09.17.06
Wine and pines
Yesterday, we went to Leavenworth. There were a couple of reasons for this.
The first reason is that my husband is from Florida, and though he’s lived here for the better part of three years now, he hasn’t had much chance to really explore the area. And while I’m a Seattle native and have lived in the Puget Sound area for most of my life, I often get into that native mindset of taking where I live for granted. Having a non-native around who wants to explore the area is a great excuse to get me off my butt and out into things so I can show him around. The trip to Leavenworth is a beautiful one, and Leavenworth itself is an…experience, so it seemed a good option.
The other reason is that there are a whole lot of wineries in the region, and a number of them have chosen Leavenworth as a good location to showcase their wares, as it’s reasonably close to their location and a tourist cynosure. My husband might charitably be called a fanatic about wine (he skips the charity and calls himself a wino), and his enthusiasm has folded me into the interest. So here we had an opportunity to take a gorgeous road trip to an interesting spot and check out wines–it was pretty much a positive choice all around.
We chose to go over Stevens Pass, which took us north of Seattle and then east through the farming country at the foothills of the Cascade Mountains and up into the powerful landscapes of the mountains themselves. The Cascades are a volcanic range, and comparatively young, so they are loaded with tall, sharp crags carpeted with huge conifers and abrupt shears of bare rock. This time of year, the clouds touch fairly low, so patches of mist snuggle into the forest like stray ghosts, reaching up towards the sky, and a rain shower might strike at any moment. There’s nothing gentle about driving through the Cascades; they’re a stark reminder that nature is bigger than you are, and it always will be, and it will never care about you. It’s both sobering and thrilling.
This particular year, there was an added sobering element, which was the bareness of even the highest crags and the weak, shallow trickles that should have been powerful alpine rivers. This has been a year of drought, possibly the worst ever recorded in the area; it hasn’t been much felt in the human-populated lowlands as last winter’s massive snowpack helped protect us from water shortages, but it’s starkly apparent in the bare, browned mountains. Visiting the Cascades helps remind us that we are dependent for our water on what happens with the weather in those sharp crags, and a good way to understand how what happens in nature affects how we live our lives.
The trip was about two and a half hours (not counting our stop in Monroe for lunch). We’d kind of made the decision to go at the last minute, even though we’d talked about it for a couple of weeks, and so we didn’t even get going until noon, meaning we pulled into Leavenworth shortly after 3 p.m. Our intent had been to visit some of the winery facilities nearby, and since it was so late in the day we figured we wouldn’t be able to stop at more than one or two. What we hadn’t realized, based on the brochure that was our sole source of information, was how many wineries had tasting rooms right there in town. We stopped in at the first one we saw, right on Hwy 2, and the staff there, upon finding out that we were there to do a “wine tour,” very helpfully gave us a flyer pointing out all the tasting rooms in town. There are seven of them on Front Street, the primary tourist drag, which is itself only a few blocks long. This solved the problem of us not having time to visit more than one or two wineries, and we essentially spent the next three hours drinking our way through downtown Leavenworth.
We did miss one of the tasting rooms on Front Street, but that still left us with six (plus our first stop). That was more than enough, really. The minimum number of wines we tried at any one place was three; at one, a joint room for two wineries, we tasted ten different wines in half an hour. The disadvantage of this, of course, is that after a time most of the wines blend together in the mind and it becomes difficult to remember what one had anywhere. A lot of the experience sits in my memory as a blur of fruity whites and oaky reds, sugars and tannins competing for space on my tastebuds. Nonetheless, we did come away from it with some useful general impressions and a few standouts.
I’m a newcomer to the world of wine. Before meeting my husband, I rarely drank wine; when I did, it might be a white zinfandel (the only type I could ever remember clearly enough to order by name), or perhaps a dry white, and I did like sparkling wines. I never drank reds–they tasted “funny” to me. My husband has done a great deal in educating me about wine and encouraging me to try different kinds, and as it happens, a lot of the arcana of wine fits well with my general critical/analytical mindset. I’m not a snob about wine–not at all–and while I understand what the terms “nose” and “terroir” mean, if I ever actually use them seriously, I will deserve the beatdown I get. But I do completely get the concept behind talking about notes in wine and how flavors that have nothing to do with grapes can be part of the overall experience of a wine. Drinking a whole bunch of different wines in a day was great for refining the way I can identify the individual flavors and determine what I like in a wine and how the combinations of flavors affect what I think about a wine.
Generally speaking, I seem to prefer sweeter wines over drier ones (which I know in some circles marks me as an “immature” or “unsophisticated” wine drinker, but really, screw that–as John Cleese said in Wine for the Confused, “A good wine is one you enjoy”). Rieslings are good to me, as are viogniers, due to the strong fruity notes, although even there I seem to better like the ones that are more floral-sweet than just fruit-sweet, and I like every gewurtztraminer I’ve ever tried. Chardonnays really depend on the particulars of the wine; while I like the general crispness of the type, the more oaky they are, the less enthusiastic I am about the crispness. Pinot grigios also seem to depend on the particulars of the individual wine. Blush wines seem to really agree with my palate; the sweetness is balanced by the depth of the red grapes in them. As for reds, cabernets and merlots are a challenge for me, as my palate tends to interpret the tannins as a kind of burned-rubber flavor, but it depends on how wet and smooth they ultimately are. However, I generally like syrahs, despite the bold character of the grape, because the spiciness offsets the tannins for me. And when it comes to dessert wines, I’ve yet to meet a late-harvest or ice wine I didn’t adore, though I do have a sweetness cap that sometimes get crossed. With sparkling wines, gently sweet is better than dry.
In our tastings yesterday, there were strandouts. At Gold Digger Cellars, we chose to pick up a bottle of their 2005 gewurztraminer, a sweet white wine that even my dry-red-loving husband enjoyed. Silver Lake Winery provided a few notables; we both really enjoyed their 2003 syrah, and I was impressed by their 2005 Roza riesling and Roza rose–the riesling had a lovely balance of fruit and floral, while the rose had rich notes of strawberry and spice. Another good blush wine for me was the Kestrel Vintners 2005 rose, which had a hint of effervescence to go with its fruit. And Icicle Ridge Winery floored me with a white merlot, which managed to combine the deep red flavors of merlot with a bright, light feeling. At Willow Crest, my husband was utterly seduced by their syrah port, which combined the traditional feeling of a port with some lovely floral notes. I actually preferred the Pasek Cellars port we tried at the same time, which is fruitier and yet has a peppery finish; both ports were heavenly with chocolate, however. And Pasek also managed to persuade us into a non-grape wine; their cranberry wine is cranberrry juice but a hundred times better, the fermentation reducing the acrid edge of the berries but leaving the distinctive tang; I got a bottle of that with the intent of sharing it with my extended family over the holidays, though it would also make a terrific late-summer wine with grilled foods. At one tasting room we tried an Italian dessert wine that was gently sparkling and the perfect blend of sweet and dry, a perfect pastry one; but foolishly, we didn’t write down the name of it.
The whole experience left us a bit wined-out and, at least in my case, not a little tipsy, but it was incredibly enjoyable to try all these different wines, experience the nuances of flavor and find out abouthow the wines are made and what the winemakers’ philosophies are. I love to learn how things are done and especially to see people who are passionate about what they do. We also had a really lovely experience at the Icicle Ridge tasting room, where one of the employees is a military wife with a husband in Iraq. Upon learning that my husband is active duty, they were very interested in hearing our impressions of life during wartime, and really warm and welcoming towards us, encouraging us to pay a visit to the winery proper when we get a chance.
As for Leavenworth itself, since we spent so much time on the wine, we didn’t really experience much of the town itself, though we did visit several of the shops. I still find the rigorously enforced faux-Bavarian style of the town vaguely absurd, and have to wonder how challenging it is to grow up there in the midst of such a stylized and tourist-focused environment; but it does have its own charm, absurd or not, and people in the shops were unceasingly friendly without being false or forced. It was a really nice way to spend an afternoon.
We came back over the pass in the deepening dusk, which was just as glorious in a different way as coming over earlier in the day. I can’t think of many better ways to spend a late-summer afternoon.