When I first moved to California more than a decade ago, my early vinous love affairs were all with Santa Cruz Mountains wine. Dexter Ahlgren's unforgettable Bates Ranch Cabernet Sauvignon. Thomas Fogarty's rich and racy Pinot Noirs from the Rapley Trail and Windy Hill vineyards. The precise and profound reserve Chardonnays made by master winemakers at Mount Eden and Ridge's Monte Bello estate. Birichino's dependably delicious Besson Vineyard old vine Grenache. Woodside Vineyards' understated yet excellent heritage vines Zinfandel and Kings Mountain Cabernet cuvée. These were not wines for the masses, like Mondavi, Meiomi, or Kendall Jackson. They were limited production wines lovingly crafted for Bay Area residents who appreciated the qualities and value of well made wine. Wine that Silicon Valley tycoons eagerly bought by the caseload but that regular people could also afford to open on special occasions a few times every year.
That's what California Wine Country initially meant to me: a postcard pretty, topographically varied place utterly lacking in pretense where trellised grape vines coexisted with enveloping redwood forests, chaparral covered hillsides, historic family ranches, heirloom orchards, organic gardens, lonely beaches, secluded parks, and wildlife friendly open space preserves. This remains my lodestar when it comes to defining what makes for great Golden State wine, even after multiple trips to Napa Valley, Sonoma Valley, Suisun Valley, the West Sonoma Coast, the Russian River Valley, Dry Creek Valley, Anderson Valley, Paso Robles, Edna Valley, Santa Rita Hills, Livermore Valley, Lodi, the Sierra Foothills, Cienega Valley, Carmel Valley, Santa Lucia Highlands, North Yuba River, Gabilan Mountains, Madera County, Yolo County, Lake County, Tehama County, and beyond. My advice for aspiring wine tasting adventurers who would like to visit these amazing places? Ditch the Tesla or SUV and invest in a hatchback Subaru outfitted with high performance run-flat tires instead.
Big Basin Vineyards continues the time-tested tradition of making mountain wines with maritime influence from grapes grown on mineral rich, stony soil. Old World inspired but New World in nature. Syrah that smells like bacon fat frying on a wood burning stove in a cottage kitchen with open windows overlooking the edge of a dense pine forest, while lavender, rosemary, and thyme bloom outside in a bee-filled herb garden planted next to a patch of ripening wild blackberries. Crimson-colored Grenache whose aromas bring to mind ripe cherries rolled in baking spice and left to dry in the afternoon sun while resin-laced trees and bushes release their essential oils into the hot summer air. Crisp, mineral rich Chardonnay grown in white sand soils that practically begs to be served with raw oysters, uni, and abalone plucked fresh from the ocean. Cool climate, rosewater-scented Pinot Noir brimming with ripe orchard fruit that Miles and Maya could drink together and get so lost in such meaningful, mind-altering conversation that they would nearly forget to make love when the bottle was empty. Age-worthy red blends for the California wine collector that Jeb Dunnuck, Antonio Galloni, Rusty Gaffney, Matt Kettmann, and Esther Mobley all can agree upon. How can you find fault with any of that?
Making Santa Cruz Mountains AVA wine worthy of its name is an art, not a science, one that takes decades of trial, error, experimentation, and an infinite amount of irrationally exuberant optimism to master. Bradley Brown seems to have figured all of this out already. Call it kismet. Call it fate. Call it coincidence. Chalk it up to serendipity. Whatever. Seek answers in the soil. Make the most of all that minerality with inspired food pairings and abundant amounts of open flame. Greet sunrise from the summit of North Chalone Peak while looking down on high elevation vineyards primed and ready for an early morning pick. Search for the elusive signs of granite in your glass. Decant a 21-year old Odeon Cabernet-Syrah blend on your eldest son's 21st birthday and wait for the wildness to reemerge: so reminiscent of the night when he was conceived, encased in the warmth of a shared sleeping bag, while rain lashed the soaking sides of an ultralight tent pitched precariously on a windswept mountaintop. Cellar a bottle of Rattlesnake Rock Syrah to celebrate the inauguration of the forty-sixth President. Or just tell your friends on Yelp about the inherent awesomeness of Big Basin Vineyards, post a few pictures from a recent wine tasting, sign up for a new club membership, and leave it at that. read more