Has old-school become the new new-school? Perhaps that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s something I realized on a tour of Smith-Madrone yesterday.
The Vineyards
A winding ascent from Santa Rosa (or St Helena) leads to the Spring Mountain District of Napa Valley. The hillside provides a commanding view of the valley, along with good wine. It is here that Smith-Madrone is located – a small old winery in the midst of its own vineyard. The winery was founded in 1971, well before Spring Mountain became an AVA in 1993.
Upon arrival, I was greeted with a tour of the beautiful grounds and an energetic pup. Vineyards and madrone trees sit side-by-side in harmony on the hillside, and I became very excited to find out what these hillside vineyards are capable of producing. As much as I’d love to have roamed the vineyards, it is the fruits of their labors which brought me here, and no time was wasted in discovering them.
The Wines
In the winery the brothers Stuart and Charles Smith (not the “rockstar”) poured generous amounts of their current releases and a couple of tank samples. We tasted the 2007 and 2009 Chardonnay, both made in a classic oaked style, which I am slowly growing fond of as the rest of the world slowly becomes entranced with stainless chardonnay (boring!). The 2009 was in tank and ready for bottling, but the 2007 was clearly in a better stage at the moment, which is why it’s the current release I suppose. It is here that we got into a philosophical discussion that still has me thinking.
A few ounces of 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon was poured into my glass, and over the next few minutes I began to understand why people go berserk over Napa cabernet. Mondovino became the subject at hand, in a manner of which I don’t recall. There is a scene in Burgundy where an old vigneron is bashing high alcohol, “new world” wines — claiming they seduce immediately but don’t leave a lasting impression, much like topless dancers (that part isn’t in the movie).
The Smith-Madrone Cabernet Sauvignon is not one of those wines. The alcohol reads 13.9%, and the wine is beautifully balanced and exactly what cabernet should be. I don’t know what the professionals have scored this wine, but it doesn’t matter; it’s not a fruit bomb, but it is fully ripe and highly seducing, just not immediately. They sent me out with a bottle which I was looking forward to cellaring, but to make a long story short it was consumed that night at a restaurant in St Helena and very much enjoyed by all. R.I.P., sexy Cabernet; you are already missed.
A Fish Out of Water
Riesling and Napa Valley are two words I never expect to hear in the same sentence (like complex and pinot grigio), but alas, there does exist at least one tasty Napa Valley Riesling. I wouldn’t venture to place it quite on the pedestal with Poet’s Leap or Tantalus and the rest of the best of the Northwest, but it could be placed on a slightly shorter, rounder pedestal. They did mention that at one point in their careers they used some skin contact on the Riesling. I’m tempted to seek out a bottle of this, because we all know about my unhealthy obsession with skin contact.
The Rest of the Story
Stuart and Charlie have been making wine significantly longer than I’ve been drinking it, and I think they know what they’re doing at this point. It’s somewhat ironic that there exists a significant wave of young winemakers who insist on all-but-eliminating technology and everything California has taught us about winemaking from the process. I can’t argue with the wines nor with their experience level, but I am in this wave, so all I can really say is that they have a point. But old-school is the new new-school, and I’m sticking to it.