In this episode of Wine For Normal People, Will Henry of Lumen Wines shares how his love for surfing and winemaking intertwines in Santa Barbara. He reveals how the local surf culture and coastal environment shape his approach to crafting exceptional wines. Join us to explore the unique connection between the waves and the vineyards that defines Lumen Wines.
tran-scend-ent/
adjective
1. beyond and outside the ordinary range of human experience or understanding
2. exceeding or surpassing usual limits especially in excellence
In 1990 I flew to Portugal with my father, Warner, to visit port producers on the Douro River. As was customary for him, he had brought a number of books about Portuguese wine, including the chapter on Portugal from The World Atlas of Wine, which he considered to be his bible. Our first night in Porto was to be spent at a famous old restaurant in the city center, and my father was excited to explore the wines of this little-known corner of the wine world. He had been talking all day about trying to find an old vintage Moscatel de Setúbal – a lightly fortified sweet muscat dessert wine that apparently had a tremendous ability to age with grace.
Our dinner was fabulous, and we waded through numerous wines from the list with the help of a friendly, tuxedoed sommelier, in an old-school stone building in old world Portugal. At the end of the meal my father posed the question that we had all been waiting for. He asked the sommelier if they had any Moscatel de Setúbal. The man’s eyebrows raised noticeably and he paused before replying, seeming shocked that a foreigner should ask. “Yes sir,” he said. “I will be right back.”
He brought a bottle to the table with a label so old it was barely legible. By holding it up to candlelight we could discern that the vintage year was 1902. The waiter poured us each a glass, and the wine, once white, had aged to the color of coffee.
There are very few things in life that take this much age to come to greatness. Strange how so many of those things exist in the world of wine. But no matter the nature of the flame, at some point in its life it may grow to its most luminous before the light begins to fade, eventually to nothing. The metaphor can be applied to a great Burgundy or Bordeaux, for example, or even the age of a vineyard. (Two of the vineyards we have worked with, Sierra Madre and Garey, reached the end of their lifespan this year and fizzled out. Thankfully the site will be replanted to new vines.)
How similar this can be to the life of a great man, whom my father certainly was. He passed away on August 1st of this year, and with his passing the wine business lost a great leader. He was larger than life, and his dedication to the winemakers that are true to their craft was legendary. He was a spokesperson for the little guy in a world that evermore favors the large and corporate. Warner Henry is the main reason why a winery like Lumen exists.
As the grapes came in to the winery this harvest, I could feel my father looking over my shoulder at every punch down. I ran through all of the great memories we had together exploring the world of wine, and was brought back to that moment when we tasted the Moscatel de Setúbal together. Years later my father told me that it was the most exquisite beverage he had ever put in his mouth.
I remember the rest of that first trip to Portugal. We visited some of the best port houses in the world, and were served ports that went back almost a century. But one wine was still on the back of our minds. We returned to Porto at the end of the trip, and had a reservation at the very same restaurant. When I was showering before dinner, my father came into my room and yelled through the bathroom door that he had left me a taste of wine on my bedside table. I got dressed and then took a sip of the wine. Holy crap, I thought, what is this wine? It was hands down better than any wine I had tasted on the entire trip up the Douro River. I walked to my father’s room to ask what he had left for me to taste. He had a twinkle in his eye. “It’s the Mostcatel,” he said proudly. “I slipped down the street to that restaurant to grab us both a glass.”
I came to realize years later that those were the most transcendent moments in my father’s life. He best remembered the moments when he discovered greatness, even better when they were found in unexpected places. I had always hoped he would have one of those moments with a bottle of Lumen. Then one year it happened, after he tasted our 2015 Presqu’ile Vineyard Pinot Noir. In 2018 he helped me purchase an eleven-acre parcel next door to that vineyard. Here at this site we will put Warner’s name on a bottle of wine for the first time ever, by naming it the Warner Henry Vineyard. Perhaps it may someday reach Moscatel de Setúbal greatness.
“Is that a note of melon or is it a hint of Goodyear rubber?”
For the past few decades orange wine has been steadily gaining followers in the world of wine, while also an ever larger stream of dissenters. What is it about a skin contact white that has everyone in such a tizzy? Why is it so controversial to make a wine with white grapes that are treated just like red grapes?
For the uninitiated, red wines typically are fermented along with their skins, and sometimes even left to age with them for a period of a few weeks to even months. The fermenting juice extracts color and flavor from the skins of a red grape, giving the wine its color and a good deal of its tannin. For this reason, red wines generally need a little more time to ‘come around’ – in other words, for the tannins to soften enough to where they are pleasant to drink.
White grapes, on the other hand, are typically pressed as soon as they enter the winery, and the lightly-colored juice then ferments on its own. This world order has existed for thousands of years, in relative harmony, until bad boy orange came along.
“Orange wine has arrived to slap jaded palates around.”
The first modern winemaker associated with the ancient practice of orange was Jose Gravner in Friuli, Italy, who revived the practice of its vinification in the early aughts (God bless the Italians). This wine has now reached cult status – you practically have to give away your first-born child just to get a bottle. More and more wineries across the world have followed suit, and the quality is all over the map.
As a wine buyer for Pico Restaurant I have tasted a good many orange wines, because our customers are requesting it more and more. A good portion of the orange wines I taste are pretty horrid – dirty, acrid, or just plain stinky – but that is to be expected. This is a new style of wine, and winemakers are still figuring it out.
One thing that has struck me about orange wines is that not every grape variety works. There has to be something interesting (and balanced) going on with the skins of those grapes, and all white grapes are not created equal. I have also learned that pick date (determining sugar and acid levels) and style of treatment in the winery are of equal importance. For example, you can’t pick a Sauvignon Blanc at 29 brix and make an orange wine, then age it in new oak for a year – the result would likely be a full assault on the senses.
“The fact that orange wine is challenging—that its appeal is more cerebral and gastronomic than carnal and epicurean—is central to its identity.”
Enter Pinot Gris. A close cousin to Pinot Noir (hence the Pinot first name), it literally means ‘grey Pinot,’ just like Pinot Blanc means “White Pinot’ and Noir ‘dark.’ The Gris seems stuck about half way between being a red grape and a white grape. It’s skins, when ripe, seem almost translucent, like an opal gemstone. The flavors that emanate from those skins, I mused, might be equally mysterious and interesting. Turns out I was correct.
I didn’t do this without help and inspiration. I contacted my old friend Ryan Beauregard of Beauregard Vineyards, who made a Pinot Gris orange a few years back that was fabulous. (If you haven’t had any of Ryan’s wines, but the way, you are blowing it. He is making some of the most incredible wines in California.) Ryan told me the secret for him was to pick early. Well that’s easy, I said, Lane and I always do. After all they called her Low-Pick Lane for a reason. No, he said, I mean earlier. Like 21 brix max.
Hmmmm…. ok.
Hence Lumen Escence was born in the 2019 harvest. We called an early pick of Pinot Gris, at a time when most winemakers are just starting to pick for sparkling wine. We fermented 12 days on the skins, then pressed and barreled it down in neutral oak for seven months. We just bottled it a month ago, and I am proud to say that it is one of the better examples of orange wine I have ever tasted. Meyer lemon zest, grapefruit rind, persimmon, and a slightly saline minerality. Just a tinge of orange funk. Get yourself some and breathe deeply.
NOTE: Lumen Escence is currently available to wine club members ONLY. If there is any Escence left after wine club members place their orders, we will make it available to the general public at $40 per bottle. Don’t want to wait? JOIN THE CLUB
NOTE 2: The above quotes are excerpts from a New Yorker article entitled “How the Orange-Wine Fad Became an Irresistible Assault on Pleasure,” by Troy Patterson. READ IT HERE.
– Will Henry
I’ll never forget the first time I fell in love with Grenache. I was at a fancy restaurant on an otherwise unmemorable date, and I decided to splurge on the tasting menu with wine pairing. The main course came with a glass of red wine, and upon my first sip my taste buds ignited with pure pleasure. What on earth was this wine? It had the light body of Pinot Noir, but clearly was something different. Swirls of fruit wrapped around an earthy core. I summoned the sommelier and proceeded to give him far more attention than my date sitting across the table.
The wine in question was A Tribute to Grace Grenache, from Santa Barbara Highlands Vineyard. I was floored. Outside of Chateau-Neuf-du-Pape, I had never tasted anything quite like it. The sommelier sauntered off, and I joined Grace’s wine club the following day.
Fast forward a few years: my first vintage working side by side with Lane Tanner, and crafting the 2012 Lumen Pinot Noir. I mentioned my experience with Grace Grenache, and the fact that I wanted to make one like it (or at least die trying). Lane explained to me, gently, that she would make anything that I wanted, but that Pinot Noir was the only red wine she would ever take home for herself to enjoy – all other varieties were, in her mind, subpar. (This, of course, says nothing about Lane’s love affair with Champagne, a topic for later discussion).
In 2013 Lane and I made our first SBC Grenache. Despite the grape’s likeness to Pinot Noir in the glass, it behaves completely different in the vineyard and winery. For one, Grenache is late-ripening, and hence needs a hotter climate than Pinot. Secondly, its skins are thick and durable relative to Pinot’s thin skin, and hence requires a bit of extra muscle once it crosses the winery threshold. Lane and I were somewhat unprepared for this second fact.
When harvest time came, the Grenache grapes arrived and went through the de-stemmer. They dropped into the fermentation bins like a ton of ballbearings. There wasn’t a drop of juice visible. Pinot Noir usually breaks apart in the de-stemmer and yields a fair amount of free-run juice, but now we had a whole new challenge – how do you start fermentation from outside a rubber ball? Thankfully I had a pair of surf trunks in the car, which I donned in order to climb into the vats to break up the fruit by foot. In reality it was more of a body slam.
By the end of harvest, Lane had become more attached to Grenache. She loved it more than she expected to, although more like a friend next to her long-time lover Pinot. And once it was in bottle? She took one home to enjoy like a clandestine love.
– Will Henry
Images (clockwise from top left): Grenache berry between my fingers; winemaking legends Lane Tanner and Angela Osborne confer in the vineyards; body slams by the Henry girls, Taylor and Chandler; fresh-picked Grenache from Martian Ranch Vineyard.
LUMEN has officially kicked off the 2019 harvest with an early pick of Pinot Gris from Sierra Madre Vineyard, and Lane has once again donned her magic yellow boot. What seemed to me like a late year for harvest got a chuckle out of Lane. “This is a normal year,” she said, which made me realize that the last six years that we have worked together have been abnormally early. “Newbie,” I thought to myself. While our other grapes are still at least a few weeks out, Lane has once again earned her nickname “Low Pick Lane” by being in the vineyards long before anyone else.
We deliberately picked this lot of Pinot Gris early in order to make an orange wine, following the guidance from one of my favorite fellow winemakers, Ryan Beauregard of Beauregard Vineyards, who has made a stellar Pinot Gris orange wine in years past. And what is orange wine? It is one made from white grapes that are treated like red grapes. In other words, we ferment the juice on the skins, with regular punch-downs, to extract extra tannin and flavor. (White grapes are normally pressed and separated from the juice as soon as they come into the winery.) Many of the orange wines I have tasted as the wine director at Pico Restaurant are pretty funky and weird. Ryan’s wine was an exception – elegant, balanced, full of fruit and minerality – and far more interesting than most rosés.
While the orange wine bubbles away in the fermenter, Lane and I are wandering the vineyards in anticipation of our next pick. We are picking samples of the fruit in many of the vineyards – mostly Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Gris (as the Grenache varieties are still a long ways off) – and taking the samples back to the winery, where Lane stomps the grapes with her magic yellow boot. Okay, I admit, sometimes I wear the yellow boot, but it doesn’t fit me very well. The boot has been with Lane since her winemaking start in the early 1980’s.
We then test the juice for sugar and acidity and then most importantly, taste it. We base our decision to pick almost completely on the flavor maturity of the juice, always aiming for lower sugar and higher acidity. That makes for more scintillating and age-worthy wines.
This marks the first year that Lane and I are really stepping outside of our normal comfort zone to make an orange wine. There will only be 40 or so cases, and only available to our wine club. So if you want to try it (release date April 15, 2020), sign up today!
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[/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space][vc_column_text]In the past week, winter has finally set in along the Central Californian coast and rain is soaking the now-dormant vineyards. The harvest is officially in the bag, even for those vintners that like to let the grapes hang late. Lumen’s wines were tucked away in their barrels in late October, safe and sound until racking in the spring. We had a lot of extra help this harvest – even Winslow did her part (mostly watching daddy work, and asking LOTS of questions).
2018 will be a banner year for most of California. My winemaker friends all seem to think it could be the vintage of the decade, from Napa to Santa Cruz to good old SBC. The reasons for that, of course, are manyfold.
First off, the weather was perfect for most of the growing season. We had fairly normal timing for bud break, when the vines come out of dormancy after their winter sleep. A brief frost scare in March was narrowly averted, after which we had a normal spring followed by an unusually cool summer. For the first time I can remember in California, we had no Indian Summer heat wave. Labor Day slipped past with temps barely cresting 75 degrees in the Santa Maria Valley. The nights were cold. What that means is that the grapes ripened slowly and the acidity levels stayed high – the perfect combo for making world-class wine.
Lane and I are always trying to pick at the lowest sugars possible. In other words, we are hoping for maturity in the grape’s flavor before the fruit gets too ripe. In banner years like 2018, the fruit matures without the sugar spiking, meaning that natural acidity is high, and the ensuing alcohol content in the wines will be very low. Even better, the wine’s pH will be perfect for long-term bottle age.
We picked our fruit later in the summer than we have since Lane and I started working together. The buzz around SB wine country was that it was an unusually late harvest – but the old-timers chuckled and said it was actually a normal year, and that the rest of the decade has been early. Wherever the truth lies (and I side with the old guard), 2018 will be a vintage for the record books.
– Will Henry[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
There is nothing more compelling than natural beauty. Ad men always have said that sex sells (such as this photo, above, of Lane Tanner enjoying a “Pinot bath”), but these days, natural sells almost as well. Natural cosmetics, natural clothing, natural foods, and now natural wine. But just how natural do you want to go?
As the wine director at Pico Restaurant, I frequently hear people ask, “What natural wines do you carry?” The increasing popularity of the natural-wines movement seems to be taking the industry by storm. Nonetheless it has many sommeliers searching for answers as to what “natural wine” actually means.
According to Rawwine.com:
“Natural Wine is farmed organically (biodynamically, using permaculture or the like) and made (or rather transformed) without adding or removing anything in the cellar. No additives or processing aids are used, and ‘intervention’ in the naturally occurring fermentation process is kept to a minimum. As such neither fining nor (tight) filtration are used. The result is a living wine – wholesome and full of naturally occurring microbiology.
One of the big challenges in defining natural wine is that no legal definitions currently exist. The most strictly enforced designations, such as the French SAINS, require strict adherence to organic farming and tolerate no additives to the wine whatsoever. The French AVN (L’Association des Vins Naturels), also one of the strictest, allows for up to 30mg/l sulfite additions. Italy-based VinNatur allows for up to 50 mg/l sulfite levels. While all of them share some very similar themes, there is still no world-wide consensus.
The biggest challenge to winemakers is the sulfite dilemma. Sulfites have been used for centuries to help preserve the freshness of flavors in wine, and to give them the stability for extended aging. The chemical agent, sodium metabisulfite, is also a natural byproduct of fermentation – so even wines with no added sulfites actually have naturally-occurring sulfites in them. If you have ever bought dried apricots at the supermarket, you have seen exactly what sulfite additions can do. The apricots with added sulfites are soft, orange-colored, and fresh tasting, while the ones without are brown in color, oxidized in flavor, and harder to chew.
Strict adherents to the “no additives whatsoever” philosophy must eschew sulfites entirely. Yet sulfites are a relatively harmless additive that have been used in wine for eons, albeit at varying levels. Many people claim to have sulfite allergies, yet medical research suggests that less than 1% of the population actually does. I can attest that, after tasting many wines that have no added sulfites, I tend to prefer the ones that do. Wines with no added sulfites rarely have the qualities that I would be proud to put on Pico’s list. They are frequently dirty tasting or “mousy,” they often lack good fruit character, and there is a tremendous amount of bottle variation. Needless to say, if I were spending $150 on a great bottle of Burgundy or Barolo, I would want a little more assurance that what I was purchasing would both taste good and be suitable for aging. .
That being said, many winemakers have made a commitment to using the bare minimum sulfite additions – just enough to keep their wines stable. Others also have a commitment to following good farming practices – organic, biodynamic, or sustainable – that assure the purity of the fruit that they are starting with, and a commitment to low-impact production. Furthermore, many of the winemakers who produce wines in small lots are able to give the kind of hands-on care to their wines to not only limit sulfite additions, but also to steer clear of any other kinds of chemical additions that many larger-scale, industrial-sized wineries do out of a matter of habit.
The winemaking team at Lumen has been committed all along to making wines with as little sulfites as possible, without sacrificing any quality in the finished product. Lane Tanner is one of those few people in the population with a sulfite allergy, and hence for the past thirty years she has perfected a winemaking regimen that uses the bare minimum of added sulfites. The amount of free sulfur in our finished wines is usually under 25 mg/l, which would qualify our bottles as natural wine under most standards. Almost all of our grapes come from vineyards who practice the utmost stewardship to the health of the environment: most of them are either certified sustainable, organic or biodynamic. In our winery we go even further, with hands-on care given to each bin and barrel, allowing us to make pure wines without any harmful chemical additives.
If you have a strong opinion about natural wine, and want a product that is pure and free of chemicals, don’t expect to find it on the supermarket shelves. Find the small-scale, family-owned wineries that are committed to making a superior product, like those of us at Lumen.
– Will Henry, Lumen Winemaker
[vc_row show_full_width=”1″ padding_setting=”1″ desktop_padding=”no-padding”][vc_column][vc_column_text]The Fickle Nature of Single Vineyard Pinot Noir
The 2015 vintage was more temperamental than a cat in heat. In the Santa Maria Valley, high temperatures and tropical humidity made for a challenging harvest, to say the least. But one little pocket seemed to be hiding its true potential – Pinot Noir grapes of unparalleled grace and complexity – something that Lane and I weren’t to discover until almost a year later.
Presqu’ile Vineyard lies just to the south and east of the city of Santa Maria, along Clark Rd. In the whacky vintage of 2015, the vines got hit by high wind and rain during flowering, which caused a good deal of shatter. Shatter occurs when there is damage to the vine’s flowers, and it greatly reduces the crop size. Grape clusters form erratically and incompletely: a nightmare for grape growers (who get paid by the ton), but not always for winemakers (who like low yields).
Lower yields usually result in wines of greater complexity and concentration of flavor. The reason for this is simple – the vine puts much more of the sun’s energy and the soils minerals into a smaller amount of fruit. When Lane and I first walked our rows at Presqu’ile that August, we were shocked. There was barely any fruit on the vines. We both wondered if we would be making any Presqu’ile Pinot at all.
Harvest came in late August. The Presqu’ile fruit was de-stemmed and placed into open fermentation vats alongside other other Pinot Noir lots from Sierra Madre and Garey. The first sign we saw that this was a different breed of Pinot was in the berry size – the grapes were so small that they looked more like purple peas. Secondly, when we did our punch downs (stirring the fermenting cap of skins in with the juice), the Presqu’ile vats were so thick and viscous that I broke a sweat after my first one. Lane and I both agreed at this point – Presqu’ile Pinot Noir was worth making on it own this year.
I often say that wine is like a baby: you have little idea what it will grow into in its youth and early adulthood. You have a sense of it – good breeding, nice bone structure, good skin – but you never really know until it starts walking and talking. Lane and I tasted the Presqu’ile from barrel more than once, and shockingly the wine seemed rather plain and underwhelming. We started to question whether we should make it a single vineyard wine at all, and were very close to blending it into our Santa Barbara County Pinot Noir last year.
At this point, all I can say is thank goodness we trusted our gut on this one: the 2015 Presqu’ile Vineyard Pinot Noir is now in bottle, and is one of the most glorious wines we have ever crafted. Now almost two years later, it is one to collect and revisit as it matures into a sexy bombshell over the next 20-30 years. And given that we only made 40 some cases of it, there is no time like the present to put it into your cellar – or your mouth! Check out our initial Presqu’ile Pinot offering below.
– Will Henry[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Thoughts on the Wettest of Vintages
The vineyards are flooding. Southern California is currently experiencing what the forecasters are calling “the largest weather event in the last six years.” (Let’s just forget about “Stormageddon” two years ago – too bad they used that one up already). Some of the vineyards in the Santa Maria Valley are currently under water. Many people have been asking me, what does this mean for the grapes? Is all this rain a good thing or a bad thing?
My stock answer is that in February, what is a good thing for the state’s water system is a good thing for all of California agriculture. After six years of drought, the reservoirs and aquifers are in serious need of replenishment, and the soil could use a good soaking, too. Notwithstanding erosion in the vineyards (bad), the vines themselves are all tucked up inside their blankies and asleep for the winter months (good). All this raining and pouring means very little to the old man who’s snoring. Furthermore, it helps cleanse the vineyards of salt, which tends to build up over the dry years.
Rain (and other forms of severe weather) can certainly be bad at other times of year. Once the vines reawaken from their slumber, they are far more susceptible to damage, especially during bud break and flowering. Once the buds emerge, the crop is instantly vulnerable to frost – which can really stunt a vineyard’s growth. Rain or hail can also wreak havoc on a vine’s delicate flowers, and can destroy an entire crop depending on timing or severity. This happens far more often in France than it does here, but we are not out of the woods this year by any means.
For now we will relish every drop that falls from the sky. Pop a cork, pour some Lumen into your glass, and listen to the rain drum against the roof. When it rains, it pours!
– Will Henry
