Counter Culture 2013 "Full Expression of the Human Experience"

Yesterday was Counter Culture at Anne Amie Vineyards, the launchpad for the International Pinot Noir Celebration and what a ideal way to début such an event. While IPNC seems like a fantastic opportunity to learn and spend a lot of spare money (it costs over a thousand dollars), Counter Culture saunters in like it's cool cousin, the one who's been abroad with lots of stories to tell over glasses (or bottles) of wine.

I arrived early because I was a volunteer at the event, which meant that I was able to distribute govinos (the glasses at the bottom of the post)  and welcome guests to the best night of their week (or month, depending on how much fun you're used to having). Some had clearly arrived aboard the IPNC limo while others stumbled out of the 'party shuttle' from Portland. Once everyone had arrived, they set me loose and I was able to partake in the bounty of fine wines and 'street food' from some of Portland's most renown restaurateurs or food truck proprietors.

While fried carbohydrates and pulled meats seemed to run the show, you didn't find anyone complaining. Certainly not me. While I sneakily returned again and again for Smallwares' Braised Shortrib Arepa with Hoisin, Mayo and Cabbage Kimchi, my fellow gastronomes raved about the Good Old Fashioned Crawfish Boil from Imperial, which, undeniably, offered the best corncob of my life. 

It was up to each of us how we wanted to tackle the arena that was constructed at Anne Amie. If you're like me, you ran around haphazardly, eating a little of this here, a little of that there, and then there again. And again. Or you're like my boyfriend and his friend (both engineers, mind you) who systematically started on one end and did every pairing as they were instructed to do and paused for brief moments of reflection between stops. There was such an apparent struggle taking place in their minds when they opted to skip an ice-cream station that was placed in the middle of their meticulous rotation. 

So, let's talk wines. That's what it's all about,  right? I, regrettably, was the designated driver for two of my favorite professors and was in no place to jeopardize their lives or my good standing with them, so I did not get to sample as many wines as I would have otherwise liked to. However, there were a few that stood out and that I'll surely drink again.

One of the wines I enjoyed most, I regret to inform you, was not 'natural' as are most of the wines that I'll write about. It was, however, delicious and a worth while reason to deviate from my normal quest of exclusively 'natural/authentic' (whatever term suits you) wines. The Anne Amie 2012 Cuvée A Müller Thurgau was one of the single best things I put in my mouth all night. While it smelled subtly of honeysuckle and green apple, in the mouth there were notes of lime and an overall great acidity which quenched the thirst and tickled the palate. It was also a very hot day and I'd been welcoming guests and handling wine glasses for the past two hours. Furthermore, this was the first sip of wine I'd tasted in a few days, so perhaps I was primed and it was easy to love it. However, I came back for a second tasting later in the night and adored it just the same.

Another wine I really appreciated was the 2010 Gewürtztraminer (which I found out means spicy traminer) from Breggo in Boonville, CA. My palate is not as attuned as winemaker Ryan Hodgins', however, when he described the flavors of rose petal, tropical fruit, honeysuckle and lemongrass, I understood why I so enjoyed drinking this wine. It was paired with a pretzel (a call out to the German heritage of Gewürtztraminer, as if you couldn't have guessed by that mouthful of a name). While many muttering co-eds around me lamented the fact that they didn't have a beer with which to wash down their pretzel, I couldn't have been happier with my Gewürtz in hand (and mustard on my nose).

Finally, and, shall I say, most interestingly, was Montinore Estates which offered an exquisite 2012 Pinot Gris with flavors of citrus and a "lingering minerality". I'm not sure I should be using the word minerality, as I don't know exactly what it means, yet, I know enough to know that it is contested among winos far more informed that I. Regardless, the wine was one of the highlights, as was talking to the winemaker, Ben, a super nice, down-to-earth guy who invited my cohorts and me for a barrel tasting at the Estate. This is of particular interest to me, because, as it turns out, this wine is certified by Demeter, and therefore, biodynamic and organic. I look forward to learning about what preparations they're using and what are the ideologies behind their decision to produce biodynamic wines here in the Willamette Valley. 

The night ended with a team of fire dancers (yes, fire dancers!) that spun poi and climbed on eachother while balls of fire danced around them. For the guests who had satiated their penchant for both food and wine, they could lounge on the sloping hill that overlooked the valley and the coastal range and watch the setting sun. Amorous couples cuddled on hammocks, others danced to the great beats of DJ Duo. Me, I just took in the beauty that was happening both all around me and in my body. After all, I'd wined and dined on Portland's best libations, the air was warm, the moon was out. Someone nearby who must have be feeling equally content said, 'is this not the fullest expression of the human experience or what?' and I must say, I quite agree.

How Do YOU Bottle Wine? Like a Teutonic Knight.

[Special Post Co-written by Andrew Reetz]

Today, it seems far too seldom that average consumers engage in the production of their food and drink. Sure, it is evident that they are deeply concerned with questions regarding what to buy, where to buy it, and how these products can be understood in ways that appeal to health and diet concerns, not to mention the allure of good taste. When going to the store, consumers know more or less what they want. However, do they have the chance to comprehend with pure transparency the food they buy and the methods used to produce it? Whether it be a staple grain like rice or the coveted commodity of wine, it is often difficult to interpret how items that are allowed into consumers’ grocery bags— and their stomachs— are produced.

But what if you were given the chance to participate in the production of your favorite food goods, and in this case, wine? As student researchers and aspiring counterparts of the international wine industry, McKenzie Phelan and Andrew Reetz had the chance over the month of July to take part in the bottling and vineyard processes thanks to a local winemaker at Teutonic Wine Company: Barnaby Tuttle. Barnaby, his wife, Olga, and his assistant, Annie, were looking for workers to help out and Phelan seized the opportunity. Later, Reetz dropped into the exciting mix.



On July 16th Phelan set out on the country roads outside of Portland in search of a barn where Teutonic Wine Company was rumored to be bottling their 2012 red vintages. She drove past a cardboard sign with her name on it and knew she was in the right place. She stepped out of the car and tapped on the giant garage door, hoping that her knocks would be heard over the ambient noise of a hard-working generator nearby. A confused looking man of about her age peered out the door and ushered her in to the (quite cold) barn. She had been warned that it was going to be perhaps less glamorous than her time spent in Parisian wine bars and salons, and that prophecy proved to be true. All around her were cases of empty and bottled wine, forklifts, broken corks, wine stains and the roaring beats of ACDC. She received a warm welcome and was quickly ushered to the first ‘station’, if you will. Here, her job was to grab cases of empty bottles (there are 12 bottles in a case, in case you were wondering) and flip the box upside down in order to the bottles to land right-side-up. Next, she drew her CO2 gun (it kind of felt like a gun, but, more akin to a small garden hose) and sprayed a small amount of CO2 in each bottle to sanitize it just before the wine was put in the bottles.

That’s the next step, and also the step that determines how quickly the vats of wine are emptied. The whole 4 step process can only move as fast as the bottles are filled. Fortunately, Barnaby Tuttle, the winemaker (who is fantastically passionate and tells gripping stories) manned the ‘bottler’ with the honed skill reserved for those who have bottled thousands upon thousands of wines. Only one other actor plays as critical a role as Barnaby, and that’s gravity. All the wines are kept in giant vats (fear not, my friends, they’re not fermented there) suspended above the barnhouse floor by a fork lift and as the wines are bottled, one can see the level of the wine fall little by little. Phelan bottled for over twelve hours straight and swears that by the end of those twelve hours, the level of the wine remained as fixed as the horizon. The wine flows from the vats down through a tube and into the machine where six bottles at a time can be filled to about two inches below the rim.

Next, the full bottles are passed to the person manning the cork machine. Air is sucked out of the bottles while the cork is plunged in. Sounds simple, right? Faux! For some, it might not pose too much of a problem, but for Phelan, however, the corking machine proved to be quite the foe. If the cork is ever so slightly stuck at an angle before being thrusted down into the bottle then it cracks in two and the bottom half of the cork has to be fished out of the bottle and recorked. Standardly, this “cork-folly” might occur in one in every two hundred bottles, but around 10pm, when Phelan was in charge of this step, it was more like one in every thirty. As much as she enjoyed that particular step, it, undeniably, wasn’t her forté and she had to be demoted back to the CO2 gun.

The final process of bottling (not including the subsequent labeling that needs to happen) is putting the wines back in cases and building stacks of the similar varietals. The day that Phelan participated they bottled three Pinot noirs, from different slopes, and in some cases, even different AVAs (American Viticulture Areas) and one Pinot meunier.

As a generous ‘thank you’, Phelan was able to take home three bottles of wine. She had to drink one of them within a few days because it had two corks in it (her fault, naturally, as we’ve already learned that the corking machine was not her friend). It was a very different experience opening that particular bottle of wine that she had spent several hours with. To have been apart of a small step of it’s production really had an impact on the appreciation she felt for the final product and all the effort that had been invested in it. Barnaby shared that the average bottle of wine has had human hands guiding it through its processes at, perhaps, a thousand different times between the vines and the shelf. Even though Phelan was just one of these hands, she felt a deeper connection to the wine and had discovered a new way to value it. Reetz, who also aided in bottling, also spent time in the vines a few days later.

Teutonic wine company sources most of its grapes from producers at other locations around Oregon, but among their most prided grapes are those from just two of their own vineyards: the Alsea grapes and the Wilsonville grapes, which were the vineyards from which Reetz and Phelan bottled the wines. Both feature unique terroirs. Wilsonville is located on the property of a suburban neighborhood where the Tuttles were asked to maintain the vines planted by a previous owner of the residential plot of land. The Alsea vineyard is extremely unique; to the Tuttles’ best knowledge, it may be Oregon’s closest vineyard to the ocean, which means the land lends itself to a host of climate conditions unlike the rest of the the Willamette Valley.

At the Alsea vineyard, located in Benton County, Oregon, the growing season is colder than other locations further east where grapes ripen more quickly. Olga Tuttle mentioned to Reetz that they harvest in late November. This last-minute harvest allows the grapes to ripen slowly without harsh temperatures and excessive heat. Still, the grapes contain high acidity that leads to the making of wines reflecting the styles expressed in Mosel, Germany. This is where Barnaby studied winemaking and fell in love with light, acidic Pinot Noirs, which are what he calls (along with many others) a white wine.

Reetz had the chance to work the Wilsonville vineyard in mid-July, less than an hour from Portland. The task: moving the movable trellis wires up a notch and then ordering the vines. At the base, this is a simple task but this was Reetz’s first time touching the grapevines he had been studying for nearly one year, so it took a little time to get the hang of how the vines grew in relationship to the cordon, or “mother vine” as some might call it.

The cordon, originally a French word meaning “cord,” is a the greyed perennial section of the vine that sprouts laterally from the vine’s main trunk. From the cordon sprout the fruit-bearing canes, also known as shoots. The canes usually grow vertically. See the diagram below (drawn by Reetz):

If you can imagine, the vines’ growth must be managed to allow for optimal plant health as well as for the vintner’s best interest in treating and harvesting along his vines throughout the season. Reetz’s first step was to verify that all the canes were growing upward. If they had fallen out of the movable trellis wires used to contain them throughout their growth, he would rearrange them accordingly so that they were pointed vertically while re-containing them. It was then necessary to slide the wires upward to account for the growth of the vines since the last time the trellises had been maintained in the spring.

Reetz would then make a second pass down the trellis, rearranging the canes in the order that they sprouted from the cordon. This makes harvest easier later on while allowing the vine to remain properly ventilated by the wind, consequently fighting against moisture-seeking molds and vine diseases.

Contain--Arrange--Repeat. In short, the day consisted of this seemingly infinite cycle. Not all viticulturalists work this way, but in Oregon where moisture, even in the summer months, is still relatively plentiful, the vines sometimes require such attention to remain healthy.

Maintaining one’s crops this way allows the harvesting teams to spend less time at the end of the seasons searching the vines for grapes, which translates to more precise harvests with more homogenous grapes. If it takes a full week to harvest the grapes that will be used for a particular wine, the grapes harvested last may have a different composition of sugars, acids, etc. than those first harvested. The vintner makes the decision to pick based on these principles but if the harvest takes too long, his decision to harvest may be all for nothing. Sure, this can be combated by larger harvesting teams or machine-driven harvests. However, considering the economic interests and the scale of Teutonic Wine Company’s small vineyards, this is not necessarily practical.

It was a pleasure to take part in both the bottling as well as the vineyard management side of the wine industry. With wide eyes, Reetz and Phelan took on the sometimes-challenging experience that proved incredibly beneficial for their future careers as well as for their basic understanding of winemaking practices in and beyond the vineyard. There is large thanks in store for Barnaby, Olga, and Annie at Teutonic Wine Company for allowing inexperienced students come out to work for them. As they mentioned, it doesn’t necessarily take a formal education to learn how to make wine. It takes hard work, logic, and you have to know when to just do what you’re told. Reetz and Phelan will remember this lesson in the year to come as they continue their search for experience in the wine industry and beyond.

Some Goode Advice From the author of Authentic Wine:

Normally, I would report to you about the interesting things I’ve learned or contributed to while doing this research. Or perhaps you could have expected my general musings about the pitfalls of transcription, my matured understanding of terroir or (duhn duhn duhn) grève. However, I have had a momentary break from transcription, and though I am back with a vengeance, I will not write about that today. (I will say, however, that if I thought I had something to wine (pun!) about when I was doing the transcription of our interview with Aaron Ayscough, English/American/author/blogger of NotDrinkingPoisonInParis.com, I was really in for a challenge when I started my next interview. It’s mischievously packed with obscure references to winemakers, their protégés, and events that happened while de Gaulle still ran the country)

As always, I’ve digressed. What I do, in fact, want to write about is a particularly interesting chapter of a book a recently read: Authentic Wine (Chapter 13) by Jamie Goode and Sam Harrop. This chapter, ‘Marketing Authentic Wine’ is of particular interest to me because, career wise, I want to do just that: market authentic wine. A somewhat disheartening reality that I faced upon leaving Paris’ wine salons is that natural wine is shamefully hard to come by. This means that perhaps I can carve out a niche and aim to better expose natural wine for what an extraordinary product it is. Goode offers some strategies for how to best do this, however, for now, I will distill his discourse down to the simplest of messages: “Tell the story of authentic wine.” In this post, I will try to illuminate what he means by this, but first, it is important to know the current state of wine marketing.

We have all (well, those of you who frequently drink wine…and I’m assuming you must because you’re still tuning in to these blog entries of mine… et merci d’ailleurs) strutted our way to the wine aisle of our nearest supermarket and been impressed by the variety. ‘So many bottles to choose from…do you feel like Syrah or Shiraz…Are they not the same thing…Maybe I’ll buy the cheaper one…No, I’ll buy this one because the label is cuter.’  We’ve probably all been in that situation or we’ve, at the very least, overheard this genre of deliberation. We are given the impression that there is an endless variety, however, Goode asserts that this is an illusion. In fact, he believes that the wine industry is becoming polarized and that which is found in the middle is losing ground. Tragically, this middle ground, according to Goode, is where the most interesting wines are being made.

So, let’s try to demystify this illusion. Here we are in the super market, facing hundreds, if not thousands of bottles of wine. We’re not even looking at the top-self because it’s far too expensive; we didn’t come to Safeway to spend $87.99 on bottle of wine to take to a party. We also can’t show up with a bottle of $6.99 slop either, so we’re left with what’s in the middle. There is still a plethora of remaining wines in this ‘middle’, so how can Goode claim that the middle is disappearing? It kind of makes you want to say ‘au contraire’ in a very drawn out voice. Well, believe it or not, he really is right. Indeed it looks like there are hundreds of wines, an endless variety, but look closely. How many of these are Cabernet Sauvignons, Merlots, Chardonnays, Pinot Grigios, Sauvignon Blancs, Pinot Noirs or Syrahs? Probably more than 80% (my estimation, not Goode’s. Take it for what it’s worth). Does that sound like a large number? Maybe yes, maybe no, but keep in mind that there are over 10,000 distinct wine varietals (take a look at DeLong’s varietal map below). So, in reality, we are talking about a shockingly small percentage of total wine diversity.

So, we’ve established that we receive a very narrow exposure when it comes to varietals, but let’s take a look at how wines are marketed. Goode writes, “[There have been] fewer restrictions on labeling and…therefore, [marketers] have been able to capitalize of the consumer’s lack of understanding of the product by breaking marketing down to the simplest messages, variety and brand.” (p.237) Let us phantasmagorically return to this wine aisle and take a peak at how these wines are being sold to us. What information do we have to work with? Well, on the front of the bottle, we’re told the varietal. Maybe (probably) we’re told where the wine is grown in the most general terms i.e. Chile, South Africa. If we turn the bottle around, we might find a description of the wine’s flavor. (These always make my very pragmatic father laugh: ‘An assertive wine with a penchant for sensuality. Allow yourself to get carried off by the smooth aromas, which are both playful and reflective. Savor the delicate hint of red fruits and butterflies.’) Oddly enough, some supermarkets even group their wines by tastes/flavors instead of their place or origin or even their varietal. You can read more about that in this Wall Street Journal Article called ‘Conquering the Wine Aisle’. So, we’re given some information, but what we’re missing (get ready for Goode’s ‘thesis’) is the story of the wine. We know little of the place from which it came, nor how it was made. What life has the wine known? I try to say this with the least lofty, magic-y, Portlandia tone.

Goode believes that it is the story of a wine that really adds to its intrigue. Marketing of wine, until present, has been too concentrated on price promotion, but with these bare figures, we lose the narrative, the soul. Supermarkets cannot continue to promote wines based exclusively on price promotion because, eventually, the producer can’t keep up. Top-shelf competition in supermarkets run their course because of higher prices imposed by the supermarket, coupled with simultaneous increased profit margins (also for the supermarket) that lead to a breaking point for the brands. Goode advises retailers to practice restraint in their cost cutting and margin-hunting; they must build marketing costs into their margins and not pass them off to the production sector. Instead, the story of natural, or as Goode prefers, authentic wines needs to be shared. And, not so coincidentally, these wines make for the best stories. There is a healthy interaction between the human steward and the vines themselves, which illustrates both human faith, restraint and passion and the unique influences of nature. These natural influences are at the heart of terroir. Wines must be marketed for their uniquely beautiful and subtle interplays of soil, climate and geography. Goode offers advice to each ‘actor’ (There’s a liberal arts college word for you) along the viticulture commodity chain.

Let’s start with the winemakers and their wineries. Goode urges winemakers to share their own authentic stories and get them to the retailers, sommeliers and journalists. Then, these subsequent actors need to fastidiously select and recommend authentic wines so that the consumer can understand the difference in quality. Goode writes, “one of the glaring problems for a marketer looking to promote authentic wine is that the majority of consumers lack understanding of what wine is, let alone what authentic wine might be.” (p. 243) Therefore, all actors need to work together to tell these stories.

While reading this book, I thought back to one of my most interesting interviews while in Paris (and needless to say, the most fun one). When interviewing the owners of Viniologi, a Swedish-based company that imports and distributes natural wine from Western Europe to some of Sweden’s top restaurants and wine bars, they echoed a very similar story. Goode would applaud their work. The owners, Daniele Fherm and Antonius Berthagen, share their goal:

‘Today our work is our passion and our vision is to bring forward the living and healthy wines from smaller winemakers, with ideals to make wine with a more natural approach without adding anything into the wines or take away something from its natural terroir.’

They shared in our interview that they want the people drinking the wines that they import to feel as if they can understand the place from where it came.  Their only criticism of the ‘movement’ is that they wish winemakers would grow to be more involved in the promotion of their wines. Again, this hearkens back to the heart of Goode’s message. Everyone needs to be involved in telling the story of authentic wines. He encourages restaurant owners to challenge even their favorite producers to make more natural wines and to challenge one’s importer to get serious about authentic wines. (Maybe they should take a leaf out of Viniologi’s book).

A final point that Goode makes, and a very goode one (second pun of the blog!) is that certifying bodies need to get it together. There are different certifications: Organic, Biodynamic, Nature S.A.N.S, Salmon Safe, Vin de terroir, AOC, AOP, just to name a few. Most consumers, including myself only a few short weeks ago, can’t make sense of all of these different certifying bodies. Which is best? Which is meaningful? These different groups need to emulate what the organic label achieved, which is to find some harmony. A label needs to be recognizable; it needs to have defined standards that assure the customer of the quality that they’re paying for. Consumer recognition is imperative, and in the case of ethically produced goods, it’s also profitable. There has been a surge of interest in environmentally responsible products and consumers are willing to pay more for them. Why, then, might I ask, is there this residual disaccord? And furthermore, a question that has plagued my thoughts since I first heard Jeff Vejr, one of the faces of Sauvage, a wine bar & restaurant in Portland, OR, why aren’t these certifications better displayed? The whole front side of a bottle will be elegantly bare (pretty, but leaving a lot of important space to be utilized) while the back label is inundated with information, and in the corner, you’ll find, for example, a tiny Demeter logo (Demeter is the certifying body in the US that is charge of biodynamic products). We need to bring this to the attention of shoppers! Like me! I want to be able to go to a supermarket and find a biodynamic wine without turning around 1,350 bottles to check whether or not it has some recognizable insignia.

Jeff Vejr, the aforementioned wines men at Sauvage has developed a clever solution to this labeling deficit.  He owns a separate company called Message ON the Bottle™, which seeks to inform the customer immediately about the product, whether it be beer, wine, spirits or olive oil. Take a look at his website with the link provided above. Jeff writes,

‘I’ve had so many people tell me how intimidated they are when standing in front of that wall of bottles at the grocery store, bottle shop, wine shop, or liquor store.  How helpless the feeling can be. I created this ‘necker’ to help companies tell their story better and for the customer to receive more information without even having to pick that bottle up.   We hope our product helps you share your story more effectively or inspires you to try something new.’

So, what sets Jeff apart from another restaurateur with a second job on the side? Well, his third job does the trick. Jeff is also the owner, creator and ‘winesman’ at drinkSNOB.tv. In this case, Jeff has transformed the hoity-toity (or bo-bo as they’d say in France) word, ‘snob’ into a far more interesting acronym. SNOB stands for Sustainable Natural Organic Biodynamic, with the motto, “Drink One. Don’t Be One.” He is doing his part of engaging with producers of authentic wine, importing it to the US, educating the consumer and (you guessed it) telling the story! It’s is absolutely, positively worth checking out this link to one of his recent videos which highlight natural wine producers throughout Western Europe (one of them happens to be a person I met while in Paris, qui savait?)

So, wrapping up: This chapter also delved into a discussion of marketing wine to the next generation, ‘the millennials’, the generation of which I am apart. According to Goode, we millennials rely heavily on our social media outlets. We draw inspiration as much from our peers as from celebrities or specialists. We believe in the power of start-ups and human potential (it’s worth mentioning that Goode believes this comes with the price of huge narcissism and a belief that we deserve privileges we haven’t earned). Nonetheless, we millennials seek to know one another and again, the narrative of authentic wine will appeal to my generation (which is supposedly made of ‘kids’ born between ’81 and ’92). Goode writes, ‘In the future, it will not be scores that sell wines, but stories” (p.239). In this chapter of Authentic Wine he tries to address every actor that can affect the success of this commodity. The part that resonates with me that most is that of the storyteller, the intermediary between producer and consumer. If you’ve read this far, then hopefully I’ve done my part as a storyteller to capture your attention, and you’ve done the part of the consumer to learn about the product. We’re off to a good start…now, be like me, and go get yourself a drink. Santé!