Father’s Day

Sunday, Jun 17th, 2012

 

There are days when I feel overwhelmed.  It usually occurs around this time of year when despite my best efforts, I just can’t seem to catch up to the work that needs to be done.  There are weak moments (humid, dizzy moments) that I actually begin to second guess my calling.  Who on earth would be stupid enough to willingly submit themselves to the rigours of thinning grapes in this oppressive heat?

Just as I convince myself that my afternoon efforts might be better spent monitoring the progress of 2011 Pinot Noir barrels in the cool confines of the barn, I spot a cloud of dust emanating from the far corner of our 60 acres.  Cue the proverbial forehead slap…

There is an individual in the center of that dust cloud who’s work ethic is second to none.  He skillfully guides the tractor and disk, eventually making the careful wide turn for the next row.  Four rows over, three rows back.  A pattern he has repeated time and again for the last 40 years.

I get to the farm in the morning and he’s out there – I leave in the afternoon and he’s still out there.  We may pass each other at some point during the day,  but no words need to be spoken.   That cloud of dust is his example.  My second guessing comes to an abrupt halt.  When I was younger I couldn’t wait until it was my turn to do all the tractor work.  Now I hope that day never comes.

As I sing his praises, a comical beer commercial flashes to mind and it occurs to me that my father might just be, “The most interesting man in the world” (or at least St. Davids).  Some proof:

His pre-dawn enthusiasm puts my Golden Retriever to shame.

Powdery Mildew is afraid of him.

His internal alarm clock laughs at my snooze button.

‘Hydration’ is a foreign term to him.  He drinks beer and coffee, and when he’s really thirsty…Lipton Cup-a-Soup.

He could jump-start a canoe.

He doesn’t buy new golf clubs, he buys a new wrench (mainly because he broke something and can’t find the wrench he bought last week…and he can beat you with his old clubs anyway).

Happy Father’s Day to all the early risers and “Stay thirsty my friends!”

2011 Vintage Update

Sunday, Sep 11th, 2011

Call me Chicken Little.

At the first sign of rotten berries and fruit flies in our Pinot Noir I run to my father and proclaim, “the sky is falling”.  I rattle off all the jobs that need to be done IMMEDIATELY: gotta get the bins ready for harvest, gotta cut the rot out, gotta check the sugar and acid levels, gotta thin out green bunches, gotta take the nets down…

He takes in all the “gotta’s” and I manage to catch my breath while swatting away invisible fruit flies.   My anxiety stems from sheer amount of time I’ve put into that damn vineyard, and coming to grips with the concept that no amount of time and care can trump mother nature.  Water is always the great equalizer.   These overly tight Pinot clusters just can’t resist taking in excess water.  They are starting to rot from the inside out, as mid-cluster berries begin to split.  This condition is worse than a simple bird peck or hail strike which often times dries up on the cluster exterior.  The only cure for this malady is the strategic removal of rotten berries, not a fun prospect.

Howie takes it all in stride.  The calm look on his face reminds me that we go through this same excruciating Pinot dance every year.  He knows that we will cut the rot out and the resulting fruit will ripen-up enough to make good wine.  If not, then at least we can rest assured that we gave it our best shot.  Why can’t I be this wise and even-keeled?  I guess that is where we differ.

He goes on to recall the words of a sage vineyard manager we both know who under similar circumstances proclaimed, “They are just grapes and we’re just making booze.”  I shudder and remind him that this fellow no longer manages vineyards.

The Longest Row

Monday, Jul 04th, 2011

Where do the days go?

Every year, right around this time, I shift from basking in the joys of summer to flat out panic.  Days are spent trying to motor through jobs in the vineyard, but soon the stark reality sinks in.  There just aren’t enough days left before harvest to complete the monster list of tasks.

I find myself in a row of Pinot Gris on this hot Sunday, trying to rationalize how I seem to get into this mess every year, yet somehow manage to get most of the work done.  This brings no comfort.  The vines just keep growing (even on weekends).  There is minor satisfaction in each row of thinning and shoot positioning that I get through, but no time to really enjoy it.  I seem to remember more enjoyment in years past.  Perhaps this is tied to the fact we now have a winery occupying a large portion of our time.  As the sun beats down and I feel the sting of sweat in my eye, I begin to second guess why we decided to start a winery in the first place.  Growing grapes alone was sooo much easier.  No retail hours, no Interac, no problem!

Just as my self-pity hits a fevered pitch, and I’m convinced that I’ll never finish thinning this unbelievably long row of Pinot Gris,  I sense something beside me that causes me to jump with fear (only those who have been surprised out in a vineyard will truly understand my terror).  I went from mellowly singing along with John Denver to actually shrieking like a female punk vocalist.  Quickly wheeling around I found myself face to face with….what is that?….a coyote wearing sun glasses?  Alas no, it was only my Dad coming to aid his slightly heat-stroked son.  Without fail, the shock of abruptly meeting someone or something amid the tranquil cocoon of music and vines always makes me jump.

Thankfully, this was just the spark I needed.  Together we finished that marathon row and then hiked back to the barn for lunch.  Upon arrival, Wilma informed us that we had just missed out on a “crazy Shiraz flurry” and delighted to tell us how much she enjoyed tasting wines with the exuberant group.  The excitment on her face brought a smile to mine.

The reward of opening a winery was never more clear.  How selfish of me to think of it as a burden, even on this grueling day.  Five Rows started as a hopeful brand but has evolved into our lifestyle.  For this brief moment in time, we are able to achieve success together as a family.  Despite our foibles, the jobs eventually get done and wine seems to magically disappear out the door.  I’m increasingly aware that our current arrangement is unique, and not one that can last forever.  Therein lies both the paradox and the beauty of Five Rows.

Let’s all enjoy this “Shiraz flurry” while we can.

Is it Spring yet?

Monday, May 02nd, 2011

 

It’s depressing to look back at my April 24th post from last year and read just how promising things were looking in the vineyard.  In fact, the guy who wrote that passage deserves a good slap in the face for exuberantly rubbing our noses in it.  Aren’t you lucky!  Two weeks ahead of schedule you say?  Well GOOOOOD FOR YOU!

(I apologize for the seething sarcasm, my attitude has not been exemplary ever since a large tree fell onto my car the other day)

Rain, cold and wind are the reality this year.  I don’t feel like the buds are too far behind schedule just yet, but we definitely won’t be afforded the 10-14 day head start we saw in 2010.  The only advantage of this slight delay might be reducing the window for frost damage over the next few weeks.  I’m grasping at straws here.

On the bright side, I’ve actually had my jacket off while tying grapes the last couple of days.  What a feeling of liberation!  The symbolic removal of one’s jacket and subsequent hanging of it over the top wire is one of my favourite rites of Spring.  I almost went “skins” the other day just to stick it to mother nature, but  then I realized I might frighten my Aunt Lonna who was out for a stroll with her dogs.  The shirt stayed on.

On rainy days I’ve begun the massive task of waxing and labeling our new wines.  This job has been expedited by the fact we are nearly sold out of 2009 Pinot Gris and Sauvignon Blanc.  Look for a release announcement concerning the 2010 whites and 2008 reds sometime in June.   If it keeps raining I should have enough bottles labeled by then!

2009 Riesling “Jean’s Block”

Saturday, Jan 22nd, 2011

We often discuss a vineyard year in terms of the wonderful wines that result.  I’ve certainly heard many superlatives thrown around in describing just that from Niagara’s 2007 Vintage.  For a change, I’d like to give a different account of  2007, one of extreme vineyard challenges and of personal highs and lows.  This is the story of Jean’s Block.

I was blessed on February 24th of 2007 to marry my soulmate.  Our honeymoon would have to wait, however, as my hard working new spouse still had some schooling to take care of.  Having just moved back from the easy-goin’ east coast, I was about to embark on my first summer at the helm of our yet to be named winery.  There wasn’t really any wine yet, just nerves and self-doubt.  Were we making the right decision?  Am I really a winemaker?  There was only one way to find out.

My mother-in-law, Jean Tkaczyk, was always a fan of Riesling.  She’d made it clear to me over the years at many lively family dinners that I’d better make her a Riesling one day!  I’d always promise her that I would, but there was that small hurdle of not having any Riesling grapes in our vineyard.  It was never a variety that our winery clients had desired, so it had never been planted.  I fondly remember a trip that Jean, Tanya and I made to Vineland Estates one summer to taste their renowned Rieslings.  I quickly became a convert.  On that day I was convinced that our new winery needed this variety in its portfolio.

My parents and I decided to plant 14 rows of Clone 49 Riesling on the easternmost part of our farm adjacent to Four Mile Creek.  It is a well-drained block, with good airflow and a mixed soil composition of sand and clay-loam.  I was well aware that the ultimate challenge with Riesling is keeping the rot at bay, and these parameters would surely help in our efforts.  Clone 49 originated in Alsace and is widely considered to be better suited for Niagara-on-the-Lake and St.Davids Bench terroir.  It’s known for producing wines featuring floral and tropical fruit notes.

My father spent the spring of ’07 doggedly preparing his field for the coming vines.  It was an exciting time.  We were off to a hot, dry start to the growing season with all varieties well ahead of schedule.  One problem: where were the April showers?  They never came.  For that reason I’ll always remember 2007 as a challenging drought year more than anything else.  We actually had to purchase irrigation equipment!  This was unimaginable on a farm that had been bathed with adequate rainfall for five generations.  There had been dry years in the past but nothing like this.  Maddeningly, it would rain in Queenston and Virgil, but not in St. Davids.  It was a bleak prognosis for our soon to be planted Riesling.  Young vines need lots of water, and there simply wasn’t enough available in the soil.  As the time to plant drew near,  however, this was the furthest thing from our minds.

Heartbreak.  We lost Jean to cancer that summer.  I’ll never be able to understand such things.  She will always be remembered with love and her zest for life is still resonant in her children.  Her Riesling vines were planted in sorrow.

When I work in Jean’s Block today, three years later, I’m struck by it’s beauty.  Not only did it survive the drought of 2007, it thrived.  It is without a doubt the prettiest spot on our farm.  I’m reminded of Jean every time I look up to see a majestic hawk or encounter a curious cardinal sitting on the top wire.  She loved nature and took every opportunity to get her hands dirty in the garden.  I’ll never take these earthly pleasures for granted again.  My worries magically disappear in Jean’s Block.

The first crack at making wine from this vineyard came in 2009.  We harvested about 500kg of fruit on October 25th.  The cool ferment was carried out solely in stainless steel with W15 yeast.  The wine was left slightly off-dry (14 g/L), but has plenty of acidity to balance the sweetness.  We bottled 36 cases on August 30th, 2010.

Bottles #2 through 437 are now available to you.  Bottle #1 was put away for someone special.  I hope she likes it.

Every Wine Has a Story

Monday, Aug 23rd, 2010

 

Every vintage and every wine has a story.  Some are thrillers, some are tragedies, some are uplifting romantic dramas and some, like the story of “Howie’s Own” 2008 Vidal, are dark comedies.

Tonight I cracked a bottle of this ’08 Vidal (bottled elegantly in a recycled Creekside Cabernet bottle) and marveled at the irony of how this wine that I cared about the least, neglected the most, and don’t sell to the public, turned out to be so damn good.

It’s an understatement to say that I wanted no part of making this wine in the late fall of 2008.  Those unfortunate enough to be around me at that time would no doubt be able to describe the kind of mood I was in.  Frazzled and crabby only begins to describe my state of being.  Having just completed our first full-scale “Five Rows” vintage, in facilities that rivaled only the most modest of U-Brew joints, I’d actually spent the majority of my time scouting vineyards for other wineries to make ends meet.  I was officially burnt out.

With evey sip of Vidal the stroy gets clearer.

My father, and I give him credit for mustering up the courage to do this, meekly suggested that we make a small tank of Vidal from the little bit of leftover fruit that falls onto the ground after mechanical harvesting, just for the fun of it. The fun of it?  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”  I thought or perhaps yelled aloud along with some interesting adverbs.   I’d been slugging away for three months straight and making Vidal for fun was not high on my To Do list.  I didn’t have the tank space, the yeast or the patience for this venture and made my feelings perfectly clear to a bewildered Howie.

“No problem.” he calmly stated, “I’ll make it myself.”  Now this was funny.  He didn’t have the foggiest notion about the practice of whole bunch pressing, the use of pectic enzymes, the protective benefits of potassium metabisulphate or how to properly monitor a fermentation.  “Good luck with that!” I rudely exclaimed.

I arrived early the next morning to see him diligently stooping to pick up the fallen bunches of Vidal.  I went on to tend to my other wines and after a while he pulled up to the crush pad with his wagon load of roadkill.  Then, in a fateful moment of weakness, I decided to can the attitude and help my old man press some grapes.  I suggested we press them “whole bunch” in an effort to be gentler on fruit.   I’d done this before with Chardonnay in Nova Scotia and really felt that the end product was more complex.  It also meant skipping the destemmer-crusher, which I didn’t feel like cleaning anyway.

We loaded the press quickly, I was probably still giving him the bum’s rush, and soon the sweet free-run juice began to flow.  Normally, pressing is done slowly with gradual increases of pressure and a periodic break-up of the press cake.  Sadly, this was not our protocol.  I cranked the pressure input valve, quickly achieving one bar of pressure when, mysteriously, the free-run juice stopped flowing.   Judging by the high-pitched squeal emanating from behind the wooden slats, I guessed we had an air pocket somewhere within our small basket press.  Stupidly, instead of dismantling the press and breaking up the cake, I increased the pressure and leaned in for a closer look.  All of a sudden, in one almighty instant, a tsunami of angry Vidal riding two bars of pressure streamed violently between a crack in the press screen, directly into my eyes and clear onto the roof of our barn!

Now if I say that I hit the ground and rolled around like I thought I was blind for life…it wouldn’t be a lie.  I tend to be a bit of a drama queen at times, but I swear that this situation warranted my blasphemous screams.  When I think back now, I truly believe that I’m lucky I wasn’t seriously injured.  A seed or stem hitting an eye at that velocity could have done some serious damage, but the juice just stung.   When I regained my vision enough to see blurry images, I quickly felt around and opened the pressure release valve to stop the geyser.

There are still a few Vidal skins adorning our barn roof to this day.  When my dad and I recovered from the shock of the situation, we had a good and much needed laugh.  I think we agreed not to tell my mother how bad it really was, but she will know now.  Sharing that experience was priceless.  I will never forget the look on his face when my vision finally returned.  It was a weird amalgam of shock and stifled laughter that he’d be hard pressed to ever duplicate.  Winemaking has since seemed less complicated and my attitude at vintage time has lightened tremendously.  Taking time to enjoy the experience is my new motto.

In the end, we were able to scrape together some yeast and cold-fermented the Vidal in a small stainless steel tank.  Last summer we bottled (more or less siphoned) 23 cases of Vidal, unfiltered, into sterilized, recycled bottles.  We’ve been enjoying it ever since.  The aromatics and presence of this wine are captivating.  Our supplies are getting low, however, so maybe we’ll make some again this year…just for fun.

At Long Last

Wednesday, Apr 07th, 2010

 

Since deciding to start a winery, the question I get asked most is, “so when is the Pinot going to be ready?”.  I’ve stalled and tap-danced around the answer for about a year now, but not any longer.

Twenty-three years ago, five unassuming rows of Burgundian Clone 115 Pinot Noir were planted by a skeptical crew of individuals amid concerns about the future of a seemingly faltering grape and wine industry.  Would these vines even live to produce a crop?  Only time would tell.

No doubt my eagle-eye grandfather drove the tractor that fateful day, as this most important job meant the difference between straight and crooked rows.  To this day I’m amazed at his accuracy each time I gaze down a row in that vineyard.  The unsung heroes of the operation were the two women perched precipitously upon the planter as it was tugged violently behind the tractor.  My Mother and Aunt Pat were responsible for placing the young vines into the freshly harrowed trench at consistent intervals, all the while being tossed about on their cast iron seats.  Timing is everything, as vines planted too close together or too far apart can create a trellising nightmare (by the way, this is all done with laser and GPS nowadays).  I’m sure they were made well aware if any of the vines looked a little out of place!  Trudging along solemnly behind the operation was my Father, personally tamping and straightening each vine.  Did he have an inkling that one day I’d be writing about this?  Probably not.  At the time he didn’t know a Pinot from his elbow, so most likely he would have laughed at the thought of his young son as a blog-writing winemaker.  His deep connection to these original vines was evident in recent years when I saw him conspicuously wipe away few tears as we uprooted out some old, grisled vines that didn’t make it through winter.  Maybe it was just something in his eye.

Ironically, the rough clay-loam and limestone soil being cursed by the planters that day ultimately proved to be a key factor in the future success of these vines.  From the first wines made out of this fruit, it was apparent that the enigmatic effects of Terroir could be applied to this small patch of land in St. Davids.  The Reserve Pinot Noir produced by Inniskillin in the early 90s was much sought after and helped to elevate the image of Niagara wines as a whole.  The success of this Pinot spawned a collaboration project between Inniskillin and a counterpart in Burgundy.  Their goal was to produce a Niagara Pinot Noir that could stack up with the finest Grand Cru.  French Negotiant Bernard Repolt of Jaffelin was commissioned to select barrels from the Inniskillin portfolio that best represented the beloved wines of his homeland.  After an exhaustive search that involved physically tasting soil (“mmm….loamy”) from the vineyard origin of each barrel, he and Inniskillin winemaker Karl Kaiser worked in tandem to come up with a final blend.   These critically acclaimed “Alliance” wines sold out lightning fast and really helped put Inniskillin on the map.  The fact they ended up choosing Lowrey barrels for the project dramatically changed the focus of our farm and probably had a lot to do with my future choice to become a winemaker.  From that point on we weren’t growing grapes, we were growing wines.

Crafting my 2007 Pinot Noir from these same five rows was an exciting process that really brought things full circle.  There were plenty of anxious moments, but earlier this year as the wine went into bottle I felt a certain catharsis, knowing there was nothing more for me to do.  I have 99 cases of this wine and plan to release it early this summer.  If you are interested in reserving a six-bottle case ($300) please let me know soon (wes@fiverows.com).  In an effort to maximize distribution I must limit orders to 2 cases.

I’ll follow up with tasting notes and cellar details of this wine closer to the release date.

The Next Challenge

Sunday, Jan 03rd, 2010

 

At 8:03 AM on January 2nd, a new era began at Lowrey Vineyards.  As the sun peeked over the escarpment we welcomed the dawn of our very own “Ice Age”.   After an evening of perfect freezing conditions (-12 degrees Celsius) it was decided to harvest five rows of Cabernet Sauvignon, our first foray into the world of Icewine.  A beautiful morning unfolded before us, with a light snow gently filtering the weak rays of winter sun.  It soon became clear that picking the fruit and braving the cold are the easy part, and actually quite enjoyable.

To understand the travails of pressing frozen grapes to yield minute amounts of juice, I want you to imagine trying to squeeze a tray of ice cubes in an effort to produce water.  It takes equal amounts of pressure and patience I assure you!  Too much of the former and not enough of the latter can lead to problems…big problems.  Less than a minute into the second press load I cranked up the pressure and was horrified to hear the sickening hiss of a slow leak in the press bladder.  Luckily we had a back-up bladder on hand, but the subsequent dismantling of the press load and bladder re-assembly really set us back.  In the end, patience prevailed and the luscious Cab juice began to flow.  It was thick, sweet and full of super-concentrated flavours of ripe strawberry and raspberry.

At this stage the plan is to make a traditional Icewine, but I could be persuaded to ferment it a little longer for those seeking more of a drier, “late harvest” style.  Initial feedback tells me that Icewine is often perceived as being “too sweet” for some palates (including mine at times), but I challenge those people to try Cabernet  Sauvignon or Cabernet Franc Icewine with dark chocolate or strong cheeses.  Simply delectable!

 

A Great View

Friday, Oct 09th, 2009

 

Lead up to harvest is a time of frayed nerves and long hours.  In many cases you are playing a game of chicken with the weather, and usually I’m the first one to flinch.  I get so tied up worrying about making the right decision that I rarely stop to enjoy the moment.  That would soon change.

Earlier this week we harvested our first fruit of the year, and as I stood awaiting a load of fruit atop the bins of the receival truck, I was struck by the view.  From this vantage point I was overwhelmed by imagery and memories.  The stress of harvest suddenly melted away and the bigger picture came into focus.  The green rows of vines looked resplendent contrasted against the fall colours adorning the trees.  A harvester slowly chugged its way down a row of Sauvignon Blanc, driven by one of my early childhood heroes – “Big Ernie”.  When I was just old enough to remember, Ernie let me ride with him on the big harvester, a memory I will forever cherish.  I also suddenly recalled the time my Grandfather fell from the exact position I currently stood, landing hard on the road below.  Miraculously he wasn’t seriously hurt.  I made a point be extra careful negotiating the narrow bins for the rest of the day!

Huddled around a thermos of coffee were my father and “ever-ready-with-baked-goods” mother, Rob the Creekside winemaker, John our truck driver, and Henry the tote bin driver.  It really put my stress and worries in perspective to see the interaction of these people who had been through so many vintages together.  They laughed and exchanged stories from the old days of Ventura’s and Concord’s, then debated some of the more heated issues facing our industry today.  Their collective experience both humbled and inspired me.  At the root of our farm and it’s history are people like them…people like me.  Crops come and go, weather is always going to be a problem, wine will be made and sold, but the tradition and land lives on.  From my perch I smiled and wished some moments could last forever.

The Fish of 1000 Casts

Friday, Jul 24th, 2009

 

The weather over the last few weeks has left many farmers cursing their luck and already looking ahead to next year. Cold temperatures, rain and periodic hail have left us wondering if and when summer will finally arrive.

Determined not to let this “dampen” our annual trip to Bobcaygeon, I threw together a few barrel samples and we hit the road with an excited puppy in tow. I always look forward to this brief respite from the farm as it allows me to indulge in one of my true passions: the pursuit of the elusive Muskellunge.

Muskies are large, vicious predators that feast on other fish, small water fowl, and the occasional unlucky swimmer.  One encounter with these toothy monsters is all it took to breed my obsession.  I will caution, however, that muskie fishing can lead to extreme frustration, nightmares and hooks being painfully lodged into various body parts.

Come to think of it, fishing for muskies is a lot like growing and crafting Pinot Noir.  Both are very “results driven” hobbies that require the utmost patience.  I’ve learned that the joy must come in the anticipation and pursuit of that “result” or else you will be disappointed more often then not.  The near misses that one encounters in each of these endeavors can be as character building as they are heartbreaking.  For me, the thrill is knowing that the biggest and best is still lurking out there, just waiting to be caught or crafted.   Alas, despite many hours and thousands of casts, I came up empty on my muskie hunt this year.  There was one mighty strike though, and that is more than enough to satisfy my passion for another year.

I was a little luckier with the wine samples, as they were a big hit at one of our cottage feasts.  We tasted a bottle of our 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon and a barrel sample of the 2007 Pinot Noir in an effort to decide on a release date.  Understandably, the 2005 Cab was miles ahead of the 2007 Pinot in terms of being ready to drink, but the Pinot showed some exciting signs of maturity since the last time we tried it.  The tannins are finally starting to soften, allowing the classic Pinot flavours and satiny mouthfeel to shine through.  Aromatically, the 2007 Pinot has always packed a punch, but this particular blend took a while to open up, but once it did…oh my.  It was decided to bottle this wine soon, with hopes of a spring 2010 release. Look for the 2005 Cab in late November.