You know how there are these online translators like Babel Fish where you can paste some alien gobbledygook into a text box and it gets instantly converted into English?

I’m thinking of launching a translator where you can convert ‘press release’ into English.

For example, you’d plug in this phrase from the recently released vintage of Kamiak wines: “The wine is a quintessential example of originality in the vineyard coupled with the artful blending of multiple varietals to achieve a light, approachable wine that showcases the best of its individual components.”

And immediately, you’d get the English translation:  “We had some leftover grapes we didn’t know what to do with.”

I joke, but the 2008 Kamiak ‘Windust’ white is the culmination of what Gordon Brothers Family Vineyards calls an ‘odd’ harvest—a cold wet spring that heralded a cool wet summer which led to a chilly wet autumn.  As such, the gewürztraminer that would normally go into Kamiak as a sugar-level enhancer was instead made into ice wine.  A block of late harvest sauvignon blanc was then substituted to boost residual sugar—otherwise, this vintage of Kamiak white is mostly made of traditional-harvest sauvignon blanc fattened up with about 10% chardonnay.

Both the red and white Kamiak label offerings are proprietary blends that the Gordon Brothers intends to retail at around ten and fifteen dollars respectively.  It’s understood up front that the grapes that go into them may change from year to year based on what’s available—the 2007 red (designated ‘RockLake’)  is a blend of cabernet sauvignon, merlot, syrah and malbec.  No issues with that; it’s a clever use of handy components, and the Kamiak twins usually taste pricier than they are.

Incidentally, the name ‘Kamiak’ refers to the Native American chief who led the Yakama, Palouse, and Klickitat tribes during the 19^th century and who is credited with agricultural innovations including irrigation in theColumbiaValley.

Kamiak’s trick-of-the-trade is being used to this day by wineries all over southern WashingtonState.

Paying homage to Kamiak and company, the Gordon Brothers say, “This wine is a tribute to our predecessors. Without them, we would not have the technology and skill that have made theWashingtonwine industry what it is today.”

True dat!—or the land either.  In fact, in 1855,WashingtonTerritorygovernor Isaac Stevens threatened to remove Kamiak and his fellow natives from their ancestral land by force if they didn’t sell it to him, leading to the bloody Yakima Indian War.  Kamiak was the only chief who refused to surrender; he escaped toBritish Columbia.

After he died he was decapitated and his head displayed as a public curiosity.

So I’ll run another phrase from the Kamiak press release through the Kassel Fish translator: “Thanks to those who came before us, we have the ability to grow grapes of character, intensity and distinction in the sun-drenched Columbia Valley.”

It comes out, “Sorry about that, Chief.”

Tasting Notes:

Kamiak ‘Windust’ White, Columbia Valley, 2010, about $10:  Pretty crushed-flower  nose with tangerine and grapefruit peel; slightly sweet and balanced with vibrant acidity wet stone flavors pick up and last through the surprisingly long finish.

Kamiak ‘Red Rock’ Red, Columbia Valley, 2008, about $15:  The wine’s cabernet core is reflected in licorice and cedar notes; syrah offers some blackberry, merlot plum and malbec dried cherry and a little coffee.  A nicely layered wine for the price.

That’s Columbia with a ‘u’—not to be confused with Colombia with an ‘o’, though both have, over the past half-century, taken a recreational drug and elevated it from an obscure local habit to a conspicuous worldwide habit, founding, in the process, a multinational Buzzopia.

Of course, one is illegal unless you require a topical anesthetic or a fiber tube optical examination, and the other is legal unless you’re young, incarcerated or on parole.

Being none of the above, I can freely choose today’s topic for dissertation:

Columbia, the Gem of the Desert…

Columbia with a ‘u’.

Remember how you fell asleep during that eight grade Social Studies lesson on high desert irrigation?  Well, today you can fall asleep via copious quantities of Columbia Valley wine because of those very feats of engineering: parts of the valley in the rain shadow of the Cascade mountains get less than six inches of annual rainfall, making it—you guessed it—a high desert.

And the problem with deserts, as the late great Sam Kinison so eloquently reminded us, is that ‘Nothing f***ing grows there…!’

However, around the middle of the nineteenth century—thanks to irrigation ditches dug by Missionary Oblates—wonderful stuff, including grapes, started growing there.

Drip irrigation saved Washington from becoming another Biafra

So much of vino-history is owed to the Vatican that I’m left with conflicting emotions: Despite nine bloodthirsty Crusades, a misogynous hierarchy and making me kneel on bottle caps in high school, when it comes to wine, the Catholics have always managed come through in a pinch. In the early part of the twentieth century Columbia Valley was known as ‘America’s fruit bowl’ and today produces more wine grapes than any other state beside California.  Early on, winemakers realized that though judicious application of drip methods, they could control ripeness, lack of sugar dilution, canopy management and bullied dehydration at vital moments through the growing season—manipulations impossible in non-desert vineyards.  The result has been lots and lots of perfectly ripe grapes, tanker-loads of them, in fact—something that has sometimes worked against Washington’s wine reputation, as in the past, they’ve overproduced an occasionally one-dimensional product.

Washington Wineries are on a Mission of their Own…

Since the mid-nineties or so, Washington winemakers have been dead set on reinventing themselves, experimenting with new varietals, focusing on food-friendly styles, displaying ingenuity with yeast strains. They’ve got a handle on it, apparently—Wine Spectator’s # 1 wine for 2009 was Columbia Crest’s Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, 2005—a sleek selection price in the mid-twenty dollar range.  Thirteen other wines from Columbia Crest’s massive parent, Ste. Michelle Wine Estates (responsible for half of Washington’s wine output), made the top 100 list.

Me, I’m all lovey dovey with Covey

Here’s an open-ended question: Why does riesling, an easy enough grape to grow, generally fail to produce exceptionally delicious wines outside of the Rhine or Alsace?  Probably simple: It’s a quality hard-sell inside the Rhine too—they’ve just been at it longer.  That’s why I was recently humbled by a bottle of Covey Run riesling—in a blind tasting (that excruciatingly leveler; a wine person’s answer to  flagellantism) I identified the 2008 Quail Series as being of German origin, without question.  I’d have bet the farm if I’d had one, and then I’d have bought it back, moved it to Yakima and planted riesling.  The wine possesses all the creamy lemon-meringue and apricot of a mid-level Rheinterrassen beneath a Mosel Granny Smith nose, and for under ten dollars, too.  It

Hot wine country calls for hot winemakers

hollers springtime, and wants nothing more than a patio and a bit of the sunshine it recalls from its Columbia Valley youth, where it’s cloud-free three hundred days a year.

Single-handedly, Covey Run has brought home twenty Wine Spectator ‘Best Value’ awards, and currently, that sole hand belongs to winemaker , whose sole commission is to win souls for Washington wines.

As of now, she’s won mine—and BTW, that’s ‘soul’ with a ‘u’.

Tasting Notes:

Covey Run Riesling, Columbia Valley, 2009, about $9:  Honeysuckle and green apple on the nose with some ripe pear stirred in; the palate is amazingly succulent and concentrated for this price point, showing creamy peach and some botrytised honey on the finish.  I’d like to pair it with a covey of quails in fruit sauce—so long as the winery doesn’t object.

I don’t use the word ‘repulsive’ lightly, but there’s a drink called  a Montana Mule that’s made with draft beer and tomato juice and it tastes like you swigged a V8 that had been accidentally left open on a screened porch since 2004.

That’s the drink, and copious quantities thereof, that made Evel Knievel decide to jump the Snake River Canyon.  These days, a much more sedate beverage is being concocted on the shores of that same river, a tributary of the mighty Columbia which forms the border between Washington and Oregon.

Pioneering red wine grapes in sagebrush country may sound a bit less romantic than rocket-cycles and  crash landings, but on the other hand, Jeff Gordon is hanging around while Evel Knievel is at the Pearly Gates trying to explain his first name to St. Peter.  Both gentlemen were envelope pushers, and in the mid-Eighties, when Gordon decided to switch from alfalfa to cabernet sauvignon, his neighbors figured he’d been nipping at the London Dry from the ginmaker who shares his surname.

A quarter century later, Gordon Brothers Family Vineyards has rendered the most vocal naysayers mute—the best proof of which is that nearly all of Washington State’s six hundred wineries now produce merlot, cabernet and syrah, making red wine one of the Columbia Valley’s most acclaimed contributions to mankind.  Names like Chateau Ste. Michelle and Leonetti may spring from one’s random access wine memory quicker than Gordon’s does, but along with the advice of Walter Clore—to Washington wine what Johnny was to apple seeds—the wellspring of award-winning reds from these hallowed wineries can be traced to Jeff’s bold experiment.

So, thirty years on, with most Washington wineries hogging seats on the bandwagon, a basic viticultural shibboleh—which is that the older a vine gets, the better the wine it produces—gives Gordon’s latest releases, 2006 Cabernet and Syrah added concentration and complexity.  After three decades of pushing out clusters, a vine begins to self-regulate, producing fewer, smaller and sweeter grapes.  The roots, meanwhile, in search of trace nutrients, have had time to worm deeply into the soil—in this case composed of volcanic breakdown—the upside of living in Mount St. Helens’ hood.

Old vines is an advantage with which even his fiercest rivals can’t compete.

Today, Jeff stands in the formerly sagebrush-covered slopes overlooking the Snake River, now resplendent with syrah, and one wonders what new idea is swirling around the primary fermentation tank of his mind.

A rocket-powered harvester, quite possibly.

TASTING NOTES:

Gordon Brothers Syrah, Columbia Valley, 2006, about $20: Full-bore jammy syrah threaded with notes of white pepper and chocolate; cherry and cranberry accented by focused, appealing minerality.

Gordon Brothers Cabernet Sauvignon, Columbia Valley, 2007, about $23: A plush, cedar-rich nose superimposed over layers of pepper, blackberry, olive and cassis; a long finish filled with barrel spice and caramel on the finish.