The Old Vines Spoke of Home

On the eve of my thirtieth birthday, a few short weeks ago, I dreamt that the world was enclosed by infinite darkness. I wept because I knew I would not see the sun again, and because now nothing would be able to grow. The soil, the essence of life, would no longer bear trees and fruit, but serve only as a vast grave. Then, the moon came out and tried to take the place of the sun, to light my corner of the world. I explained to the moon that it wouldn't work, because it was the sun that lights the world, and things must be as they always have been. When I awoke, none of this made sense and I found myself safely in bed, the sun I've always known peeking through the bamboo shades.

Looking back, I believe my dream revealed my fear of change at entering a new decade of living. I know that change is inevitable and essential, and life is constantly reinventing itself. Yet, people need constants; something eternal as the sun. I am excited at the prospect of my next thirty years-the experiences, new friends, wines, the uncertainty that is as exciting as it is terrifying. But along with these new years, these unknowns, I must also have some sound things to depend on.

Just as burgeoning possibilities will undoubtedly hold a future of happiness and exaltation, it will also unavoidably hold despair, anger,grief, chaos. There cannot be light without darkness. My husband is forever reminding me that beauty cannot be perceived unless it is contrasted by ugliness, as joy is more profound when we have known misery. These opposing forces are always in a state of flux. Beauty then, for me, often lies in what is constant. By constant I don't mean the monotonous, I mean the perseverance of the universe; the continuation of a lifelong dream; a fifty year marriage; a thirty year old vine, twisting it's way toward the sun. These are fundamental, and I am enamored by the faithful endurance of it all. I depend on and long for this kind of beauty.

This year, turning thirty, I wanted a wine that would somehow encompass all of these things. It needed to be complex because life is complex, but it also needed to be straightforward and unpretentious. It needed to show maturity, a sense of place, and have great depth. Most of all, it should show resilience and speak of the earth in which it grew.

As always, I needn't have searched long, since the wine I was looking for I found right under my own nose, harvested in local soil. The wine was Lenz Old Vines Merlot, 2001 vintage. I learned that the winery was founded the year I was born, in 1978, and the vines that produced the beautiful Merlot were as old as I am. So it was meant to be. And what have we to show for all these years, those vines and I? I have spent many days contemplating my faults, my achievements. The old vines, though, have been quite prosperous, and the wine showed every nuance of character I had been searching for. When I tasted it for the first time, I felt at home. Just as home feels, it didn't confront me with strange new tastes, or speak of exotic places. There was in its flavor more earth than fruit, and an elegance that demanded respect. It had weathered time, and now, lovely and graceful and mellow, it would tell me all about life on the North Fork. A beautiful journey under the sun and the moon and the rain.

Some people tasted the wine and were equally enchanted, while others didn't seem to notice it at all. This is the nature of quiet beauty; a whisper rather than a loud voice. I don't claim to be wise at thirty, far from it. What I know is this. There will be occasions when I will be titillated by the aroma of new oak and young, bright fruit. It is like being romanced by the moon, which has its time and place, if only to contrast the brilliance of the sun. For most of the days that remain for me, though, I will continue to seek out the beauty of tradition, here among these legends, these old vines.

DRINK LOCAL, NEW YORK!

I have spent years supporting the concept of eating locally, so it is with heartfelt passion that I can now say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I support drinking locally, too. New York wines have officially earned my respect, my devotion, and my palate. From here on out, my focus and my consuming habits will mostly consist of grapes grown near home, just as it was meant to be (though the occasional French, Italian, and Chilean wines will be imbibed from time to time).

I have tasted, I have studied, I have compared, and I have read the writing on the wall. It said, "Great wines are growing right in your own state, dummy. Drink more of them, and tell people!" Why did it take me so long to realize this?

To be fair, it wasn't all my fault. I simply didn't have easy access to these NY gems. I read about them from time to time, but when I looked for them in stores all I ever found in the way of NY wines was Manischewitz. So, needless to say, I stuck to the French aisles. But I knew I was missing out on something, and I decided to dig deeper. Why were there only two or three NY bottles on store shelves? And why all the California stuff, anyway? Sure, there are some superb California wines, but there are also a lot of bad ones, primarily due to the state of mass vinification going on there. New York, by contrast, does not mass produce. Most vineyards and wineries here are small, family owned operations. This explains in part why they aren't showing up everywhere, since the production amount is relatively small. But don't let that fool you into thinking the world doesn't know about them. These wineries can boast of some prestigious international awards, I have recently learned. Fortunately, I have the opportunity to taste many excellent New York wines now, as my curiosity and my desire to drink locally led me to Vintage New York in Soho, where I am now employed. And since April is officially New York wine month, now is a fabulous opportunity to talk about what I think are the some of the best wines in the world.

I was informally educated and ordained into the world of New York wines by way of my job, where we sell New York wines exclusively (the first store to do so in the city). Initially, I suspected that half the wines would be very good, with the others being mediocre. Well I, like so many others, had a lot to learn. New York is the third largest wine producer in the country, and home to some of the world's award winning and legendary wineries such as the Lenz estate, Vinifera Wine Cellars, and America's oldest winery, Brotherhood. I have encountered very few bad wines so far, and dozens of outstanding ones. In fact, having enjoyed mostly French wines in my lifetime and having a palate that prefers Burgundy, the Finger Lakes wines are a perfect match for me. Generally, in both style and climate, New York wines are similar to French wines. So, if you prefer big oaky California Chardonnays and overtly fruity Cabernet Sauvignons, then NY wines may not be for you. However, if you tend toward the elegant, well, then you've come to the right place. I have much to say about my beloved state's terroir, too. Each region is unique, so just as a Riesling from the Keuka Lake area will tell of the shale that made up the sandy soil, a North Fork Cabernet Franc will whisper notes of herbs and spice and cool gulf stream breezes.

The Finger Lakes region, where award winning Rieslings and Pinot Noirs abound, boasts terroir comparable to Burgundy. The area's steep slopes provide excellent soil drainage, while the large bodies of water serve to moderate harsh temperatures. The often cool and damp conditions inspire grapes to produce more resveratrol, with the end result being wines more concentrated in the antioxidant. I am particularly fond of Dr. Frank's Rkatsiteli and Fleur de Pinot Noir.

On Long Island, the temperatures are warmer in summer, and there Bordeaux grapes dominate under a longer growing season. I am in love with the earthy, luscious Long Island Merlots as much as I am the dry, smoky Cabernet Francs. Long Island is known for its likeness to the Bordeaux region of France, both in the grapes planted there as well as the climate and terrain. I'll let you read more about that area from expert Lenn Thompson, whose blog, Lenndevours, is devoted to New York wines, and particularly the North Fork of Long Island. (Thank you, Lenn, for all the information and great reading you provide about NY wines)

Despite being written about in numerous publications including Wine Spectator, Food and Wine, The New York Times and others, I still think more needs to be done to promote NY wines on the east coast. We are in an era where consuming locally is more important than ever, and New York wines should be filling east coast shelves. It's the sustainable way, it's the logical and ecological way, and what's more, it's the most pleasurable way. If you're in the city or close by, don't take my word for it. Come by and taste for yourself.

Father of Vinifera, Growing the American Dream

When Dr. Konstantin Frank emigrated from the Ukraine back in the 1950's, America, and especially New York, wasn't exactly a mecca for wine production. Most of the grapes growing in the Empire State were native labrusca grapes; mostly Concords made into juice and jams. Concords are certainly a New York gem, but was there room for more on the lush lands upstate that were so strategically situated at 43 degrees latitude? Indeed, there was. It took the spirit of a pioneer, the mind of a scientist, and the persistence of a man who didn't fear the cynics or the cold if they stood in the way of his dream. That dream, which began not so long ago, was the dream that brought vinifera grapes to the east coast.

Before Dr. Frank, New York was thought to be much too cold for growing traditional wine making grapes. The idea of drinking a good Riesling or Pinot Noir from New York seemed impossible-laughable, even. So when the thoughtful pioneer told others of his vision to plant vinifera and cultivate European wines, there were many who bemoaned the weather, insisting that it could not be done. They declared the vines would surely perish in the extreme cold. Tell that to a man who came from a place where, in his words, "Spit would freeze before it hit the ground." He wasn't about to lose heart over a much more moderate drop in temperature.

Now that's my kind of guy. Confident, not bothered by a little cold air, and definitely not ruffled by a few resistors (also known as nay-sayers, critics, know-it-alls, pests). He didn't have time to be bothered by all this, because he had serious work to do. Of course, the road was not always easy. (And how could it be? What great legends were made by trust fund babies living on the upper west side? I can't think of one.) His English was quite shaky and he was in a new country, vast and still unfamiliar to him. Despite holding advanced degrees, his first job in America was washing dishes. After that, he secured employment at the New York State Experiment Station, but again he was given a menial job. So, he did what he had to do until he could do what he was meant to do - and as you'll see, what he was meant to do was change the landscape of New York forever, and come to be called the father of vinifera for the east coast.

He had his eye on the Finger Lakes, where the pristine waters dipped into rolling green hills and plains. The lakes would cool the grapes in summer and temper the harsh winter winds. The locale was idyllic, and in time, Dr. Frank planted rows of vines that would soon become the wines of New York's empirical future. Things began to take shape when he met Charles Fournier, a French wine maker who believed in Dr. Frank's vision and hired him as a consultant. What the two men needed first was good, hardy stock. Rootstock, that is. It had to be something more robust than the native or hybrid vines. Something resilient that could withstand the cold and still thrive-a rootstock, you might say, that was more like Dr. Frank himself. Find it they did, and when this vigorous rootstock (sourced from Quebec) was grafted onto vinifera, it produced so many healthy grapes that the nay-sayers and critics were silenced for the first time in...well, for the first time. Hard to imagine, isn't it? Meanwhile, Dr. Frank's cup runneth over. He went on to establish Vinifera Wine Cellars in 1962, and turned out wines so elegant they knocked the critics' socks off - the same critics who said it couldn't be done. Well, not only could it be done, but he did it better than most. Not only did he do it better, but his heirs would later expand and improve the winery times three. If that weren't enough, he also inspired literally hundreds of future winemakers to plant vinifera in the region.

I like to imagine that first ounce of Riesling, scrutinized inside a beaker held with trembling hands. I can see the spark in Dr. Frank's eyes when he tasted that burst of beautiful yellow fruit, perfeclty balanced with the mineral acidity that is a mark of excellence. How he must have invisioned in turn the first splash that would soon be poured into a ready glass. Call it the splash of vinifera heard round the world, because today New York is the third largest wine producer in the country, with new vineyards cropping up in droves. Dr. Konstantin Frank showed us the way.

His heirs have improved upon and expanded the initial success. His son, the late Willy Frank, operated the vineyard and winery until his death at age 80 (and that is another great story, for another article.) Fred, his grandson, took the helm in 2006.

I could tell you about all the awards their wines have won, but the press has done that, and it is widely known Dr. Frank wines are not only extraordinary, but rival some top French Burgundies. They have been served at famed New York City restaurants and sold in little wine shops. They have been served at the tables of royalty and at the tables of the working class. They have been served at my table, and will be as long as the Frank family makes great wines.
Before trying Dr. Frank wines, I didn't even know I liked Gewurztraminer or Riesling. I suppose I'd never had such great ones. But, Dr. Frank showed me the way.

What inspires me as much as the wines is the fact that Konstantin Frank lived the true American dream. From the ground up, he built his future. It was a future crafted from hard work, perseverance in the face of adversity, and an impenetrable will. It was the kind of work done by someone who was not afraid to get his hands dirty. A dream built on integrity. The kind of dream we should all aspire to, and what should truly make an empire state have the right to call itself that. Otherwise, it's just a place with a large city and black suits.

In my next post I will share with you the Dr. Frank wines I have tasted, and explore some of my favorites.