A recent trip to the Napa was a fascinating look at a small wine region that punches well above its weight in reputation and quality. Sound familiar? Well yes, but that is about where any similarities between New Zealand and Napa end.
Napa is surprisingly small. It is only 30 miles long by 3-5 miles wide and produces a mere 4% of American wine. It is nevertheless difficult not to be impressed by the sheer scale of things in Napa itself – there is a never-ending supply of simply humungous (some might say grandiose) wineries and associated buildings, the wines seem to be set to 120%, and everyone has the ‘very best’ of everything – even two of the ‘very best’ in some places.
It’s all a bit of a culture shock coming from a country where some of the loveliest wines come from the back of the tractor shed, number eight wire is more common in the vineyards than an international viticulture consultant, and most winemakers shuffle their feet and look embarrassed if you say their wines are really good.
But Napa is nothing if not a place of contrast.
Many of those massive tributes to contemporary architecture are inhabited by just as genuine and passionate owners, winemakers, cellar rats as the most humble of NZ tractor sheds. 98% of Napa producers are family-run businesses (though some of these are fairly corporate with it) and this seems to have helped keep a strong sense of community and responsibility to the area. There is a careful and committed protective approach to their land and vineyards – and they actually put their money where their mouths are. Over 30 years ago, Napa vintners were instrumental in putting in place a law that forbade subdivision below 40 acres and as a result, the integrity of the land and its terroir has been retained - no gradual erosion of the area by housing estates, industrial or commercial development. There is also no new land for vineyard development so anyone wishing to make wine in Napa must buy an existing property. Of course, the trade off here is that land prices are prohibitively expensive but it is difficult to argue that the Napa Agriculture Preserve has not had a beneficial effect on the region’s vineyards and wine ambitions.
There is undoubtedly a diverse and richly expressive terroir. Napa has fourteen official American Viticulture Areas (AVAs) with a further one pending and from the valley floor to the undulating mountains on either side, there is a plethora of soils and micro climates on offer. There is also a correspondingly wide range of varieties planted though cabernet sauvignon has clearly been crowned king of them all. Despite the variety, and despite the best efforts of the Napa Valley Vintners (of whom I was a guest for this visit) to showcase the many and varied vineyard/geology/terroir influences of the AVAs, it seems that with notably few exceptions what actually was the hallmark of the region was the uber-plushness and sheer size of the wines, regardless of their location. Terroir and even to a degree varietal expression was often sacrificed for weight and lushness, with a hefty dollop of the very best quality new oak thrown in for good measure. The notable few exceptions I tasted that showed real character and elegance (Corison, Crocker and Starr, Spotteswood, Dyer Vineyard and yes, Opus One) managed to keep that Napa velvety richness as well as exhibit a sense of place that was intrinsic to their vineyard rather than their winemaker. It was a relief to taste these wines as after so much sensory overload there was many a day I found myself feeling rather desperate for a thin, weedy unripe cabernet just to recalibrate my palate (well, you can take a girl out of New Zealand…).
One has to suspect that this mega-uber-superduperness of the wines comes from that endearingly American habit of being so shamelessly positive and relentless in the quest for the very biggest and best of everything. I lost count of the number of people who had the same oak as at Latour, the same consultants as Cheval Blanc, the latest concrete ‘egg’ fermenters (actually, they were pretty cool and made an incredibly difference to the aromatic and textural profile of fermenting wines), and the fact that every focus group or consultants were either the ‘best in the world’, the ‘top in their field’ or the ‘most important worldwide’. I found myself longing to hear someone say, “Well, you know, we just threw together whatever we could find”. Fat chance. This quest for the best is all well and good, but I do question whether the approach may be slowly squeezing the soul out of Napa. Biggest and best always better for wine – hmmmn, where then is there room for individuality and character? It is also difficult to see with such incredible capital investment that there is much taste for experimentation and risk – the stakes are just too high.
The most fascinating contrast in this mix of wealth and ambition was the demonstrably strong social conscience of the Napa vintners. They have voluntarily levied a tax on themselves (per acre) that goes towards providing housing, healthcare and schooling for the migrant workers who make up the bulk of vineyard and winery employees. This ensures they can build up the skills of their workers over the years and provide a fair place for people to work, and hopefully keep many of the workers in the area long-term. It could of course be argued that they can afford to be this generous and their benevolence has a degree of self-interest, but while that may indeed be true, it also seems a little unfair as they could have just put their money towards far more superfluous PR style lip-service initiatives. Instead have done things that actually do benefit others less fortunate in their area. This long-term vision is consistent with Napa’s environmental schemes that see a high proportion of vineyards farmed organically or biodynamically and a number of other green initiatives (such as wetland care and native planting and indigenous fauna introduction) that have concrete results as opposed to the all too-often seen nebulous ‘ambitions’ and ‘directions’.
The contrast of Napa’s wines themselves – the US$150 uber-cabernets vs. the cheap and cheerful white zinfandels – which are polar opposites in so many ways, yet the rigour with which Napa has safeguarded its name (it sits alongside Champagne in this respect) has ensured that its reputation and association with quality has remained intact. This is an interesting area for New Zealand to ponder, particularly as we see our flagship region and variety flirting with commodity status due to over-supply issues. It is interesting too that a region with such a strong identity and long-term vision for its future is also in many cases seemingly enslaved to a wine style favoured by particular critics, which to me always seems a very short-term approach to wine (though Napa vintners might point to their average bottle price to argue its merits).
I am heading back to Napa in February and look forward to exploring further this region of contrast and speaking one-on-one to its welcoming and faultlessly hospitable producers. My visit this time has raised so many more questions than it answered. I will be fascinated to hear what issues Napa producers feel will be their biggest challenges in the future, whether they feel that innovation and individuality is being safeguarded, how they see young winemakers/the next generation being able to fit into the picture when so much money is needed to live and farm in the area, and how they see the Napa style evolving in the future given the current preoccupation with high alcohol wines. Watch this space.
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