If ever you loved someone enough to see in their eyes the hopes and dreams they carry with them, and you know for a fact they aren’t clinically crazy, you’d know there is no other way to think: we would find a way. And how lucky, we thought, to be undertaking such a venture in a land of opportunity and community, our home country, the USA. Where the entrepreneur would be welcomed and embraced (Small Business, the backbone of America!)! Where the agricultural community would be glad to have (fairly) young people like us who wanted to keep the family farm alive and well! Where the wine world would greet a newcomer with—at the minimum—well, civility, wine being after all, in the words of Ernest Hemingway, “the most civilized thing in the world.”

Didn’t we have it wrong. Please don’t misunderstand, we never expected to show up at the party and have everyone love and support us from day one, but we would be greatly ill-prepared for how we and our endeavor would be treated: with veiled skepticism, if not outright negativity, and a little goodwill thrown in, but not very much. And from almost everyone we’d meet or speak to about our endeavor: realtors, family, friends, banks, potential investors, neighboring farmers, wine industry members, public relations people. You name it.

We weren’t famous, rich, or connected and any one or the combination of the three would’ve brought us, Scott suspects, immediate approval; established people always get the benefit of the doubt—new people do not. But we were new people, with not necessarily new, but different ideas of doing things, in a new—and, in the wine world, even though the ground is in the Columbia Valley AVA, unproven—location. And people would not let us forget any of it. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Frankfurt, Germany, Thursday, October 13, 2005

“Scott. Scott! Jack’s not in his crate!” I peered out the plane’s window, watching the rosy-faced baggage handlers toss an empty grey dog crate, OUR dog crate, JACK’s dog crate, up onto the conveyor belt right below me. Last time we saw Jack he was in that crate, when we checked him in in Dublin. That was over seven hours ago. We were in Frankfurt now, on this journey’s last leg home to Portland, Oregon.

“Let me see.” Scott leaned over me, craning his neck until his view found its way through the thick glass. The crate stood on the belt, rattling emptily in the wind. “Just stay cool,” he told me. “I’m going out there.”

We were on our way back from Ireland, coming home after Scott’s two-year work assignment, about to embark on a dream that had been growing in Scott since I had known him and probably way earlier: making wine. And not just any wine. Distinct wine. Wine with soul. Which meant growing and tending its vineyard, too. No “sourcing” from grape “warehouses” for us; we didn’t see the point of getting into the industry to be another label mining from the same veins of grapes, and we were not going to make it up as we went along, grabbing and blending what we could after the best were sold to the more established kingpins. No way would we want to enter that race. Instead, we had a grander vision—for the land, the grapes, the wine. We wanted it all to be proprietary, personal, and personalized. In short, unmistakably individual. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

No critic has ever said it better:

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read.…[T]here are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations.” Anton Ego, Ratatouille

Yes, I took a quote from a movie about a rat who wanted to cook. If you’ve seen the film, you’d understand. Or maybe not. But if you’ve ever attempted to step out and do something new, be it enter a new industry or profession, run a race, hell, cook a soufflé, there will be those—critics— who cut you down, telling you you can’t because you’re not experienced enough, out of your league, don’t have what it takes, or, you’re not following the “club rules.”

I’m just perplexed as to why? (Wasn’t I perplexed in my last post, too? Is it the full moon? Or is it that time of year?!) Monsieur Ego provides some insight. Be you a professional critic or simply an armchair pessimist (like myself), there’s no risk when you criticize someone else. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , ,

People who can’t wait for the table to be poured drive me nuts. You know, the ones who reach for their glass the minute the bottle is lifted away? I don’t know why, but outside of my buddies in Europe, I know a lot of people like this. People, who, like a nervous herd of gazelles gathered at a pond, lower their heads and quickly drink, as if this immediate gratification will save them from the lion about to pounce. Makes me wonder if this behavior IS vestige to our time on the savannah, when we had to dine and dash because we knew the lion was lurking close by? Today, 1.8 million years after the appearance of Homo erectus, what’s wrong with breaking from the herd and slowing down a bit?

I started thinking about this not only because ‘tis the season of celebrating and friends gathering, but because of our 16-month (partner and) son. He loves to have a “fancy drink”—something we believe he thinks is more special than the milk, water, or diluted juice he typically quaffs—especially when we celebrate occasions like the bank giving us more money to limp through another growing and wine making year on, or the end of harvest, and I want my little guy to join in and engage with those around him fully in the occasion. To break from the herd. Slow down. To know he is no longer on the savannah. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“The uniqueness of America would prove to be its ability to erase uniqueness.” Daniel Boorstin, The Americans: The Democratic Experience.

When I started writing this post a few days ago I was going to feed off of this quote. My plan was to essentially speak to how it might apply to the homogenization of the wine industry that is reducing the availability of the individual wine. About the traveling winemakers who add to it. About mega-vineyards and mega producers adding to it. Of the selling out to big business and then the consolidation of brands adding to it. Maybe I would’ve hinted at singular palates—yes, the RP effect—and their influence adding to it. Would’ve shared some trade secrets about how, unbeknownst to consumers, different labels are used for the very same wine and how all of this factual information points to wine commonality now more than ever before. Then I would’ve finished it off with a resounding, “America needs more of its own wine that’s uncopyable and individual!” or something like that, to continue the idea at another time.

But then I read The Pour’s latest post, False Demons, where Eric (Eric, we’ve never met, but may I call you Eric?) critiques a new wine book, Liquid Memory: Why Wine Matters as well as its author, Mondovino’s Jonathan Nossiter, and in effect dismisses a big claim Nossiter hangs his hat on about wine, claiming instead that unique wine is out there, more readily available than ever before.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Alone on a western, windy hill, sitting bold among the old wheat fields, a small, determined vineyard grows, and an uncultivated life unfolds. The story of The Grande Dalles vineyard and its wine, The Uncultivated Life is our tale as newcomers in rugged wheat country starting from scratch to pound out a dream of farming and wine outside The Dalles, Oregon.

If you’re looking for a wine story with grit, look no farther. The trouble is, at this time it’s hard to tell which has been grittier: the story with all its ups and downs; the emotional toll of sticking with it and our ideas, particularly despite the gobs of naysayers who want to so quickly snuff our flame; or the ground rock in our vineyard.

So far, unlike the landscape that surrounds our vines, the story hasn’t been pretty. Rather, it’s been one of greed and deceit, of betrayal and misfortune, of sacrifice and struggle and NOT what I thought I was signing up for four loooong years back. “It’s not what I signed up for either,” chimes in Scott tersely. Honestly, neither of us expected it to be, well, like this (it’s just that Scott can handle it better). Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Newer entries »