The Vineyards Of Redwood Valley

Back in the 80ʼs Bob Klindt responded to an ad in a home winemaker newsletter that listed Redwood Valley Chenin Blanc for sale. By 2010 he had bought winegrapes from 15 or more different vineyards in that northernmost portion of Ukiah Valley. He saw the prices for Zinfandel and Petite Sirah swell in the dawn of the new millennium to nearly three grand a ton when Napa and Bay Area money was suddenly in the mix. Vineyards in a region that used to supply White Zin gallonage to the likes of Sutter Home and Beringer were being more meticulously farmed for richer, distinctive, higher-end red wine production. Redwood Valley became an official American Viticultural Area in 1997. A handful of old school growers from Calpella on up were going from fishsticks to salmon on Fridays, and it seemed like their old plots of Zinfandel, Carignane, and Petite Sirah were on the very verge of wine world celebrity status. An organization called Coro Mendocino was created to both celebrate and regulate the heirloom mixed black blends of the territory. Rosenblum Cellars was making $45 wines off of Annette and Richard Rhodesʼ vineyard on Road J. Napa Valleyʼs Fife Vineyards physically moved to the Ricetti Bench and certified a great old vineyard organically to boot. It was as if Mendocino County had a Napa Valley-like area of its own to grow and make world class hearty red wines.

I wrote an article for Vine Times magazine about Redwood Valley ten years ago when I had a massive thirst for wine but no money to buy any of it. I received samples from a whole host of non-Mendocino wineries for the story: Fife, Rosenblum, Titus, JC Cellars and Ravenswood among others. Lolonis sent some bottles from a Walnut Creek address, and Frey, Gabrielli, Parducci, Edmeades, and Claudia Springs shipped some offerings. What I learned then after interviewing some of these people was that this relatively new American Viticultural Area was the easiest California region to farm organically and without irrigation. These vines thrived — even in hot years — and the proof was in the green summertime leaf canopies and the living chiseled trunks. Quality was on the rise in these historic vineyards and the future was looking bright.

In the end, American wine connoisseurs didnʼt really care about any of that. And, as the cashier at Redwood Drive In once barked at me whilst I nocturnally recycled a truckload worth of wine bottles and cardboard in their dumpster, “Dinero lo habla, merde de toro lo paseo.”

Fife closed its winery and tasting room on Road B. Even with that priceless view over Lake Mendocino they saw approximately 12 methed out tasters on a good Saturday and most of them werenʼt buying. Titus told me they enjoyed their Redwood Valley project back in the day but had to disband it in 2002. Kent Rosenblum sold his namesake Zinfandel house to Diageo Estates and the new corporate heads donʼt seem too interested in hauling picking bins up from Alameda to do those killer Rhodes Vineyard wines anymore. Vineyards went untended and even into receivership. Contracts were cancelled and grape growers went broke.

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A wikipedia search turned up more lively information about Redwood Valley than some wine story could give you: “History — The place was called Basil by the railroad when it reached there; when the post office opened in 1920, the place was called Redwood Valley. One of the more dubious distinctions awarded Redwood Valley is it being the home of Jim Jones' Peoples Temple cult for a short time. The site was chosen because Jones believed that it was one of the few places in the world likely to survive a nuclear holocaust. This was one of the areas where Black Bart operated.”

I knew Bob Klindt was the preferred professor on enology in Redwood Valley, and that some of his 17% alcohol Zinfandels will most likely outlast the atomic mushroom cloud Mr. Jones prophesied. On July 28th, my friend Alex and I descended upon Claudia Springs winery in Holmes Ranch for some liquid education. We arrived at dusk to the sight of eight bottles of red wine on the table and Bobʼs wife Claudia watching the Olympics. Bob was upstairs working on some label approval hangups regarding his soon to be released pink wine. Once seated at the table in his glasses, t-shirt and jeans, I asked him what was the best wine he ever made from Redwood Valley. He chose three. “Letʼs see, well, the 93 Pacini Vineyard Zinfandel… the 97 Rhodes Zinfandel, and the 2010 Vittorioʼs Secret Blend.”

Suspiciously enough, Alex and I wouldnʼt be experiencing any of those wines, but we started off with a duo of 1998s, including an in-check Vassar Vineyard Zinfandel and a massive Rhodes Vineyard Zin that was pressed on Halloween of that year. Both were well over 15% percent in alcohol and holding their color nicely, with glossy, fruit-driven mouthfeel and bright acids. Most California Zinfandel has the longevity of a T-Pain album. The Rhodes burned my esophagus some, but that Vassar — even on day two — was a gentlemanly beast at 14 years of age. “You wanna taste anything, Claudia?” Bob asked his wife from across the room. She glanced over at our eager, bearded, haggard faces and the history of bottles on the table and said, “Iʼd rather not.”

Alex had wisely brought along some home-made charcuterie to go with these wines. “Do you have any crackers?” he asked Bob. He went rummaging through a cabinet and returned with a well cellared box of Saltines. The 2004 John Ricetti Vineyard Zin was next and it conjured up some folkloric stories about the characters involved in the Redwood Valley grape growing scene. “Back in the eighties Fetzer was making all of these great vineyard designated Zinfandels,” Bob recalled. “There was the Scharffenberger, the Ricetti, and a couple other ones. I always remember the Ricetti was one of my favorites. So when I started making wine from Redwood Valley, I met John Ricetti. John had one acre. He was 90 years old and pruned it all himself. He was always really friendly. He had this incredible vegetable garden. In 2008 we were having hard times and I called him and said ʻJohn, weʼre still interested in your grapes but weʼre kinda having a difficult time and I wonʼt be able to do your payment schedule. Weʼll get ya paid before next harvest.ʼ And he came back saying ʻAh! You donʼt want my grapes huh?!ʼ I said ʻNo John. Itʼs not that.ʼ And he said ʻWell, let me think about it.ʼ He called me the next day and said it would be okay. Then he sold it all to Ledson for cash and said ʻSorryʼ.”

The cork on the blackened 1997 Petite Sirah was mold-tainted, but the 2010 Vittorioʼs Primitivo was the wine of the night by far. Freshly bottled, it should be released by the fall. Bob didnʼt make red wine in 2011, smartly so, and if that 2010 is his going-out-on-a-high-note offering, he nailed it.

“So what is the future of Redwood Valley?” I asked him.

“I think itʼs looking up. Actually theyʼre planting some vineyards. I was over there a few weeks ago and was like ʻWow, theyʼre actually planting some vineyards for the first time in quite awhile.ʼ So thereʼs some optimism.”

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“Thereʼs really not a lot going on in the way of new things in Redwood Valley,” said Jacob Fetzer of Masut Vineyard and Winery. “Itʼs a depressed grape growing region. We were part of the Redwood Valley AVA [American Viticultural Area] when we planted the vineyard, but weʼre not even in the valley.”

Jacob and his brother Benjamin petitioned for a new AVA called Eagle Peak three years ago to encompass their 7 acre biodynamic Pinot Noir vineyard, since there are soil and climate differences between their site and most vineyards in Redwood Valley.

Most notably, in his belief, is the cooling wind that comes through the mountains which allows them to grow a dark, concentrated Pinot Noir while one ridge over “they grow great Cab.” Thereʼs a lot of bureaucracy involved in creating these little appellations so they can appear on the front of a wine label, of which there are currently ten in Mendocino County. “Thereʼs nobody in front of us,” he mentioned. “Weʼre next in line [for approval]. Itʼll come up for public comment in a few months, but all the hard work is behind us.” The Eagle Peak AVA will be made up of 20,000 acres, and only 100 acres are planted at the moment.

He and his brother had just hosted 30 traveling sommeliers the night before I spoke with him. I asked him if the reason for creating a new AVA was to distance themselves from whatʼs happening in Redwood Valley or the fact that Pinot Noir isnʼt what Redwood Valley is known for. “Well, Redwood Valleyʼs not really known for anything,” he said. “But maybe we can be a bright spot for other people. Weʼre night harvesting, handsorting, trying to use the right wood. My brother and I are not cutting any corners.”

There is a history of Pinot Noir in the area. Vines are found throughout the region, even next to heat seeking Carignane plantings if you can believe it. In addition to Masutʼs 2010 Estate, I tried two interesting old vine selections by Onward Wines from the Hawkeye Vineyard, including a pink 2011 and a 2010 rouge, both from the old Martini clone of Pinot Noir. Freyʼs best selling red wine is their own Pinot Noir, and Bob Klindt told a story of Richard Rhodes planting some Pinot Noir down by the river and using his sprinkler system throughout the growing season to replicate the fog of Anderson Valley.

“A lot of wineries there are still stuck in the eighties,” Jacob summed it up.

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“Iʼm a sulfite snob,” Andy Powers said to me as I pulled out a Goldeneye and a Talley Pinot on his back deck at the Frey Vineyards. It was the 4th of July, and, being that Andy was from my hometown of Arroyo Grande, California, I thought the indigenous Talley Pinot would have him merrily reaching for the corkscrew, but it didnʼt. It was a hot, dry afternoon and the poison oak-ridden dogs were panting beneath the modular. Instead he opened a 2009 Frey Gewurztraminer from a vineyard farmed by a guy named Buck who apparently lived up to the name, and a slightly sparkling 2011 Sauvignon Blanc. He and his wife were pouring both on ice like cocktails in the Redwood Valley heat. There was an anti-GMO benefit concert going on across the property at the winery that we would eventually make it to. He spoke of the recent deal with Whole Foods Market and how Frey will be making their wine for a period of time, motioning the family to buy a 50 acre vineyard in Potter Valley and a larger plot in Redwood Valley. Andy and all ages of the family he married into had been digging and planting Cabernet Sauvignon in a new field “backwards,” with irrigation and posts coming after the plants got buried in the ground. It was late in the year to be doing it, but he said “Itʼs the Frey way.”

In October of 2010 Andy introduced me to Freyʼs winemaker Paul “Sambo” Frey. It was pouring down rain and Paul was standing by an old industrial conveyer that fed Chardonnay grapes up into the big press. He was feebly holding the most broken umbrella Iʼd ever seen. It was pretty miserable out there with no overhead protection. I asked him what constituted a biodynamic wine and if sulfites could be used. The current head of biodynamics in wine, Frenchman Nicolas Joly, had infuriated Paul and many others by allowing the use of sulfites in Demeter Certified Biodynamic wine. With rain dripping down the neck of my shirt, Sambo proceeded to fire off one of the stoniest rambles Iʼd ever encountered about biodynamics. His eyes were alive and interplanetary it seemed. I thanked him for his time.

Around five PM on Independence day we headed down to a vineyard pond for a swim and found more of the Frey family there with babies and children, swimming, eating, and drinking Anchor Steams and such. I paddled around the 20 foot deep perfect circle on a UV-yellowed Chris Mauro surfboard that Andy left there. Heʼd built a toy sailboat for his son Ben that was floating around in the heated wind. Vines of Pinot Noir and Tannat were growing around us with wheat, penny royal, lavender and other herbs raging between the rows. The soils were healthy. Life was abundant and good.

That night I got drunk at the non-GMO concert. I had to. The stress of my own life had been tearing into my soul and, besides, Iʼd seen these musical acts before: Human, Freedom, etc... Liberty opened the show, Alien didnʼt make it in time to play and Iʼm not sure what stage Animal was strumming on. We parked in a big open dirt parking lot.

“You could have Willie Nelson play here and handle the parking,” I told Andy.

“A month ago this used to be killer old vine Sauv Blanc,” he said, shaking his head at the dirt beneath our feet.

The next morning I looked like the devil. Andy laughed at me as I stalked the scent of coffee. “Ha! Those sulfites,” he said with a no-no shake of his finger. “Feel the burn!”

Maybe he was right.

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Since the day Rosenblum Cellars sold and Fife shut down, the most acclaimed red wine being made off Redwood Valley vines in the greater wine world is produced in a Santa Rosa warehouse and is justifiably named for its locale. “Indica” by Lioco winery is an old vine Carignane blend, comes in a screw-cap closure, and sells swiftly at around 20 to 24 a bottle. Itʼs really good. The current release is the 2010 and itʼs made by the same artisans who have pricey contracts with Pinot Noir vineyards like Hirsch in Cazadero. In fact, even Bob Klindt is selling Lioco his own grapes from Philo. 215 in Point Arena has Indica by the glass for a steal at $5. Iʼm surprised I donʼt see it around Mendocino more often with the name, price and all. They made a Roseʼ out of the difficult, underripe 2011 vintage that looks like a Cotes du Provence and already sold out.

But in my opinion, the finest beverage being crafted in all of Redwood Valley is Germain-Robin. Iʼm not sure who they are even owned by, who even makes the California Cognacs there, but if any single alcohol producer is making the best use out of all of those killer old vineyards, itʼs these guys and their Euro-imported stills. The XO, Coast Road Reserve, and Single Barrel Muscat are brain scrambling delights, and, even at 40% alcohol have shown me that there is elegance in firewater. I hope their productions are still poured in the White House as it was in the Reagan administration.

In summation, 1920s and 1950s era plantations of Zinfandel, Carignane, and Petite Sirah still exist in Redwood Valley and continue to produce distinctively ripe grapes that fall into the machines of corporations or the hands of rustic winemakers. The local wineries might have the most horribly designed wine labels in the current marketplace, but thereʼs some soul inside the bottles, and serious history too. Plus theyʼre a steal for the consumer as far as price is concerned. In a way, Redwood Valley is right back where it all began.