Take one freelance writer, give her an assignment that requires happy conversation, a look at local history, and (heaven be praised!) the thoughtful sipping of wine, and watch a smile sweep across her face. That writer was me, a year ago this month, when a soft-spoken editor from Sonoma offered me a job.
I thoroughly enjoy writing my weekly food and wine columns for the Santa Maria Sun, but here was an opportunity to cover some new ground, explore the viticultural corners of the area, and make a little extra money in the bargain.
Tom Silberkleit, the editor in question and the man behind Wine House Press, had published two editions of a lushly photographed guide to selected wineries in Napa, Sonoma, and Mendocino counties. After successfully marketing them, he turned his attention to the south and realized that our own Central Coast wine industry warranted a closer look.
Silberkleit enlisted Cheryl Crabtree, a Santa Barbara-based freelancer, and yours truly, to write scintillating profiles of 59 area wineries. Sure, every facility crafts memorable wines, offers daily tastings, and mounts rousing special events, but the trick was to find the unique heart and personal story within each one.
Our writerly goals didn’t include listing varietals, press kudos, or wine club stats, nor rating the vintages according to an arbitrary standard. Rather, Silberkleit asked us to describe the sensory aspects of the winery grounds, bring the tasting experience to life, and “paint a visual picture in prose.”
He explained that this was to be a travel book, “written in a consistent voice to win the respect and trust of the wine industry, the media, and, most importantly, the general public.” Meaning our readers would include friends and neighbors on the Central Coast, as well as (hopefully) thousands of others interested in learning more about some singular wine country jumping off points.
Silberkleit handpicked the wineries to be covered based on both the quality of their wares and the tasting experience. He looked for facilities that offered something special, such as an historical location, art or sculpture displays, elegant gardens, grand grounds, or even a chance to simply taste among the barrels at a “no-frills” working winery.
Since I live closer to San Luis Obispo than to Santa Barbara, Crabtree took the southern portion of the two regions highlighted in the book, while I covered the northern. That led me into Edna Valley, Paso Robles, and the serpentine byways both west and way east of Highway 101, past walnut orchards, stark white cliffs, a haunted cemetery (Adelaide), towering power lines, vintage railroad roundhouses, and bygone stagecoach stops.
The only down-side of the proposition was that I had to round up 29 winemakers on the eve of harvest and write their profiles in just a little more than two months. I began in earnest, trekking to places with names like Lone Madrone, Peachy Canyon, Still Waters, Calcareous, and my personal favorite, Whalebone.
The experience was enlightening, to say the least. As a highly Santa Barbara County-centric wine lover, I thrilled at the discovery of dozens of gems produced by both the one-horse and corporate entities operating in the wilds above and just below Cuesta Grade.
The sheer number of delectable Zinfandels boggled my mind, and the Pinot Noir coming from several western, cool-climate vineyards rated up there with some of the best. I was surprised to see Viognier on tasting lists, and delighted by a raft of Bordeaux- and Rhone-style offerings fit for even the pickiest aficionados.
At the outpost of stagecoach country east of Paso Robles, Tobin James Cellars offered a rollicking saloon-tinged experience that had tasters bellying up to three Wild West bars, while closer to town, the stacked stone walls of Vina Robles shimmered in the heat, but kept tasters indoors feeling cool as they sampled signature blends and Vina Tinis (refreshing swizzles of dry rosé and apple martini mix).
In downtown Paso Robles, I followed a tree-lined walking tour that led from Anglim Winery, located in an airy space inside the railroad station’s original depot office, and over to Orchid Hill, where tasters moved among a dazzling assortment of exotic, blooming orchids. At Pianetta Winery, set in the historic Grangers Union Building (built in 1886), I saw the pump that Grandpa Pianetta used for moving his homemade wine from barrel to barrel, while at Ortman Family Vineyards, the décor was modern, eco-friendly, and included recycled glass tile, sorghum-based paneling, and a cork floor.
The California Directory of Fine Wineries, Central Coast Edition turned out to be a beauty, and I feel lucky to have been tapped to write half of it. With the book finished and firmly in hand, I think I’ll head out to explore some of my old and new favorites in our wonderful, welcoming wine country.
Tell K. Reka Badger you knew her when at rekabadger@hotmail.com.
This article appears in Aug 20-27, 2009.