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Updating Washington's wine bible,
This review is from: Washington Wines and Wineries: The Essential Guide (Hardcover)
As the wine guru at the Seattle Times, Paul Gregutt is the best-known wine writer in the state. Three years ago, to great acclaim, he published his "essential guide" to Washington wines and wineries. The second edition, just released, provides a few necessary updates and several welcome refinements.
For starters, Washington now has something like 650 bonded wineries, and nothing short of a phone book is going to be all-encompassing. Instead, Gregutt focuses his attention on the 200 or so wineries that offer quality and innovation (double the number in the first book). His first edition named 13 "leaders," 30 "specialists," followed by "bench" wineries and "rookies." The industry keeps growing, and now it's time to reassess. The top rank is now called "Five Stars" and includes 10 newcomers. One "leader," Matthews Cellars, has been kicked off the field, persued by unhappy investors. A second, Hedges Family Estate, was demoted (unfairly, in my view), compromised perhaps by becoming too popular. Even so, Chateau Ste. Michelle retains its spot despite (deservedly in my view) its commercial success). Eyebrows may well be raised by the promotion of K Vintners to five-star rank, especially since Charles Smith Wines (same owner) already has a (gulp) four-star rating. It's good to see Brian Carter promoted from rookie to four stars, good to see Fielding Estates awarded top rank despite its lack of a modern winery, good to see attention focused on Corliss (four stars for now) for the potential of its financial underwriting.
The star of the book is not a winery but a place, Red Mountain, an unpreposessing, "brownish lump of half-baked bread" at the eastern end of the Yakima Valley. It's the most homogenous of Washington's delimited growing zones (referred to as American Viticultural Areas), and, at 4,000 acres, the smallest. The Department of Natural Resources has sunk a couple of deep-bore wells to irrigate the vineyards, which supply grapes to 15 estate wineries on the mountain and to buyers around the state.
There are thousands of vineyards growing dozens of grape varieties in the state's 11 AVAs, and some, to be sure are better than others. Some have natural advantages of place, others are exceptionally well managed. You can't say the same of a commodity crop like corn, for example; vinifera grapes are the essential raw material for fine wine, and it takes experience to spot the potential of great cabernet, say, "on the hoof." The top vineyards in Gregutt's book are Boushey, Cayuse, Celilo. Champoux, Ciel du Cheval, and Klipsun. Not household names, except to wine geeks who understand that it's the vineyard, more than anything else, that determines what a wine will taste like. All wine starts in the vineyard; the winemaker's job is not to "craft" the wine but to stay out of the way. ("Crafting" is what you do after you've screwed up.) Then it's the marketing department's job to sell the bottles. (That's where Charles Smith of K Vintners excels.)
It's a well-written, well-edited book that should be read for more than reference material. Wonderful anecdotes, for instance. Industry veteran Allen Shoup weighs in on the high price he paid for the experimental Wallula Vineyard, with a spectacular view overlooking the Columbia River. The Den Hoed family had planted a dozen "lesser" varieties (barbera, dolcetto, tempranillo) on its small, terraced plots; Shoup renamed it The Benches and will use its grapes for his new Longshadows venture: "It's too valuable for experimenting."
Gregutt is a scrupulous writer (you've got to read his blog) and humble reviewer, who, like a plate umpire, does no more than call them as he sees them. You want to quibble over his numbers, you're out of luck; Gregutt is pretty much the only game left. National bigshots from the syndicated newsletters blow into town from time to time and anoint their predictable favorites, but Gregutt's here all year long, writing and tasting. You can live without the new edition, but only if you have the original. To have both is like having a second case of Leonetti for everyday drinking, an embarrassment of riches.