A New Job For The Aussie: Guard The Food

I've been told the Australian Shepherd needs a job to keep him busy and it seems ours has been to keep a watchful eye on me, his "lost sheep." When I carried a 37 lbs. bag of food from the car to the house I asked him to "watch it" which kept him occupied a few minutes. As we prepare to retire for the evening he seems anxious to enter the garage where I've set the the bag of food on a table. We step into the garage and he checks the food and all is in order and laps a bowl of water while I wait. When he's done I open the door to enter the house but, out of character, he doesn't follow. "Let him stay there," says the Queen, "He wants to keep an eye on his food." After 9 years, a new job. His other chores over the years have included: gopher check, nezumi check, bird check (to inspect the nets for trapped birds), get the paper (well, he did that once then graduated), take out the trash (which he supervises), owl check (seeing if Owl Gore has left us any presents), throw the dead mouse over the backyard fence (one of his favorites), chew the cork and last but not least, wine tasting (to give us his 1 - 5 lick rating). The next morning, he's in the garage, and with the screen door there, he's able to keep one eye on me rustling around making triple espresso and one eye on his precious.

The Game of Cat & Mouse With Birds Begins

Petit Sirah, a clone developed by Dr. Durif,
ripen early attracting the attention of birds.

The Durif grapes, a clone of Petit Sirah,
are smaller than their cousins above
(as are the leaves), and almost ripe.

As the Durif vines were the first to break bud it's not surprising they are the first to produce ripe grapes, yes even in July, and a game of cat & mouse with the birds has begun. Or, is it better described as a chess match? Birds move to Row 5 Vine #1 and take grapes. (This is not a frontal offensive, but rather a probe and they have found sweet sugar.) Vintner has Queen move nets from the top of the hill to end of Row 5: "Check."

Click here to see what happens next and to learn about the netting of the vines.

Note To Vineyardisto: Next Year Trim the Vines Before the Jungle

One vineyard manager says not to hedge your vines because it promotes lateral growth while other vineyardistos hedge their vines. Then there's Pete Anderson whose answer to most vineyard questions is, "It depends" and I'm appreciating the wisdom of his phrase as I gain more experience each year. I let the vines grow nicely this year and given ample winter rains withheld water (not only to conserve our precious wet resource but to slow the vines) and thinned lateral shoots from the fruiting zone.  As summer arrived and temperatures rose I figured the longer shoots facing sunset would protect grapes from blistering afternoon sunshine so I let them grow.  In fact, they offered too much protection as the vines grew long and thick they blocked not only the sun but flowing air and despite the best efforts of spraying every three weeks, and given the fact that neither neighbors Merlot Mike nor Coyote Karen on the very same spraying regimen have not one spot of mildew on their grapes, we have incubated mildew galore in the jungle areas. Armed with clippers in the pocket and hedgers in hand that put less repetitive stress on these aging joints, I snip, I trim, I cut, I hack and the Queen says the vineyard looks beautiful and I don't disagree and the purpling grapes have been opened up to airflow and sunshine and I make a note to not let the vines grow out of control next year as the Queen starts singing a song about how I should pick up the cuttings.

Vineyard Triage

Hedged Vines

Can good wine be made from hedged vines that have 6 only leaves per cluster in midsummer? Can a cocktail of Rubigan and organic JMS Stylet Oil be applied to combat and eradicate existing mildew on grapes?

Make no mistake. This vineyard is loved. But there comes a time in a man's life when it's difficult to walk up and down that hill, when it's difficult to raise those clippers, when it's difficult to lift that 5-gallon carboy and when it's time to say enough. It was a good run and it's time to pass the baton.

Half the vineyard is a jungle providing shelter for mountain lions, bears and you can imagine the rest. But the other half was hacked, macheted and hedged into submission. "I like to look at it," says the owner about those neat, cleanly shaved rows. The Queen often says the same, "I just want a vineyard to look at," she says, singing a song about how all I ever talk about is temperature and the mildew index. There has been a good grape set (the owner did manage to prune the rows during Winter), but there are only 6 or so leaves per cluster, instead of the usual 12 - 15 after the rows were given a crew cut.

Jungle Vineyard 

Can good wine be made from hedged vines that have 6 only leaves per cluster in midsummer? Can a cocktail of Rubigan and organic JMS Stylet Oil be applied to combat and eradicate existing mildew on grapes?


Beware the Prayer of Jabez, the one that goes "Lord, please increase my land, please multiply my blessings." Be careful what you wish for. I will grab that baton. I will step up. I will take care of this vineyard for you. Behold, my land has been increased.

The clusters of Petit Verdot and Malbec are plentiful, but the vineyard has not been sprayed all year and powdery mildew, something I know much to much about, is in evidence. Since we have Rubigan left (in abundance), I'm thinking a good shot of Rubigan will offer mildew protection for up to 3 weeks, so that one spraying may get us through the season. And, Stylet Oil is said to be an eradicant for mildew.  Can they be combined for one spraying?

Very Neat Rows - Eye Pleasing

I adore this vineyard. It is scenic and the vines, now in their 13th year, are mature and have produced subtle, delicious nectar. We have spilled sweat and blood over this vineyard and Bluey, the Australian Shepherd, cellar master of our winery and our muse, overindulged on grapes from these same vines and somehow survived to tell about it. And the wine, that floral Petit Verdot that inspires scentologists to replicate its fragrance, this is worth the effort.

The vineyard was "dry farmed" last year, meaning no irrigation was used in summer, and plans are to continue the same this year.  With the winter rains we had, and based on last year's results, I don't believe irrigation will be necessary. And the owner says since they were hedged, the vines have been growing back.  On average, about 6 or so leaves per cluster now. My guess is that more leaves will emerge and that in a month there will be longer shoots and that there is a possibility these grapes will ripen and who knows, produce the vintage of a lifetime.

What do the experts say?

A Dog's Nose For Sniffing Wine

I like to think I've taught Bluey (the Australian Shepherd who runs this place) something about wine tasting while he's taught me a few things about wine & cork sniffing. I'm not exactly sure how many thousands-of-times more powerful a dog's nose is to ours, but I've learned to trust Bluey's judgement of wines by the number of times he smacks his lips, the higher number of licks correlating to better wines.

I have never tasted "chocolate" nor "espresso" in wine (although I do not deny their existence), and I'm the first to admit that my palette is unsophisticated. I know what I like and that's good enough for me. As a winemaker, my aim is to make wines that I (and Bluey) like. And if you like our wines, follow-me. I know I liked those bottles of 10-year old Chateau Montelena Cabernet I won in bets from Coyote Karen and Celestial Sandra last year, and I know that I liked that Chateau Brion I tasted in 1976 at a tender young age. Although you're unlikely to find me on a wine judging panel with Robert Whitley (though we're both from San Diego), I have developed an uncanny ability to identify "salt" in wine (this is handy when evaluating grapes from Guadeloupe Valley) and to identify "oxidized" wine, which some of you may refer to as "corked."

How is it that Mr. Unsophisticated Palette can identify bad wine faster than a Bloodhound can sniff out beef jerky at JFK customs? Because I've made my fair share of bad batches (let's just call those learning experiences) and I know what a good wine gone bad tastes like. Furthermore, when we moved inland to the country and experienced our first heatwave and I left a 5-gallon carboy in the garage of our first batch of 2004 Syrah, our neighbor, a member of the Royal Order of Wine Tasters of Burgundy, was diplomatic enough to observe, " Reminds me of medicino." I quickly became all too familiar with what high heat and insufficient sulfites can do to good wine. Another formative moment in the development of my nose was when Joe the Wino gave me a case of 1970 Chateau Lafitte for Christmas one year with the level of wine below the neck. When poured it revealed a light, brownish, color -- that wine and its aroma defines oxidized in my mind. (By the way, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience of that wine, thinking back to the year 1970 when it was harvested and what on earth I was doing way back then, but the taste was well past its prime.)

So on a visit to New York City last weekend I sat down at a counter inside Eataly, a new, fashionable Italian all-in-one cafe, delicatessen & restaurant establishment that's great fun, and noticed Italian Nebbiolos on the menu. They were pricey, but in the mood to splurge and as a maker of Nebbiolo wines for Bishops, company CEOs and women who trade hugs for wine, I ordered a glass for $25 (that's $25 a glass, not for 750 ml). The waiter brought a bottle to the table and poured a taste that resembled the off-color rust of that 1970 Chateau Lafitte wine more than the purple majesty of Blue-Merle's Nebbiolo and a taste quickly confirmed my suspicion. "That's oxidized," I told the waiter, who took the bottle to the Maitre d' for evaluation. The Eataly's service was fantastic and the staff fetched a new bottle that was better and later as I was eating the waiter came back and told me yes, the wine was corked (what about those people who had spent $75 on the wine before me?) and then the Maitre d' came by and told me he had tasted it too and yes, it was off. What did they expect? Of course the wine was no good -- I have too much experience making no good wine. When Mario the proprietor reads this and invites me back, I propose carrying a 2006 Blue-Merle Nebbiolo with grapes grown by Camillo in Guadeloupe Valley (Cetto Winery) and let's have a shoot out of the Blue-Merle vs. Eatly's $50/glass of old world Nebbiolo. If I loose, I'll pay $50 for his glass. If we win, Mario should pay us $250 for our 5-glass bottle plus Bluey's airfare.

We'll need a neutral judge for this shoot-out and I have the perfect person in mind: Mademoiselle Salud Scents, the world famous scentologist who has created a line of fragrances that combine the building blocks of wine essences: fruit, flower, citrus, pepper, et al. I wonder if the Scent Sommelier could fashion for me an aroma that evokes that elusive wine delight, chocolate?

Before Palm Sunday Feeling The Pain

In 2008 with the darkening clouds of The Great Recession gathering on the horizon the Queen took the last of her life savings and purchased 48 Canary Island Palm trees, known to academics and master gardeners as Pheonix Canarienisis, but known to my friends by the more common name "my favorite palm tree." There was something Jack-and-the-Beanstalkess about spending your last dime on a worthless plant and having that lead to the Goose that Lays Golden Eggs but those palm trees for which she paid less than $49 a piece are on their way to being worth $10,000 each (before deducting the costs of hiring workers to dig them out, renting a crane to lift them up and paying commissions to a sales broker to find them homes), which is to say they are growing and need a hair cut.

What better time to trim them than in preparation for Palm Sunday, and besides, the needles on the large fronds closest to the trunk of the palm pose a threat to Bluey who enjoys watering them with his hose each morning. "Would you please cut those palms," requests the Queen, who starts singing a song about how I do nothing in the vineyard, and don't take care of the weeds, and how it's her vineyard and her palm trees and don't you care about your dog who's always going pee-pee at the foot of the palms and is about to be impaled (if not circumcised) by them.

Armed with hand clippers, a saw and a loper and I begin the task and quickly feel that a knight's shinning armour would provide better protection to my hands than canvas gloves. A poke to the forearm here, a poke to to the hand there and the shirt I'm wearing exhibits expanding stains of blood, not wine, which I don't think too much about until I remember stories about flesh-eating bacteria entering innocuous cuts and it's probably not a bad idea to wipe the punctured flesh with an alcohol swab, which I do, and consume a shot of grappa for extra protection. A few days pass and I notice in the mirror that my whole right forearm looks like a rotting banana. A spreading infection? Since I'm heading to a reception where a few doctor friends are likely to be, I decide to ask them. My college classmate Ted Hendershot from Lexington, KY is there. "Ted, what kind of doctor are you?" I ask as I pour him a glass of Blue-Merle wine, which I gladly share in exchange for advice.

"Infectious diseases."

"Perfect, take another pour and have a look at this, will you" as I roll up my sleeve to expose my arm.

"That looks like a bruise, not an infection. Keep an eye on it."

So I keep an eye on it and each night lay my good hand upon it and recite a healing prayer. Palm Sunday is here. The bruise is gone. Praise the Lord.

In the Vineyard Women Are From Mars, Men Are From Heranus

Chemical Ali is alive and well and living in our vineyard, spraying anything green between the rows of vines with Round-Up. In the words of naturalist Barabra Kingsolver, author of Vegetable, Mineral, Miracle, "The more we use pesticides, the more pests have appeared." I subscribe to the principles of the sustainable vineyard, which suggests planting a cover crop to control erosion and naturally replenish the soil. Although the barley seeds I sowed in December's rains failed to take root, I've been nurturing nice weeds such as mustard plants and dandelions but as soon as the dreaded foxtail appears, which is a mortal threat to Bluey the Australian shepherd who swaggers through the vineyard as if he were the Lion King, the Queen dons her backpack sprayer, mask, and gloves, and mixes a few ounces of Round-Up concentrate and heads off to the weeds. "If we didn't have Bluey I wouldn't spray," she says. "The foxtail problem is all your fault. You don't pull out the weeds and you don't check Bluey's paws everyday," she complains. The foxtail is like an arrowhead that can't be pulled out once it enters the skin. It works its way through muscle piercing the lungs and has been known to enter the ear and cut through to the brain causing death. "There's a green patch over there between rows 1 and 2 and in front of row 1 without weeds, so please don't spray there, OK?" I gently suggest. "That green space is good for the vines." And I reminder her, "Please don't spray over there by the fence, because that's where we're going to plant the garden." We're planning to grow our own vegetables and eat better and live a greener, healthier life. She heads off to do her work in her vineyard and I go inside to make some calls and make some sales because there's work to be done in the daytime job to pay for all of the joys of weekend vineyarding. Ninety minutes later I take a break and go outside for a moment to soak up some sunshine and inhale some fresh air and there she is, a descendant of Chemical Ali, spraying the weedy cover crop I asked her to leave in peace. "What are you doing?" And with those are fighting words she rips of her mask and tosses the cap off her head and throws the $219 sprayer to the ground all in a huff and informs me that I never do anything and that she's the one who does everything and that I can go and pull all the weeds out myself. (Fortunately, her English is not good enough to instruct me to perform anatomically impossible and perverse acts with the sprayer nozzle although her tone of voice would indicate a desire to learn such vocabulary to unleash on her useless spouse.) "Calm down. There are no weeds in that area. I told you, I'll knock down those weeds myself with a shovel. Why are you spraying?" "There could be a snake on the ground. I want to be able to see it." "Look, the perfect camouflage for a rattler is the clay earth. It blends right in. But a snake in the short grass will stand out." Do you sometimes think women are from Mars and men are from Heranus? Are we just asses in our wives' vineyards? For the sake of Bluey, for the sake of not stepping on snakes, for the sake of maintaining matrimonial bliss, sustainability can wait. After all, the journey to a sustainable vineyard is a process.

What's Your Story?

We were contacted by a nice young man from Winemaking magazine who found "our story" interesting and asked us to send him some more details about how we got started, our trials and tribulations and where we are today for an upcoming article. Here is his response: "Craig, Thank you for the document. Unfortunately I cannot run this - there just isn't enough to run. Have you ever read winemaker? I would need 1 -2 pages of "your winemaking story.' Blue Merle, how it started, tips and tricks, trials and tribulations, and where you are now - that kind of thing. Unfortunately, I would need something by the end of the day at this point to make deadline. Thanks again, Cheers! Jeremy" Not enough content to run? Hmmm..... here's my response: Dear Jeremy, Don't give up yet.... There's 6 years of "content" on the Internet, and we can cut and paste. Just tell me what you want (or you grab what you want). On this website: http://www.winemakersjournal.com/winemaking.html You'll notice a link to our very first winemaking effort in 2004 (very well documented), then year 2 and so on. As for the vineyard, our vineyard installation experience is documented here: http://www.winemakersjournal.com/vineyardinstallationindex.html I have to be honest with you: there's only so many times you can write about what it's like punching down the cap and the crush and the harvest ... believe me, those are wonderful life experiences ... but we've been there, done that ... so, our writing has changed ... in the beginning, the writing was about the grapes and the wine and how amazing it was and what a gift from the Lord the grape is. We've written about that. It's always there and doesn't change. Now the writing's about people (Coyote Karen, Merlot Mike, Joe the Wino, that rascal Fidel and of course, Bluey, the Blue-Merle Aussie that runs the place) and friendship and betrayal and marriage and the economy and life framed around the vineyard, the grape and the wine. And that's a big part of "our story." Where we are now? We're a bonded winery by the TTB and a licensed winery by the California ABC. Our wines are for sale. Where are we going? The U.S. Constitution says that congress shall make no law interfering with free trade among the States. However, the grape is held hostage. There are Australian Shepherds in Oklahoma who want to buy our wine, direct from Bluey at the winery. We are not allowed to ship to them. That is the next frontier. And finally, at the beginning of the recession, the Queen spent the last of our savings account purchasing 47 Canary Island Phoenix Canaries palm trees in 15 gallon plants. Well, the drought in California was officially declared over yesterday, the economy is growing and the palm trees are getting bigger. Maybe it was a good investment.

Let's Get Down To Business

The economics look like this:

Some $50,000 invested in the vineyard.
Some $10,000 invested in winemaking equipment & barrels.
A thousand here and a thousand there and finally this has added up to real money.

The weather looks like this:
Nice and cool with bottles aging gracefully in their place.
Summer is a few months away, and heat waves could accelerate aging of some unsheltered bottles.

The inventory looks like this:
Bottles up to our ears.

What to do?
Time to sell some wine.

Other than Australian Shepherd owners, who's going to purchase a premium wine they've never heard of? The solution, make them an offer they can't refuse. So, we're announcing introductory pricing of $15/bottle when purchasing an assorted case. And, as an extra incentive for customers living within driving range, we'll include a bunch of our magnificent yellow pincushion Protea flowers pictured above. We are promoting this special on our Facebook page (targeting local residents) and also via Twitter, using the hashtag #SanDiego to attract local peeps. One of our aims is to be "your personal winemaker." This has certainly worked with family and friends. Now, let's see if we can turn this into a micro business before we run out of room and before the next heat wave.

(Editor's Note: If you're a California resident and would like to learn more about purchasing a case of award-winning, hand-crafted wines for $15/bottle follow this link: http://bit.ly/fXKBq6 )

What Are You Eating?

I know Facebook and Twitter are not about what you're eating right now, but do you remember that gopher carcass the Queen asked me to clean up after one of my trips a few weeks ago? I took a shortcut (as I often do being in favor of finding the most expedient, most efficient and most organic way to handle matters in the vineyard) and promptly buried it in his hole, where he rested peacefully, keeping the other critters away with his stench and providing natural fertilization to the soil until 2" of pouring rain and sleet and hail flushed him out this morning. Ole Bluey just found the emerged zombie and despite my protests as I spied the stumpy tail sticking out of his mouth scarfed him in one bite and just licked his satisfied lips ignoring my admonishments. Would you let Ole Gopher Breath share your bed this evening? (If you believe in the law of Australian Shepherds then there will be no denying him so I might as well just give up trying to keep him off.)

This March rain is the icing on the cake of 4.5" of rain in February -- a dry and very beautiful and very warm January -- which followed 10" of rain in December and a wet October and November. In all, we're thinking that we will not need to irrigate until (or unless as the case may be) the vines show signs of stress in mid-summer.

The vines were pruned in February, mostly, and hand-painted with a "dormant spray". If you were cooking popcorn and you're beyond the first pops when it starts sounding like a machine gun, that's where we are with budbreak right now, with baby shoots emerging all over the place, except in the Zinfandel block. Although the fragile shoots are ever so easy to break off by hand (which I have done accidentally on many occasions in previous years) I'm pleased to learn that they have held up well in the harsh pelting rain. There could be even more rain at the end of this week, which will be toasted merange on top of this cake's icing. It's back to the vineyard while still light (thank you daylight savings time) to dig those holes and form those berms and shape those mounds in a foolish attempt to control water flowing down a hillside. Fool on the hill....