Thursday, December 3, 2009

A Winter White

I have some winemaker friends who talk about making their particular style of Sauvignon Blanc. I could think and re-think myself into an early grave over that one word: style. From South Africa to Graves to Sancerre to New Zealand to California Fume, and back home again. I’m not after style, and I’m not trying to emulate or imitate anything or anyone; I’m after authenticity.



2009 Ehlers Estate St. Helena Sauvignon Blanc on right


We work hard to farm these grapes all year, and we want to taste what all that hard work and great terroir tastes like. The last thing I’m going to do is clutter the wine all up with new oak, malolactic character, or residual sugar. I want to pour you a glass of wine and then walk out the front door into the vineyard and show you where it grows. Kick the dirt.

You should be able to taste the big picture of our little estate. A little organic estate, I might add, which we farm biodynamically, and where chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides are strictly verboten. Uncluttered land, uncluttered wine. This all sounds simple, but I sweat, lose sleep, and agonize over the process of turning this fragile grape into an “Ehlers quality” adornment for the dinner table.


If I press the grapes too hard or too long, there is the risk that a slight bitterness or a coarseness will creep into the juice. If the fermentation is too cold, the native yeast will never grow properly… Too warm and those same yeast will ferment too fast, produce too much CO2, and the delicate aromatics can actually cook off before I’ve even had my lunch. A little oxygen is good; more than a little is disastrous. Lees stirring: a little, but not too much, and for goodness sake, do it gently. It all happens so fast. By the winter solstice, I want to taste the finished wine, say “wow, we’re over the hump!” and sleep easy. A few more months of quiet, slow, steady, ageing, and I’m looking to put it to bottle. What a ride!


No comments:

Post a Comment