Playing for small stakes
By Todd M. WernstromOn the one hand, there is the mega wine company (really a consolidator of brands) that, through continual acquisitions, is able to apply economy of scales analysis and then practice to the wine production process. From copy paper, oak barrels and bottle supplies to marketing campaigns and distribution networks, these modern-day wine behemoths are the very definition of vertical integration. What they may lack in romance, they make up for by giving a large segment - perhaps the single largest at that - of the consuming public what they want. And there's nothing wrong with that.
What has become increasingly clear is that the only viable alternative to being a giant is to be tiny. A mid-size portfolio or a large, but ungrouped, winery can only face constant and ever-increasing bottom-line pressure from the big boys. In Gordon Gekko greed-is-good parlance, you either eat or are eaten by the competition. There may always be plenty of labels (wine plankton, if you will) available to be absorbed by the thinning ranks of the competitors, but common sense - Darwineism - suggests that most will implode upon themselves, leaving but a handful to rule the wine world.
The little guy, however, really has a chance to succeed, but not because we typically assume that the smaller the number of cases made, the better the contents of the bottles. It's really only because the heavy hitters couldn't be bothered with them. After all, some 1,000-case producer, be it located in Burgundy or Barossa, isn't taking shelf space, not to mention market share, away from the Constellations, Diageos and Fosters of the world. It's true that regardless of size, some of the same pressures and difficulties are faced by all wineries, but a small-caser needn't concern itself with the complexities of juggling dozens of currencies, branding strategy and the daunting logistics involved in having a presence from sea to shining sea, and every important market in between.
This isn't to suggest that it's easy being, in a sense, an afterthought, but at least these "bit" players can do the thing that got everyone (except the accountants, perhaps) interested in this business in the first place: make wine that reflects both its provenance and the person or persons who make it. There are, no doubt, thousands upon thousands of these small fry in every region in which wine is made, and while we'll never meet a representative sample of them, we can be glad when we do happen upon one.
My current and favorite "discovery" is Figge Cellars, which among the many distinctions it holds in virtual anonymity, happens to be the only winery run by a guy born in Iowa, raised in Kansas City and schooled in Boulder, Colorado (with the requisite post-grad stint at Davis). Peter Figge is a young-looking 30-something who also did most of his formative wine training in Monterey County before, he said, "taking the plunge with a bank loan" just a few years ago to start up his own label.
He left his last place of employment, Estancia, a major force in Monterey, after seven vintages because, in his words, he "no longer wanted to do corporate farming." He spoke of his time there with no trace of the holier-than-thou attitude of one who went off to work with only three grapes (chardonnay, pinot noir and syrah) and make only single vineyard wines. In fact, without his Estancia experience, he wouldn't be where he is right now. He arrived at Estancia when it was in the midst of a huge replanting, thus ensuring that between being up to his elbows in his employer's considerable collection of vineyards and the moonlighting Estancia allowed him to do for several small growers, he got to know Monterey from top to bottom.
Though Figge doesn't own vineyards, he purchases fruit from fewer sources than can be counted on one hand. There are three wines made; the first, and so far only, vintage to be released is the 2005. (Starting with the '06s, there will be four - one Chard and one Syrah, as is the case now, and two Pinots.) The set of current releases I tried are, in the nomenclature of this magazine's rating system, outstanding.
My No. 1 of the three (with a bullet no less) is the 2005 La Reina Vineyard Chardonnay. For a mere $39 - not cheap, but by serious California Chardonnay standards, not expensive either - you get a mouthful of floral, tropical nuttiness that is exquisitely balanced, thanks to a green apple freshness. Green apple makes sense according to Figge, who noted, "There's a higher acidity level at this place [in the Santa Lucia Highlands], more malic acid than other places in Monterey." The nerviness of the wine keeps the ripeness perfectly in check, making it easy to sip without food, though it's also something many California Chardonnays are not: a classic, food-friendly white.
Figge's 2005 Paraiso Vineyard Pinot Noir ($43) has a refreshing charm to it - all mocha, mixed berries and rhubarb, and a far cry from the Pinot "Syrah" style now in fashion. The 2005 Arroyo Seco Syrah ($42) oozes earth, oak char and berries, and is very much a California Crozes-Hermitage for those looking for a ready Rhône reference.
These are most assuredly high-scoring wines. But just as assuredly, you get the feeling that this isn't Figge's concern. Despite saying, "I know how to run a lab," these are winemaker's wines, pure, well defined and not obvious. Figge explained, "You have to be on top of the things that can ruin a wine. But I think my strength is in the vineyard." That strength, however, isn't in numbers. There were only about 1,800 cases total of the three wines made, and there won't be much more in the future. "I see myself being between 2,000 and 3,000 cases," Figge said, adding with a smile, "I'm the vineyard manager; I'm the winemaker; I'm the janitor. I don't want to lose focus."
Aside from the help he gets from family and friends, his job description is accurate. He could hire help and get bigger, "but I'm reluctant. Stylistically, it suits me to be in control," he said. You get the sense that Figge's model is much closer to Beaune than the boardroom. And I don't mean in the teary-eyed, I'm-just-a-shepherd-of-the-land way; Figge just seems like he knows what he wants to do and isn't interested in being the next cult phenomenon.
I, for one, will happily be among the first on the Figge bandwagon; in fact, I can probably pull it all by myself - for now anyway.
Todd M. Wernstrom is the executive editor and frequently writes about French and Italian wine.