Father’s Day

 

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!”

Buds

 

For those curious about how things look in the vineyard these days I have good news…the buds are alive!  (At least 75% of them that is).  My thoughts go out to those tree fruit farmers who haven’t been as lucky thus far.  I’ve heard some staggering reports of damage in local apple and plum orchards as buds emerged way too early for their own good, only to succumb to the cold temperatures we experienced in April.  How fickle it can be.

When Life Gives You Lemons…

Pruning in shorts?   So much for those ultra-thermal, -70°C rated  “Tarantula”  boots my Dad got me for Christmas.  They’re still in the box.  Sap is gushing from the tips of newly pruned grapevine canes and there are pink swollen buds on my Magnolia tree – it’s only March 20th.  It was officially winter…yesterday.

Vineyard managers across the region are scratching their heads while sporting cautious grins.  They should be tremendously excited about how early this growing season  promises to be.  Three weeks early is not out of the question at this point.  But our enthusiasm is guarded.  There will no doubt be multiple frosts between now and the end of May.  The extremity of those frost events and just how advanced the buds will be when they happen are nervous variables yet to be determined.

So we sit on a precipice of possible greatness.  A vintage for the ages or an apocalyptic frost event that fries most of our delicate shoot growth.  At least I can go golfing tomorrow to calm my nerves.

Shifting gears, it’s very exciting to have our 2011 Sauvignon Blanc featured in the April/May issue of Vines magazine.  To be included in the article alongside notable Sauv Blanc producers like Hidden Bench and Creekside is a thrill for us.  The photo shoot at the Botanical Gardens was a fun change of pace and really symbolizes the vibrancy of Niagara Sauvignon Blanc.  I don’t know how they talked me into a few of those poses, but you know what they say,  “When life gives you lemons…”

I’ve received numerous inquiries about the barrel sample of 2011 Sauv Blanc that was reviewed in the article, some expressing horror that they had missed a release notice.  Not to worry – all 100 cases will be bottled on April 2nd and hopefully ready for release by May 1st.  Please let me know if you’d like to reserve a six bottle case (wes@fiverows.com).

An Ode to Oak

 

I’m generally not an emotional guy.  Why then, am I having such a difficult time parting ways with the first two barrels that ever held my wine?

The time has come to cruelly determine which of our used oak barrels must be sent out to pasture, literally.  I’ve been through wars with these veteran barriques.  They’ve seen good wine, bad wine and everything in between.  Some have been a working fixture in our barn for eight years.  Now you must decide which old soldiers can no longer carry out their job, good luck with that!  This unceremonious send-off just doesn’t seem to befit such a valuable part of our winery.

Good oak is the winemaker’s not-so-secret weapon.  Sure they are expensive (our largest capital expense from year to year) but they are essential.  I’ve come to learn that new oak should never be taken for granted and never be used in overabundance.  Too much new oak can mask and possibly ruin the fine subtleties of an aging wine.  Restraint should always be exercised.

My attachment to each individual barrel is surely due to the small size of our operation.  Over time I become acutely aware of their “personalities” through weekly tasting and topping regimens.  Some are big softies, while others are boldly complex.  Some barrels make the retirement decision easy for me.  No amount of sterilization can rid them of the contaminants they’ve accumulated over the years, so out the door they go.  But what about the barrel who’s only knock is it’s old age and bland neutrality?  That is the dilemma staring me in the face right now.

Back in 2004, under the guidance of Creekside Estate Winery winemakers Rob and Craig, I assembled a two barrel blend of Cabernet Sauvignon sourced from our vineyard.  With a pool of twelve barrels to choose from, we experimented with 50L from here and 25L from there until we all agreed upon a blend that I could confidently open a winery with.  It was decided that the wine should be housed in a couple of beautiful, two year old French oak barrels made by Burgundian cooper Claude Gillet.  The wine would stay cloaked in these barrels until 2006, when we bottled our first Five Rows release – the 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon.

Those same two Gillet barrels proved tremendously versatile with each successive vintage of Five Rows Cab Sauv.  What they lost in intensity each season, they gained in character and elegance.  This past week I racked some 2009 Cab Sauv from the Gillet twins and was pleasantly surprised at the finished product.  I didn’t hold out much hope for the 2009 Cab at this time last year, but an additional 12 months spent soothing in neutral oak really did the trick.  We’ll bottle the 2009 Cab Sauv this spring.

So there they sit after ten long years of service, empty and willing…but sadly there is no wine to fill them.  Now the decision is upon me.  No more stalling filibusters, it’s time to take these two out behind the barn and “pop the bung” for good.  I swear I’d have an easier time putting down Old Yeller.  At least he had rabies.

One day soon I’ll crack a bottle of 2004 Cab Sauv in their honour.  Few times will I enjoy a bottle more.

barrel graveyard

2009 Cabernet Sauvignon Icewine Release

 

As winter draws near, it’s fitting that our 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon Icewine is finally ready for release.  The bottles are signed, the labels have been folded and the wine is drinking beautifully!

Excitingly, we were just informed that this wine has received a silver medal in the Icewine category at the 2011 Canadian Wine Awards.  Full results will be made public in the December issue of Wine Access.  I must admit that this was not an easy wine to make (it drew my ire on many occasions) and to be recognized in this manner is especially gratifying.

I remember the day we harvested this fruit very fondly.  After an evening of perfect freezing conditions (-12 degrees Celsius) it was decided that we would hand pick five rows of specially selected Clone 169 Cabernet Sauvignon.  A beautiful day unfolded before us, with a light snow gently filtering the weak rays of winter sun.  Having spent the last three months fending off voracious flocks of starlings, the relief of harvesting was palpable that morning, and probably helped us brave the cold.

I quickly learned that everything involved in Icewine production is slow and difficult.  Pressing was a very long and drawn out process, but we were thankful for each singular drop of juice that slowly dangled and fell from the press spout.  The fermentation was also a marathon, as yeast don’t normally take kindly to such extreme conditions.  Proper nutrition and attention to fermentation dynamics were of the utmost importance.  Slowly but surely the sugar became alcohol and the amazing Icewine flavours began to reveal themselves.  The goal was to produce an Icewine that would not be perceived as being “too sweet” and I think we achieved that.

The challenge continued when it came to filtering and bottling this lucious, thick liquid.  In fact, it required as many pads to filter this measly 270L as I used for the rest of my entire 2009 vintage!  Bottling into narrow 200ml glass was a treat as well.  First the corks wouldn’t fit properly, then the bottles started tipping over on the filling line.  Keep in mind that any spillage of icewine is magnified many times simply due to it’s scarce supply.

Perhaps the easiest and most enjoyable part of this wine was the label design.  It’s a fun process and I’m always impressed with the original concepts that are born on the magic blackboard at Insite Design.  They always seem to come up with ways to make my wines feel special.  For a sneak peek at the package concept of this wine click here.

Many times over the course of this Icewine experiment I promised myself that under no circumstances would I ever do this again.  Based on the tremendous response to this wine, however,  I may now have to eat crow and reconsider.

Sometimes crow tastes good.

 

2011 Vintage Update

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.

Individual Vine Viticulture

 

What is it that makes our wines unique?

I’ve been asked to answer this question quite a few times over the last couple of weeks, so maybe some further explanation is necessary.  I always start by stressing that the intricacies of our wines originate from thorough hand labour in the vineyard.  But I now realize that this is a vague reason to many people.  So I racked my brain today, while thinning Sauvignon Blanc, for a moniker to best describe the practice I employ.  I settled on “Individual Vine Viticulture”.

Through many hours spent doing the same jobs to the same vines, I’ve come to realize that every vine is subtly different and needs to be treated as such.   It really becomes obvious as you prune, tie down, shoot thin, shoot position, remove leaves and cluster thin, that each vine has its own “personality”.  I’ve written about the broad definition of terroir in the past, and it’s effects are certainly applicable here.

These individual vine differences are especially observable in the Niagara region due to extreme soil variability and a consistently high incidence of winter injury.  The re-planting of winter-killed vines leads to rows filled with multiply-aged vines, thus adding yet another level of variability that must be accounted for by the grower.  I challenge anyone to find a vineyard in our region that has not been touched with winter injury over the years.

As the size of a vineyard increases it becomes next to impossible to treat each vine as an individual.   That is why crew-based and mechanized labour (for leaf removal and pruning in particular) are on the rise in most vineyards.  Jobs are done quickly, with a broad stroke and questionable accuracy.  I strive to trend in the opposite direction, precise and methodical, where  every vine gets my full attention.  I can now better explain the second most asked question in the last two weeks:  Why don’t you just expand your operation and make more wine?

It is my goal to continue to craft wines whilst practicing Individual Vine Viticulture on the rows I choose to vinify.  Right now, I spend nearly every day from March to November obsessively tweaking my vines in one way or another. Scheduling days for actual “winemaking” jobs is always problematic but ultimately doable at our current production size of 500 cases.  With wine quality at stake, Five Rows has no plans for expansion in the foreseeable future.

Go small or go home!

The Longest Row

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.

2008 Five Rows Shiraz Vinification Notes

2008 Five Rows Shiraz:

The tale of Lowrey Shiraz began many years ago with a firm handshake.  Our relationship as a grower for Creekside Estate Winery started in the late 90’s and continues to this day.  Shiraz is a staple for Creekside, grown and vinified to perfection year after year.  Given this success, we naively agreed to plant some of these vines soon after our partnership began.  Little did we know just how sensitive and vigorous Shiraz could be!

This combination of winter sensitivity and summertime vigor is a challenging prospect for the grape grower.  Early in their lives, these vines saw some pretty severe winters that almost led to their extinction in our vineyard.  Massive re-plantings and constant re-trunking were needed to restore their numbers.  Our hard work and patience was rewarded with some stellar vintages in the 2000s, ultimately inspiring me to take a crack at making my own Shiraz in 2008 (and yes, it will always be “Shiraz” not “Syrah” to us because we planted it for an Aussie!).

The fruit for this wine was harvested on October 23 following some pretty dodgy conditions in the summer of 2008.  We initially thinned the vines down to two bunches per shoot, but had to remove additional clusters in the fall, as it became clear that ripening would be a challenge.  We hand-harvested about one tonne of fruit from each of our Shiraz clones (7 & 100), then sorted before de-stemming into fermentation bins.

A long cold soak was employed to help with colour extraction and tannic development.  I chose to ferment the slightly riper Clone 7 fruit with RX60 yeast, but opted for F15 with the Clone 100 bin.  Ferments were carried out at an average pace, with four daily punch-downs.

One new Taransaud barrel, two older French and a lone American oak barrel were used for the maturation process of this wine.  Malolactic fermentation was carried out in barrel.  After 24 months in oak, the final blend was assembled and allowed to mingle for about 8 more months.  This exciting wine was bottled April 6th, 2011.

Aromas:  blackberry, black currant, lavender, smoked game

Flavours:  dark chocolate, coffee bean, raspberry

Production:  105 cases

Technical data:  13.0% alcohol,  pH 3.30,  TA 8.55

Price:  $50.00/bottle

Don’t Look Now…

 

Don’t look now, but we have some serious viticultural growth going on out there!  Despite the cool and damp conditions, shoots are expanding at a rapid pace.  It’s as if the vines couldn’t hold it in any longer and just exploded with life.

As a precaution for potential winter injury, we always leave an extra “insurance” cane on each vine that is not tied down with the others.  Initial observations tell me that we can safely go through and remove these extra canes, as most primary buds are appear to be viable.  This job will keep my dad and I busy for a couple of weeks – but don’t hesitate to pull me out of the vineyard for a quick tasting should you decide to pop in for a visit!