BajaNews - 8-15-2006 at 10:18 PM
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/16/dining/16pour.html?ref=din...
August 16, 2006
By ERIC ASIMOV
Tecate, Mexico
NOTHING about the tan, boulder-strewn hills and the occasional cinder-block dwelling, deserted in the noonday sun, remotely suggests that grapes are
growing nearby.
The prickly pear cactuses looming alongside a road instead inspire a thirst for Tecate, the namesake beer brewed in this city east of Tijuana in Baja
California. But the brewery and the city seem a million miles away.
Crawling slowly up a dirt path in a four-wheel-drive Ford Explorer, with only the occasional ground squirrel and lizard for company, the brown expanse
seems more desert than anything else.
Then the long, winding road leads to the top of the hill, and from there, like a mirage in a valley in the middle of nowhere, grape vines burst forth,
lots of them, an oasis of green rows against a background of dry brown hills.
The trunks and canes are gnarled and contorted, characteristic of the head-training technique that is found in so many old vineyards. Twisting vines
emerge, each bearing one or two tight bunches of grapes that are just ripening, turning from green to purple. These are zinfandel vines, and not just
any zinfandel, but vines that are decades old, judging by the girth of the trunks.
How did this precious old zinfandel vineyard, the kind that California winemakers spend years seeking out, come to be in this valley hidden from view
in a place that nobody knows? Winemakers scour the back roads of Sonoma, of Paso Robles, of the Sierra Foothills, of Arroyo Grande, looking for old
vineyards, peering into fields overgrown with blackberry vines and decrepit refrigerators, talking to old-timers, poring over county records, but why
would anybody think of looking in Mexico, of looking here?
?You think you?re just being led on a chase, and then you crown the hill, and, my God,?? said Ehren Jordan, the winemaker for Turley Wine Cellars,
which makes burly, voluptuous much-in-demand zinfandels from old vineyards all over California, and now, from Mexico, too. Next month it will release
its 2004 Rancho Escondido zinfandel, made from this vineyard, appropriately named Rancho Escondido, or hidden ranch.
The story of Rancho Escondido parallels the story of Mexican viticulture, which nowadays is thriving in Baja California but which practically didn?t
exist in 1930, when a farmer named Leonardo Reynoso first planted what would eventually become the 200-acre Rancho Escondido vineyard.
Why there? ?Who knows,?? said Camillo P. Magoni, the chief enologist of L. A. Cetto, a big Mexican winery that purchased the vineyard in 1968.
?Because it was cheap? Because he found a remote area for quiet living? Or he had the perception that this hidden valley had special conditions for
zinfandel grapes??
Whatever the reason, the old farmer made a fine choice. ?The fact is, Escondido Ranch has a particular soil that I haven?t found elsewhere in my
40-plus years in Baja,?? Mr. Magoni said. ?I classified it as eolic, moved by winds through the millenniums, because of its fine texture. Of course,
the base is mostly decomposed granite from the surrounding hills, but it is so deep that we found roots at 30 feet. That is the secret.??
Indeed, the soil is sandy, with a crusty surface that helps to keep moisture from evaporating upward. The vines are not irrigated, and somewhere below
ground is an ample water supply. Tiny sagelike plants grow between the rows, giving off a faint herbal aroma, and down the hill from the grapevines a
grove of olive trees looks surprisingly Mediterranean in the Mexican sunshine. But while the sun is bright, the temperature is moderate. A cooling
breeze consistently blows inland from the Pacific, bending the vines to the northeast, like coastal cypress contorted by the ocean wind.
In the 1940?s and 50?s, Tecate was an important grape-growing area, Mr. Magoni said, planted mostly with mission, alicante bouchet, carignan and
other, lesser wine grapes. But as the city of Tecate expanded, almost all of those vineyards were torn up. Nowadays, the center of Mexican viticulture
is the Guadalupe Valley, about an hour or so to the south. In the Tecate area, Rancho Escondido is one of the few survivors.
It was just by luck that Turley learned of the existence of this vineyard. Following in the tradition of California zinfandel pioneers like Ridge and
Ravenswood, Turley seeks out old vineyards to make its zinfandels. Assuming a vineyard is well situated and well managed, most winemakers would agree
that the older the vines, the better the potential for the wine. Young vines, under 20 years old, are like teenagers: gawky, unruly and unpredictable.
But as the vines age, they seem to mature and become self-regulating. They are better able to deal with weather extremes, and they begin to yield
fewer but more intense grapes.
As vines pass 50 years, the yields diminish further and the grapes become even more concentrated. The oldest known zinfandel vineyards, like Old Hill
in Sonoma Valley and Grandp?re in Amador County, are about 125 years old, which makes the 75-year-old Rancho Escondido middle-aged, perhaps, but old
enough to draw Turley?s attention.
Credit goes to three alert young Turley workers, Pat Stallcup, Brennen Stover and Karl Wicka, who were attending a zinfandel convention in early 2004
when they were approached by a man who represented several Mexican wineries. He asked them whether they would be interested in seeing some old Mexican
zinfandel vineyards. It rang a bell with Mr. Stover, who recalled seeing some photographs of an old Mexican vineyard in a book, ?A Zinfandel
Odyssey,?? by Rhoda Stewart. They agreed to take a trip.
?We?re always prospecting,?? Mr. Jordan said. ?It never hurts to kick some dirt around.??
So, in June 2004, the three took a day trip to Mexico. They first went to Guadalupe Valley, looking at one vineyard after another. All were
disappointing. Finally, Mr. Stover said, they drove up to Rancho Escondido. ?I thought it was just beautiful,?? he said.
?It was exactly what you want to see after searching all day and not finding anything.?? Mr. Stallcup added. ?It looked just like what we do.??
They immediately called Mr. Jordan and Larry Turley, the owner, who visited as soon as they could. They walked the vineyard, met Mr. Magoni, and Luis
Agust?n Cetto ? Don Luis ? the proprietor of L. A. Cetto, which was founded by his father, Angelo Cetto, an Italian immigrant. They had lunch at the
Cetto winery in the Guadalupe Valley, maybe the only winery in the world with a bullfighting ring on the premises. They decided they definitely wanted
grapes.
?You figure, three generations of people have gone to a lot of trouble to farm this vineyard,?? Mr. Jordan said. ?I mean, it?s not exactly convenient.
Even just for curiosity?s sake, we wanted to make wine from these grapes.??
Turley specified that their grapes would come from the oldest section of the vineyard. Cetto, which generally blended the grapes into their
light-bodied, inexpensive zinfandel, saw the deal as an opportunity to demonstrate the potential of Mexican wines when made by a top boutique producer
like Turley.
?It?s a good opportunity for us,?? said Marco Amador, a Cetto spokesman. ?People get a little upset about Mexican wines. They believe in Turley. They
don?t believe in us, yet.??
Turley did not get a lot of grapes, just about three and a half acres? worth, which translates to about three and a half tons, or about 225 cases of
wine. That may be all the Rancho Escondido for a while; Turley plans to make the wine each year, but Cetto declined to sell them grapes in 2005,
saying the vintage was poor.
It has been almost two years since the 2004 grapes were picked, and now the wine was ready to taste over lunch at La Diferencia, a fine Mexican
restaurant in Tijuana. The zinfandel, labeled Rancho Escondido, Baja California, Mexico, is made in the typical Turley style, which means a huge wine,
with plenty of alcohol. This one clocked in at a hefty 16.3 percent, yet it differs from the more typical fruit bomb zin. This one has aromas of anise
and sour cherry, but there is a definite herbal element, too, reminiscent of those sagelike plants in the vineyard. The flavors last in the mouth
forever.
The wine doesn?t really go with the first course, crunchy fried crickets on a blue corn sope, with cotija cheese and spicy salsa verde. The chili
pepper clashes with the wine?s soft tannins. But it is superb with the last course, tender steak with a light green squash sauce and huitlacoche, the
Mexican corn fungus delicacy, which brings out the wine?s cherry kirsch flavors.
But something else makes this wine compelling, something that cannot be measured by a score or a rating. Each sip casts the mind back to those brown,
boulder-strewn hills and to the farmer who decided to plant right there. It?s a wine that makes you wonder, that asks questions rather than answers
them.
?You look around the vineyard and you say, who came here and decided it was a great place to grow grapes??? Mr. Jordan said. ?I mean, it?s not exactly
welcoming terrain. I wish I could go back in a time capsule and see why they chose it. You have to wonder whether we lack that instinct today.??