The Way of Zin
By ROD
SMITH, Special to The Times
This is the
time of year when Zinfandel really hits the spot. Bold, gutsy, succulent, spicy,
smooth and above all red, Zin somehow captures the bittersweet tang of a crisp winter
evening and can make a drizzly, sodden weekend seem cozy.
I'm not
talking about those over-hyped Zin extracts with 15% alcohol or more. Those
velvet monsters are impressive in their larger-than-life way but hardly civilized.
There's no good reason a Zin can't clock in around 14% (still rather high for a table
wine) and be perfectly scrumptious.
To me,
Zinfandel is a synonym for Dry Creek Valley. I realized that for the gazillionth time
one rainy afternoon in mid-November as I drove along Dry Creek Valley Road. The
last grapes had been harvested a few days earlier (the '99 harvest was one of the latest
on record), but there were still a few bunches of second crop fruit on the gnarly old
head-pruned vines along the road--so I got out to spend a few minutes trudging along
a row through the gravelly red mud, popping the little purple beauties in my mouth
and savoring each little explosion of flavor.
That got me
thinking about the Dry Creek Valley's impressive coming of age. Almost
stealthily, with a deliberate sense of community purpose but little outward fuss, Dry
Creek Valley has joined the first rank of California viticultural areas.
The
definition and focus are new. They are largely the result of a united commitment to
the appellation's future by the recently formed Winegrowers of Dry Creek Valley, a
coalition of growers and wineries that took its cue from the successful Carneros
Quality Alliance.
Now, along
with Carneros and Napa Valley, Dry Creek Valley is one of California's
most progressive, heads-up appellations. Not coincidentally, it is also one of the
most traditional, with a viticultural continuity going back to its earliest 19th
century pioneers.
That
through-line can be summed up in one word: Zinfandel.
Like all of
California's coastal grape growing areas, Dry Creek Valley offers a more than
adequate home to just about any grape variety. As one old-timer expressed it,
"You can get just about any kind of grape to sugar-up real good here."
But certain
grape varieties produce finer, more distinctive wines in a given area than others,
and rather than trying to be all things to all wine consumers, the growers and
winemakers of Dry Creek Valley have accepted the time-proven fact that their little
corner of paradise excels in red wines, particularly Zinfandel and gutsy
Mediterranean blends.
I'd be
willing to bet that most wine lovers, facing an array of geographically labeled wines
from unknown producers, would be indifferent to a Dry Creek Valley Chardonnay but
would show definite interest in a Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel. I thought of that the
other night in a North Coast restaurant as I drank a bottle of '97 Rafanelli
Zinfandel with tender Sonoma venison. It occurred to me again in a San Francisco
trattoria where the '96 Preston Zinfandel was wonderful with a grilled chop and
hearty risotto.
Another
evening there was a beautiful '96 Quivira Zinfandel that seemed to have been
made expressly to go with Chinook salmon steak and olive-oil mashed potatoes.
And that's
just scratching the surface of my recent experience with Dry Creek Valley Zin. I
can recall easily the lip-smacking pleasures of, let's see: Mazocco, Nalle, Dry Creek
Vineyards, J. Fritz, Gallo (the tasty Frei Ranch Zin), Ferrari-Carrano, Bannister,
Les Deux Amis, Duxoup, Teldeschi and Lytton Springs.
In terms of
being perceived as a well-defined entity, Dry Creek Valley has a natural advantage
in its neat geographical form. From the air, it looks likes the creation of a
landscape designer--the charming meander of the valley floor, the well-defined
benches, the garden-like niches and pretty little canyons set into the opposing
ridges and the asymmetrical accents of unexpected hillside plantings.
The ridges
themselves are wild, home to bears, eagles, mountain lions and true wild
boar--along with herds of the grape-loving feral pigs that drive growers crazy with
destructive rooting and, occasionally, volunteer to grace their barbecues and dinner
tables by way of compensation.
Dry Creek
Valley is about half the size of Napa Valley. It is 16 miles from the confluence of
Dry Creek and the Russian River near Healdsburg (Alderbrook Vineyards is right on the
line) to Warm Springs Dam (with Lake Sonoma behind it) at the head of the valley. The
valley is two miles across at the widest point but quite a bit narrower in most
places; the valley floor accounts for only about 25% of the 80,000 acres (125 square
miles) that make up the appellation.
There are
about 5,000 acres of vineyards in Dry Creek Valley (for comparison, Napa Valley
has more than 35,000 acres of grapes). Dry Creek Valley is warmer and wetter
than the neighboring Russian River and Alexander valleys. During the wet months, as
grower Jim Forchini put it so well, "the hills tend to scrub the rain right
out of the clouds when those northwest fronts come through."
On a typical
summer day, the valley will be blanketed with fog or low clouds until late morning,
but many of the best vineyards are above the inversion layer (about 650 feet and up)
and thus warm up faster and get more morning sun than the valley floor plantings.
However,
those same vineyards get the first cooling ocean breeze in the afternoon and tend to
cool off and shut down earlier than the lower ones. Likewise, there is a difference
between the way grapes ripen on the west side of the valley, where it gets dark and
cool faster, and the east side, which basks in sunlight until 9 p.m. or so at the
height of the season. In general, the combination of warmth and tempered marine
influence makes for a long growing season throughout the appellation.
Perhaps the
most important thing about Zin's success in the valley is that in the best areas--that
is, on the benches and slopes--Zin is in a relatively marginal situation. With fine
wine the question is often not whether the fruit will ripen but how it ripens.
Everyone in
the wine world seems to be theoretically aware that long hang time
(protracted maturation) creates new levels of intensity and complexity, and yet so
many vineyards are planted where they simply "sugar up."
In the Dry
Creek Valley's favored Zin sites, the grapes mature long and slowly, maintaining
a delicate balance between sugars and acids (it's important to speak of these things
in the plural) until the very peak of the cycle.
Nailing that
peak is all-important. Most of the Zin-growing families, and many of their vineyards,
go back to the 19th century. Their long experience with the land probably has more to
do with the area's excellence than the more recent mastery of high-tech vineyard and
winery techniques.
When
they get it right, which is pretty much all the time these days, that exquisite fruit
makes a stunning wine known as Dry Creek Valley Zin.
Copyright
2000 Los Angeles Times
