Epona Blackberry Pourt, Phase 2

Why "Pourt"? Because Portugal is very finicky about use of the "port" name in connection with any non-Portuguese product (more finicky, even, than the good people of Champagne, who will let you say "champagne-style" or "Methode Champenoise"). But we can't say "port-style"! Not sure yet if the new name for this wine will be Pourt, Purport, Sport, Blort, Trop, Pohrt, Pport, or something else, but Pourt is the current favorite (you heard it here first!).

Update:

The 2010 Pourt looks to be very good. The primary fermentation (in white, food-grade plastic pails) is finished, and now the still-fermenting must is in glass carboys, puffing out bubbles of CO2 every four seconds or so. The must will get a sugar feeding soon, in the continuing drive to squeeze out everything the yeasts can deliver before the alcohol content finally does them in. When the fermentation is finished, the yeast fall to the bottom in an honorable spent sludge. The wine is racked off into clean carboys, and the chemistry is checked again and adjusted. The fortifying liquor is added, along with some French oak (toasted to the "vanilla/caramel" stage in my oven). Then, the wine takes its beauty rest in my cellar. Bottling will be in perhaps 9 months.

We keep learning ways to use less and less added water, and this year's Pourt has a record low water addition. So the flavors should be concentrated, with a thick, unctuous mouthfeel.

The raw wine looks like blood, and is thick like blood. Come to think of it, it IS blood--the Earth's blood. Only from a plant instead of an animal.

When you think about everything a berry bush, or grapevine, has to know how to do, it's pretty amazing. It even approaches sentience. One could be forgiven for thinking that the plant world is pretty much on par with the animal world. Animals cannot take minerals from the soil and turn them into something useful to us (such as food, clothes, and shelter). Animals cannot isolate and release oxygen into the atmosphere. Plants are not just background wallpaper to an animal-dominated planet. They can influence animal behavior towards the plant's advantage. They can terraform the planet on a greater scale than animals can (say, in turning a fresh-frozen volcanic island into a tropical paradise). Arguably they can govern their lives better than we humans can govern ours. Think about that, as you wait for your pourt ;)

Super forecast!

One never knows with extended weather forecasts, but after a late, wet Spring and a cool summer, with too much rain in September, we are into what may be 11+ days of sunshine (Sept 26 through Oct 6 and beyond??), with only a couple of short cloudy/showery breaks, if any.

Whoa. Is this the grapes' salvation, or just a "too little, too late" tease? Stay tuned . . .

The photo is of Rex Hill's vineyards, in the sunshine.

Jerk

I've got an idea: Let's ignore the US Constitution and pass this federal bill that will allow states to prohibit shipments of wine direct from wineries to customers. Let's give the law a cute name (the "CARE" act), so that everybody will vote for it.

After all, it's more important to protect the monopolies of the huge-and-powerful wine and beer distributors! They need more profits, don't they? Who cares that most wineries can't get distribution deals, which leaves direct sales to customers as a primary means of survival? Who cares if consumers won't be able to buy wines directly from the wineries? Who cares if more wineries go out of business, which will cause: lower tax revenues to the states; job losses; mortgage foreclosures; and reductions in property prices? I don't give a hoot about any of that stuff-do you?

Kudos to the bill's sponsor, Democrat Delahunt of Massachusetts. You're really looking out for the common citizen, dude. It's great to know your vote can't be bought by corporate money. Not. Jerk.

http://http://www.winespectator.com/webfeature/show/id/43634

2010 Harvest Hell in Sonoma

On your left, a worker drops Zinfandel clusters in Sonoma, to increase the odds that the rest will ripen this year. Also, note in the pic that many of the berries aren't ripe; I think the pic is from late August, so their harvest is running late, like Oregon's.

Some details about the pickle Sonoma finds itself in:
1. A very cold, late Spring prevented the vines from budding on time.
2. During bloom, there was more cold rain, which reduced the amount of fruit set.
3. The growing season was late and cool, so growers stripped off leaves around the clusters, in order to allow more sunshine and ventilation on/of the fruit. However, in mid-summer, a rogue heat wave struck (hitting 120F in the shade, in some vineyards) and with all that direct sun exposure, many of the grapes shriveled in the heat and were ruined. This effect was worst in dry-farmed vineyards, so much of the old-vine Zin has already failed this year.
4. Then the Fall came early, with lots of rain, cool temps, and heavy fogs. That has prevented normal ripening. If the permanent rains come when they usually come (or earlier) it could be devastating for growers.
5. Against that cruel natural backdrop, the grape economy is awful. About 20% of Sonoma's fruit is still unsold; that is unprecedented. Most wineries face excess inventories, so they have little incentive to boost production, especially in a year when consumers may learn to stay away from the vintage. Any winery that has taken on lots of debt is going to be in a world of hurt this year.

All in all, this isn't a year to "separate the men from the boys;" it's a year to separate the gods from mere mortals. Even a wine god might not be able to make good wine, this year.

Here's the source for some of my info:
http://http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20100828/ARTICLES/100829453?p=1&tc=pg

1984 all over again

It is 1984 all over again. Everything except Big Brother. Oh, wait--we have that now, too!

That year, the cold, lasting Fall rains came early and often to Oregon, sealing the doom of any hope of grapes ripening.

Beaverton/Hillsboro sits at 1500 cumulative Growing Degree Days (heat units), which is about 25% less than this time last year. We've had weeks now of mostly cool, cloudy, sometimes wet weather, and last night a winter-style storm blasted us for several hours with heavy rain.

Worse, the heat units we've gotten lately are deceiving. It's been warm enough (thanks to the "Pineapple Express" weather from Hawaii), but no sun.

It may already be too late, by September 19, to wish for anything approaching normal ripening. I wish this was just a local phenomenon but sadly this is happening up and down the Pacific coast, from B.C. to WA to OR to CA. Even Walla Walla and Red Mountain have gotten only partial veraison, which is very, very late--and they are in the desert! I was told by several folks in CA last weekend that some growers in Sonoma have already conceded a zero harvest. Wow.

One friend near Salem OR has his chin up. Not mentioning his Pinot noir grapes, he reassures us that his Viognier and Syrah will be OK; they won't be harvested until November. Some growers hold their Riesling until then, too. But I think those varieties have thick, tough skins. Pinot noir does not. There's only so much wet weather it can stand before the berries split, or rot. That point may be coming soon.

If wines are to be made from Pinot this year, and if this weather keeps up, many of them will be roses. I haven't had my first good PN rose yet.

One year does not a climate trend make, but let's lift a glass to hoping that next year is better. And how many debt-extended wineries are going to meet their Maker this year, with a low or zero crop?

New batch of blackberry port

Our group effort to make port again was kicked off today, in fine form. 74 pounds of frozen berries, 41 pounds of bananas, 15 pounds of raisins, and the powers of chemistry came together as Kenton and Bob enabled the magic of fermentation. Stay tuned . . .

Quintessential photo of the Sierra Foothills AVA

This is a perfect illustration of the Sierra Foothills AVA, perhaps the best undiscovered wine area in America. It reminds me in many ways of Walla Walla, about 10-15 years ago.
Note the dry golden-grassed hill in the background, dotted with majestic white oaks. Black boulders peek up regularly through the grass, to check on the progress of the vines, which luxuriate (with drip irrigation; it's near-desert) below.