The owners of Syncline Wine Cellars, James, Ava Elena and Poppie Mantone, picnicking here in Celilo Vineyard, have carved out their family’s livelihood in the Columbia Gorge, a new AVA that straddles both Washington and Oregon. James observes that the unique AVA is "based on climatological and elevation issues, not political boundaries."
Photo: PATRICK BENNETT
Northwest Passage -New
AVAs sprout across Oregon & WashingtonBy
Richard KinssiesWashington and Oregon are often viewed by the world as sibling wine regions, but they are as different as Kane and Abel. One is vast with potentially hundreds of thousands of acres to plant; the other's growth is severely defined by its geography. One seems to be able to grow anything while the other's reputation and economy has heretofore relied on a single variety. The entire production of one state is less than the production of the other's largest winery. But both are vying for their share of an increasingly crowded and competitive market, and each understands that focusing on the concept of American Viticultural Areas can be an effective, if not vital, marketing tool. How they each approach the job may affect the success of their respective wine industries.
With the approval of two new AVAs this summer, Oregon winegrowers will have increased their number by eight since 2004 for a total of 16. Six of these will serve to carve up a single region into smaller, more defined areas, and one will do the opposite by uniting three regions into a single larger one. And yet another AVA has decided to share its new-found identity with winegrowers in the state of Washington. For its part, Washington, inspired by the astonishing success of the Walla Walla AVA, has approved three new official wine areas within the last year. And there are rumors of many more to follow.
A look at how each state approaches the process of establishing its AVAs also offers insight into the wine culture of each region. Understanding the rationale behind the strategies of creating the AVAs helps make sense of the forces that shaped the agriculture, and thus viticulture, of each region.
Oregon has three distinct wine regions dominated by the cool-climate Willamette Valley in the northwest, where more than two-thirds of all its wineries reside. So famous is this region, and its Pinot Noir, that many consumers believe this is the only place where grapes are grown in the state.
Directly south of the Willamette are the hotter and more varied climates of the Umpqua, Rogue and Applegate AVAs that have recently all rallied under a new banner called Southern Oregon. Here, virtually no Pinot is produced; rather, other grapes are being experimented with successfully, including several warmer-climate varieties. The third sector lies on the east side of the state, where three AVAs hug the Washington border and share their names with their northern neighbor. It may surprise many that Columbia Valley, Walla Walla Valley and Columbia Gorge are Oregon appellations, too.
AVAs are relatively new to this country - dating only to 1983 - but they have played a critical role in Europe's wine industry for generations. The most famous and emulated example is France's AOC system, which was officially instituted in 1933. Since then, all European wine nations have come up with a version. The original purpose in France was to protect the integrity of the best wine regions by requiring that a wine originate from the place named on the label. It then dictated which grapes could be grown in an area, where they could be grown, when they could be harvested and how ripe they had to be. It can even dictate how the wine will be made and what it must taste like.
But American classifications aren't concerned with most of those dictates. Rather, they try to ensure that an area is distinctive from the surrounding area in regard to such things as climate, soil type and elevation, and then to make sure that the wine came from the AVA named on the label - at least 85 percent of it, anyway.
Initially, large winegrowing areas were granted AVAs, but it wasn't long before smaller ones wanted to set themselves apart from the pack. Now, as more and more wines enter the market, being part of a well-recognized AVA can be very important for a winery, especially considering the tourism generated by that recognition.
And the economic benefits of wine tourism cannot be overestimated. No other product seems to inspire consumers to actually plan their vacations around touring the area where it is made. A case might be made for cheese, but how many times have you heard someone say, "I just spent two weeks in cheese country?"
Wine enthusiasts, however, want to walk the vineyards where the grapes are grown, and see the tanks and barrels and pumps and hoses used to make the wine. They want to smell the smells of winemaking and taste the wines at the place where they were made. And, if they're lucky, meet the person who made them. This can create a powerful bond between a winery and its customers. And perhaps most importantly, it also allows small wineries to sell directly to consumers, which can be critical to their bottom line.
The dividing up of the Willamette Valley began 150 years ago, long before tourism was a consideration. It was the end of the Oregon Trail and, for many who settled there in the mid-1800s, this place was the realization of a dream. "The people who came to Seattle [in the 1880s] came for the gold in Alaska," says David Adelsheim, co-owner and winemaker at Adelsheim Vineyards and a pioneer of the Oregon wine industry. "But when people came to Portland, that was their destination; they believed they had found Eden."
It helped that the federal government offered free real estate in this Eden. Settlers were granted up to 160 acres if they cleared five, and lived on it for five years. It wasn't long before virtually all of the Willamette was parceled out, and the opportunity for someone to do large-scale farming, including grapes as is done in Washington, disappeared. But the size and shape of the Willamette doesn't really allow for large-scale farming, as it does in eastern Washington. It spreads about 50 miles east to west and follows the Willamette River south about 200 miles to Cottage Grove just south of Eugene. It is corralled by the Coast Range to the west and the towering Cascades to the east. It is not gently rolling hills, as is much of eastern Washington, but mostly lumpy islands of arable land.
And it wasn't necessarily fortunate that these newly landed pilgrims weren't much interested in ranching or growing wheat - or in any kind of agriculture for that matter. Instead, they preferred horticulture - growing fruit, nuts and flowers, and starting nurseries. And they still do today.
When David Lett came north from California in the early 1960s to start a vineyard and winery, he was single-minded in finding paradise for his fair-haired pinot noir grape. His hunch was right when he staked out the cool northern Willamette Valley, where he found it possible to coax great wine from this difficult grape. Virtually all who followed Lett did so because they, too, wanted to grow great Pinot Noir, and eventually the Willamette became populated with hundreds of these like-minded folks, united and inspired by a passion for a single grape that borders on obsession. Most other grapes, especially the red ones, were unsuitable for this place - though no one cared.
According to Adelsheim, the best pinot noir must be farmed, as well as fermented, on a small scale. Because the grape is so easily influenced by its environment, selection is crucial. Today it is common for winemakers to separately ferment and market wines from individual vineyard sites, much the way it's done in Burgundy, which is pinot noir's original 'hood. So it seems natural that the winegrowers in the Willamette would want to carve up the valley into smaller AVAs to reflect the grape's propensity to self distinguish.
Ken Wright, owner-winemaker at Ken Wright Cellars, certainly wanted to do so back in 1995 when he asked for a meeting of several of the key players in the Willamette. "I sourced grapes from all of the areas and made vineyard designate wines," he explains. "It was clear to me where the differences were and where the lines should be drawn based on soil." But there was resistance. Some thought it may be divisive and had potential for ill will. Wright concedes, "It's true when you draw a line someone is on one side and someone is on the other."
So the project was tabled. But in the years that followed, the Willamette began to flourish and many growers began to agree with Wright. In 1999, Alex Sokol Blosser, second generation winegrower at Sokol Blosser Winery, approached the original players to again discuss the prospect of "bringing more definition to our grape-growing region." This time, the reaction was positive. "This was a completely different meeting," Wright enthuses. "Everybody got it."
Timing was also very important. The Willamette was growing fast, and more participants, especially newcomers, could make the process more complicated. Therefore, the key players, many of whom planted some of Oregon's first vines, all became involved and all agreed, at least in principal, as to how the project should proceed. "We knew the area was about to explode, and it did," Wright recalls. "There are now thousands and thousands and thousands of new acres planted, and hundreds and hundreds of growers. I look at a list [of growers and producers] and I don't know 20 percent of the new names," he notes.
If that sounds like an exaggeration, consider this: Oregon now has 300 wineries, many of which have opened in the past few years, and at least 250 of them are in the Willamette. In 2000, there were 4,800 acres of pinot noir planted; now there are about 8,000 acres. And the growth continues.
What is remarkable about the project is the degree of cooperation that prevailed, even though there were disagreements among these very passionate and determined vintners and growers. "We got all the players in a room for some good old-fashioned consensus building," Sokol Blosser recalls with a laugh. "It would have been so easy for this to have turned into a train wreck."
Still, everyone had a voice - even the naysayers - and all meetings were open to anyone who wanted to attend. And no one denies there were some hard-won compromises. "The process and the solutions are not perfect," Adelsheim shrugs. "But it was very Oregon style. We're used to working together down here."
"There were some political things that happened," Wright adds, "but it was a very collaborative process and I'm very happy with what we have." In the end, it was decided that six new AVAs would be culled from the northern Willamette (defined as Forest Grove in the north to Salem in the south). A team was assembled for each area to put together a petition to submit to the TTB (formerly BATF).
A minimum altitude of 200 feet was the first consideration for each AVA for the simple reason that the ancient and pristine soils at this elevation were not affected by the great floods that created Washington wine country and deposited soils throughout the two states about 15,000 years ago. One could imagine each of these AVAs as little islands above the swirling waters. The group contends that the alluvial soils in the lower elevations are not suited for high-quality wine grapes.
"All of the sites [for the AVAs] are on the west side of the valley in the rain shadow of the Coast Range," explains Rollin Soles, winemaker at Argyle winery and a key player in the Dundee Hills AVA. "We chose 200 feet as a minimum elevation but 400 would have been better to take advantage of the sunlight and the thinner soils, but we wanted to be more inclusive."
Next, the potential AVAs were defined by their particular soil types. Pinot noir is a classic medium for the soil, and each AVA has at least the potential to produce distinctive wines that express the character of the place where they are grown. Weather patterns and grape-growing history were also important considerations.
It took two years for all the committees to do their homework and have all the petitions ready for submission. As a show of unity, all six were presented together in March 2002. The approvals have been trickling in over the last year and a half; only one remains, Chehalem Mountains, and its approval is imminent. All told, the project took ten years.
Though none deny AVAs are very much about marketing, they all insist it is the consumer who also benefits. "Of course it's marketing motivated, but we're not trying to make something out of nothing," Adelsheim says. He maintains that consumers will know that these new AVAs are not on the inferior valley floor, for example. "But AVAs aren't a guarantee for good wines," Rollin Soles points out. "You're still going to have good and bad vineyards within an AVA."
Consumers should also be able to discern between the AVAs. "If someone is paying $40 to $70 for a bottle of Pinot Noir they want to know more than that it came from the Willamette Valley, which is very big," Sokol Blosser says.
Ken Wright agrees: "If the lines [for the AVAs] have been well drawn, the wines will be consistent in their aromas, flavors and textures. Each of these new AVAs will have their own story to tell."
Some could argue that six AVAs coming on board at virtually the same time may be a few too many. But Adelsheim is pragmatic. "I was a reluctant player in the beginning," he admits. "But there are now 250 brands in the Willamette Valley, and the consumer needs help sorting them out." Of course, you can take it too far, he concedes. If one insisted on separating into AVAs each patch of dirt that contributed to the uniqueness of a wine "the only AVA that would make sense is a single vine, and I'm sure if you separated each cluster they would be different, too," he notes.
Leaving it to winegrowers to haggle among themselves about where the lines will be drawn, who is in and who is out, may not always be the smoothest process. Adelsheim points out that in Europe, especially France and Germany, it was the government of each country that took charge and made the process uniform for each. In the United States, he says, "The government, in essence, said, 'Do what you want and let us know.' Is there any surprise we have chaos?"
The sorting out process aside, at the end of the day, an AVA is a brand, Adelsheim says. Wineries can be part of a larger brand, say Columbia Valley or Willamette Valley, and rattle around with everyone else or they can create a smaller identity and work to direct attention to their area. According to Adelsheim, "The more wineries there are in an area, the more AVAs it can support." With the Willamette bulging at the seams with new wineries, the logic in creating the six breakout "brands" seems clear. But, Adelsheim notes, the opposite is also true. The fewer labels you have, the fewer brands or AVAs you can support. This bit of wisdom became very clear to the folks growing wine in southern Oregon.
Southern Oregon had three good-sized AVAs, including the Umpqua, Rogue and Applegate valleys, all supported by a total of just 35 labels. Trying to gain recognition for each of these regions proved futile. "We had an identity crisis," confesses Greg Jones, a professor of geography at Southern Oregon University and the author of the petition for the new AVA. "If a consumer knew something about Oregon and they bought one of our wines, they would just assume that the Rogue or Applegate were sub-regions of the Willamette. And if they didn't know Oregon then it had no meaning at all," he says.
There was also the misconception about climate. Because of the dominance of pinot noir and its cool-climate requirements, most consumers still believe that all of Oregon is cool and specializes in pinot noir. But pinot noir barely exists in southern Oregon; it is hotter and dryer than the Willamette Valley and can support a spectrum of varieties that can't be grown in the north. So late in 2001, the area growers submitted their petition for a new, all-encompassing AVA with the geographically precise name of Southern Oregon. "Umpqua sounds like a disease," Jones jokes, "Southern Oregon sounds like a place."
By all accounts, the process went off without a hitch. While the Willamette had its moments trying to gain consensus when crafting its petition, no one remembers any important dissension in the Southern Oregon ranks. "When I announced [the approval of the AVA] at the meeting everyone applauded, and no one threw anything at me," Jones observes wryly.
In the year and a half since the approval of the new AVA, Southern Oregon growers are beginning to see the benefits. Now previously fragmented marketing efforts are concentrated for greater impact. Before the new AVA went into effect, if the grapes in a wine were sourced from more than one AVA only the very broad Oregon AVA could appear on the label. Now it can be shown as Southern Oregon. Further, a winery can now have what Jones describes as a "double AVA." A winery may label a wine, for example, as "Southern Oregon, Umpqua Valley" instead of just one or the other, thereby offering a more specific place of origin.
Lack of identity is not a new issue for the good people living in the southwest section of Oregon. Jones loves to tell the story of Jefferson State: In the mid-1800s, fed up with not getting the attention they deserved, six southern Oregon counties and seven from northern California decided to form a new state that would be named Jefferson. According to Jones, the movement was fairly large and was gaining momentum when the Civil War created a more pressing priority and the effort was set aside.
Still, the issue continued to fester until once again, in 1941, a group of very persuasive people got the possibility of a separate state all the way to the legislative dockets of both California and Oregon. But, alas, the day before discussions were to begin Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. Or so the story goes.
While there is no doubt the Southern Oregon AVA has helped the region, it is just as clear that the identity issue is nowhere close to being resolved. "There are so many things we're still trying to figure out," says Earl Jones, owner and winemaker at Abacela Vineyards in Roseburg in the Umpqua Valley and father of Greg Jones.
Most growers believe the most important task is to find the best varieties to grow here and then to market them just as the Willamette did with their pinot noir. "We're very young and we still have to find our strengths and discover our terroir," says Michael Donovan, director of marketing and sales at RoxyAnn winery in the Rogue Valley, and one who was instrumental in forming the new AVA. So many grapes do well in Southern Oregon that defining a focus is a challenge. The climate there resembles Washington - though it is cooler here - or coastal California more than northern Oregon.
As Earl Jones points out, "Remember, we're 310 miles from Portland and 300 miles from Sacramento." Over the last ten years, he has used his 45 acres of vines as a viticultural lab where he experiments to find the southern area's equivalent of pinot noir. "Not everything works," he says. "My philosophy is to give each variety a five-year trial, and if it doesn't do well, we graft over." So far he's had some surprisingly good results with tempranillo and syrah, which he thinks are both keepers as well as the Spanish white, albariño.
His son believes the region's strengths lie in what he terms the mid-range climate varieties, such as merlot, cabernet franc, tempranillo and syrah for reds, and viognier and some Spanish grapes for whites. "The downside of our climate is that we have a wealth of varieties we can grow, but no single-grape identification. We have to fine-tune to three or four varieties and three or four styles for each of those," he says. Donovan adds, "We'll never have an homogenous effort like pinot noir in the Willamette Valley."
But why should Southern Oregon rely on one or a few grapes for its reputation? Washington has had amazing success riding the wave of every wine trend of the last decade. So why not simply plant what the market wants? Greg Jones's answer is that Washington has large wineries, such as Columbia Crest and Chateau Ste. Michelle, with sophisticated national and international distribution systems. "They can react to the market very quickly, but we're all small players down here and we don't have that advantage," he says.
When asked about carving out more "brands" as the region matures, no one seems very passionate. Right now the focus has been on discovering a varietal identity and, as Donovan puts it, "Working to distance ourselves from our northern brothers and sisters." When pressed, most agree that a possible candidate might be Illinois Valley in the southwest corner of the Rogue Valley AVA. It's cooler in the Illinois and pinot noir grows well there, and growers there can actually ripen it.
While Oregon's lush Willamette Valley was being parceled and planted by settlers, the vast rolling acres of eastern Washington, which would one day become one of America's great agricultural wonders, lay mostly dormant as they had for millennia. Since the great floods that formed it and deposited most of its soils, it lay there like a great package of instant commissary that, if it came with directions for use, would simply read "just add water."
In 1903, the federal government did just that. It built a 550-foot-high wall of concrete at Grand Coulee to control the Columbia River flow and the ground sprang to life. Agriculture became possible on a large and even grand scale. Huge tracts of land were dedicated to single crops that would supply America with most of its mint, hops, potatoes (even more than Idaho), lentils and peas. Orchards were planted and Washington became famous for its apples, cherries, peaches and apricots. Vineyards were planted, too, for juice and table grapes.
While Washington's breadbasket was prospering, the wine industry that was created after the failure in 1933 of the "great experiment" of Prohibition languished. The few vineyards planted to vinifera and the occasional nice efforts by winemakers were more symptoms of a wine industry than proof that one existed. It wasn't until the nugacious state laws that protected an embarrassing pop wine industry were abolished in the late 1960s that an authentic wine industry could begin to take form.
Many of the first modern commercial vineyards were planted by farmers simply trying to make a living. Agriculture is a fickle business. So when the forces of nature and markets conspired against apples and cherries during the late 1980s and the 1990s, growers converted acres of money-losing orchards into potentially profitable vinifera vines. After all, agriculture is a bespoke industry - if the market wants corn, plant corn.
From the beginning, Washington winegrowers had no intention of creating a mono-grape wine region. Even today, they like to experiment with new varieties and new blends as they continue to search for the best vineyard sites. This may prove to be an important strength by ensuring the region will always stay fresh and curious. But the greatest weakness in Washington viticulture is the very thing that allows it to exist: water.
Eastern Washington would be a lush carpet of green vines if only growers had the liquid resources. The Willamette is mostly dry farmed, but eastern Washington's paltry 6 to 12 inches of annual rainfall is not enough to sustain vine life. So water remains the tether onto which the wine industry, and all of Washington's agriculture, is attached. Water brought this land to life and water can turn it back into a place of sagebrush and native grasses. The battle over water in eastern Washington - who gets it, how much do they get, how much does it cost - has raged for years, and as more pressure is put on the wine industry to expand vine plantings, it promises to escalate.
Its innate ability to produce good wine based on its propitious climate and soils, and the talent of its winemakers notwithstanding, Washington's greatest asset is its knack for marketing. Back in 1987, producers and growers organized themselves into the Washington Wine Commission, a formidable trade organization. Events were subsequently organized and supported, such as an annual wine auction, that have raised millions of dollars for charity; tasting events were orchestrated that brought international recognition and esteem to the region. And most important, the commission took the Washington wine show on the road, sponsoring national and international tastings that showcased the state's wines.
The results have been remarkable. When AVAs were invented in 1983, Washington's Yakima Valley was one of the first in the country to be approved. But while the Washington Wine Commission thought AVAs were nice, it was clear that Washington would be promoted as a single region. Washington was the brand.
Now there is a threat that Washington wineries may be victims of the region's own success. Growth in the industry is skyrocketing. There are presently more than 400 wineries in Washington, with a new one opening about every ten days. Most produce far less than 1,000 cases per year. All of this growth makes for a very crowded market, and wineries now need more than a collective group hug and a rally around the state flag. What they need is the zeitgeist of the modern mini-winery - they need tourism. They have to drive tourists to their wineries and Web sites if they are to survive and flourish. They need their own successful AVA.
For inspiration and instruction they need look no further than Walla Walla.
David Adelsheim calls Walla Walla the poster child for a successful AVA. Even though getting there requires a five-hour drive from Seattle, Walla Walla is rapidly becoming one of the most important tourist destinations in the state. Locals are trying as hard as they can to build infrastructure to keep up with the demand from wine tourists, but during festivals and other events it can be difficult for visitors to find a place to eat or stay. And there doesn't seem to be an end in sight for the growth. No one even knows for certain how many wineries there are in Walla Walla now; maybe 80, maybe more.
Pop-star winemakers Gary Figgins of Leonetti Cellar and Rick Small of Woodward Canyon started their wineries in Walla Walla in the late 1970s and early '80s because that is where they lived. But most of their grapes were sourced from outside the region. Many of the newcomers that came here around the turn of the century did so to be next to these wineries and bask in their glory and, of course, to benefit from the tourists that they drew.
But now Walla Walla has become its own phenomenon. Tourists visit because it's Walla Walla. Wineries open here because it's Walla Walla. And new plantings have proven the AVA to be viticulturally significant, especially in the higher elevations. "There's gold in them thar hills," laughs Figgins, who plans to wean his winery entirely from outside grapes within a few years.
But the idea of a winery using grapes from only one AVA, even if it is where that winery is located, is not predominant in Washington. An important difference between winegrowers in Washington and Oregon is that Washington winemakers have always had an inclination to blend. They will blend several grapes into a single wine, and they will likely source those grapes from different AVAs and vineyards to create a house style over a recognizable AVA style. Most of Washington's best wineries are not even located in an AVA but are sprinkled throughout the Puget Sound area or clustered in Woodinville, for example. So it is natural that all winemakers here may not share the same reverence for AVAs. Dr. Wade Wolfe, winemaker for his family-owned Thurston Wolfe Winery and a well respected industry veteran, has questions. "We need to ask ourselves, 'Who does [a new AVA] help?' 'Does it help the consumer or is it just a marketing tool?' And blending [between AVAs] can negate the effectiveness of an AVA," he adds.
Of Washington's nine AVAs, there are two that seem poised to have a Walla Walla-like future: Red Mountain and Columbia Gorge.
No area could make a better case for its own AVA than Red Mountain, a miniscule patch of land (about 4,000 total acres) carved out of the Yakima Valley AVA back in 2001. The land is dryer and hotter than the surrounding area. It has less cloud cover and more wind, and the quality of the fruit is indisputable. Merlot, cabernet sauvignon and syrah, for example, from Klipsun Vineyard or Ceil du Cheval, can fetch thousands of dollars per ton more than those grapes from other Washington vineyards, and there's a waiting list for buyers. It's no surprise that Red Mountain is the most expensive vineyard real estate in Washington. Another unique edge for Red Mountain is that the entire AVA can be viewed from one vantage point.
A recent release of land - with water - from the state's Department of Natural Resources has spurred growth. About 700 acres of vines will be planted in the next few years, bringing the total to about 1,500 of the approximately 2,500 plantable acres on Red Mountain. Within a few years, Red Mountain will be green with new vineyards and dotted with about two dozen wineries.
To plan for the growth of their AVA, members are in the process of making the area into what they call a viticultural park. "The plan really isn't consumer driven, it's grower driven," says Tom Hedges of Hedges Cellars on Red Mountain. "But even though that's not our goal, the results will be great for the consumer," he adds. According to Hedges, the park will eventually include tree-lined roads, lookout points, signs, even a village with a restaurant, an inn, a general store and a wine shop. Construction is still a few years out, but the plans are nearing completion.
Of all the AVAs in Washington (and Oregon), the Columbia Gorge has the most promise as a breakout star. For years, it has been Washington's best-kept secret, but it is now reaching critical mass regarding vineyards, wineries and recognition. Viticulturally, it is the source of some of the state's best fruit, yet it is also one of the most dramatically beautiful places in the entire northwest, making for an unbeatable combination. Proximity is another advantage for the Gorge. It's about three and a half hours from Seattle and about an hour from Portland.
Since the AVA was approved in 2004, the Columbia Gorge has grown considerably, especially on the Oregon side. There were perhaps two Oregon wineries then and now there are about a dozen. The Washington side has grown, too, in the number of wineries and the number of acres planted to vines. There are now about two dozen wineries spread evenly on both sides of the water.
Great masses of both air and water move through the corridor that makes up the Columbia Gorge. Here, the walls of the gorge sink down on the westward-flowing Columbia River like a nozzle on a garden hose, creating both rapids and deep water. It is the water that helps mitigate the temperature extremes that dominate the rest of inland Washington. This is also the only portal to the Pacific Ocean in both the Coastal and Cascade ranges, allowing for huge amounts of cool marine air to rush eastward through the gorge. (These conditions also make the Columbia Gorge one of the world's premier windsurfing venues.)
It is this collision of both marine and continental climates that give the AVA its unique growing conditions. It is warmer than the Puget Sound and cooler than the Columbia Valley. It can ripen hot-climate grapes, such as zinfandel, yet it's not too warm for cool-climate grapes such chardonnay and even pinot noir. And the scenery is breathtaking. "Every vineyard comes with a view," boasts Joel Goodwillie, co-owner and winemaker at Wind River Cellars, and co-author of the AVA petition. Goodwillie has been making wine in the gorge for more than ten years and has found one of his greatest successes with tempranillo. "I'm banking on that variety," he says.
Because the Columbia Gorge straddles two states, the possibilities for discord could have been high in negotiating the details for the AVA petition. But from all accounts, the whole thing went off without a hitch. "The AVA is based on climatological and elevation issues, not political boundaries," explains James Mantone, co-owner with his wife, Poppie, and winemaker at Syncline Wine Cellars. "It was more important for everyone to be unified than to fight over boundaries," he says.
For many, one of the great benefits of the new AVA is that Celilo Vineyard now has an address other than Washington State. This 70-acre site, founded in 1973, is the jewel of the gorge, if not the entire state. From here comes some of the best chardonnay fruit perhaps in the entire country, yet it has previously resided outside the boundaries of all of Washington's AVAs. Many believe that it is the success of the Celilo Vineyard that helped make the case for the AVA in the first place.
Wahluke Slope and Rattlesnake Hills are two other Washington AVAs that were welcomed into the ranks this year. As far as tourism is concerned, the Wahluke Slope is no threat to Walla Walla, or pretty much anywhere else. There are few wineries, no population center and not many places to stay and eat. But the Wahluke Slope has long been recognized as one of the state's finest growing regions. At this point, the growers there are proud they have their own AVA, which they consider a place saver, as they wait until the region's tourism catches up to its viticultural potential.
Rattlesnake Hills is the newest of Washington's nine AVAs - and probably has the best name because one can barely walk a vine row without encountering the testy reptile taking a sunbath. Before it gained its independence, it was the northern border of the Yakima AVA. This area is home to the Morrison Vineyard, which was planted in 1968, thus making it the oldest vineyard in eastern Washington. According to AVA sources, the new AVA now hosts 29 vineyards and 19 wineries.
Most agreed that the Rattlesnake Hills deserved its own AVA, but not all agreed as to where the boundaries should have been drawn. To hear each side talk sounds a bit like a feud between the Hatfields and McCoys, which has prompted even more questions about the expansion of Washington's AVAs. Tedd Wildman, a grower who farms about 250 acres of vines and was one of those who pushed through the Wahluke Slope AVA, is cautious about forming new AVAs. "I'd hate to see AVAs descend into just being bragging rights," he says. "They need to be an asset, not a point of division."
Of Washington's nine AVAs, the Puget Sound is the only one on the west side of the Cascades. Members have invested a great deal of resources to research just the right combination of varietal, rootstock and clone that would best fit its unique climate profile. After years of experimenting, the data suggests that the grape with the most promise for Puget Sound is pinot noir.
There is no doubt that AVAs in Washington and Oregon will keep proliferating as the wine industries continue to grow and evolve, and the process will never be perfect. But when will there be too many? When David Adelsheim is asked at what point will consumer's eyes glaze over from confronting too many AVAs, he replies pragmatically, " I suppose when we see their eyes glaze over." In other words, there will be too many AVAs when they are no longer effective. But it's important to note that the boom in AVAs is a sign of a healthy and robust wine industry. This point is not lost on Adelsheim when he reflects on the successes of the Willamette Valley he has witnessed over the past three decades: "We've succeeded beyond our wildest dreams."
Tasting Bar
Because it is impractical to review wines from every AVA in both states, I instead chose to focus on the grape that motivated the subdividing of the Willamette and to show the progress Southern Oregon has made finding its viticultural rudder. Mostly blended wines were chosen from Washington because winemakers there are more apt to source grapes inter-AVA. The wines were not tasted blind; scores are based on the BuyLine scale.
Willamette Valley
Eyrie Vineyards, 2004 Pinot Noir, Estate Grown, Willamette Valley - $25: The light, almost pale, hue (relative to most Willamette Pinots) is a trademark of Eyrie Pinot Noir. But the wine delivers with complex and elegant flavors and aromas of cherry and spice. Understated and intriguing - a thinking man's Pinot Noir. Score: 89
Ken Wright Cellars, 2004 Pinot Noir, Shea Vineyard, Willamette Valley - $48: This is a sizable wine that is so well formed, it is remarkably elegant and stylish. The flavors and aromas emphasize bright red fruit with hints of spice and floral notes. Score: 94
Ken Wright Cellars, 2004 Pinot Noir, Abbot Claim Vineyard, Willamette Valley - $48: Rich and layered with dark fruit flavors such as black cherry, plum and cassis that have such length they can linger for minutes. Plush tannins add to the wine's opulence. Score: 94
Rex Hill Vineyards, 2004 Pinot Noir, Oregon - $21: Filled with bright, sweet red and black fruit compote aromas and flavors mixed with white pepper and an array of spices, that, when mingled with the vanilla tones, give it a root beer nuance. Score: 91
Sokol Blosser, 2003 Pinot Noir, Dundee Hills - $28: The red fruit flavors are not the sweet, jammy kind, but rather dry and somewhat restrained with hints of smoke, pepper and spice woven throughout. Score: 89
Willakenzie Estate, 2003 Pinot Noir, Emery Vineyard, Willamette Valley - $45: A broad-shouldered wine of powerful proportions - from the sturdy yet balanced components to the rich texture and massive body weight and the densely packed red and black fruit flavors. Score: 90
Southern Oregon
Abacela, 2005 Albariño, Southern Oregon - $20: A fascinating wine that evolves as it breathes in the glass, beginning with layers and layers of subtle fruit character that remind one of grapefruit and lemon, then white peach and fruit blossoms with mineral undertones. The wine is rich, full and quite dry, with a level of acidity found only in the likes of Chenin Blanc and Riesling. Score: 91
Abacela, 2003 Estate Tempranillo, Southern Oregon - $30: Dark red in color with vibrant, dense wild berries, minerals and herb scents and flavors. Firm and structured, the wine seems built to last. Score: 92
Del Rio Vineyards, 2004 Viognier, Rogue Valley - $22: Big, fleshy, juicy version with lots of tropical fruit flavors and aromas, including peach and banana. Score: 89
Foris, 2005 Pinot Gris, Rogue Valley - $14: Fresh, lively, well-crafted wine with plenty of white peach and pear aromas and flavors that linger for a surprising length of time. Score: 91
Foris, 2002 Cabernet Franc, Siskiyou Terrace, Rogue Valley - $20: Powerful nose packed with sweet plum and cherry with rose notes; similar flavors aren't at all sweet. Soft, dusty tannins give the wine a sensuous mouth-feel. Score: 89
RoxyAnn, 2004 Syrah, Rogue Valley - $30: A medley of red fruit aromas and flavors mingle with notes of coffee, mocha and vanilla supported by brisk acidity and soft cocoa powder tannins. Score: 90
Washington
Brian Carter Cellars, 2000 Solesce, Columbia Valley - $59: Carter is one of the master wine blenders in the state, here putting together a mélange of merlot, cabernet sauvignon, cab franc and malbec into a sturdy, yet elegant wine; nuances of cherry, currant, plum and vanilla linger and evolve. Score: 92
DeLille Cellars, 2003 D2, Columbia Valley - $35: D2 is the second label of DeLille's showcase Chaleur Estate red blend, but over the years it has developed a following of its own. Deep and broad, it has power and structure with lots of mixed red and black fruit, yet is polished and focused. Made from merlot, cabernet sauvignon, petite verdot and cabernet franc. Score: 93
Seven Hills Winery, 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon, Seven Hills Vineyard, Walla Walla Valley - $30: As with all Seven Hills wines, this one focuses on structure and lets the fruit flavors fall where they may. The wine shows precision balance of all components which gives the abundant, ripe mixed fruit aromas and flavors a showy entry that float on the back of the palate for minutes. Score: 91
Syncline Wine Cellars, 2004 Syrah, Milbrandt Vineyard, Columbia Valley - $23: The nose offers whiffs of black cherry, blueberry and vanilla; on the palate, the wine displays blueberry, black licorice and vanilla flavors that continue throughout the very long finish. With its sharp balance and soft-as-talcum tannins, it shows more of the elegance of a Pinot than the ruggedness of Syrah. Score: 93
Wind River Cellars, 2004 Tempranillo, Columbia Gorge - $28: One of many new Washington and Oregon wines made from this Spanish workhorse red, this Tempranillo has bright, tart, mouthwatering cherry and other red fruit characteristics, plenty of soft tannins and a wisp of vanilla that haunts the wine from the nose to the finish. Score: 89 - RK