FALL 2002
Perhaps because I'm
about to embark upon my twentieth harvest here at The Ojai
Vineyard, I have been spending some time reflecting on my
work. Coincidentally, I've recently been asked by a couple
of people whether I still like what I do--and, I have to
say, yes. When I first started in the wine business, I had
a hard time imagining doing anything in particular for five
years, let alone twenty. But there is something alluring
in a craft that presents innumerable variables together
with a rather long timeline during which many changes occur.
The work is endlessly confounding and fascinating. I still
have so much more to learn about wine.
In this quest there
are a few ojectives I have pursued to help focus my energies.
First, I have consciously approached my work as a craft
and not as a business because, as soon as you get worked
up about the cost of a cork or a cluster of grapes, quality
seems to take a back seat to expediency and monetary concerns.
While it is nerve-wracking to invest heavily in something
without really knowing what the return will be, I have had
success taking a no-compromise approach to wine quality.
Most people are sick of the McDonaldization of every product
and have been receptive to our attempts to make the genuine
article: hand-made wine.
My intent has always
been to make the best, but over the years I have either
become more fanatical, or have learned enough to realize
that the devil is in the details and that one must focus
on these with utmost attention. In the vineyards we went
from gently nudging the growers to insisting that they make
radical reductions of yields and adhere to vineyard practices
that might seem crazy to some-but the aim has been to do
everything and anything that might improve quality. And
in the winery, we went from the fringes of conventionality
to the absolute extreme as far as the making and handling
of the wines is concerned. I regularly freak out my more
conventional winemaker friends when I tell them how little
sulfur dioxide I add to my wines and how little and how
late I rack (decant) them.
Another aspect that
has kept this work fun for me has been to keep this winery
small. As a born empire-builder, I have had to fight my
natural instincts to expand, but in order to continue to
focus on making better and better wine, I can't be bothered
with the logistics required to make and sell more and more.
And making better and not more is the essence of what I
am trying to do here. When I was at a wine tasting recently
someone asked me if I was planning on expanding the winery.
I told him I was planning just the opposite. That got me
a round of laughter, because that is not what entrepreneurs
do. But we do make plenty of wine now, and as I age I plan
not to retire, but to make less and less-until I get to
the point of doing just a few barrels a year. If I don't
keep this thing rewarding and interesting, what is the point?