Lately I have spent much of my free time reflecting on change. How is it that after years of pursuing knowledge and stumbling upon experience that we somehow remain the same person? Is any trace of our former selves left within us after time passes? If so, how do we know?
It seems to me that change gains its significance from the anchors we drop at important ports of call throughout our life. Whether it is a particular belief, an achievement that lay the ground for what was to come, or a significant person, these anchors also serve as lookout points from which we can survey from where we have come and how we have changed.
In my world of wine experiences, Brown Estate in California’s Napa Valley is one of these anchors. My first visit there a mere year and a half ago fostered my now deep seated philosophy that wine is about how personality, belief and passion marry with time and place. If I am missing any of these components, then my experience with a wine isn’t quite complete.
Personality, belief and passion are rarely separable. This is something I understand each time I return to Brown Estate. On this, my third visit, I had the opportunity to think back on where my life was a mere year and a half earlier and how much I have changed both personally and professionally in this time. Driving up to the unassuming gate of the estate, my body also viscerally recalled the warmth this winery has managed to create in my heart. It was this uncontrolled immediate response that made me realize I had found the perfect place to look out and survey what had come before.
And now I understand why I felt what I did. While wine is objective in many ways, it is also deeply embedded in human experience. Any attempt to remove it from this experience will fail before it even begins. Wine is also cultural, and one’s choices of what one drinks have implications that are both immediately human and more broadly cultural.
If this is true, wine can be both a home and the possibility for a new voyage. It is exactly the kind of Odyssean voyage I wrote about after my first visit to Brown that draws one to what one loves best at the same time as it creates new experiences. On a human scale Brown is both a place to which I can return and a site of constantly evolving experiences. Culturally, Brown represents what I want wine to become in North America: an embedded part of our deepest beliefs and our greatest passions that only makes sense when shared.
Coral Brown beautifully summed up what I think is a core belief of the estate when she told me “Never give up an opportunity to taste something new; your palate never forgets.” This core belief expresses itself in the Brown’s approach to wine, which is counter to most of the dominant trends in California these days. This is, simply, that each wine has its own personality and its own experiences that make it what it is – no makeup and no apology required. When Coral poured their 2005 Chaos Theory (a co-fermented zinfandel and cabernet blend) she described the wine as a long term relationship where each person had so altered the other that they created a single harmonious blend. She contrasted this to the 2007 Chaos Theory (which was not co-fermented, but blended after fermentation), which she called a meeting of two passionate lovers, with each grape pushing to express its intensity.
Wine again became personality when Coral introduced me to her mother and father, who live on the estate, after pouring a glass of their supple and intellectual 2000 Cabernet Sauvignon. Her father, a man as subtle as the wine I was drinking, was also the most intriguing and thoughtful person I’ve met on a winery visit. A physician, he spends a tremendous amount of his time thinking of the deep issues involved in providing health care to those who have the hardest time accessing it, whether for financial or other reasons. I found my conversation with him both inspiring and humbling.
This is not Napa. The Browns are not ex-silicon valley CEOs with money to burn and a ‘passion’ for prestige wine making. Rather, the two senior Browns purchased the estate and its Abraham Lincoln era house as a get-away home and not as a winery. It was the children – Coral, Deneen and David – who decided to start growing grapes and sharing their story through the wines they make.
They also happened upon what I think is one of the great zinfandel terroirs in the whole of California. The mistake most critics make with the Chiles Valley AVA (where Brown is located) is to treat it as a single monolithic terroir. This is simply wrong. The AVA is quite large and there are huge microclimate differences within the region.
What makes Brown so special is that it is the last place moving inland from the San Pablo Bay where the fog penetrates before burning off. This makes Brown’s vineyards the coolest in the entire AVA, and some of the coolest in all of California. This means their Zins are far from ordinary and have much zippier acidity and consequently superior balance to almost any other expression of the grape I have tasted.
Zinfandel is the perfect grape for the Browns – it is sensuous, exuberant and full of life. However, in the hands of the Browns it is also elegant, balanced and extremely pure. The wines are also extremely true to and expressive of vintage. The 2008 Napa Valley Zinfandel possesses an unparalleled delicacy of aromatic expression that reflects the colder and wetter growing season. The Browns had to throw away a significant portion of their grapes, but the resulting wines are elegant, pretty and lively in the mouth. Their 2008s will prove to be the most food friendly and versatile of their wines just as the 2007s were, while less versatile, bolder and more intense.
The 2008 Westside Zinfandel offers darker fruits and a handful of freshly crushed cloves when inhaled. The wine is richer than the Napa Valley Zin, and quite dense. However, it is very well balanced and is long and expressive despite the characteristically high alcohol of Zinfandel.
But the most emblematic wine I tasted is also the one most unlike anything else they make. In 2002, when the Browns were first starting to make and bottle their own wines, they had not yet completed a temperature controlled winery in which to ferment their juice. It so happened that while the zinfandel was fermenting outside in tank, the temperature was so low outside that David Brown could not get the fermentation to a high enough temperature. They feared the worst and assumed the wines were worthless.
Several years later they opened a bottle and discovered that not only had the wine aged gracefully, but it was also one of the most unique expressions of Zinfandel they had ever tasted. The 2002 Napa Valley Zinfandel had a nose not unlike a richer Beaujolais cru, with crushed rocks and flowers. The low fermentation temperature somehow held back the richness of the Zinfandel while giving it prettier and softer aromatics than one would expect. It is a singular wine that speaks of time, accident, place, personality, belief, and passion. All in a single bottle of wine from an ugly duckling vintage.
Incidentally, while writing this article I opened the one bottle of 2002 Chiles Valley Zinfandel I had saved back from when I first visited the Browns. It is still drinking well, despite seeing a bit of heat shock in last summer’s heat wave in Vancouver. The pretty aromatics have started to mellow and I am now noticing more baking spices and cherry fruit. But the wine retains such an extremely delicate texture that is simply, and extraordinarily, singular.
It is with such wines of passion, power, sensuality, complexity and true vintage expression that Brown estate has become an anchor in my journey through wine. As I drift away from the heavy and fruity wines of Napa, I remain beholden with the people and the wines of Brown Estate. Somehow, amongst the morass of what Napa has become, the Browns have created an enclave for authenticity, honesty, and utter attentiveness to the personality and terroir they have been blessed with. I am fortunate that they have become an anchor and a lookout from which I can better understand how much I have changed and how much more I have to explore.






Today I venture a few hundred kilometres north of Santa Barbara County into Sonoma County. While Pinot Noir is grown in many regions within the County, including the notable Russian River Valley, today’s wine was produced with fruit grown in the hot (as in popular) Sonoma Coast AVA. This AVA is somewhat weird given that it was created for political reasons in order to allow certain wineries to continue to label their wines as estate bottled, despite the fact that the region is vast and encompasses dissimilar terrain, including parts of the Russian River and Carneros. However, a lot of really hot pinots are coming out of this AVA, even if it is unrealistic to describe a “Sonoma Coast” style.
This wine is unique. I’m not sure I’ve tasted a Pinot Noir quite like this before. It is undoubtedly very different from the Au Bon Climat Santa Rita Hills Pinot that I looked at yesterday. I should also mention that this was TIGHT when I first opened the bottle, and really only came into its own with a couple hours of decanting. But, right now as I smell the wine I get earth and cherry in a classic pinot way, but also a dense layer of herbs that gives the wine an almost grassy spicyness on the nose (kind of like sniffing mountain grass).
The second theme in the spotlight series is New World Pinot Noir. I chose this theme for a few reasons. On a personal level, because I have been trying for years to find New World Pinot that I love and appreciate as much as good Burgundy and have yet to be fully successful. On a trend level because since Sideways hit the box office Pinot Noir sales have jumped and the interest in the grape has skyrocketed. But, I wonder, has anyone in the new world really pushed the boundaries of this grape in the last few years? And, lastly, I am excited about this spotlight on a ‘professional’ level because I want to see if I can detect differences not only in stylistic approach, but also in ‘terroir’ between some of the New World’s most famous Pinot Noir growing regions.
Au Bon Climat, and Jim Clendenon (the winemaker), are an iconic standby in the region, making Pinot Noir from grapes grown in the Santa Maria and Santa Ynez Valleys, as well as in the Santa Rita Hills. Starting in the 1970′s at Zaca Mesa winery, Clendenon went on to form Au Bon Climat with Adam Tolmach (now of Ojai fame). These wines have always been made with, as David from Marquis suggested, one big foot in France and one little one in California. You can detect this style with each wine of his that you drink.
I have one more post to go in the Southern Italy series, but I wanted to write up this little treat I have been sipping on for a few hours now. I feel compelled to do so because this is not only a great value wine, but it represents the difference between thought, care, and passion on one side, and mass market, simplification, and dumbing down on the other.
It is always interesting for me to return to this wine. It was the first wine I had when I first took a trip to Napa Valley two and a half years ago. I drank it at Napa’s Bounty Hunter, a cool little retail shop / restaurant that represented the kind of thing I wished was possible in Canada. Our draconian regulatory licensing scheme makes such a venture impossible, so the memory of such places has become an ideal for me to fight for in the local wine scene.
Inspired by some recent discussion of California Mourvedre, I promptly set out to sample what I could find. That turned out to be almost nothing – this was the only bottle readily available here in Vancouver. Luckily, Neyers is generally an outstanding producer and one of my personal favourites from California.
I’m on a bit of a zinfandel kick lately. Perhaps it’s the cold weather that brings out my desire for tons of fruit and huge forwardness. I picked up this bottle at Marquis tonight – who definitely have Vancouver’s best selection of zinfandel – and I was highly impressed.
Outpost is a lauded producer from the Napa Valley AVA Howell Mountain. Howell Mountain is one of the most respected sites in the valley, and it has built a reputation for being able to produce unique zinfandel and petite sirah wines due to the elevation and cooler temperatures. I was frankly expecting a lot from this zinfandel, especially since previous vintages were spoken of so highly by many I respect. Unfortunately, while this is still tasty, I fear it suffers from what Gary Vaynerchuck has come to call the “oak monster” – there is simply too much oak on this wine for the fruit to truly shine.

