We’re running behind, I admit. Our 2005 Viognier and 2004 Grenache/Cab are hanging out in the bottle waiting for their new labels. We’ve been working with a great branding agency on the new labels, and we’re anxious to be able to show them to everyone. But designing the labels is only the first step. Then we get to run them to the federal government for approvals. We’re hoping to be able to bring the wines to you sometime in July. If not, we may need you to write a letter to your local senator. Stay tuned for more…

There are two types of people in this world (I know, I know… just work with me here): 1) people who work well in, and frankly desire, the high transparency model, and; 2) people who like the black box approach. Surprise, surprise, I prefer the high transparency model. I’m an information geek. Especially when it’s something I really dig. Like wine.

I don’t know how many people read Eric Asimov’s article in the New York Times on the use of oak alternatives and additive labeling, but it really got me thinking about the high transparency model as it relates to wine. Allergen labeling aside…

The article includes a quote that basically says that people in the wine industry are probably more concerned with the idea of process and material transparency than consumers. That’s probably right. I can only say that I have bored the pants off way too many people talking about wild yeasts, obscure French forests, and processes with wacky names like delestage. Sure, a few people dig it. I certainly dig talking about those things.

From the article, I suppose Asimov would dig seeing more about the voodoo employed at this winery on our bottles. I’m sure a lot of other people would as well. Others might fall asleep before we make it to describing the cold soak. Even though you won’t see every little detail on the back o’ the bottle, we’re open about what we do and how we do it. We won’t give up the “secret sauce” mind you, but if you want to talk bentonite (use it on the whites on occasion although I’m leaning toward going cloudy in my old age) or oak staves (tried ‘em - didn’t end up in the bottle), feel free to drop me a line.

So which kind of person are you?

Today is turning out to be one of those “you know you’ve gone overboard when…” kind of days. This year has turned out to be an incredibly slow MLF (malolactic fermentation) year. It’s now late May, and I still have a number of barrels chugging along. For reference, if I had to make a broad generalization, I’d say we’re normally through ML before April hits. But not this year.

Anyway, I’ve been playing road warrior lately and needed a bit of help in the cellar from one of our winemakin’ friends. I asked him to take samples from a few barrels for MLF testing… just 45 or so. Being a good friend, he called me to basically ask me if I really wanted to take samples out of each barrel, when a perfectly acceptable approach would be to separate the barrels into lots, take representative samples from each barrel, blend them together, and test the blended lots. Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of that. That’s what most people do. A completely valid approach. It’s way easier, and a LOT cheaper. But he doesn’t do it with his wine, either.

In the end, I appreciate that he was trying to save me a pretty significant chunk of money. But we don’t blend anything until the very end. We rack every barrel separately. Every lot has it’s own topping wine. If you ask me, every barrel in the cellar has it’s own personality as a result. Sure, it’s way more work. And although Melinda might tell you otherwise, it’s not like I get a kick out of spending extra money for the sake of spending extra money. But that’s what’s funny about “extra work” - when it’s for something you love, it never quite strikes you that way.