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I can be longwinded.

I’ll admit that especially when it comes to Anne Amie Vineyards wines, I have a tendency to want to share. I am completely unapologetic about it. And still, I can’t help but think how nice it was to hear someone other than myself talking about our wines.

March 24^th marked the first date our newest wine club selections were available, and so, as we do for each new club release, we threw a party. Sometimes we cook, other times we invite a chef to pair something delicious with the new wines. It’s always a lot of fun. This time around, we invited both Executive Chef Dustin Clark of Portland’s Wildwood Restaurant and Sommelier Savanna Ray to plan a lunch for our wines.

I met Savanna a few years back through the International Pinot Noir Celebration’s unrivaled salmon bake and was immediately drawn to her energetic, no-pretense approach to wine. From the kitchen, Dustin cooks within the season, making delicious food that you’ll find you simply cannot resist eating, and then going back for more.

Savanna and Dustin’s pairings were fantastic. A salad of chicories and shaved celery with Grana Padano cheese was beautifully matched with our 2009 Pinot Blanc, balancing the bright citrus notes in the wine with its layers of structure from 18 months in barrel to the fresh, crunch of the celery, saltiness of the cheese and the earthy, spicy depth of flavors in the chicories. Our 2009 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir and a club exclusive bottling of our 2009 Estate Vineyard Pinot Noir both show lively acidity, with round, black fruit flavors. The earth and spice in the Estate bottling make it a more gripping, structured wine, while the Willamette Valley bottling also shows some softer, brighter red fruit flavors. The complexity of a meal made up of sautéed rapini and creamy polenta served with tender milk braised pork shoulder were a perfect way to demonstrate contrasts and complements within both wines.

During the first seating, Savanna led a guided tasting of the three new wines. Her discussion was focused on the wines’ aromas and flavors and how she would approach them for food. She described how, through their tasting, she and Dustin were able to create a menu that would show both food and the wines in their best light. The rest of the day was spent demonstrating that synergy.

I love to think about food and wine. I love preparing food and wine together. I especially love eating food and drinking wine together. I do it a lot, and whatever time I have remaining while my mouth is not full, I enjoy talking about food and wine. To be able to listen to someone else describe the same process was really fun. To have been able to enjoy Dustin and Savanna’s work was a real treat. 

Cheers,

Ksandek

I know what comes to mind when you think about wine in a keg, but give me a few hundred words and I might change your mind.  I do think I can do it, because I, like you, was until recently a skeptic.  I remember when, on a field trip during my enology schooling, we passed the loading area for a very large wine “factory” in California’s Central Valley, there was a giant wall of stainless steel kegs. At some point during the tour of the facility I asked about the thousands of kegs stored outside.  The answer I was given was that the keg wine sales were stagnant. Wine on tap had a horrible image.  It was swill. Nobody who cared about wine would even dream of drinking wine from a keg.

Did I say I would sway you to try fine wine from a keg?  Haven’t I done a wonderful job thus far?  Well, it is a little over a decade later, and if you look at some of the finer establishments in your city, you might just see good, or even great wines on tap.  Just like screw cap closures, the image of how we drink wine has changed.  No longer are screw cap wines considered “wino wines.” In fact Chateau Margaux, the pinnacle of French winemaking names, just announced they will be putting wines in screw caps.  The same is true for kegs.

I will tell you a few reasons why I did not jump on the keg bandwagon until now.  For those that know me as a winemaker, they know that beyond all else I care for wine quality. To that end I am a bit of a control freak.  My decisions about packaging are as well-thought as our decisions about farming, fermenting, barrels, bottling, or any other step in the process of bringing only the best wine we can produce to market.  I would never allow an entire year’s work to just disappear into a container.

I like the idea of a keg from a green winemaking standpoint.  Shipping wine is a huge part of our carbon footprint.  We have lightened the weight of our bottles, and switched to domestic glass to help reduce that part of our carbon footprint.  Much research was done choosing the right glass for us.  So, when to choosing a keg we did the same research.

Here were my concerns:

Kegs are used over an over again, which is good.  I am a huge proponent of the mantra “Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.” I am not such a fan of not knowing what was in a keg before we fill it.  No matter how well a keg is cleaned there are all sorts of crevasses that can hide critters that would love to ruin our wine.  I have opened kegs that people sent me to fill, and what I saw inside was just… let’s just say, not appealing.

Also, believe it or not, despite the fact that we are in Oregon, here at the winery our water supply is very limited.  There are parts of the year that we get very, very low on water.  We are extremely mindful of how much water we use in every aspect of winemaking. I was not happy about the idea of having to clean and sanitize every keg we had to fill.  It seemed very wasteful.

Lastly, and most importantly, I was concerned about what restaurants were using to pressurize their kegs.  Having gone to all the trouble of making a great wine, I could imagine CO2, which is used to pressurize beer and soda, being used in the same lines to get our wine to your glass.  I did not intend for your pinot gris to be sparkling!

After exhaustive research we found key keg.  Look at the picture below, and you’ll see a flattened key keg.

Key keg is 100% recyclable and  weighs 1.4 kg.  One of our bottles weighs 560 grams.  It takes only about 3.5 of our bottles to equal the weight of one 30L key keg, which holds the equivalent of 40 bottles of wine.  A typical  metal keg weighs about 9 kg, empty, by the way.

I’ll give you a few more reasons we chose key keg. They are brand new when they arrive.  They have never been used by anyone. We can give them a quick sanitary rinse and then fill them.  Best of all they have a bladder inside that fills as the wine is dispensed.  The CO2 that is used to pressurize the keg never touches the wine.    The photo below shows the inside of a key keg with the bladder contracted and fully inflated.

If you find an Anne Amie wine on tap, you can rest assured that it will have the same great taste as from the bottle, and it will be made in a way that minimizes our impact to the environment. Raise your glass and toast to your health with a really great wine… from a keg!

In high-school I would spend hours making mix tapes.

Sometimes I’d make a mix to share with friends while hanging out. Other times I’d fill both the A and B sides with nothing but amplified adrenaline to blare while we rode our skateboards on Cold War Era monuments in downtown Warsaw. Before I had a high speed internet connection and YouTube, I had stacks and stacks of cassettes of American radio broadcasts that I had recorded when my dad took leave for our family to come back state-side for vacation. I had even more copies of 90 minute TDKs that friends would copy at my request on their own trips back home. I wanted to stay in touch with home. I would lie on my bedroom floor, CDs and cassettes spread out around me, and re-record my favorite songs over to new mix after new mix until I got it just right or wore the tape out. I was constantly hungry for new music.

Now, I feel constantly hungry, and I spend hours making plans for dinner.

Sometimes I think about a simple supper. At others, my interest is in something more elaborate and time consuming. Almost always, I consider how wine fits into the meal. I frequently joke that, “all my free time and money goes to exploring Portland’s restaurants and markets”. But I guess it’s not a joke if it is also true. Just like my favorite tracks on a CD or cassette, a good dish is even better when you’ve got someone else to share it with. 

The time surrounding Saturday, February 11^th was no exception to my devotion to gastronomic daydreaming. On the 11^th, 3 winemakers and 50 other guests joined us as we transformed our barrel hall into a dining room and hosted a dinner to keep everyone’s lips moving long after the meal ended. What follows is a story about that dinner, sort of.

Katy Millard, one of the talents behind Portland’s Woodsman Tavern paired a seven course tasting menu with wines from the Anne Amie Vineyards library, Big Table Farm and Redman Vineyard.  Just days after our dinner, the restaurant was announced as one of GQ Magazine’s ten best new restaurants for 2012. There is no correlation between the Woodsman’s best new restaurant placement and the dinner we hosted. But what we experienced in our cellar is right in line with what the magazine’s editors and the most decorated food writer in history, Alan Richman, described when they called The Woodsman a “kitchen [that] doesn't miss.”

A wine dinner is not like a regular restaurant experience for either the guests or the kitchen. Everyone arrives at the same time, eats at the same time, and they all eat the same dishes. It’s a dinner party. And every dinner party has some non-negotiable needs: an awesome guest list, a comfortable place to dine, music, good lighting, excellent wine and a great menu.

We took care of the guest and wine lists pretty easily. Who do we know making great wine that is also great company? Thomas reached out to Brian and Clare at Big Table Farm and Cathy at Redman Vineyard. After their yeses came across, it was my turn: dining room, lights, music, and a menu. But YouTube is so distracting!

While watching videos about a couple of food movies, one about a Michelin starred sushi chef, the other about the Ferran Adria/El Bulli documentary, I came across a clip of Grant Achatz tracing the evolution of an idea. It inspired me. I liked the reference to a specific time, the thawing of winter. It seemed like something I could figure out how to do one my own and so I found myself day dreaming about dinner and ice lights.

Thomas made the call on the dining room, knowing that Tim and I had already figured out how to build a giant table and hang lights from the cellar ceiling. Andy and Tammie made sure the place was clean and set up to use for dinner (no small task; arranging 250 full barrels, moving tanks, rearranging equipment and pressure washing the already clean floor (thanks!) ). While Andy and Tammie set up the barrel room, I was busy filling the freezer with buckets of water, setting an empty can in the center, weighted down with a deli cup full of frozen trotter stock. Ice lights were in the works. The only thing left at this point was the menu.

While it’s debatable whether or not I was actually doing research, I found a recent interview with David Kinch of Manresa in which he described music and food as sharing “a really close connection” because they are both “ephemeral.” I’ve found menu planning also shares a similar creative energy with making a good mix tape. They share a rush of excitement, as new ideas come to mind, accompanied by stretches of stagnation as a thought leads back to the same ideas over again. It’s a similar sensation to lining up a few songs in a playlist, only to find that a transition is too abrupt or too slow.

The experience of eating a tasting menu also plays out a lot like listening to a cassette tape mix. With a CD or an iPod, it’s impossible to stop your thumb or forefinger from hitting the “skip” button if a song doesn’t resonate with you in its first few seconds. There is no worry about missing the beginning of the next song because their technology transports you to the right place instantly. This instant-ness is the musical equivalent to an all you can eat buffet. With a cassette, there is too much risk of fast forwarding too far and missing the beginning of the next track or accidently stopping short and catching the end of the song you were trying to skip. It breaks up the momentum of listening to every song. And so with a tape it’s best to give every song at least one fair listen all the way through. At dinner, each course is a carefully considered part of a whole thoughtful meal; excellent on its own, but also critical to the context of the entire experience.

So Katy and I set out to tasting through the wines and writing notes about each aroma, flavor and texture we detected. Sounds fun. It was. And when we had completed studying the wines, we realized what we still had to do. Design a menu to pair each of the wines with a course that was interesting, satisfying and an integral part of the whole meal.

Typically, when pairing wines with a meal, the dishes are designed first and then a sommelier has the entire world of wine to find a match for each course. The range of wine styles, varieties, producers and vintages is only limited by his or her knowledge of the wines in the world.

I am not a sommelier, and I didn’t have the whole world of wine at my fingertips. We started with five varieties: Chardonnay, Riesling, Pinot gris, Pinot noir, and Muller-Thurgau. All are cool climate varieties. They came from four different vintages, and other than one dessert wine, all were still-wines. Nothing came from outside of the Willamette Valley or outside of the 2007 through 2010 vintages. Production wise, we’re a small winery and our winery guests are even smaller.

In stereo, these menu criteria sound something like having to make a playlist of 7 songs by artists not signed to a major label and recorded between the years of 2007 and 2010. And all are from within one small region on a map of musical genres. (Did you click on the cassette tape at the beginning of this post yet?)

In his interview, David Kinch went on to elaborate that [a meal] “depends on how you feel and the environment around you.” He notes that “you sit down, and then it's gone. The experience or your enjoyment of a dish can dissipate or it can grow in your mind. There are many factors, and that's why it's so personal.” In our kitchen, Katy prepared a meal that captured a very real sense of time and place. We are fortunate enough to live in a region that provides enough access to interesting and delicious things to eat so that a dinner at the end of winter is still exciting. But I suppose, for many of us, that’s a reason to call Oregon home. The dishes were stunning. Now they are gone.

The ideas for food that came out of our discussion of the wines began calm and steady, but not without an ascending undercurrent of energy. Dialogue rocked forward and back with the movement of boat tethered to a mooring post. I can’t help but think about James Blake’s Feist cover: minimalistic, thoughtful, bassy and undeniably captivating from the first note.

Pinot gris showed its maturity with aromas of Asian pear skin, mineral and honeysuckle. The palate revealed a round texture, dotted with spice and a pleasing prickly texture. Crisp, white fleshed apple, lemony citrus and powdery floral flavors balanced the aromatics with a sense of vibrancy and youth.

Chardonnay had a similar fatness to the mouth-feel as our Pinot gris, making both ideal wines to include as a welcome. Green apple, quince and the minerally-fruitiness found in the white inner section of a melon rind were consistent from the nose to the palate.

Thoughts of ginger bread spices and the richness of chicken liver mousse induced a mouthwatering hum. The suggestion to combine caraway and golden beets resulted in a sort of buzz and glow that, like the song, is such an inviting first taste you’d swear it ended too soon. And then we were on to Riesling, moving through notes and ideas as though the mooring lines had been untied.

Lemonade, ash and coriander aromatics gave way to a palate of lemon ice, with a fresh bay leaf herbaceousness and burnt orange. At this point, we were throwing ideas around more steadily. Floating across ideas of crisp fennel and coriander with smoked citrus, our discourse moved like Washed Out’s lazy river drift. It was here that we could feel the menu planning begin to click. We had found our momentum and shifted from whites to Pinot noir.

The list played on as our Estate Pinot Noir showed blackberries, violets, and black truffles. It immediately expanded on the palate with flavors like wild cherry, cola nut, and licorice. There was no hesitation to call for Oregon Black Truffles to appear in this course. The creaminess of roasted celery root would work to balance the tannins without bringing too much richness to the meal this early on. And hazelnuts could add more depth and texture. 

By this point, we were feeling pretty fired up about the wines and the food we wanted to eat with them. Brian and Clare’s Pinot noir was youthful, vibrant and intense. Cherry, blackberry, cinnamon, and cedar aromatics led to even more black fruit flavors, black tea, and white pepper, all held together with fine tannins stitched around a backbone of acidity. Black trumpet mushrooms are in season this time of year and were way too good a fit to pass up. Dashi would bring a bright, clean smoke and earthiness without adding weight. And slow poached eggs would add just the right amount of luxuriousness. (The eggs that ended up in the final dish came from Phaisian Farms, a heritage breed poultry farm operated by Thomas’ fiancé Michelle. It’s worth noting because her chickens’ eggs are better than any eggs sold in supermarkets. They are better because of where and how the birds live and how they are cared for.) Our energy was high as we continued to sail through the menu planning.

Cathy’s Pinot was the biggest and most powerful wine in the lineup and smelled of dense, ripe black and blue berries. Notes of roses and earth played into flavors of cranberry, pomegranate and grilled bread enmeshed in gripping tannins. We both started talking about beef. Carrots would bring sweetness and rye bread crumbs could match the spice while bringing some crunch. Yeah, this is happening. Sorrel sauce would tie it all together.

We had just two wines left (to reach the end) and the next on our list was an older Prismé which Thomas had pulled from of our library at the winery. It’s awesome! It reduces my linguistic abilities to those of my teenage self and makes me feel more comfortable turning the reverb up all the way and wanting to belt out indiscernible yet epic lyrics to convey my point. Luckily, Katy was equally excited about the wine and took really great notes. Ripe pear, burnt sugar, yoghurt and gruyere, quince and honey, the aromatics were explosive. And it tastes like Asian pear, almonds, white pepper, lemon-lime soda, pink grapefruit and honey! Katy saw this course as way to bring everyone back down to earth between three consecutive Pinot noirs and dessert. She suggested roasted grains with marrow and cauliflower. I drooled.

Dessert, dessert wine, tea and mignardises. The wine makes me imagine a quince stuffed with hazelnuts and candied orange peel and baked in honey until it radiates a dim light. Unfortunately, we don’t have an oven that can achieve quince-embers. Fortunately, we didn’t need such an oven for the butterscotch and pistachios that paired with our sweet, fortified dessert wine. Followed by chocolate pu-erh tea, this course was a chance to drift back towards the mooring post, home, or some other post dinner glow.

Each of these tasting notes became a starting point for Katy to take to her kitchen. Her final menu follows below. I went on to play with ice lights and tried to resist YouTubing new music to add to my never-ending personal playlist. While I’ve described planning the menu in terms of loud, often brash music, the atmosphere during dinner was warm and welcoming, familial but elegant. Etta James was a much more appropriate place from which Pandora took musical inspiration.

“There’s a time and a place for everything.” It’s good advice. It’s also a wonderful way to experience our surroundings. Time and place are the foundations for the concept of terroir. The idea that everything about a vineyard site, from the soil to exposure to the sun, to elevation and amount of rainfall during each vintage, everything determines the character of the final wine. That final wine tells a story. Terroir is, to my knowledge, the most extreme example of our appreciation of time and place, but it’s not the only one that relates to our dinner. The meal we ate was built around ingredients that taste best this time of year. In the case of black trumpet mushrooms and black truffles, they must both be foraged and are only found for a short period this time of year. They are not so readily found outside of the Willamette Valley, and unlike wine, which is dramatically less perishable, truffles, trumpets and fresh produce really do taste best when eaten close to their home.

Even my day dream inspired ice lights were built around the idea of time and place. The lights themselves had a very specific expiration (in 4 trials before the dinner, the average complete meltdown time was 5 hours and 39 minutes). I wanted them to speak of our home here in the Willamette Valley, and so I took cross sections of old vineyard posts to make stands, and foraged for cherry blossoms to place around the pond the ice-melt would create. Plum and maple branches with their leaf buds just weeks away from bursting open for spring were set out to remind everyone that new growth is within our sights. Bud break is a reason to celebrate. It’s the first growth in the vineyard and a promise of an entirely unique vintage to capture in our bottles.

As a young American abroad, I sought a kind of audio terroir. I used my cassettes as a way of becoming connected to a place I called home, as though through the music each contained I could gain some truth and understanding about the way things were while I wasn’t there.

The wines we poured spoke of their homes and of the hands that helped shape them. The dishes that were paired with each were made with care from food raised, grown, and foraged thoughtfully. There is a time and a place for everything. At dinner in our cellar, this was a time to celebrate the pleasure of each other’s company, to celebrate hard work, and a place we call home. Whether we were able to share dinner with you in person here at the winery or you have been able to enjoy this story, I would like to thank you for joining us and look forward to welcoming you back again.

 (View the rest of the gallery here)

Cheers,

Ksandek

A little over three years ago I posted a blog about my roots.

It was a blog about New York City.  Hell’s Kitchen. Home-brewing. Emeril.

                                      Click the photo below to read the original blog post.

I was on my way, for the first time, to Arkansas and a charity event at the Capital Hotel.  If you read my last blog post (http://anneamie.com/blog/2011/06/02/arkansas-more-just-three-lees) then you know that the friendship that has developed over the past three years is quite strong.

But, what about New York City and Hell’s Kitchen? What I failed to mention in my 2008 blog, is that in my friend Christian’s apartment on 52nd Street, just a few steps from 10th Avenue, is where my home brewing interest started.  From there I careened down the slippery slope to winemaking. Christian and I would walk up the dark, rat-riddled street to the local bodega for craft beers- this is back in the day when craft beer was still called “microbrew.”  We’d hunker down in his apartment, a steaming kettle of malted barley and hops bubbling on the stove, and watch Emeril while the wort cooked.

I was back in New York City in February to pour our wines at The Oregon Wine Flight event at City Winery.

   I also poured our wines at a great new wine shop that specializes in sustainable wine called Appellation Wine and Spirits, which is located on 10th avenue, just steps from the elevated rail line that is now the amazing high line park. It is a thriving neighborhood of galleries and restaurants.  When I lived in New York it was a neighborhood of industrial spaces that one endured to get to the Hudson.

Anyhow, I hopped into a cab to meet up with an old college friend at a new wine bar she had heard about.  It was, conveniently, just up 10th avenue from Appellation.  When arrived at the location I had hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper and stepped out of the cab, I realized I knew this neighborhood. I knew this corner. Kind of.  I was back on 52nd street.  Across 10th avenue I could see Christian’s old apartment.  But, all around me were new buildings- a vibrant, alive, bustling neighborhood. I was standing in front of a wine bar- Ardesia.

Ardesia is, in their words,  “a casual food and wine bar located in Hell’s Kitchen in New York City inspired by the neighborhood’s historic past and vibrant present.” In my words, it is a warm, lofty, modern space that is, thankfully, nothing like the trashy, junkie-filled neighborhood of days gone by. There weren’t any wine bars.  I don’t remember tasty, tapas-inspired small bites. .  

Mandy, one of the owners of Ardesia, had been to the Oregon Wine Flight.  I recognized her immediately.  I had poured her Anne Amie wines just days before. Amazed to be in the neighborhood where my interest in winemaking began, I let my story unfold.  She listened.  I sipped and snacked. It was great to be back…

To bring things full circle, in my first post about Hell’s Kitchen I had not yet met the three Lees.  I had not fallen in love with the Capital Hotel.  The friendships in Little Rock I was to develop over the ensuing years were not on my mind.  I believe what I read in that post as I look it over now, is apprehension.  I was about to go to a formal dinner and meet Emeril, an icon and a bit of and idol of mine. I was not in my element.

On August 9th, I will be back in New York at the James Beard House.  I will be lucky enough to pair my wines with the food of Lee Richardson of the C

apital Hotel; a chef who trained under Emeril Lagasse. Who would have known when I penned the first blog post about Hell’s Kitchen and Emeril, of rats and home brew, that all the frayed and tattered edges of my past would fold so neatly upon themselves?  I hope to have the time to make the pilgrimage to Ardesia in August. I want to sit outside in the heavy heat of summer.  I hope to hear the sound of children playing in an opened hydrant, the warbling of an ice cream truck, sirens.  That is my Hell’s Kitchen. But, I am happy to toast my memories with a crisp Sancerre and a few salt cod croquettes. Ah, to

be back in my element again…

Sometimes, we create in our heads an image of something that replaces the reality of what actually was. This might be the case for me and the Capital Hotel. My image of growing up in the South is personified by my experience each time I stay at the Capital Hotel. All the genteel old Southern hospitality and time-honored traditions that I built up in my mind about my childhood might just be constructs that I've created over the past few years as I've developed friendships at the Capital Hotel.

“Pinot noir is one of the most complex of all varieties. These wines span the full spectrum between red and black fruit, frequently accented by a pronounced spiciness that suggests cinnamon, sassafras, or mint. Body can be full and rich but not heavy, with substantial flavor despite its delicacy. Oregon Pinots are usually fresher than their California counterparts, with higher acidity, and often more intensity fruity than Burgundies.” 

This is a quote from the Oregon Wine Board, which in turn lifted the text from a seminar presented at Oregon Pinot Camp.  In essence, this paragraph tries to frame Oregon Pinot noir in a world context- one in which Oregon is not as ripe and concentrated as California, yet more ripe than Burgundy.  Oregon, in the minds of many, straddles the two styles.

I offer you the two photos below to look at and make a determination for yourself about weather.  On the left is a photo from Domaine Marc Roy in Burgundy.  The photo was taken last week.  The photo on the right was taken at our Anne Amie Estate just this morning, a week after the photo from Burgundy.

Without knowing anything about the physiology of grapevines, one can clearly see that the vines on the left have at least a foot of growth, whereas the vines on the right have none.  If you look closely you can see tiny leaves poking out of the bud of the vine.  This is what we call bud break in the wine growing world.  Yes, everyone, we have bud break at Anne Amie Vineyards!  But, that said, we are several weeks behind Burgundy at this point, not to mention that today we set a record for the lowest high temperature for this day in Oregon on record.  Not that we are worried, because looking back on our own records, we are right on track with 2008, and you can taste what a wonderful vintage that was. It is our current vintage in bottle and it is just beautiful right now.

So, why am I bringing this up?  Well, I think any generalization is dangerous.  Our wines are not like our neighbors.  Oregon is not California, nor is it Burgundy, but weather and climate do not recognize boundaries.  California has had very cool vintages in the last few years, and in 2009 we had one of the ripest vintages on record in Oregon.  Burgundy has experienced the same. So, who is to say what a wine from any region might taste like from year to year? I say drink the wines you love from the wineries you enjoy. Let their style guide your tastes, not generalizations- as I write this hail is falling from the sky pelting our awakening vines. Leave generalizations to statisticians and weather to weathermen. We all know how accurate both are. Raise a glass and toast uncertainty. Change.

Cheers to another vintage!

Thomas

Here are updated photos from Burgundy and our estate.  Burgundy has flowering!!!! We almost have green leaves.

I wanted to title this post “planes, trains, automobiles, snowmobiles, barges, and bikes”, but it didn’t grab me the way the line from “European Vacation” did.  That is a piece of cinematic history for any of us who had to sit in the backseat of a car while our parents dragged us on some god forsaken trip. I can still recount the license plate game.  What fun!

  Click on the Big Ben photo for the original clip and insert yourself into the backseat of the car with your sibling(s) and your parents at the helm.

“Why Big Ben you ask?” And, “Why dredge up much repressed emotional scars from a Chevy Chase movie?”

My answer is simple.  Oregon made me do it.  Not Oregon the state, mind you. That is just hogwash!  The Oregon Wine Board made me do it.

I can sense your confusion and your misgivings about my mental state and about reading this, but give me a second more and I’ll explain:

The Oregon Wine Board sent me to London to present a seminar that I had been a panelist on for the 2010 OPC, entitled “Multiple Personalities of Pinot Noir.” It is a seminar delves into what is inherently Oregon about our Pinot noir and what is the winemakers voice- or multiple voices in my case. I can’t help it I am a Gemini.

So, in the coldest of January, I hopped on a plane to spend a few foggy day(s) in London town.  Since the flight path to London from Portland conveniently passes over Iceland, a place I have always wanted to visit, I managed a 24 hour layover before continuing on.

“What is Iceland like in January?” you ask. In a word- dark.  And icy (as the name implies). But, at the same time,  the 6 hours of weak sunlight made the stark, wind-scoured landscape even more surreal, as if viewed through the lens of an old-fashioned camera. 

Does it not have an underwater feel? As if the colors have been bled out?  This is Iceland in January.  I have to say the greatest part of my brief stay in Iceland was escaping the spitting ice pelting my face as I wandered the streets Reykjavík snapping photos, and wandering into the warmth of a corner cafe. It was there that I discovered plokkfiskur, a  dish that both warmed me and reminded me of the savory–potato-Sunday-church-dishes of my youth. Plokkfiskur is a creamy, potato-fish mash served with a slice of sweet, dense rye bread.  I imagined our Pinot blanc as a perfect match. Click the crab plaque above for a link to the recipe. And, then start chilling a bottle of Pinot blanc.  You’ll thank me later!

One more short flight and I was in London, dragging my bags onto the tube and into the ridiculously small “lift” that led to my flat in the Mayfair neighborhood. Not much to report here, other than I loved having the parks nearby to run through and explore.  One spot that I would insist that anyone visiting London should search out is the Regent’s Canal.  It is an amazing escape from the bustle of London, with sights like Little Venice and her  narrowboat community, as well as the spectacle of Camden Market.  Also, worthy of mentioning is the Barclays cycle hire network. It allowed me full access to the city for a pound sterling a day. I certainly would like to see more cycle rental options in major US cities.

I ate at two great restaurants while I was in London. Both are not “typical” British fare. The first, Viajante , is a treat of tapas-style creations matched perfectly with my friend Linda Milagros Violago’s superb wine list.  Below are a few photos from the restaurant and hotel.

The other restaurant, which shouldn’t be missed in any way, is Tayyabs.  What is Tayyabs? It is a Pakistani grill and curry house featuring “deep, earthy dahls, fiery Punjabi meat curries, seekh kebabs bursting with herbs and spices, and piles of fluffy bread, straight from the open kitchen.” My eyes were burning from the smoky spices wafting through the room.  This was a pleasant experience in cold, dreary, January London.

But the main event- the reason I was in London-  as I said earlier in this post, was to present the “Multiple Personalities of Pinot Noir” seminar I had been a a panelist on for the 2010 OPC.  Also, our Anne Amie wines were featured with many other Oregon and Washington producers for the British trade and media to taste.  We were hoping to find a UK distributor while we were  there, and we may have!  Here are some photos from the seminar and tasting. Enjoy! 

PS- Sorry for the delay in posting, everyone.  It has been a crazy spring, but all our wines are safely in bottle and I hope to catch up with my blogging commitment.- Thomas

We've hosted a Winter Winemakers' Dinner for as long as I've been with Anne Amie, and it was already a tradition when I came on board four years ago. This year, however, was a first for many of us, albeit a very logical evolution in our food and winecentric events. Thomas was keen to use the barrel room for the dining venue this time around. We've done a lot to improve the shape of the cellar this past year, and if there were only one thing you knew about me, it would be that I still can't get enough playtime...err…work...in the cellar. Needless to say, I jumped at the challenge of transforming the booming echo chamber of no-lights-or-way-too-bright-they-make-my-eyes-throb-lights into a functional dining space.

Apparently Tim, Thomas, Tammie and Andy still like playing with powertools and old construction materials as much as I do. In Tim's case, maybe more, and I'll admit, he's better at it than me. I'm totally cool with having some extra hands pick up a few splinters or risk electrocution, so that I can make the noblest sacrifice in the name of our dinner guests: planning the menu.

It can seem somewhat of an insurmountable task to narrow down a guest winemaker list from all of the beautiful wines being made in the Willamette Valley. Thank goodness no one suggested inviting wineries from outside of our region. (I will reserve elaborating on the merits of inviting a Champagne producer, or anyone from Bandol or Tavel, or the Anderson Valley for another post later on.) The task of selecting a chef was only slightly less exhaustive, as Portland and the Willamette Valley appear to be conspiring against my spare time and nutrition budget. (I was recently forced to extend the number of eating establishments on my shortlist by 180%. Counting food carts, the list is now approaching two year's worth of eating at an accelerated pace.) I will not elaborate too much further on how I arrived at the final list, as this is one of the critical skills required to perform my job. I also had some help from Kim, Boyd, and Jason.

Ben Bettinger of Portland's Beaker and Flask and I reviewed the lineup of wines to be featured. Anam Cara Winery, Carlton Hill Wine Co. and Laura Volkman Vineyards all provided wines in addition to our own. Maybe I say this every time we have a dinner, but every time I say it, I am being genuinely honest. I loved the opportunity to show each wine! Ben's food is outstanding. His ability to offer complementary or contrasting flavors in a single dish with two or three wines each should not go unmentioned. Crispy pig ears, grilled baby octopus, wood plank roasted cod, and pork cheeks all made the menu. Pinot noir, Riesling, Chardonay, Ice-wine and a few special surprises all made up the wines list.

What resulted was the equivalent of a gustatory half-marathon (full marathon coming soon...?). While I present this account as an ambitious undertaking of culinary conquest, that is not entirely accurate. Why host a meal in the dead of winter? What makes it worthwhile and meaningful? That answer has never left my consciousness. Our friends and family are that reason. Some are new friends, as is the case with each of our guest winemakers. We share soil types and slopes, but we rarely have a chance to break away from our toil to share each others company. It turns out we all have a lot more in common than just tending vines and sorting grapes. And for our guests that don't share in our labor, it's a pleasure to share the final product and to know you've appreciated our efforts. For many of us, the winery can seem like a second home, and the people we share it with and welcome in are family. I love seeing both old friends and new enjoying the things that make our family happy. Next time we have dinner, I hope to see you pulling up a chair. We'll make room for you.

Here at Anne Amie we often find ourselves talking about what is sustainability.  We know the terms “sustainable” and “sustainably grown” are used a lot these days.  I want to use this blogpost to highlight our philosophy and practices at the winery. 

The UC Davis Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education Program defines sustainable agriculture as integrating three main goals- environmental health, economic profitability, and social and economic equity.(http://www.sarep.ucdavis.edu/concept.htm)

This definition relates to the stewardship, conservation and promotion of water, energy, habitat, and soil health; the efficient use of inputs; as well as land use, labor, and community development.

Our approach at Anne Amie is to ensure we are sustaining the long-term viability of the land and approach it in a way that is successful both logistically and financially.  We realize we are part of a larger ecological, social and economic community.  Our philosophy is to approach the farming and winemaking practices with respect for the land, the vines, the fruit, the winemaking, and all of the people involved in the cycle. 

As with all great wines, ours start in the vineyards. We are fortunate to have some of Oregon’s best sites.  Our estate vineyards are located in the hills of the Yamhill-Carlton AVA (American Viticultural Area) and on the steep hillsides of the Chehalem Mountains, both of which are situated in Oregon’s verdant Willamette Valley. At our Anne Amie Estate we have around 40 acres planted, 28 of which are in production.  On our Twelve Oaks Estate we have about 69 acres planted, 26 of which are in production.

Our estate vineyards, along with those we purchase from, receive only the minimal required treatments and yields are dramatically reduced in order to give fruit with great depth and complexity. All of our vineyards and winery are Salmon Safe and LIVE certified and we earned eligibility to label all our wines Oregon Certified Sustainable.  Thomas, Andy, Tammie and Jason employ practices in both viticulture and winemaking that enhance the ecological integrity of our land, air and water.

Jason, our Director of Viticulture, is very involved with the local nonprofit LIVE (Low Impact Viticulture and Eunology).  He currently serves as the chair of the board and on various technical committees.  LIVE uses international standards of sustainable practices in wine grape and wine production.  It’s an independent non-profit third party that verifies practices and certifies vineyards and wineries as sustainable.  At Anne Amie we have been LIVE certified since 2008.

 Check out LIVE’s website for lots more information.  http://liveinc.org/

A brief overview of their program objectives include:

 -Implement practices that reduce reliance on synthetic chemicals and fertilizers with the goal of protecting the farmer, the environment, and communities at large

-Encourage responsible stewardship of the land, maintain natural fertility and ecosystem stability

-Promote sustainable farming practices that maintain biological diversity in the whole farm 

Jason employs environmentally friendly methods of pest control using native flowers as cover crops to attract pollinators, who attract other beneficial insects into the vineyard.  In both the vineyard and the winery we use manpower instead of machines whenever possible.  Other methods we use include composting discarded skins and seeds from winemaking, and using the neighbors’ sheep to “mow” between the vines.  We are always looking for new ways to reduce inputs and usage of water, light and electricity at the winery. 

Also, be sure to check out the Salmon Safe website (an independent third party organization that works to protect and improve local watershed health where Pacific salmon thrive).  http://salmonsafe.org/

It is January in Oregon.  Our skies are  leaden. A shy sun fleetingly appears between crevasses in the clouds, sending weak shafts of light into a tapestry of green.  I know this because as I sit each morning  at a table with Andy and Tammie,  dozens of wine blends from the 2010 vintage before us to concentrate upon, our estate vineyards outside the windows are a constant distraction.  We are, at this point, in the final stages of refining our white wine and rose’ blends. After six weeks of daily tasting, and almost 400 individual blends evaluated, we have finally decided upon a handful of wines that will be bottled this spring.  

In the process of evaluating, refining, discussing, blending, and re-blending each morning, we have watched squalls blow in over the Coast Range, snow flurries swirl and pile up on our pal ms, fog settle so deeply that our Riesling was rendered invisible a few yards away, and even reveled in a few, glorious sun-drenched mornings. All this time, while we were busy in the cellar, coaxing fermentations to a close, blending, racking, and tasting; the vines outside were for all intents and purposes… asleep.

Many people don’t realize that the cycle of a winemaker and the cycle of  a vineyard manger are not the same.  If we were satellites, we would most definitely not be in some sort of synchronous orbit.  The satellite that is Thomas and that of Jason, traveling in wide, predictable ellipses, would only intersect occasionally. Our calendars are fixed at different points, yet we are completely dependent upon one another. In fact, it might be stated that there is only one minute instant on the calendar where the vineyard and the winery intersect- that is exact moment grapes are picked. Then, as before, we head off in separate directions, in constant communication, yet different trajectories.

Such is case at the moment.  As we put the finishing touches on the wines from the previous vintage, outside the winery windows, our vineyard crew can be seen moving methodically through our vines, loppers  and pruning shears in hand, clad head to toe in rubber suits, as if armed and ready to battle the elements. From our toasty perch on the top of the hill on our estate, these figures fade in and out of the landscape, totally erased from view as showers pass. These brave souls are pruning our vines, putting the first rough cuts in place for what will become the canes that grow our fruit for yet another vintage. It is these first cuts that are so important.  Like bonsai, each vine is trained to a certain shape- certain canes on the vine are better suited for growing this year’s grapes.  The rest of last year’s growth must be removed.

As I stated before, this syncopation is not uncommon.  Outside, the first rough cuts are being made to the vines in what is the first step to the 2011 vintage. Inside, the last refinements are being made to our 2010  white wines. We are at opposite ends of our orbits.  Everything we do from this point forward brings us closer together, to that  October morning where our worlds meet again.

Harvest.