one wine at the winery to deserve this title. The rest, some actually quite tasty, deserve far nicer descriptions. In fact, their Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon exhibited raspberries and blackberry notes and a spicier fullness on the palate with some of the harsher tannins of the day. However, I do concur, that their Gewürztraminer did taste vaguely of feet. None of the delightful honey, caramel, orange peel, spice of the grape I fell in love with. Though I admit, I'm impressed that they got it to grow.

I drive by Prince Michel Vineyard and Winery every time I visit my brother. I refer to it as "that place with the gaudy wineglass sculptures." So frankly I expected similar brough-haha in their wines. Conversely the only notables would be the Prince Michel Symbius, which was a pleasant Meritage, exhibiting the smooth chocolate and blackberry flavors characteristic of this blend, and the Mt. Juliet Petit Manseng, which smelled like a bouquet of exotic flowers. Perhaps the sculptures are compensation?

My brother had never tried a Norton wine, so we made our way to the Horton Cellars tent. At this point the rain decided to unleash the floodgates, so we hunkered down to taste every fruit wine they had (as well as the usuals). OH the fruit wines; lovely fruits blended with the vibrant viognier. These were simply enjoyable. I will not try to pass judgement on sugary one-note beverages, but nonetheless these were just like drinking jolly ranchers (fantastic!). Their Rkatsiteli, though hardly in competition with Dr. Frank of the Finger Lakes, makes a delightful summer wine with citrus notes and a crisp, even finish. Altogether, Horton takes the prize for embracing the terroir and the locale, producing fun and addictive wines, despite not producing the highest quality of the more common grapes.

We passed from the festival damp but happy, running through the rain to the car. We hadn't reached all the tents, but certainly made a good dent. I hope to review some of these wineries individually in the future, as to provide a more thorough review of their wines (as opposed to what I did or did not enjoy). Until then, the judgement remains undecided on the Monticello wines.

Williamson Wines

Imagine the palate of a wine newbie. For those who skipped this phase, or fail to remember it, I can only describe it as blunt. More or less comparable to feeling the nuances of delicate lace with a catchers mitt. Now imagine tasting your favorite wine, encumbered thusly. So began the palates of my comrade and I as we traversed the rolling hills north of San Francisco. Hardly, tactful to say the least.

But then we walked into the Williamson Wines tasting room, located in the amicable town of Healdsburg, Sonoma County. Small, but expertly decorated in mute earth tones, and accented with deep, red woods, we instinctively felt out of place. The constant driving left our clothes unpressed, and we hardly seemed the proper cliental for such a, forgive me, "classy place." Nonetheless, the Australian couple behind the bar claimed otherwise and quickly invited us alongside two apparently wealthy couples from Los Angeles. Dawn Williamson poured us our first glass, a smooth buttery Chardonnay that exhibited a perfect balance of oak and robust fruit flavors–I was floored. In my naïveté, I assumed I wasn't a Chardonnay person. On the contrary, I prefer a more balanced Chardonnay–one which harmonizes oak with the other flavors of the wine. This Chardonnay exhibited a rich buttery, oak flavor that corresponded with the delicate acidity of bright, green apple notes. Dawn detected my surprise. "French Oak," she said. I unleashed my full ignorance, and prodded her for information. Turns out, Williamson Wines insist on using French Oak, and only French Oak in their craft. Why? Dawn began on an elaborate description as to the benefits of French versus American, old versus new, oak barrels. She insisted that the balance that I so enjoyed, was a direct result of aging the wine in both new and old barrels, and that the oak itself imparted that delightful buttery, vanilla flavor.

So began the discussion of French winemaking techniques, culminating in the presentation of the winery's cabernet sauvignon, made of grapes from the Dry Creek Valley. In my previous post, I discussed my young palate's distaste for the California "Big Cab," and frankly, I wasn't too excited when they poured this. Bill Williamson, who previously determined that the two students standing at his bar were both biochemists, pulled peppered salami from beneath the bar, and began his lecture. He first explained the action of the acid in the wine on lipids and instructed us to taste the wine on its own. Again, I nearly lost footing. I had it all wrong! What I blamed on the grape merely demonstrated a lack of craft. Beautiful, rich blackberries sparred with a delicate spice, in this delightfully full bodied wine. Then the salami–this was no wine to be toyed with; it sparkled next to the spice of the salami, simultaneously invigorating the flavor of the meat, while maintaining its own complexity. Isn't this what a wine should be? Capable of enjoyment both with, and without the companionship of food? And so the bar was set at an unfortunately early hour for my future wine tasting lifestyle. For those unfamiliar with Williamson wines, let me say this–the wineries of Napa couldn't keep my attention.
Though, I haven't discussed all of the wines produced by Williamson here, every wine I experienced presented exquisite quality for the price.

Unfortunately (fortunately for Napa), Williamson is not a wide distributor of their wines. In fact, my residence in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains ensures that my pocketbook remains well protected from the lures of these amazing wines. However, for those with the purses to make the commitment, the winery offers an exclusive wine club with access to most, if not all of their production. Information can be found at their website (which I strongly encourage visiting–it's very educational) at Williamson Wines. I hope to return in the near future, to impart a more thorough review and to experience the new flavors emitting from this lovely craft winery.

Bottom Line: Amazing wines, for an appropriate price. 4 out of 5

Contact:

Williamson Wines

P.O. Box 848

Geyserville, CA 95441

website: Williamson Wines

phone: 707.473.0193

Beginnings

I am a scientist. I don't write for fun. At least I didn't. My idea of a good read involves benzene and ethanol...fancy that.

I graduated, with two degrees in chemistry and biochemistry, and realized that traditional labwork (the hiding in a dark corner kind) failed to coax me from bed each morning (hopefully a temporary condition). I launched a crusade, traveling around the country to escape the monotony, sleeping on the cliffs of the Grand Canyon, wandering through giant trees, and swimming in raging rivers. Officially I was in a ducky, but these don't readily stay above the waterline). Overall, I stopped at all cheesy roadstops, and developed an impressive tan (for me at least).

But how could I drive through the wine capital of the Americas without stopping? I passed through Napa quickly, enjoying a few (overpriced) tastings, but failed to connect with the owners who considered the collegiate sort a waste of effort. Frankly the wines fell flat. Not until Sonoma did I develop a true admiration for wine and its complexities. Though I tried sufficient amounts of excellent wine to develop an acute palate, I didn't understand what I was tasting for, or why one thing was "good" versus "bad." I drank like a student with access to free alcohol–raving at sweet ports and rosés, but recoiling at the traditional California favorite…big cabs. It took a vibrant Aussie husband and wife team to hone my taste buds. I won't discuss them in full now–they deserve an entire post devoted to their winery, but much of what I "love" about wine developed from that tasting. I want to share these gems. The little known wineries who barely make their way with fantastic wines (often far cheaper than the big names). These are the places where the owners pour the wine, and when prodded can tell you the soil acidity for that particular acre.

I like to combine travel and wine...in fact, I rarely do one without the other. Hauling a brilliant Tuscarora Red from Rockbridge Wineries to the summits of Mt. Marcy, Saddleback, and Basin seems expected at this point. Besides, it relieves the painful feet. Seems that the trailblazers of the Adirondacks failed to understand the concept of a "Switchback." Travel and wine seem natural bed mates, especially considering how we usually only attend tastings on vacation, whereas the the local supermarket suits just fine for dinner. Both are opulent and dynamic. So it should come as no surprise that the two are inseparable in my writing. For those who like to stay home, bear with me, this will be a wild ride.

This is a blog celebrating the diversity and versatility of wine. I visit the wineries where craft trumps cash (or are conveniently located near a trailhead, owned by computer geeks who speak my language, or generally fill the "eccentric" genre), not those who appeared in last months "Wine Spectator." Though, I can't avoid them, since I don't read the thing. Nonetheless, I want to share my wine and travel experiences and hopefully keep you entertained in the meantime. After experiencing the spice of Napa, the bright fruits of Sonoma, and the sweet of the Finger Lakes, I want to share the flavors of our country–and maybe prevent some bad dinner pairings.