Pollux Membership August 2022: “I Don’t Need a Clock” and “Nice Yacht, Sorry About the Lawsuit”
Mont Blanc, grapegrower Carlos Cubells’ “watch”. Priorat, 2016.
“I Don’t Need a Clock”
En Numeros Vermells “Garnatxa Blanca del Carlos”, Priorat, Spain 2020
I find languages fascinating, from my experience learning them in order to sing (not very well, mind you-the singing, not the learning, but…never mind) to visiting winemakers and doing my best to converse. I love the differing rhythms and cadences, the musical rise and fall of the inflections, and the cultural hints that are dropped via varying proverbs and idiomatic expressions. Having said all of that, there is probably no worse feeling in life than when someone is trying to express their love affair with their life’s work, and indeed their entire raison d’etre, when they suddenly realize through your earnest yet deadened facial expressions that you’re not picking up what they’re putting down. Sadly, my meager capabilities brought this situation about while touring some of the most pristine vineyards I’ve ever visited, and meeting the lifeblood behind Priorat winemaking phenom Silvia Puig’s dazzling Garnatxa Blanca: her mentor and friend, Carlos Cubells.
Carlos Cubells in the foreground, with En Numeros Vermells winemaker Silvia Puig, her American importer Jonas Gustafsson, and her children Giulia and Bernat behind.
I’ve already been in Catalunya for over a week, so my ears had adjusted to this intoxicatingly perplexing language: somewhere between Spanish and other Mediterranean tongues, with many words that are cognates of Latin or have Italian-esque pronunciations. Spain is a unified country according to maps, but try speaking Castillano Spanish to a Catalan and you’re apt to start some serious trouble. In the storied winemaking region of Priorat, about an hour and a half drive southwest of Barcelona, where our rental car clings precariously to a hairpin on one of the region’s infamously serpentine highways (the guardrails that separate you from a “Thelma and Louise”-style ending to your life are only a relatively recent addition, and like buffalo gorings in Yellowstone, wine-laden tourists plunging to their dooms is an annual occurrence), there is a well-known sign etched with chalk into the world-renowned slate soil. It reads, “We are Catalan. And we will always be.” The regional pride is echoed in the winegrowing; when monks first settled here (Priorat takes its name from the Carthusian monastery at the center of the region, La Scala Dei, or “God’s Ladder”) in the 12th century, they created a viticultural area that was distinct from other parts of Spain. When Rene Barbier and others began in the 1970s to produce wines that would compete as equals to the world’s best, it was with French Rhone varieties such as Grenache, Carignan, and Syrah, and not Spain’s national red variety, Tempranillo (although there are stories of truckloads of it arriving at supposedly reputable Priorat wineries in the dead of night, presumably to freshen up their dried and oxidative offerings from this notoriously hot and dry region). The vines themselves are often planted “en coster”, a system of rows that are neither trellised nor terraced, with the withered branches coming up from the ground and spreading in two bunch-producing directions per plant-this method of training is called “en vaso” for its glasslike shape. Modern-day Priorat is a red wine region, with amazing bottlings that rival Chateauneuf-du-Pape and other Grenache-based icons. Historically, however, there were also plentiful plantings of white varieties, chief among them white Grenache (Garnatxa Blanca). With its ability to ripen well in very warm climates and its propensity towards a full-bodied, aromatic final product, Garnatxa Blanca would seem to be a natural foil to the big reds of Priorat, and yet much of the vines have been ripped out in the last twenty years, as demand for red Priorat and its corresponding economics/small overall vineyard area have, for many, mandated the change. Luckily, a few purists remain; you can certainly count Carlos Cubells as one of them.
This section of vineyards are actually old-vine Pedro Ximenez rather than Garnatxa Blanca, but this picture is a clear example of the “coster” system of planting, the “en vaso” vines themselves, and the overall immaculate nature of Carlos’s vineyards-some of the most beautiful I’ve seen in my career.
A lifetime resident of Priorat, Carlos and his brother have farmed and owned vineyards practically from the time they could walk the land. Dressed perpetually in a flannel work shirt and either jeans or corduroy pants, Carlos’ life is a tribute to the monastic principles that first led this land to be settled, with land, animal, and grapevine replacing theological pursuits. Carlos is soft-spoken, and his age and tendency to mumble make his Catalan difficult for me, so naturally winemaker Silvia Puig and her US importer Jonas Gustafsson insisted that I ride along with him on our trek up to the vineyard sites. The wisdom he imparts comes to my brain in snippets; when we begin our drive, for example, he tells me “David, I’ve never taken a vacation, because I take a vacation each day-in these hills.” As we stop for me to take a picture, Carlos casually jerks a thumb behind us to a marcescent old vine, just off of the road, that looks like it’s been there since antiquity. Carlos lovingly tends to it with a quick prune and pat, then explains that this particular Grenache Blanc vine is now well over one hundred years old, and it’s also not on his property, but he takes care of it anyway. When we arrive to Carlos’ actual vineyard holdings (which are no slouch themselves as far as age, all 65-85 years and counting), it’s almost visually apparent why Silvia Puig is able to produce what I feel is certainly one of the greatest examples of White Grenache available on the planet: the rows of vines are immaculate, with nary a stone out of place, and the arid landscape almost feels cozy. As we sip a library vintage of Silvia’s on the hillside, Carlos starts getting more technical, and this is where my linguistic ineptitude sets in: somewhere in the middle of his treatise on grafting the vines (he uses a V-shaped style cut called a cleft, I learn after from Silvia) he stops and smiles, then speaks purposefully slowly: “David, I think you nod your head, but you do not understand”. Even in January my cheeks flush readily and I acknowledge my idiocy, and laughing, Silvia steps in and catches me up. As the sun starts to peak over low-lying array of clouds, Carlos pulls me aside and gestures towards the Mont Blanc, a main peak in Priorat’s Serra mountain range. Showing me the different times of a given day, as evidenced by when the sunlight falls on a certain section of the mountain, or illuminates a certain crevice of the rock, Carlos indicates how a lifetime of tending this land lets him know when its mid-morning, when to stop for lunch, and when it’s time to leave before the wild boars begin their evening feedings. With a time-worn smile that mirrors his beautiful vines, Carlos Cubells stares at me and says, “David, I don’t need a clock” in slow, clear Catalan, then asks, “You understand?” Smiling back at him and sipping on Silvia’s exquisite Garnatxa Blanca made from his grapes, I answer emphatically: I do-D.
En Numeros Vermells Priorat Garnatxa Blanca “Del Carlos” 2020
Country of Origin: Spain
Places and People: After a childhood adjacent to the wine business and enological studies that culminated in her working at Ribera del Duero’s famed Vega Sicilia, Silvia Puig first came to recognition as a winemaker in her home region of Priorat with the winery Vinedos de Ithaca, which she owned/operated with her father, Joseph Puig. When she and her father sold their interests in their winery, Silvia began to imagine a new project where she could use her talents with complete freedom. With that concept in mind, she founded En Numeros Vermells in 2008. Her rules were simple: there would be no rules! Her sole motivation was to work with only the vineyards that she wanted, in the style that she wanted, and produce the wines on her own timeframe. Silvia handles everything herself, from the vineyard work to crafting the wines in the cellar, right down to the hand-painted drawings on each and every six-pack she ships out (she does the shipping too, by the way). The Garnatxa Blanca vineyards of Carlos Cubells are located near Silvia’s home village of Poboleda, in the northeast of the appellation.
Soil: The famous slate soil of Priorat, known locally as licorella. Its presence causes grapevines to be able to find pathways through it in pursuit of moisture, which in a dry and hot climate precludes the need (at least with better, more ecological producers) for irrigation. The result is grapevines that age very well and produce small amounts of highly concentrated fruit.
Grape Varieties: 100% Garnatxa Blanca.
Winemaking: Garnatxa Blanca as a grape varietal is especially prone to oxidation; indeed, some of the more famous examples around the world can have a rich yet fatiguing mouthfeel and flavor profile. Silvia solves this issue by not only working with the best grapes but by fermenting and aging the wines in the same vessel. The Garnatxa Blanca undergoes fermentation in a mix of oak barrels and steel tanks- in the case of the barrels, their wooden bung is left off for the fermentation and then promptly capped back on when it’s completed.
Aging: After fermentation, the Garnatxa Blanca wines spend a year in their respective aging vessels.
Flavors and Foods: If you’ve never drank or even heard of white Grenache, or are an old hand who’s experienced some of the famous “one glass and I’m good” examples I allude to above, Silvia’s Garnatxa Blanca del Carlos is a singularly ringing endorsement for the grape. The 2020 vintage brings a luscious nose of white peach, summer nectarine, fresh apricot, and faint mango. On the palate, these fruits are present but balanced equally by a cornucopia of non-fruit descriptors: fresh and candied ginger, white pepper, lanolin, aromatic spices (currently the 2020 vintage is giving sweeter examples like nutmeg and cardamom seed). The food pairing capabilities border on endless-the wine’s acidity and refreshing texture would complement Asian cuisine (particularly composed Vietnamese seafood vermicelli), charcoal chicken with Mediterranean herbs or North African spices, or even fish tacos with pickled cabbage and a lime-based crema sauce, if you’re in the mood to eat casually and drink ridiculously well.
Service and Cellar: Cellaring the ENV Garnatxa Blanca is simply a matter of preference-if you love the opulence of fruit and the relatively tropical nature of the wine now, it will serve you well. If you’d like to see more of the candied ginger, marine salinity, wild honey, and apricot density, just wait a while (I’ve had vintages of this wine that are 10 years old and still going strong). The 2020 vintage was a difficult one that caused Silvia to produce just half of her normal crop (only 1,199 BOTTLES of this wine were made), but I think the cellaring capability hasn’t diminshed. Service temperature is recommended at a higher range for white wine (50-52 degrees F); you retain the acidity on the palate and don’t rescind any of the exotic non-fruits.
Valley floor fruit in the Russian River Valley during a July visit to the appellation.
“Nice Yacht, Sorry about the Lawsuit”
Benovia Russian River Valley Pinot Noir 2020
During my sommelier career, I tried to keep it light as far as attending trade events on workdays or going on invitation-only wine trips. Besides the obvious issue of rolling into work an hour later than you were supposed to, half-lit thanks to a boozy lunch, my main concern was the inherent expectation that came along with accepting all of these invitations, and I never wanted to feel beholden to anyone simply because of a tasting seminar or “meet the winemaker” luncheon, especially if I didn’t already support the wines-or even enjoy them, for that matter. Granted, I’ve gone on a few wine trips and been generously hosted, but I never wanted to feel as though I couldn’t say no to a purchase. Luckily for me, in the spring of 2011 I met Benovia winemaker Mike Sullivan when he came to present his Russian River Valley offerings at the restaurant I was working at, and so I had already been supporting his Chardonnay and two of the Pinor Noir cuvees when I received a rather unique invitation about a month later. Benovia proprietor Joe Anderson, apparently, owned a yacht, and was sailing it up the East Coast and stopping in Annapolis for an evening, and he had invited a group of buyers from DC and Maryland to tour the ship and sample some new Benovia releases. My first thought was, “This sounds like the swankiest wine sales tour ever attempted”, which was then followed by, “This sounds like the swankiest wine tasting invite I’ve ever received”. After checking the calendar and seeing the date fell on a night off for me, I immediately had my third thought: “This will impress my girlfriend and make her think I’m much cooler than she already knows I’m not.”
My wife Michelle just down the pier from Benovia owner Joe Anderson’s yacht (not pictured because it wouldn’t fit), Annapolis 2011.
I had met my future wife Michelle earlier that year and we’d been dating for a few months, during which time I’d done the best I could to take her on fun dates and experiences-we’d been soaked in the top of the ninth inning at an Oriole Park at Camden Yards downpour, sat on a fake five foot tall jackalope for cheesy tourist pictures in Wyoming, and nursed me back to health after my attempt to keep up with her on a long run through Rock Creek Park in DC-in short, I thought things were going well. But now here was an opportunity to up the ante and add a certain level of sophistication that I am naturally lacking. And so, we headed down on a weeknight to Annapolis and boarded Benovia proprietor Joe Anderson’s yacht. Now there are yachts, and there are yachts, and Mr. Anderson’s definitely belonged in the latter category-I’d truly never even seen anything like it, let alone boarded one. It was docked at the end of a pier that also housed a yacht belonging to Steve Bisciotti, owner of the Baltimore Ravens NFL franchise, and which it dwarfed to the point that Bisciotti’s yacht looked like a plastic toy you’d drop in the bathtub with a toddler. After we boarded and were greeted with a delicious glass of Benovia’s “La Pommeraie” Chardonnay, we caught up with winemaker Mike Sullivan, who regaled me with tales of Russian River Valley soil variations and pinot noir clonal selections-for some reason, Michelle didn’t seem to be listening, but I just assumed she would rather tell me about her preference for Pommard clone 777 over dinner after we toured the yacht. After making our way through the ships maze of rooms and levels (portholes on the bow that led down stepladders to infinity shower stalls, 3rd story roof deck complete with full kitchen and bar, captain’s quarters that looked like a suite at the Georges V in Paris) we entered a room where Joe Anderson was pouring a particular Pinot Noir cuvee. I actually don’t remember the specific wine because of the conversation that followed. Now, I knew Michelle worked for the Federal Trade Commission as an antitrust lawyer, which is to say that I knew our government in fact had a system of laws and that a particular subset of said laws involved certain people not trusting other people. So, I had no idea that when I introduced her to Mr. Anderson, they would chat about their respective professions, and he would casually mention to her that he was the head of a major healthcare organization, and she would blush before walking away and casually whispering to me as an aside, “I think we sued them in the past.” I’m fairly certain we weren’t overheard, as we weren’t immediately thrown over the side into the Chesapeake by the security squad no doubt lurking in the shadows of his vessel; rather, Michelle kept her cool and continued to talk shop, but needless to say we were fairly awkward, and didn’t get a lot of extra big pours following that exchange. Later that summer, my fortunes with Benovia turned for the better again: I was invited to take part in the Sonoma Pinot Forum, and so found myself in Windsor, CA that July, talking once again with Mike Sullivan about wine geek things, litigious matters swept under one yacht-sized rug.
Benovia lead winemaker and co-owner Mike Sullivan. When I met him, there was no grey in his beard-heck, there wasn’t even a beard.
Mike Sullivan is a big guy; his wines don’t follow suit. Now co-owner of the Santa Rosa-based winery that he’s made wines for since 2005, Sullivan’s vineyard and cellar practices preach moderation: the team build their own organic composts, plant cover crops to fix nutrition in the soil and encourage their vines to dig deeper for nourishment, and use wind machines to protect the vines from frost in the colder months rather than the all-important California water. To say Mike is dedicated to Benovia’s 72 acres of estate vineyards doesn’t quite capture it; even in 2017, when the North Bay fires cost Sullivan his home, he spearheaded the harvest season and completed his work on that vintage’s wines. Benovia’s estate vineyards run the gamut of expositions, elevations, and subzones, but the fruit of the Russian River Valley cuvee is mainly from sites on the valley floor and crystallizes what makes this area so special for growing grapes, and specifically pinot noir. Fog traveling up the Petaluma Wind Gap can remain in the Russian River Valley until midday; this heavy marine cover acts as a natural sunshade and is perfect for the finicky, slow-ripening pinot, allowing just enough sunlight to aid photosynthesis and the physiological development of the grapes. The Russian River’s once wider footprint has led to a variety of soil types within a relatively small area, but a base of clay minerals and humus offers a perfect geological cocktail for winemaking: clay’s natural retention allows nutrients to stay available to the vine, but in this case the soil is also broken up by pebbles and rocks throughout. These alluvial elements from the former riverbed break up the soil and provide avenues for water and root penetration (the roots of Russian River Valley vines will go down up to 30 feet into the soil to reach water). These stony stowaways in the clay also aid the grapevines by absorbing heat during the day and promoting slow cooling in the evening, for a gentler adjustment to the Valley’s wide diurnal temperatures. Now all of this technical gobbledygook would be rendered meaningless by overripe, saccharine-styled pinot, but Benovia keeps things in check: temperature-controlled fermentations with native yeasts, and (thankfully) using only lightly toasted barrels for aging so that the Russian River Valley’s dense, viscous brand of pinot noir isn’t lost in a quagmire of woodsy notes. The quality of the 2020 Russian River Valley cuvee, harvested amid the Covid-19 pandemic but prior to that year’s round of wildfires, is undeniable in the glass-I would welcome the opportunity to toast their wine’s brilliance to Mike Sullivan and his team, and even to Mr. Anderson-although it’s probably best if I just see him on dry land, and stay in my wine-laden, legal-free lane-D.
Benovia Russian River Valley Pinot Noir 2020
Country of Origin: USA
Places and People: Proprietors Joe Anderson and Mary Dewane named Benovia after their fathers, Ben and Novian. Based just off of Piner Road outside of Santa Rosa (southeast of Healdsburg), the fruit of Benovia’s Russian River Valley Pinot comes from three estate vineyards and one small other site that is owned by a member of their family.
Soil: A mix of soil types due to the different vineyards involved, from red clay soils to prized spots featuring Goldridge sandy clay loams, with the clay here harboring nutrients and retaining water.
Grape Varieties: 100% Pinot Noir.
Winemaking: Harvested overnight, the Russian River Valley Pinot Noir is hand-sorted prior to destemming and then an additional berry selection is performed prior to fermentation, which is achieved in open-top vats. The Pinot noir clones used here are a mix of heirloom clones such as Swan, Pommard, Mt. Eden, and Chalone as well as newer French offerings like Dijon 777 and 943. Native yeasts are used for fermentation.
Aging: Benovia is aged judiciously for approximately 12 months in French oak barrels, with only a low toast level of the barrels employed. The wine is not fined or filtered prior to bottling.
Flavors and Foods: A dense nose-this is brooding Pinot Noir, rather than a confectionary berry bowl which can sometimes pervade Russian River Valley examples. Violets and warm potting soil notes help to ground the nose of the 2020 in a savory space. Non-fruit continues to play an important role on the palate, with rose petal, violets, red apple skins, and cured meat (more beef than pork, like bresaola) all balancing the fruit of the pinot noir, which here is steeped in a rich blend of dark cherries and Santa Rosa plums. Strawberries and cream make an appearance on the back end of the palate prior to the finish, which is surprisingly balanced for a pinot noir coming in at 14.1% abv. One cannot understate the ability of Mike Sullivan and team to produce this wine in a year complicated by both the pandemic and the August wildfires. Enjoy the Benovia with seared yellowfin tuna steaks, as a compliment to a summer salad with grilled chicken, farmer’s market strawberries, and a light vinaigrette of the same fruit. If you’re having one of those “two bottles of red” kind of evenings, this wine would be stellar served prior to a bolder offering, paired with an antipasti first course (I’m thinking of Russian River’s amazing roasted artichokes here).
Service and Cellar: Being that the Benovia is a ripe pinot noir, I love to serve it on the colder side of red wine cellar temperature (56-58 degrees F). This keeps the finish delightful and focuses all of the savory non-fruit outlined above. With the early harvest of these grapes prior to the wildfires, I find no quality was lost in the finished product, but Benovia lost half of their normal production of the Russian River Pinot and also, I suspect, some hang time that could have pushed this wine into further longevity. As it stands, enjoy now and for the next 5 years.