Oregon Dirt by Jim Prosser
I find my thoughts returning to Terry Thiese’ Reading Between the Wines on a regular basis. Today when I was attempting to find a passage that I wanted to reference, I found inspiration in another. One of the chapters that Thiese laid out in his treatise is entitled “The Three Humors.” Theise feels that there are three aspects of the wine experience that an authentic wine should be in possession of and to break them down to their simplest terms, these are the three “cruxes”: spatial, sensual, and spiritual. For the purposes of today’s post I would like to focus on the first aspect of the three.
Thiese also interchanges spatial with specificity and states, “Wine should express an emergence from its particular origin.” He does not use the term “terroir,” but to me this is what he is getting at; a wine should have a sense of place. I read about this long before I felt that I had truly experienced this with wine. My first taste of truly feeling that I had a sense of experiencing wines that tasted like where they were from that was not style driven, but dirt driven was in tasting the Pinot Noirs of Willamette Valley. Perhaps that is why I am so fond of them and really perk up when I smell or taste a wine that contains the returning thread.
I have experienced a bit of what I am describing in Washington wines, but have not had the opportunity to taste through very many to confirm what I think I have tasted. What I have tasted so far does cause me to want to explore further. Conversely, I have tried many wines that are from these regions I seek to know more about that have no sense of place. They do not taste like Oregon, or they do not taste like Washington. Recently I was treated to a wine that was highly touted by the gifters that had a high price tag. What intrigued me was that it was a Washington wine out of Walla Walla that I had never tried before and I wanted to see if I could detect the thread I thought I had detected in other Washington wines. I tasted the wine and my immediate reaction was that it wants to be a Napa Valley Cabernet. It was a perfect example of style driven wine that did not seem to embrace where it was from or have a sense of place.
Naknek River, Bristol Bay Water by Stan Shebs
Thiese shared something in his “Specificity” passage that really speaks to me as a Bristol Bay fisherwoman. He was a panelist at a sustainable-agriculture conference and cited a statement made by a Native American woman during a discussion about “spirit of place.” This is what she had to say, “The salmon do not only return to the stream to spawn, they also return to respond to the prayers and hopes of the people who love them.” There are many who love the salmon in Bristol Bay and rely on them for their livelihood, sustenance, and spirits. I am among them and can attest to not only the sense of place that the salmon possess, but the sense of place that they give to those who partake in their return.
To learn more about Bristol Bay and the peril that the salmon face in future returns to their rivers of origin visit: www.savebristolbay.org and www.ourbristolbay.org
Mel
fish*wine*ski 
Seler d'Or
February 21, 2012
Nice thread of ideas and you’re reminding me that Reading Between the Wines is such an inspiring work. I agree that too many wines are not rooted in the soils from which they are grown. It is a shame. Good luck finding those REAL wines. Cheers!
fish*wine*ski
February 21, 2012
Thanks! The book has led me to some nice wines and I am sure that your writing will lead me to some good ones too.
Lily-Elaine Hawk Wakawaka
February 22, 2012
K and I have had conversations on this subject while touring Arizona wines–the industry here is *so* young and really trying to find its feet. An interesting effect of this is that you can taste the difference between wines here that seem to want to be something they’re simply not (attempts to be California versions of Tuscans is the most common I’ve seen), and, on the other hand, wines here that have come out of living in their own home. Interestingly, the same producer will have both these personalities showing in the same portfolio. My hope is that this is just part of the process of getting a new wine region going, and in producing a range of wines the area wine makers will find in their work those wines that do show a sense of groundedness, and calm–Wines that own what they are without having to work hard to do so.
The wines I have tasted here that seem best to exemplify Arizona have a real starkness to them, and a taste and texture of dusty red earth too. Whether those are my personal preference or not, I have been able to respect how well they capture the peculiarity of this desert.
We talked too about how this sense of place shows itself too in how well wine will suit the food of the region. Old world regions have the advantage of wine being thoroughly integrated into the other agricultural and food practices so that often you can pick up a wine of a region and expect it to work with a meal common to the area too. In the new world it can be harder at times to find that, partially, I take it because in many areas the food culture is more schizophrenic, and less tradition laden, so that the identity of the wine would seem to not have a root in the food culture either. Here in Arizona the food culture is no different–thoroughly mixed with different influences, and not well rooted in tradition. Still, if one could identify front runner characteristics those would include deeply rustic moles, that same rustic flavor in slow cooked meats, and the influence of roasted hatch chiles. Sweet elements will come through alongside spice from tomato included in sauces of various sorts.
The red desert texture of a wine matches the rustic elements in such food, and the acids must be lower to keep the heat in the mouth down too. Big heavy jam reds can’t work here, though people are growing them. But pansy-ass reds can’t stand up to the heat of flavors either. Still, Maynard is making a low production Cabernet that grows in volcanic soil and has that unique dustiness with the green pepper notes of Cab that makes it make sense. His collaboration with Glomski, Arizona Stronghold, has produced some site archive wines (a couple of barrels made only from one small part of a vineyard) that show these sorts of combinations that echo the food too. In the south of the state, Keeling-Shaefer makes one of the strangest Syrah’s I’ve ever tasted. I have to admit whether I like it or not comes to mind only after having my nose in that glass for a long time because it’s strangeness holds the intrigue for so long. Still, with its dry, big vegetal-meat focus I can’t help but think of Anglo-Mexican foods and want to taste it along slow cooked meats covered in mole.
The sum-up of what I’m getting at here is just how the sense of place you describe here really points to the entire food culture for me–that wine that captures that kind of at-homeness doesn’t just point down to the soil environment, but because of the its establishment in the terroir itself, the wine also reaches out to the further elements of culture surrounding it. Your writing put this in mind for me.
Great post! Thanks!
fish*wine*ski
February 22, 2012
That makes so much sense! Having in mind the food of the place and where that might lead the wine. Awesome to think about in conjunction with wine identity and home.