Winemaker's Journal

Cancer Discovered In The Vineyard: Powdery Mildew

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 03:58:00 +0000

This is not funny. Really. It's as bad as the consequences of unsafe sex. There's a cancer in the vineyard. And it was as easy to prevent as eating broccoli, brushing a dog's teeth or using a condom.

Was it a result of playing golf on Sunday instead of vineyarding? Was it the revenge of the Three Priests for skipping Church? Did three weeks of unseasonably cool weather, thick fog and drizzle create ideal conditions for it?

There are simple rules in this life: eat your vegetables; check the dog's toes for foxtails; spray your vineyard. Two out of three ain't good enough.

At daybreak Monday Bluey & I went to the lower part of the vineyard where I hadn't been for a while and noticed a bunch of Petit Sirah with white frosting. I cut it off. Then noticed it on another bunch. Mission control, we have a problem: Powdery Mildew.

My experiment in not spraying the vineyard has been terminated with extreme prejudice.

The temperature stayed below 70 degrees today so the infestation did not spread, much. I should have been out in the vineyard holding hands this evening with my sweetheart watching the midsommar sunset and the full-moon rise but instead I was rushing to cut leaves to open up the canopy and scrambling to the top of the hill to fill a backpack sprayer with 4-gallons of water and X-amount of wettable sulphur. The directions said to apply 2 lbs. - 10 lbs. per acre of grapes and we have two acres planted but it doesn't say a thing about how many grams of sulphur to add per liter of water or how many ounces per gallon. So I took my best guess and stirred in the brown powder which disolved nicely in the water and put the sprayer on my back and pumped the handle to build pressure and nothing came out. What next? Momentarily deflated, but not defeated, I sent out an SOS to Coyote Karen to borrow her sprayer and I suggested to the Queen that we call Fidel to help us spray and she started singing her song:

That Fidel I am

I do not like that Fidel I am

And the Kabuki play continued about how it's her vineyard and if I think for a minute I have anything to do with it or if it's half-mine then she's leaving or "you should go to China" and she's carrying on about Fidel this (it's his fault the valves are leaking!) and Fidel that (he owes me $2,000 for the work he didn't do!) while the Man in the Moon is coming up and Bluey (bless his heart a dog without a tail) puts his stub between his legs and finds a corner to ride out the storm. This is why hurricanes have female names. Peace is restored when I lie that it's 100% her vineyard, pour her a glass of wine (instead of cutting her off) and promise not to call Fidel, that rascal.

The good news is that the mildew is located in the lower part of the vineyard and we can still save most of the Tempranillo, all of the Zinfandel and all of the Grenache. I have tasted award winning Tempranillo wine made from 3-year old San Diego vines and our vines are ready and willing to give us grape. Philosophically, my wanting to save the grapes is a good thing but if I loose them then I should just give them up because it's just a possession and possessions are temporary and in the end we're just ashes and the vines wither. I'm a mother with a baby inside and despite what the queen says it's my vineyard too and I'm fearful of a miscarriage and so I'm fighting.

Questions: If a bunch of grapes have a little bit of Powdery Mildew can they be saved? How much wettable sulphur powder should I add per gallon?

Take That Post and Shove[l] It!

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 04:13:00 +0000

I broke another end post this evening and this time it wasn't my fault. Really. Now please tell me the best way to repair it.

The first post was demolished last year when the pick up truck slid off the mud path at the top of the hill and careened down the vineyard resting against the post. (For the record, this post was broken by the rescue crew when they wrapped their pulley wire around it as leverage to yank the truck out). As this was before The Recession and before the Queen had spent the last of our life savings on 47 Phoenix canariensis palm trees and before the college raised the Princess' tuition above $50K/year, we let Fidel and the guys fix it.

The 2nd post was knocked down by the branches of a falling pepper tree I chopped down. Now that was stupid and my fault. And this time, there was no one to repair it but yours truly, the guy who still can't tie a slip knot. Those were the days of economic woe when men became men and relearned the arts of self reliance and I figured out how to wrap wire around a pole, connect two wires with a gripple and use the gripple/wire tensioning device. No matter how much the Queen dislikes Fidel, I'll say he sure does good wiring. My work was not as elegant as his. But we repaired the pole before the vines burst their buds in spring and it's still standing and I was proud. That was the day I earned my rite-of-passage to the order of vineyardistos.

Unlike dominoes, which, when the first one falls they all fall, the felling of an end post is not as great a catastrophe as I had feared, and to which I can now attest as, regrettably, I have become something of an expert in this area. What happens is the vines between the end post and the next trellis stake loose their support; but the vines after the support stake hang in there.

I am in denial when I say the demise of the third pole this evening was not my fault. In fact, pride was my downfall. I was so proud of myself that I had finally figured out how to use the wire tightening device, that, after coming home from work on Tuesday I said to the Queen, "Let's go tighten some loose wires and I'll show you how to do it." So Bluey, Her Highness and I (sans Fidel) marched to the top of the hill and I attached the wire tightening device to the gripple, grabbed the wire, pulled and tightened. Vines shifted and the wire straightened. Then, I pulled in the other direction tightening again.

As I inspected the vines, I noticed the wire had become more loose away from the center where I was tightening. That was odd. Was I doing something wrong? I called the Queen and asked her to check my logic: "If I'm shortening the length of the wire, then the wire should be getting tighter, right?" To show her, I attached the tightening device to the gripple, pulled and tightened again. We walked down the row and as I approached the end, indeed, the line was even more loose than before. "How could that be?" I asked in disbelief.

"Look at the end post!" she said (without adding "you idiot"), and then I realized it was broken. Had I pulled too tight? Was the pole rotten from being close to water? Had termites destroyed it? It was too dark to tell. I held up the pole while the Queen ran down the mountain to the garage to bring back wire cutters and we cut the wires, removed the pole and left four vines at the mercy of rabbits who will find a feast of vines if they venture to the area. At this point night had fallen and we headed down the mountain and there was a bottle of Old Coach Vineyards decanted wine waiting for us after I brushed Bluey, checked his paws for foxtails, and set the mouse traps for the evening.

The morning inspection revealed that the rabbits were merciful to the prostrate vines and that the post was not rotten. I noticed there was no concrete at the top of the hole area, so my suspicion is that the hole was not filled with enough concrete during installation. (For the record, we used 10 ft. poles on this section and an auger that drilled into the DG at least 3 ft. The standard practice was to add 2 bags of cement per hole.) I suspect I pulled too tightly on the top wire putting tremendous pressure on the post. But what do I know?

What do you think happened and how do you suggest we replace the end post and repair the wires?

San Diego's Fillies Win in Wine: Old Coach Vineyards

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 00:26:00 +0000

Fillies are winning more than major horse races. They are making kick-ass vineyards better than the guys. Winemaker's Journal kicks off a series of reports on "San Diego Women in Wine" with Sandy from Old Coach Vineyards.

Sandy's European grandmothers, who were winemakers, allowed her to taste wine in their cellars as a young child, planting the seeds which sprouted into Old Coach. The founding of her winery goes back 20 years when the 41-acre property was acquired at the end of a dirt road surrounded by nothing. (Encroaching development has it situated a T-shot from the renowned Maderas Golf Club in Poway, CA.) Founded as a llama ranch in 1988, Sandy planted her first vines in 2003, and she's still planting. Over 5 scenic acres have been planted with Syrah, Petit Syrah, Grenache, Cabernet, Mourvedre, Tempranillo and more recently with Italian clones including Primitivo and Nebbiolo. She, and other vintners in San Diego, see a bright future for "the Italians" in the region, and she planted another 600 Aglianico potted vines last week. The llamas, house, winery and most of the vines survived the October 2007 wildfires inspiring the name for the 2007 "Firestorm" blend.

The building housing the former llama nursery, six llama stalls and the vet lab has been converted into the crush pad, fermentation and bottling space. Sandra used her Bobcat to create an impressive naturally cooled cellar into the hillside which contains the cellaring operations. Like many winemakers these days, Old Coach uses 100-gallon and 300-gallon flex tanks, the Australian pioneered breathable tanks which are easy to maintain and allow for micro-oxidation of the wine as if it were in oak barrels. The attention to detail and quality in the cellar, vineyard and wine are impressive. Early on, she threw out a batch of Zinfandel made from three year old vines, because it didn't meet her standards (I bet the coyotes howled in delight!) "We've found that by aging wine for two years before bottling the results are better," she said.

During an tour of the vineyard, Sandra mentioned she watered the vines 3 times a week (an unusual routine not often encountered by Winemaker's Journal). Two emitters are on either side of each vine, and Pete Anderson, vineyard instructor from Mira Costa Community College suggested that the vine roots had grown into a ball near the surface (since deep watering was not used). Pete recommended that she experiment with deep watering on one row once a week.

Determining the correct amount of water to use has been a real challenge at the site, because of granite domes and impenetrable rock formations not far under the surface. Despite the adverse conditions, with Sandy's perseverance the vineyard has taken hold.

Sandy loves to drive her Bobcat. Not only did she dig out the cave, she used it to terrace the land and to dig holes for the end posts. She grew up on a farm in the Midwest, so farming is in her blood, and she does much of the vineyard work herself. A thick, leaf-dripping fog you can almost swim in has swept in this evening, and she's itching to get on her tractor and spray the vines to protect them from a mildew infestation.

When I visited again a few days later, she was strapped into the Bobcat, drilling post holes with an auger into compact decomposed granite. "See what I have to work with," she says about the lousy soil.

She decided to forgo nets three years ago, and establishes colonies of humming birds with feeders placed strategically throughout the vineyard. "Humming birds are aggressive and will keep away the other birds," she says. She also employs a computerized sound system that emits various bird distress calls. "I'll be out there and it will sometimes sound like a bird is getting killed -- but it's just the recording of a bird in distress. I've selected bird calls on microchips specific to the species we have in the vineyard, and it works. We don't start using the recordings until as late as possible -- otherwise the birds will catch on [that they're being tricked]."

Sandy and her son Jason (a certified financial planner during the day and 4th generation winemaker) have won 25 awards in San Diego's and Orange County's annual wine competitions which encouraged them to get bonded and begin selling their wines. I purchased one of their 2006 Petit-Sirah's on-line for $25 and was not disappointed and Bluey (cellar master of our winery) gave it 3-licks (always a good sign) and the wife and I fought over the last glass (always a good sign). Since there is no tasting room for the public, the wines are sold through an on-line cellar club, over the Internet and to a few upscale restaurants.

An award winner. One of San Diego's finest. Founded and run by a woman. Old Coach Vineyards.

Advice For Bluey the Wine Dog at 50

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sun, 24 May 2009 00:29:00 +0000

Bluey, cellar master of Blue-Merle Winery, hero of The Gopher Wars and Chevalier de Legion de Vin de Chiens qui But, is 50 years old today. It was seven years ago (human years) on Memorial Day Weekend when the Queen caved in to the young Princess, "OK, we can get a dog." Before she changed her mind (again) we picked up the paper, turned to the classifieds and started looking for puppies. This method was slightly less scientific than our Commander & Chef and the results were quite unexpected. We started with A. "Hmmm.... Australian Shepherd," I announced. "Those were the dogs in the movie Babe." (In fact, those were Border Collies. What little did I know.)

"Oh daddy, daddy, let's get one. I'll feed him every day and walk him," said the Princess. "I promise," she lied.

I called the breeder. "Are those dogs good with kids?"

"Yes, but they might nip at their heels and try to herd them, but they love children."

"OK, hold one. We're on our way." So we piled into the white sedan and drove an hour from the coast into the hot, dusty, dry, country to the breeder's. This little pup with blue eyes came trotting out. "Oh daddy, daddy, he's so cute, let's get him," said the Princess. "I'll brush him every day," she lied. Even the Queen liked him, so they put him into the car, on which he promptly peed. He was a keeper. I took out my checkbook.

"He's a Blue-Merle," said the breeder. "That's $100 extra."

"A blue what?" I didn't know. I didn't care. The Queen & Princess were happy, and I wanted to get this deal done before she changed her mind (again). I wrote the check and we sped off into a future of marathons, vineyards and wine I couldn't foresee which he brought about.

I called up my friend Barry in Australia, whose business partner is also named Barry.

"I'm going to call this dog Barry in honor of you guys unless you come up with a better name."

Barry said, "That dog will change your life." He knew what he was talking about. "Bluey means swag man in Australian." I liked the name. His eyes were blue. He was a Blue-Merle, whatever that was. And the Princess liked the name, too. Bluey, the Swagman. Seven years ago.

I reckon Bluey is 50 years old now in dog years, so here's my advice to him for the next 50 years. (He'll have his chance to give me his advice in July when I turn 50.)

Bluey, you're 50 years old, and it's time to grow up and start acting your age. Here's my advice:

1. Stop eating grapes during harvest. You'll kill your liver.

2. Keep brushing your teeth every night.

3. Don't let other dogs lick your zi-zi in public. It's sooooooo embarrassing.

4. Stop dreaming about making puppies doggie-style with a bitch. It's not going to happen. (And keep your paws off of the beautiful ladies in the neighborhood, too.)

5. Stop asking for permission to go out with the coyotes at night. The answer is no.

6. Cats are not dogs. They don't like having their butts sniffed. Stop trying.

7. If you promise not to tell the Queen, I'll give you the steak bone.

8. I know you think I'm a lost lamb and you have this compulsion to follow me, but you better go to the Queen to snuggle up once in a while.

9. Would you mind to stay away from foxtails?

10. Watch your weight. (See # 11.)

11. Would you mind to stop leaping from 4 ft. walls?

12. Life is too short for bad wine; only taste the good stuff.

13. We're so grateful for the joy you have given us -- please stay away from snakes!

I've spent all my money on wine, women and vet bills, the rest of it, well, there was nothing left. Glad to spend it on you, pal. Here's to another 50 years, cheers!

What advice do you have for Bluey (and the author) on the occasion of their 50th birthdays?

Managing Our Precious Resource: Water

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sun, 17 May 2009 23:17:00 +0000

There's an old saying that good wine is made in the vineyard. To which I add great wine is made by blending. But you can't make any wine without water, at least when you're a grower in Southern California and you don't have old vines that don't need irrigation. With the advent of water restrictions, another dry year and the prospects of global warming, water management is critical. As a grower with a small backyard vineyard the tools I use to determine when it's time to water are 1) looking at the vines (economical, but not very scientific) 2) perhaps a simple tensiometer 3) wait for the Queen who manages our vineyard to plead for the third time to water her vines. I was curious what tools the big boys are using so drove up to Temecula's 100-acre Maurice Carrie Vineyard to meet with Gus Vizgirda, the vineyard manager, winemaker and all-around-good-guy.

The picnic table outside the Victorian farm house had several soil samples in jars. Gus had take the samples, added water, shaken, and allowed the samples to settle, giving him an idea of the composition and percentages of clay, loam and silt in various spots of the vineyard. (Now that's something I can do at home.)

Gus had taken another soil sample and inserted it into a 5ft plastic, see-through tube to the 3-feet level. Pouring water into the tube, he's able to see how deep, and at what speed water is able to penetrate the soil. Gus has found that at his location, he's better off with a very long watering in the beginning of the watering season followed by short waterings later. Because of the initial deep watering, later waterings are able to penetrate the soil better, he said.

Gus' choice for emitters are two @ 1/2 gallon/hour on each side of the vine. Several C-probes, at $2,000/each, are placed 3ft. below the soil surface to measure moisture content and transmit signals to a computer. Gus gets computerized reports showing him green zones and red zones indicating when it's time to water and spray for powdery mildew. (The computer takes temperature readings and calculates when mildew pressure is growing and it's time to spray.) I've heard of other growers who integrate Twitter into such a system so the vines send a tweet when they need water.

Most Temecula Valley growers are on "city water" and coped with a 30% water cut last year. They are likely to face an additional 10% reduction this year. Their land does not include water rights unlike most growers in Ramona (San Diego County) who are on well water. Hence, the investment in water management tools, because you can't make the best possible wine in Southern California without judiciously applying a little water.

What tips and suggestions do you have for managing water use in the vineyard?

Stressed Vines & Banks

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 03:24:00 +0000

We were hit by a heat wave this week with the mercury topping 95 degrees. The good news: I don't have to spray because temperatures that high will set any mildew fungus back. And, because we irrigated last Friday to apply the AdmirePro chemical against the disease-carrying sharpshooters, there was moisture in the ground and the vines raced upwards, some of them clearing the top wire. Still, with temperatures that hot this early in the season I went out at dawn to inspect which vines had passed the stress test. At the bottom of the vineyard where the soil is more fertile and the temperatures somewhat cooler the tendrils of the growing vines point to the sky. Boy do they look great. But as I climb higher up the hill I notice some tired tendrils, their arms only parallel to the ground or drooping. Stressed vines and perhaps in need of water next weekend.

I ripped out my first zombie vine on Sunday. It was diseased and not functioning properly and it had to go. I replanted a new vine in its place. With thoughts of zombie vines and stressed vines in my head, as I walked through the vineyard I imagined the upcoming conversation with my banker who is deciding the fate of our business. We've been incorporated over 11 years and have had a line of credit with the bank for 11 years and we pay our bills and have a FICO score of 800. The bank has suggested via letter that we pay back the line of credit. Now. And, they haven't been responsive to my idea of a creative bank swap: cash for wine.

I'm filling out the application to renew the line of credit and sign a personal guarantee. There are questions about my assets. "What should I put down for my house value?"

"How much did you pay for it?" my personal banker asks.

"$750,000 -- then we put in improvements and the vineyard worth more than $80K so the house is worth $830,000."

"Hold on," he says and goes to a computer screen, types in my zip code, square footage and frowns. "According to the computer, your house is only worth $495,000. You're underwater."

"Can't be," I respond. "Your computer looks at all houses in the zip code, not just the houses in Blue-Merle Country." He scowls and finally decides to write-down the value 35% which still puts us underwater. (So much for my equity helping me out renew the line of credit.)

"How much did your business earn last year?" he asks.

"We broke even. But as you know, I took what expenses I could to reduce taxable income from my daytime job." More frowns. Then I had an idea. "Why don't you let me calculate my assets and income the same way banks do?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, let me use the same accounting principles approved by the Financial Accounting Standards Board."

"Go on."

"Well, using the same methods approved by the FASB for banks my house is worth $830,000, which means I have equity many times over to pay back your line of credit. According to FASB rules for banks, I can value my assets at their fair value, as I determine it, just like you guys. As houses in my neighborhood sold for over $1 million three years ago, and as I have invested at least $830,000 in our house and vineyard, then it's worth at least $830K, right?" He nodded. "And don't forget the ocean view," I added. He was beginning to warm up, and at that point, I pulled out my secret weapon: a sample from the barrel that had popped its bung last night to let him taste a bit of what the bank was allowing us to produce. The 2008 "Merleatage" a blend of Petit Verdot, Cabernet Franc and Malbec. After the third sip, he began to loosen up. "This is good," he said.

"I told you it was good. It gets better. Let me give you," I suggested, "A statement of my earnings for Q1 this year using the new accounting principles."

"What do you have in mind."

"Do you remember the 47 palm trees my wife purchased last year?" He nodded. "A phoenix canarius palm sold for $10,000 two years ago. We have 47 of them. That's a future asset value of $470,000. " I poured him another two ounces of wine and continued. "We paid $49 each for those trees. So, our profit is $467,697 from that transaction alone, enough to pay back your line of credit ten times. It shows in my Q1 income statement and you'll have no problem getting my loan approved."

He thought for a minute and I poured him another taste and he said, "You know, I'm thinking we should increase your line of credit instead of canceling it."

"Now you're talking."

At that point the branch manager comes in, sees the bottle of Blue-Merle wine on the table and calls the subordinate into his office. I realize the gig is up and prepare for the worst, log onto Twitter on my iPhone and type: "Attention wine lovers. XX Bank forecloses vineyard & kicks out dog. Withdraw your money on Friday. Thanks from @bluemerlewinery " I have this message prepared to send if they attempt to foreclose. The tweet heard round the world, when the people punished the banks!

I realize I've spent another hour in the vineyard and it's time to stop pulling shoots and get to my daytime job where the real life banker calls to say they've decided to convert the line of credit to a 4-year fixed at a low interest rate. This is good news--neither my vines nor banker are zombies--and I'm bottling up wine this evening to drop off at the bank as a thank you gift and to plant the seeds so they'll be there to finance us when we're ready to take on The French!

Grafting Grape Vines

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 02:04:00 +0000

Enough of the stories and back to the vineyard and a lesson on grafting vines brought to us by Pete Anderson, who knows more about grape varietals than just about anyone in San Diego. Pete, among other things, teaches a course on vineyard management at Mira Costa Community College and last Saturday gave his students a demonstration on grafting at his backyard laboratory. As a guy who still can't tie a slip knot (and working on my third vineyard installation), one key thing I learned from Pete is that he makes two parallel cuts into the vine where the graft is to be inserted which doubles the odds that the graft will take. (When John the Avocado Grower and I tried grafting an avocado tree last Thanksgiving we only made one cut and failed.) Pete is also an accomplished winemaker and after the demonstration (and the knives had been put away) he brought out 7 different bottles of wine to taste. (Pete generously gave each of us a bottle to take home so we didn't fight over the leftovers.) Below is a summary written by Pete on the grafting procedure along with a video clip. When doing this at home watch your fingers!

Grafting Grape Vines By Pete Anderson

TIME TO GRAFT
Field grafting should take place when the bark slips as the vines begin new growth.

1st STEP - TRUNK PREPARATION

Cut the truck to 4 inches below the desired head height. If trunk diameter is small use loppers; if not use a chainsaw.

Using a fine toothed pruning saw, make 2 horizontal cuts on opposite sides at the base of the trunk -- these cuts will relieve the sap pressure that could cause the graft sticks to be pushed out.

2nd STEP - BUD STICK PREPARATION
Prepare the bud stick of the varietal to be grafted. Make sure you prepare only the amount to be grafted that day and keep them moist.

Bud sticks usually will have 5 - 7 nodes - using hand pruner cut them into 2-bud lengths. Caution: Make sure the orientation of the cane (bud stick) is maintained upward. Just as in potting, a cane grafted in the downward orientation will not take. The lower end should be at least 2" long; the top end should be cut at a 90 degree angle not less than 1/2" above the node.

3rd STEP - TRUNK FACE CUTS
Using a grafting knife make face cuts parallel to the vine row on opposite sides at the top of the trunk. The length of these cuts should be similar to the length of the lower end of the bud stick. The cuts will remove the outer surface of the trunk exposing the cambium. At the bottom of the face cut, make a diagonal incision approximately 30 degree angle deep enough to allow the base of the bud stick to be inserted.

Make another diagonal incision half way up the face.

4th STEP - BUD STICK CUTS
Make a long diagonal cut on one side of the lower end of the bud stick the same length as the face cut on the trunk. Turn the bud stick over and make a sharp diagonal cut at the lower tip creating a sharp edge. Make a small incision on the bud stick face cut that will match the incision made on the trunk face cut.

5th STEP - FIT BUD STICK ONTO TRUNK
Tap the bud stick using the grafting knife handle into the angle cuts on the trunk. Important: Cambium layers of trunk and bud stick must be in contact. It is best to have the bud stick positioned to one side of the face cut, not centered on the face cut.

6th STEP - SEAL GRAFT
Using grafting tape (1/2" works best) tightly wrap the graft making sure the bud sticks are in contact with the trunk. Seal the entire graft area with Henry Tree Seal or similar sealant. Also, put some seal on the bud stick tip.

7th STEP - MONITOR GRAFT
In order to prevent the graft stick from being pushed out of contact with the trunk cambium, frequently check the small incisions at the bottom of the trunk to insure the sap pressure is being relieved. If any bleeding is seen in the area of the graft, new trunk cuts should be made to relieve the pressure.

Coyote Karen Stricken With Vineyarditis

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 01:44:00 +0000

Coyote Karen who owns the perfect micro vineyard in Blue-Merle Country got a crazy idea in her head. Plant more vines. The little vineyard she has right now at 250 vines is a wonderful size, produces more than a barrel of juice and can be considered a "hobby." Adding 500 - 700 more vines and this vineyardista will be looking at a career change. I think she's been bitten by some glassy-winged sharpshooter (or vampire?) who's given her "crazy lady disease." That's what happens to strong women who live in the country too long. Next thing you know she'll be buying 1,000 acres in Paso Robles.
"Want some fruit trees?" she called.
"Be right over." We loaded Bluey into the vineyard mobile and sped over.
She was clearly infected with vineyarditis and was out there by her lone self, dressed in a white pull-over, digging up orange, lemon, avocado, nectarine and plumb trees that were in the way of her vision. We went over to lend our backs and a helping shovel. Let me tell you it's a lot of work digging out a tree with a shovel but that women huffed and puffed and seemed to blow them down with her tornado. When I offered to help her install her new vineyard, that didn't include transplanting fruit trees. "Are you crazy?" I asked. "Think for a minute. With a tractor, you could lift these babies out in a minute with less damage to the tree." And just then I saw what I thought was a mirage: Joe the Wino out Easter Day taking his bright orange Kubota for a leisurely drive. I ran out to greet him.
"Joe, good to see you. You're just in time to help a damsel in distress."
Joe drove right onto Karen's land and right up to her stepping down from his tractor. "Hello sweetheart. Give me an Easter hug." Joe got his hug and Karen got her trees pulled out and then the vineyardista took advantage of having that machine there to get her property "manicured." I can't use the word "graded" because government permits are required for "grading." Joe drove over the land smoothing it out here, filling in holes there, ripping up dirt and rolling boulders. There were a couple of more trees in a prime vineyard spot (WARNING: Tree huggers should stop reading now!) and Karen was ruthless in her vision. "Rip them out!" Joe agreed with her, saying, "You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs." He runs his business the same way. Ruthless. But I persuaded him to take the trees back to his place (after all, he has 10 acres). So, we saved the trees and Karen got her her land cleared. Joe got his hug, but he didn't get to mud wrestle the vineyardista in all that rich dirt and water. Bluey got to play in the mud. We got a bottle of wine. Ever hear the expression "Will Work For Wine"? You should watch what you say. And, as an extra benefit, when I went to the dentist's office this morning for a regularly scheduled check up my blood pressure was lower than last year (that's what a 4-day vacation of working in the vineyard and wine drinking will do to you.) Meantime, Karen has been on the phone getting everything ordered: vines, end posts, cement, wire, irrigation supplies, the works. She even found Fidel, that rascal, who is available for hire. If you want to see one of the most beautiful vineyards in California develop, stay tuned. And remember, do try this at home.

Zombie Vines & Zombie Banks

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 16:07:00 +0000

They're out there. Vines that are sending out shoots, sprouting leaves and setting fruit. They are green today but when summer comes and they try to move water from the roots to the leaves they can't. The leaves won't get water. They will turn red and brown and shrivel and the vines will die. There are dying vines in the vineyard and I don't know which ones. They are zombie vines infected with Pierce's Disease, the #1 enemy of vineyards in Southern California where the sharpshooters fly. Those pesky sharpshooters. Glassy winged. They suck the juices from an infected vine, become infected themselves (they are born innocent) then go and bite a healthy vine who becomes a zombie.

When we planted our vineyard two years ago I noticed some interesting bugs on the vines. Move near them and they instinctively scuttle to the other side of the shoot to hide. Clever rascals. Paso Robles Bill, who planted his micro vineyard two months before us that year, called in a panic: "I have sharpshooters in the vineyard!"
"Are those the ugly bugs that hide on the other side of the shoot when you move near and look like frogs with a flat alligator nose?" Yes. I was told to wait until I had significant growth in our vines before applying AdmirePro, a regulated chemical (very similar to nicotine I'm told) that costs about $1,000/quart and repels the sharpshooters. Sharpshooters don't like the taste of vines with admire (which will kill them) and will stay away from them. Bill, whose vines were taller with plenty of foliage, inoculated his vines right away. We didn't, not until Labor Day. Last year, when I saw red leaves in the vineyard I panicked and called an entomologist who inspected the vines and told me that the redness was a varietal characteristic of Tempranillo. I had dodged a bullet. We even had a vine tested for Pierce's disease -- and the report came back with good news. However, Paso Robles Bill said that the incubation period can be up to three years, so I may not see any sign of the disease until next year, or the year after. And so they are out there, zombie vines. And, I just found a sharpshooter in the vineyard last week. And, another one today.

Just got back from a meeting with Pat Nolan, San Diego County's plant pathologist, and she gladly answered my long list of questions, including, how long is the incubation period? She assured me that an infected vine would show symptoms the next year. Looks like we dodged a bullet. And, that one vine in the vineyard which isn't putting out shoots? "Rip it out."

If admire is similar to nicotine, I'll ask my princess the college student to do some research: clone the nicotine gene from tobacco into vinus vinifera to produce sharpshooter resistant vines. There is likely to be an additional benefit from the nicotine: drinkers will get hooked on our wine.

Just received a notice from the bank. The line of credit we've had for 10 years will not be renewed and the bank is demanding payment of $50,000. Worse than zombie vines are zombie banks. Time for a fire sale to feed the zombie bank: One thousand bottles of wine for sale at $49/piece .... any takers? Perhaps I can work out a swap with the bank.

Baby Barn Owl Makes Debut

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 15:29:00 +0000

Owl Gore, Jr., son of Mr. & Ms. Owl Gore who occupy the box by the entrance of our property, made his debut on Sunday after his mother kicked him out of the roost for not picking up his room. "He just got too big for our coop and had to go," said Ms. Owl. About a year ago we erected an owl box on a hill in the middle of our vineyard with 270 degree panoramic views of surrounding mountains and out to the Pacific Ocean. The penthouse has been vacant as a sign of the area's troubled real estate market. We sweetened the offer with free food: all the gophers and mice you can eat (which we have in abundance below the box). Our neighbor asked, "Did you get an owl yet?" Nope. They have owls all the time. He looked up at our box and observed, "Well, you don't have a perch. Your box needs a perch." Looks like I'll be yanking the 16 ft. pole out of the ground today and attaching a perch. One good thing; I didn't set the pole in concrete. Maybe we'll get that teenage Owl Gore, Jr. to lease our penthouse? What a hoot.

Gopher Wars Episode III: The Diamond Backs Strike

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 04:30:00 +0000

We filmed the second episode of Survivor: Wino's Vineyard Edition at Phantom Vineyard in Fallbrook on Saturday and I was able to win immunity from being voted off the vineyard by staying late to string the last irrigation wires and clean up. (As one of the real winemakers of the group it was my duty to stay until the work's done. That's just the code of honor among winemakers around here.) Of course that also earned me generous samples of Jeff's wine as we sipped his first Petit Sirah made from 3-year old vines and it tasted great for such young vines. And then for fun he opened up a bottle of Aglianico from Trader Joe's. Both Jeff and I are planting Aglianico vines this Spring (we already have about 180 in the ground) and Trader Joe's $6 bottle wasn't bad but by the grace of God we hope ours will be five times better and worth $30 so I can pay off the line of credit which the bank said is now due next week.

By the time I returned to Blue-Merle Vineyard I was feeling pretty good and even better after inspecting the traps Bluey and I had set that morning by the border of the Crazy Lady's property where the gophers had infiltrated in a coordinated counter offensive trying to outflank our defenses and there he was, the infiltrator, ally of the Crazy Lady, dead in his tracks.

This is the first time you've read about the Crazy Lady in this narrative and when you live in the country every community has one. She's the person who drinks more than you and staggers up to your house yelling she's against a winery in the neighborhood because it will attract too many drunks. There's an old proverb about letting dogs and crazy ladies lie and I believe it which has limited our ability to launch a preemptive strike against the gophers and the squirrels on her side of the demilitarized zone, providing them a safe haven to wax strong and borrow their Ho Chi Min trails and supply lines onto our property and invade, when we may need her approval for our winery permits in the future.

Bluey and I started the climb to the Top of the Hill to inspect what was going on back up there. Since Spring had begun and the weather was warmer and we were almost ambushed by a an unhibernating snake the week before I've been extra vigilant when walking the paths and always carry a shovel, my weapon of choice. A vineyardner in these parts without a shovel is like a marine without his rifle and I remembered my lesson from last Fall when I was unarmed and helpless as the serpent in this Garden of Eden slithered by my feet.

As I walked the path lightning struck again at the same place (it's not supposed to do that!) and my jaw dropped in disbelief as another snake appeared at the same location as the week before. Fortunately, Bluey had taken the high road through the fruit orchard or would have walked right upon his mortal enemy as I almost did (especially after a few glasses of wine). After positive identification of the viper's pointed head I dispatched the Diamondback, and hurried to cover up the evidence as the Queen ascended the mountain. Is it cheating on your wife to hide from her the fact you just killed a snake? Or, in her case is ignorance bliss? One rattlesnake on a path is a coincidence but two in one week is a conspiracy and it's clear that the gophers and the snakes have entered an unholy alliance against us.

I checked in with Ms. Connie (our ally in Texas) to see if she was alright because the enemy has proven it's ability to mount coordinated attacks on our various operations. As we have neighbors close by we rely on the shovel, to avoid the risk of stray bullets wounding innocent bystanders whereas Ms. Connie's security is provided by Smith and Wesson. It's not for nothing they used to call her "Hot Pistol Pants."

"Connie, we're under attack. Are you alright?" She sounded a bit shaken with a tint of slurred speech. "What happened?"

"I couldn't get a good shot at the coral snake on my driveway so I resorted to the old fashioned hoe for the slaughter. Then I went inside, popped open a cold beer, and patted myself on the back," she said. That was a relief and I thought of giving her a pat on the back the next time we met then thought maybe that's not a good idea cause she might shoot me. She continued, "I went back outside with a camera to take a picture for Winemaker's Journal - and there was a second coral snake, hosting a wake for her partner. It too fell under the swift and deadly hoe attack."

"Sounds like you need another beer."

"A bottle of your wine would be better. When's the next shipment?"

"The Bishop is coming on Sunday and I need to pack up three cases for the Diocese. I'll get you some more after I take care of him."

"Well, hurry up, will you. Besides, you've got quite a following down here asking for more. I tell you, getting close enough to a snake to use a hoe is not what I call fun, and I wouldn't put up for it except I like your wine. They used to call me 'Hot Pistol Pants'. I now have bird shot for my Smith and Wesson. I do hope the snakes around have heard of my reputation and the new box of 22 long rifle bird shot, and they go find another yard to lounge in this year. "

"Connie, you'll be fine. Thanks for defending the Blue-Merle. Remember the Alamo and don't forget what the gophers did to our last, remaining 25-year old kiwi plant. Somebody has to pay."

"Well you be on the lookout for slithering companions," she said, then warned: "I have heard hunters say that snakes can 'smell' or perhaps 'sense' where another snake was killed and will go to that spot. Not sure if that has merit - but I have seen hunters kill a snake and toss it far away. What did you do with yours?"

"Now you tell me. I just threw it over the fence. I guess its relatives will be back soon, right?" I thought for a moment and announced: "I've got an idea...."

Survivor Wino's Edition: Episode I: Installing The Trellis System

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 00:42:00 +0000

There is a code of honor among wineries to assist your neighbors with their crush if you’re finished and they’re not. You’d think there would be competition but the best winemaking regions are those where there is cooperation. So when your neighbor puts out the call for help to install her vineyard, you go. That’s just what you do. (And that’s just the way we’d like to keep it in Blue-Merle Country, thank you.)

Jeff from Fallbrook (a little country town 20 miles up the road) put out the call and we went, joined by the Vineyard Management Class taught by Peter Anderson and Jim Hart who teach vineyard management and winemaking at Mira Costa Community College. This was a so-called “lab” for the “college students” but by the end of it when Jeff generously brought out his 2005, 2006, 2007 Brunellos for a little side-by-side tasting it was beginning to feel like Spring Break and "Survivor: Vineyard Edition for Winos" and I wasn’t feeling much like writing a lab report. Pete probably knows more about viticulture than anyone else in San Diego and Jim is a member of the Hart Family which owns Hart Family Winery in Temecula. Jim is also the Cellar Master for the up and coming Milagro Farm Vineyards & Winery in Ramona, a 100-acre estate worth the trip.

This is what I remember from the “Spring Break” excursion as my notebook only contains 20 words. (I did take 20 pictures, but the video is still in editing as we negotiate the broadcast rights and royalties with CBS for our inaugural season).

There’s more than one way to plant a vineyard. When you ask Pete about what’s the best way to do this? and what’s the best way to do that? his answer is predictably, “It depends.” (We kid him about that answer.) Jeff planted the first part of his vineyard 3 years ago and he’s on 4^th leaf and he’s got his first estate wine stored in a breathable “flex tank” in his winery. He’s used rebar metal poles to stake the vines. (I’ve seen that at some other vineyards. Rebar is strong and works well.) He’s used different kinds of end posts. Some are metal. Some are thick wood (with wire hole bored through the wood). He’s decided to install his posts straight (I suspect he may need anchors in the future.) We will be adding another 8 rows on 1/8^th acre. He’s decided on 8 ft. row spacing on two rows and 6ft. row spacing on the remainder. (If I were planting a home vineyard I would make my row spacing wider than 6ft.) We take turns using a handheld, gas-powered auger to drill straight down 2ft. (If it were my place, I would have drilled in at an angle and tried to go 3 ft., manually digging out the last foot.)

The poles were set by adding gravel and water and tamping dirt back in. No concrete was used. This saved money and Jeff said the clay will set hard. (I have seen several poles at Coyote Karen’s put in straight bend already after three years. At the Blue-Merle we used two bags of concrete per post.) After setting the posts, the team measured out the location for metal guide posts. These were forced into the ground with a “post pounder” by the tall team members. The metal stakes Jeff used were narrow enough so the post pounder fit. (Ours stakes were wider and we couldn’t use the post pounder. When we started to drive our metal stakes into the ground with a sledge hammer, the tops bent. So, we spent much [wasted?] time digging holes for the metal posts at our place.) This was “Habitat for Humanity for Winos” and “Survivor for Winos” rolled into one morning session. Instant vineyard.

We had made much progress and next the team took on irrigation. We dug by shovel a trench 18” deep for the schedule 40 PVC pipe. The pipe cutter didn’t function properly, so one member of the team had an ingenious suggestion: he took a piece of nylon; tied it to two small pieces of pipe which he took in his hand; placed the nylon under the pipe and started pulling, slowly at first, and then once it caught, more rapidly, back and forth as if he were building a fire from sticks. He cut right through the pipe with an elegant Hawaiian cross-over maneuver at the end and I knew I was going to vote to keep him on the vineyard. The rest of us wanted to give that a try so we took turns cutting the pipe and gluing in the T’s and then plugging manifold hose into the T’s which would then be connected to drip line. (I liked the way Jeff used the manifold hose – we spent much [wasted?] time fashioning pressure regulators and cut off valves on each row – the advantage: even pressure at each row and ability to cut off water at each row.)

Just before noon, our work finished for the day, Jeff took us on a tour of his winery and I was impressed and inspired. He had set up a place beneath his house that was wonderful. He had installed a cooling unit (it gets hot in Fallbrook, CA in the summer!) and wine racks to store bottles. He grabbed one of the eight remaining bottles of the first wine he had ever made and we went upstairs for a taste. Everyone had worked hard and earned immunity and deserved a sip of Jeff’s labor. With Jeff sharing his wine so generously he earned my vote to keep him on the show for another week. The survivors will gather again at Jeff’s place this Saturday to plant the vines and finish the job and hold their tribal council. Tune in next week to see what happens and to take the Wino's Survivor Quiz to see if you've got what it takes to appear in a future episode.

Pruning Primer

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 13:54:00 +0000

There have been a few distractions these winter months highlighted by the Winos’ Inaugural Ball, the Gopher Wars, running into the Law in Texas and numerous wine tastings for vineyardistas. Concurrently, silently, the vines have been storing water and nutrients and pushing this life force fluid up their trunks and out their cordon arms bursting buds and sending forth new shoots. Spring is here and it’s back to the vineyard.

We started pruning on the last Saturday in January and finished on Saturday February 14^th, Valentine’s Day, and I gave the Queen who runs this place and who did her fair share of the pruning (which required my fair share of redoing) a bouquet of “cuttings” – grape stick canes which placed into the ground will sprout new vines if given a little water. And a little water we had. As we pruned, winter returned and we were hailed on, sleeted on, rained on and I had not been this wet since I was a student at the University of Washington in Seattle and biked to school. The wines were quite happy and you could see them swell before your eyes and when you cut with the shears tears flowed through the xylem dripping on the vine, the ground and coagulating around the wound. The ground was wet and we dug holes and placed Nova Vines dormant, bench grafted Tempranillo on 101-14 root stock into the wet clay, planting each one carefully as a rose, first building a mound under the roots, then spreading the roots. I miscalculated the number of vines needed and we thrust a few of the hard cuttings straight into mother earth. (It will be interesting to see which grows better – the cuttings or the grafted vines on rootstock. Phylloxera is not a problem here so cuttings may have their advantage, unless you’re trying to inhibit vigor of a vigorous vine. However, vineyard consultant Frank Bons has observed some vines on their natural root stock cannot handle stress as well as grafted vines.) I made a couple of clay mud pies– which I hadn’t done since I was a kid in North Carolina—and sculpted smooth, red berms around the rims of the holes.

We in Southern California have finished our pruning while you in the wintry north may still face the task. We made many mistakes our first year pruning, which we avoided this year. Fortunately, vines are almost as forgiving as a Saint and survived our mistakes.

Pruning is one of the most important activities in the vineyard … you are making decisions which will impact your yield and also maintenance. How many buds to leave? How much space to leave between spurs? Do I need to replace this cordon? Which canes to keep? And, in the case of new vines (which we have at the Blue-Merle Vineyard) you are making decisions about the shape and structure of the vine. As one of the missions of Winemaker’s Journal is to openly share my mistakes so you may avoid them, the rest of this is intended for the would-be grape grower. (Besides, Joe the Wino is on vacation in Cabo San Lucas so there's nothing interesting to write about him this week. Next week, Joe and the Cast will be back for the premier of Survivor: Vineyard Edition.)

The most important thing to remember about pruning vines is that next year’s grapes come from last year’s new shoots.

Pruning: End of First Year

There are three common scenarios you will face when pruning vines during the winter after the first year when developing a cordon system:

1) Cutting the vine back to two buds (from the bottom). In effect, starting over. Doing this ensures a very strong trunk the next year, and therefore, a healthy vine.

2) Bending the vine over, if you have a single-arm cordon system, and cutting the arm at the beginning of the next vine. (We have several hundred vines on 3-ft. spacing with single arm cordons). This should only be done when:

a.The trunk is strong
b.The arm is at least as thick as a pencil
The bending of the vine can take place at the end of the growing season, if the vine has reached beyond the top of the trellis system and can be bent over without breaking. (Note, new shoots can be fragile, which you’ll find out very quickly after you’ve broken a few!)

3) Topping the vine just below the cordon wire to encourage growth of two arms (or one arm if you have a “one arm” cordon system). Be sure and top "below" the wire, which makes it easier to train the shoots which will become the cordon.

An unlikely scenario is that you have a vigorous vine which has grown so much, and by chance, there are two strong shoots going in opposite direction to make a cordon. (This occurred about 7% of the time with our vines which had vigorous root stocks.) So, we kept what nature had given us. (Check in next year to see what happened.)

In the case of “head pruning”, what you do the first year depends on your objectives. You may cut back to two buds if growth has not been vigorous. If you’ve had good growth, you may decide to cut back to the level of the base height you desire for the vine. For example, 2 ft. or 3ft. off of the ground, depending on your objectives.

Common Mistakes for the Novice:

* Not cutting back to two buds when there has not been enough growth.

* Not topping the vine at the top, in a feeble attempt to make a cordon when there has not been enough growth.

* Pruning the vine “above” the cordon wire instead of below. (It’s easier to form a cordon when the shoots are coming up from below. We broke many shoots a year ago when trying to form a cordon because we pruned above the wire. Ouch!)

*Bending over the vines during the summer of the first year in a bi-lateral cordon system, resulting in strong growth on one cordon arm and a very weak other arm. (You will end up cutting off the weak arm anyhow, so save yourself the trouble by topping the vine when pruning the first year.)

Helpful hints:

When pruning the end of a vine, cut it through the node (to prevent growth).

When bending a cane (a cane is a one year old shoot which doesn’t have “wood” on it), take both hands and place them by the point of the bend to gently “crack” the cane between the nodes. This will avoid breaking the cane when bending it.

If you need to propagate a new vine, you can bend a shoot over into the ground to start a new vine (as opposed to planting a baby vine in case a new one is unavailable).

Seeding a “cover crop” between rows is recommended.

Pruning 2^nd Year Vines

If starting the year from two buds, refer to end of first year above.

If starting the year with a single trunk at the top of the wire then you may be:

Selecting the best cordon, from two or more possibilities.

Pruning “bull canes”

Creating some “spurs”

Where there has not been enough growth for a spur, pruning back to single buds along the cordon wire.

Where you have “wood” from first year growth:

Creating “spurs”

Leaving “spurs” at the desired distance

In the case of head pruning, this would be similar to pruning a rose bush – but leaving buds so grapes may be harvested in year three.

Cane Pruning is a technique where there is not a permanent cordon – you bend down a renewal cane each year on the fruiting wire to bear fruit.

At the Blue-Merle Vineyard there were approximately 900 2^nd year vines and 250 first year vines to prune. When pruning, we sterilized our pruning shears after each vine in a mixture of Clorox and water.

To save time, we left the cuttings in the trellis system, allowing us to move more quickly between vines. Because of the warm winter we had, there was much fluid in the vines, which “bled” after we cut them, in some cases quite a lot. The canes that we left to “hang” dripped sap on the cordon arms below.

Because important pruning decisions are made with young vines, our goal is to “think twice and cut once.”

It is clear that our Aglianico vines – on a more moderate root stock – are not ready for fruit this, our 3^rd year ("third leaf") – although we expect a crop from the Tempranillo, Grenache and Petit Sirah.

On Saturday, February 21^st, we sprayed the mildew prone vines with a mixture of dormant spray (main ingredient a pungent sulphur) and oil. We purchased this from Grangetto’s, and in small quantity, a permit is not required. The mixture is 4 oz of dormant spray and 1 oz of oil per gallon of water. With a 4-gallon back pack sprayer, that meant 16 oz of dormant spray (or ½ of the bottle) and 4 oz of “oil.” This must be applied when the vines are dormant, without green leaves. I was able to cover the whole vineyard with two rounds. The spray is highly caustic and extreme care must be taken to avoid contact with eyes and breathing. The technique is to “soak” the vines, and I found the mixture dripping off the cordon. The cost of 32 ounces of dormant spray and oil is about $12 each. To purchase in larger quantities (and at a lower price) requires a license.

Our neighbor Coyote Karen and ourselves have not been attacked (yet) by powdery mildew, and so we are not on rigorous spraying programs, yet. (We have good airflow and wide spacings between rows -- well most rows except for two or three.) Merlot Mike, on the other hand, is on a rigorous spraying program and is able to keep the fungus at bay. At Mike’s vineyard the vines are packed together, creating conditions ripe for mildew. But at the Blue-Merle, rows are widely spaced, and we have strong “drying” breezes coming off the Pacific. We are also thinning shoots to maintain adequate space (about 7 inches or the width of your hand when you make the "Hook 'em Horn" sign of the Texas Longhorns), so stay tuned to see how long we can go without spraying and if the shoot thinning creates a vigor problem. If it's not one thing with a vineyard, there's always another.

New World vs. Old World Shoot Out at Blue-Merle Vineyard: Surprising Results

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 03:43:00 +0000

The Queen hummed a tune in the manner of a Dr. Seuss song:

"That Fidel I am,
That Fidel I am,
I do not like that Fidel I am."

As everyone knows, what you think about most of the time comes true and Fidel appeared waddling up the driveway. It had been almost a year since they last met when she fired him and took over management of the vineyard herself.

"Hey, senorita, ¿Cómo estás?"

"Hey Fidel, don't you senorita me. What the hell do you want?"

"May I have some of your lemons?"

"Can you set some gopher traps?" So a cease fire was arranged whereby Fidel set 5 gopher traps and took 5 lbs. of lemons, tangelos, oranges and limes. Normally he charged $10 per gopher (carrying around the same used-gopher-carcass from vineyard to vineyard collecting his bounty), but he was dreaming of margaritas that evening and offered his services in exchange for citrus.

When I got home from my daytime job she told me about her encounter with Fidel. I was glad to see they had reached a detente of sorts in their cold war. Bluey and I went out to inspect the traps.

Now Fidel is the legendary gopher trapper of Blue-Merle Country, and it's not for nothing that he could make a living catching the varmints. He certainly relishes the victorious hunt, celebrating by stringing up the victims on fence, tree or trellis as a warning to other gophers: don't you dare. The Fidel "technique" is to find an hole, clear it open and set some weeds as bait. This is totally at odds with the theories of Macadamia Bruce, who insists on finding a "main road" and setting traps in both directions and never uses any weeds as bait. Now I have never seen Macadamia Bruce's captured gophers, but I have seen Fidel's. Fidel is in the Mexican version of the Guinness Book of World Records for his prowess, and he does it by setting a single trap at the end of a tunnel.

As I inspected Fidel's traps, it seemed to me that they were not set deeply inside the tunnels. Also, it seemed he had selected squirrel holes for two of the traps. What was worse, there was an area at the top of the hill in the Aglianico bloc with recent gopher markings and no trap set. So, I decided at that point to challenge Fidel. Novice vs. expert. Student vs. teacher. New world vs. Old World, to see who could catch Mr. Gopher. Bluey and I set our own trap and as it was getting dark called it quits and retired for the evening.

The next day (last Friday afternoon to be exact), Bluey and I went on patrol to inspect the traps. First, we visited Fidel's. Not only were there no gophers, there were no bites. Nada. Then, we checked the trap we had set, and there he was, Mr. pesky Gopher, deceased. What a way to begin the weekend! Fresh from our first round victory mano a mano against Senor Fidel we headed to our neighborhood Belle Marie Winery carrying bottles of Petit Verdot, Petit Verdot Plus and Petit-Petit wine for a little wine shoot out, after setting a couple of more gopher traps in other areas of the vineyard.

The next day, Bluey and I were out vineyarding and inspecting the traps and there were still no bites at Fidel's traps and we noticed that we had caught a gopher in the Grenache area from the trap we set the day before (that's two in two days and an auspicious continuing for a really good weekend). Just as Bluey was pulling on the chain to get the gopher out of the hole Coyote Karen called, offering us some brownies and mint-chocolate cake. Would we like any?

"Would you like us to come over and catch some gophers for you? Only $10/head!"

"How about a bottle of wine per gopher?" It's the new economic age of bartering.

"Deal."

The score after two rounds of the shoot-out: Gringo 2: Fidel 0. I reset the traps.

Bluey and I went out on patrol early this evening carrying a shovel which I used to strike at weeds along the way and we inspected Fidel's traps and there were still no gophers nor any bites. So I took out his traps and used the shovel to fill in the holes so the gophers would have to work if they tried to come back that way. Bluey went up ahead of me and took up position where I had set my last trap Sunday evening and by his stance I suspected that we had caught another one. Damn. 3 gophers in 3 days. I guess we had caught this one on Sunday and it was now Tuesday evening and he was a little gamy and Bluey had tugged on the chain pulling him out of the hole (good dog) without eating him (good dog). Now the Queen had gone to Japan on Friday carrying with her a case of the Blue-Merle's finest wine to find us a distributor and to host wine tastings in the Land of the Rising Sun as our wine is enjoyed from Texas to Oklahoma, from Connecticut to Japan, and since she was gone there hasn't been much to eat and I was thinking that a little gopher stew might be pretty good. But as this one was riper than road kill we threw it over the fence for the coyotes.

Thoughts were going through my head: 3 gophers in 3 days. America shuts out Mexico in Gopher Championships 3 - 0! Outlaw winemaker declared gopher champion in Blue-Merle Country. Boy, would the Queen be proud of me. And as I had these I heard voices of the Three Priests who warned me that perhaps I shouldn't be so proud. That perhaps the good, gracious Lord might just put a little rattlesnake in the next gopher hole I stuck my hand in, so with gracious, humble, humility in mind I walked down the Rue Jean Baptiste -- the road we had made straight and level in the hills -- with shovel in hand scraping weeds as I walked and there he was on the side of this main path feeling warm against a short concrete wall. What is it the experts say? What you think about most of the time comes true. I raised the shovel and made a positive identification of the tail before striking. The temperatures had climbed well above 70 degrees this afternoon, this almost first day of Spring and the rattlesnake had come out of hibernation. Bluey was a few steps away from me and I had been thinking of enrolling him in a rattlesnake avoidance class and used this opportunity to teach him about "bad" Mr. Snake and to "leave it" while allowing him to experience the scent from a safe distance.

I gave thanks for our blessings and in the manner of Disney's Country Bear Jamboree I sang a little country tune as I washed my device of self-defense:

"Blood on the shovel,
Blood on the sha-a-a-a-ovel...."

I looked at the the snake and remembered I was running out of food with the Queen being in Japan and thought that this would make a pretty good meal and it was fresh. In order not to offend our gentle readers I will simply state that I have been to China and I have eaten Chinese food and fried snake is good (and grandpa has eaten it too and even drunk the bile and has had a good long life) and if Ms. Connie from SouthTexas had been here she would have enjoyed it and I'll leave the rest of the story to your imagination.

Blue-Merle Country Pot Luck & Wine Blending

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 03:36:00 +0000

The neighbors of Blue-Merle Country held a pot-luck the other night in our local community center and I discovered the recipe for a future wine blend. I volunteered to bring some wine (which was already made) to the dinner, but was asked to make a dessert. Being busy chasing gophers, and mildew spraying, and weeding, and planting new vines, and repairing broken trellis systems, filling out tax forms and cutting down overgrown trees in the middle of the vineyard, and giving tours and tastings to passers-by, I'm not a person who has much time for making desserts on a Saturday afternoon. I thought I would whip together one of my "persimmon puddings" (one very ripe persimmon, an egg, some flour, some baking soda, some milk), but as we only have ONE persimmon left from the fall harvest, and as it is the Queen's, at the last moment I substituted a Myers lemon (of which we have an abundance) and a couple of diced kumquats (of which we have an abundance) and one tangelo (of which we have an abundance). I put in two eggs this time and set the oven for 425 degrees. I must say, it came out well, and had I added a white sauce and Grand Mariner, then the dessert would have been ambrosia. As it was, I did bring back and empty plate back from the event so someone must have liked it.

I brought a bottle of 2007 Petit Verdot to the pot-luck along with my dessert and my friend Joe the Wino brought a bottle of 2006 "Merletage" which was a blend of 2006 Blue-Merlot (80%) with 20% Nebbiolo. Joe's wife -- who I love to death -- is a generous person, and it's interesting to see her bring her own wine to these events (she's loathe to drink the house wine). She honored me by bringing a bottle of our wine, and since our Queen had drunk all of our '06 wine, Joe and his wife had the last 6 bottles in the world. I would gladly pay them $100/bottle for it.

"Joe, I remember the first time we met. You came to our open house two years ago when we planted our vineyard. You sat your sorry ass on a barrel of our best wine and kept dipping the turkey baster into it and pulling yourself a glass. 'Who in the Sam hell is that?' we asked ourselves."

He demurred, as if still suffering from that long ago hangover.

"After the blessing of the vines and the party had ended we found a bottle of Nickel & Nickel's best Napa Valley wine which you had left as a present and we said, 'Well, I don't know who the hell he is but he's my kind of guy to leave a bottle of wine like that.' The rest is history my friend. Here, please try a sip of this," and I poured him and his wife a jigger from the 2007 Blue-Merle Petit Verdot which he'd never tasted and which is not yet released.

"Smooth," said Joe's wife, but she wasn't doing cartwheels. And neither were Coyote Karen and Celestial Sandra -- they said it was nice but it didn't get me any hugs. Disappointed, I went to the bar and had a sip of all the house wines, then poured me a sample of the "Merleatage" Joe and his wife brought and had a sip. I was hit by the tannins. This one stood out. "Joe, try this," I said filling his glass.

He had a sip, and proclaimed, "This is the best wine here."

I thought I would have some fun and I went over to the Coyote who was pouring her own wine, and I suggested, "Let's play the Gustavo game." Gustavo is the name of the character in the movie "Bottle Shock" who can identify the type of grape in any bottle of wine. (It is an amazing ability.) The Coyote poured first. I took a sniff and a taste and I recognized the grape:

"Brunello, 2007, Bill Schweitzer's vineyard, Ramona." I was dead on (but won no money, only bragging rights). Then I poured her the "Merleatage." She liked it but didn't recognize it. "I'll give you a hint," I said. "You know the grapes." She still couldn't guess it, which surprised me, as this is the woman with the million $ pallet for whom $50 is a cheap wine. "It's 80% Merlot Mike's grapes and 20% Camillo's Nebbillo." She had made wine with the same grapes herself, yet couldn't recognize them.

I went back to the bar and poured myself another glass of the Merlatage, and did a more thorough taste test. The wine did stand out, but it could benefit from additional aging. I told Joe to cellar the remaining bottles for another two years. Then, I tried a little experiment: I poured some of the 2007 Petit Verdot I brought into the same glass as the "Merleatage" Merlot/Nebbiolo blend. Now that was good. I brought some to Celestial Sandra. "Try this." She sipped and approved. Then, I darted over to the Coyote. Now, we had played the "Gustavo Game," but there is a new measure of the worthiness of wine I call the "Gustavo Scale" -- this is when a woman loves the wine you give her so much she throws herself around your neck and offers a passionate kiss as a reward. With that in mind, I brought the serendipity blend to the Coyote.

Now it's not for nothing that we call her The Coyote. Of course, her vineyard is infested with the critters who try to snatch her grapes. This vineyardista is Coyote beautiful, proven by the howls of coyote, dogs and men alike in admiration of her feminine charms, and I had found the aphrodisiac to unleash her womanly affections.

"I like it," she said. Well that was a start, although there were no public displays of affection. With tail between my legs, and with a recipe for a blend that I know would work (3/4 Petit Verdot, 1/4 Merlot) I shuttled back over to Joe. "What's new my friend?"

"I went down to the County government to get a permit for my wine cellar." Joe had built a cellar into the side of a hill. It was magnificent, and I love to go there. Everyone loves to go there. "The government official said, 'We have a problem.'

"'What's that?' I had been trying to get that permit for almost two years now.

"'Wine is flammable.' So what? I said to myself and kept listening. 'You're going to need to add another door to your cellar.'"

Joe was dumbfounded. His cellar is buried underground. To add a back door would require major expense. It's as if the County of San Diego had never needed to give someone a permit for a wine cellar before. This is not a good sign for the County's future as an emerging wine making region.

Joe replied coolly to the County Official: "Let me tell you something. We just had a fire rage through here less than 2 years ago and I lost more than $2.5 million in property damage including my home. The fire passed right over the underground wine cellar without any damage at all, and without any increase in temperature. And now you're telling me that I need to add a back door to my wine cellar because wine is flammable and without a back door people could be trapped in the case of a fire?"

"Yes sir."

At that point I couldn't help throw Joe a jab: "Well, if Obama was head of the County, he'd clear this up and San Diego would be on it's way to becoming a major wine producer." Joe hates Obama, but now he hates the County government worse.

Macadamia Bruce joined us. I asked him what's new? "I'm looking for a squaw to marry."

"Why's that?"

"The Indians have just invested $300 million in a golf course that rivals St. Andrews and Pebble Beach combined. If you're a member of the tribe, you play for free."

I asked him how many gophers he'd caught this year and confessed that I had only got one in January. He promised to come over and give me a hand.

The next day, Sunday, I was finishing up my spraying and checking the gopher traps and Merlot Mike came by in his Gator. Well, wouldn't you know that I would find a melting gopher carcass in one of the traps as Mike pulled up. "I should have known you were on your way. I always catch a gopher everytime you visit." Mike had a guest and either they were pressed for time or he was feeling chicken and didn't want to take the vineyard plunge driving his Gator down our vineyard. "I hear we're getting a lot of TV coverage from the tour de California bike race going on," Mike said.

I reminded him: "The real tour is taking place here after Lance Armstrong crosses the finish line in the bike race. I've invited all of them to come up here on their mountain bikes to try tackling the Blue-Merle Vineyard."

Merlot Mike went on his way and I went back to setting more gopher traps and Macadamia Bruce, who had not visited here since we first probed the irrigation system 2.5 years ago came by. He wanted to teach me how to set gopher traps. So I took him to where I had set a trap and low and behold, there he was, Mr. Gopher, dead meat as fresh as he could be. Happiness is catching a gopher when your friend comes to visit. Priceless. And Bluey was ecstatic.

"You were lucky," Bruce said. "You put that trap at the end of a tunnel. You need to find their main road, and set two traps, one in each direction." He went on to explain that you don't need to use mustard greens as bait. "They're not hungry. They want to repair their holes." He also suggested setting the traps between where the males are digging and the females are hanging out -- because you know the little [expletive deleted -- a derogatory word to used to describe Mr. Gopher in the act of procreation with Mrs. Gopher] is going back there at the end of the day."

We went up to "Gazebo Hill" and inspected another trap I had set. (Nothing yet.) Then went over to the Protea Garden where Mr. Gopher's friends were running wild. Bruce found a tunnel, and set a trap in each direction. When I came back Monday morning to inspect, nothing. A few days later, when I inspected the traps I had set, I found a very gamely, disintegrating, rotten, Mr. Gopher. The final tally, three gophers in one weekend. I was gaining ground. As we used to sing as kids:

"Great big globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts
Mutilated monkey meat...."

February rains caused flashbacks to the days I lived in Seattle and biked in storms to college, but the cold has given rise to Southern California Spring, or at least a false Spring. Purple lilac blossoms decorate the wild countryside while in the vineyards, the great wave of bud break where green shoots emerge from bark has begun as the first pop of pop-corn and a the wave from San Diego to Temecula to Santa Barbara to Lodi to Paso Robles to Napa Valley to the North Coast to Oregon to Washington state ripples up the coast. Bud break in America begins. Here.

Blue-Merle Winery Donates Wine for Episcopal Community Services To Auction For the Needy

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 04:34:00 +0000

(San Diego, CA -- February 24) The Blue-Merle Winery announced it will donate a case of wine to be auctioned by Episcopal Community Services (ECS) to raise funds to educate, feed and serve the needy. "Bidding for the 2006 Nebbiolo will start at $35/bottle," said Craig Justice, business manager for the Blue-Merle. "This is the same wine that was served to Presiding Bishop The Most Reverend Katharine Jefferts Schori during her state visit to San Diego last year -- if it is good enough for the Presiding Bishop, the Pope, and CEOs then the wealthy should pay dearly for the privilege of a sip. Not only will purchasers be treated to a unique fine wine, but their money will go for a good cause," Justice said. It is rumoured that the Bishop will grant indulgences to patrons who drink wine purchased from the ECS auction, reducing their time spent in Purgatory by one week for each bottle purchased.

The agreement for the Blue-Merle to donate wine for the auction was reached at a ceremony to install a new priest at Grace Church San Marcos, CA last week. Justice arrived late to the festivities (on account of driving back from Los Angeles) and snuck into a back pew where he found his old friend Joe the Wino, whom he hadn't seen since they flew to Texas the week before and ran into the law. "Joe, good to see you. How's W?"

"Pretty good, considering. He's looking for work." Joe had flown to Texas for a little golf and hunting with President Bush. After whispering civilities, the two settled back down for the ceremonies to officially welcome a new priest to the church. The Bishop of San Diego was there, and the assistant Bishop, and the "Three Priests" mentioned in previous posts of this blog were there (although one was participating via prayer telepathy).

The Assistant Bishop (with the fancy title Canon of the Ordinary) got up to give the sermon with Joe saying, "Why is she speaking?" Joe had come to hear The Man preach, not his woman assistant.

"Joe, she's smart enough to run your company, let alone the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego." Joe was one of those blue-blooded Episcopalians who had been born into the church and stayed with it because you're allowed to drink wine and they host great potlucks. Yet, he still hasn't gotten over the fact the church allows women priests.

When it was time for the congregation to pray for their political leaders and the President, as everyone else said "President Obama" Joe said "Palin."

"Joe, why is it that you could vote for Palin to be Vice President and not be in favor of a woman as head of the Church?" He mumbled something about the country heading in the wrong direction. After finishing our prayers, we passed the peace. Joe and I don't always agree, but we're good friends and we agree to disagree.

After the ceremony, I handed the new priest a bottle of wine, saying, "The people are thirsty. Quench their thirst." The Bishop grabbed my arm telling me there was someone he wanted me to meet. He introduced me to the head of ECS. "What do you do?" she asked.

"I'm the self proclaimed winemaker to the Bishop. How may I help you?" She explained how they were planning to host a wine tasting and an auction, and I said count me in. One of the Bishop's non-clerical staff remarked, "We love the wine. Of course we had to taste it to make sure it was good. It was so good someone suggested we should keep it instead of give it to the poor churches." Of course, they decided to do the right thing and distributed it to the churches.

I promised to provide extra bottles this year in addition to the tithe so that each staff member will have their own bottle, to avoid bringing temptation upon the church.

Mexican Wine: Si! Por Favor!

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 22:42:00 +0000

National Public Radio's Weekend Edition featured a story today about Mexican wine. As a "boutique" winemaker in San Diego, CA we have known about good wines coming out of Mexico for years. Guadeloupe Valley in Baja, Mexico is about one hour south of San Diego. Many San Diego winemakers (including ourselves) purchase grapes grown by Camillo in Baja sent up by refrigerated truck. In fact, our neighborhood Belle Marie Winery features outstanding wines made almost exclusively from Camillo's best Baja grapes. (I remember the first time I visited Belle Marie some ten years ago -- I was sceptical. But after the first sip, I was hooked and have been a big fan ever since.) One issue I have with the NPR story is the taste test -- an ordinary $10 Nebbiolo wine from Baja's Cetto Winery was chosen to compete against a $50 Nebbiolo from Italy and another wine in a blind tasting. This selection put the Mexican wine at a disadvantage -- it would have been like Steven Spurrier offering "Gallo" wine to the French at the 1976 shoot out in France. In 2006 we made a Nebbiolo wine from Camillo's grapes (which Mick from Belle Marie, a real supporter of the local winemakers in Blue-Merle Country, was generous enough to share with us) that is suited for Kings, Queens, company presidents and Popes. I gave a case of it to the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego, which thought so highly of it that they served it to the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church during her visit to San Diego last year. Everyone raves about the wine. And, as all winemakers know, "You can't make good wine from lousy grapes." Thank you Camillo (who I will put up against any grape grower in the world for his contributions to viticulture) and to the Baja Winemakers, I salute you!

Outlaw Winemaker Runs Into "The Law" in Texas. Was Justice Served?

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 06:49:00 +0000

I am an outlaw winemaker, who ran into the long arm of “the law” in Texas. Was justice served? Was Justice able to serve wine to his fans? And what is it that Texas women keep hidden in their boots? To find out the answers to these questions and more keep reading.

I was born to be an outlaw. When my fugitive ancestors (distillers of illegal Scotch) fled to this country from Scotland, they changed their surname to “Justice” to throw the law off of their trail. They settled in North Carolina and took up tobacco farming and moon-shining.

I have no license from the TTB (that’s the Federal bureau that regulates alcohol). And I don’t know my ABCs (that’s the state bureau in California that regulates alcohol). The real reason I did not attend President Obama’s inauguration and stayed on the farm allowing responsibilities of state to pass by is my confirmation hearing would have gone like this:

Senator: “When is the last time you mailed alcoholic beverages across state lines without a license?”
Answer: “Your honor, I don’t recall ever mailing alcohol across state lines. We normally ship things via Fed Ex. If I had shipped wine to a friend, I wouldn’t be able to recall because our quality procedures require me to do a thorough tasting first and I would have tasted quite a lot and not remembered a thing.”

Senator: “Why is it that your tax return doesn’t show withholding of social security taxes from the illegal aliens you hired at your vineyard?”
Answer: “Your honor, I use the same tax advisor as our Honorable Secretary of the Treasury, so I’ll let him answer that question. But, for the record, we don’t hire aliens – we only hire human beings.”

So, while the rest of you were at the inauguration – or watching it on TV -- Bluey and I stayed home and threw a “Wino’s Ball” in our garage opening up the barrels for the coyotes, grasshoppers and black widows who came. I called my friend and neighbor Joe the Wino to join us. “Joe, we’re having a little shindig over here to celebrate the new era. Why don’t you drop on by?”
He was livid. “This country’s headed in the wrong direction.” Before he hung up on me I interjected, “Joe, I’ve got a suggestion. Since you’re convinced your taxes are going up, why don’t you leave the US? Come with me to Texas this Friday. You can visit W. while I attend a software expo and pour wine. What do you say?” Joe, who owns a high-tech company in San Diego, thought that was a good idea and suggested we go in his jet and bring Bluey along for the ride.

Without Joe, the “Wino’s Ball” carried on as best we could and when it became clear at dawn that Barrack and Michelle would not be able to attend this time, we topped off the barrels and started packing our bags to go to Texas, where we were organizing a wine tasting for our fans. Yes, Texas.

Bluey and I make a pretty mean wine. In the words of “Armadillo” Dave, a transplanted Texan who now lives in the Santa Cruz appellation, “F_ __[expletive deleted] this wine is good!” Armadillo Dave and his buddies call it “outlaw” wine, naturally, and they love it. After Dave made his comments, I suspected that we had a brew that Willy Nelson and his friends from New Braunfels would appreciate and made plans to conquer Texas with the Blue-Merle--what Texan could resist the charms of our Longhorn-herding-canine and award-winning winemaker? Bluey and Outlaw, headed to Texas. Hee haw!

Recently, as our faithful readers have noticed, the Winemaker’s Journal has descended into debauchery writing on such prurient topics as “Sex in the Vineyard” and “How to Pick-Up a Vineyardista.” Recently, I friended three priest friends on Facebook who have since become subscribers to this Journal. They did not voluntarily subscribe, mind you; I laid guilt-trips on them. I reminded them of the years of Sundays I was tortured by their sermons, and, if they wanted to keep receiving periodic shipments of our wine for communion and their Sunday dinners, they’d better sign-up as subscribers. (I am now convinced that hell on earth for a priest is having to read the weekly sermonizing of one of their parishioners.)

With clergy now making up the majority of readers of Winemaker’s Journal, I experienced an epiphany and realized it was time to clean up my act. First, I appointed myself “Winemaker to the Bishop”, donating a tithe of all the wine we make to the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego and the Rt. Reverend James Mathes. Next, I vowed to repent the sins of licentious writing and outlaw living to follow a righteous path, and, to get the permits I need to sell wine legally. With these resolutions in mind, I boarded Joe the Wino’s Lear jet and we took off for the Grand Hyatt hotel in Austin, Texas with a case of the Blue-Merle’s finest in the cargo hold and Bluey himself at the cockpit controls as soon as we crossed over Mexico. I brought Bluey’s airman goggles and scarf so he could pretend to be Snoopy, the World War I fighting ace chasing the cursed Red Barron, dive bombing against gophers in the vineyard and shooting the terrorists down from the skies.

As we entered Texas airspace over El Paso, I asked Joe, “With the recession and everything, is your board of directors giving you any problems about keeping this jet?”
“Naw, I pay their salaries, so there’s been no griping at all.” He then gave me some facts about fuel economy. “With all the rounds of golf I play, I walk about 900 miles per year. “ Then he asked, “About how many gallons of wine, beer and moonshine do I buy from you each year?”
“I’m not sure, but I’d guess about 20 gallons.”
“Well, don’t you see?” Joe asks. “With those 20 gallons of alcohol I get 900 miles on the golf course. That’s 45 miles per gallon – you could call me a regular hybrid!” Joe bursts out laughing. He thinks he’s funny – my friend Jon sent me that joke on the internet last week too-- but since it’s his jet, I must admit he’s pretty funny too.

Joe flew off to Waco to meet W. after dropping Bluey and me in Austin. After checking into the hotel, we decided to check out the town since the night was still young so we crossed the bridge and headed to 6th Street where we took in the late show at “Esther’s Follies” which had Bluey howling at their songs and good humor. Walking the streets of Austin several bands paid homage to the Blue-Merle inviting him into their venues for a sip of wine and a dollop of music. There were moments when we felt like we were in little India and little Beijing as University of Texas students and international techies crowded the cafes and streets. I could see why Joe came here to recruit talent – you could roll a bowling ball down the street and hit ten geniuses. Here is an engine of future economic growth. Unlike the me generation of the US with its entitlements to BMWs financed by excessive venture capital (which has dried up in this recession), one rising class of entrepreneurs will be represented by Indian and Chinese immigrants who live on practically nothing as they boot strap their fledgling businesses.

I had come to Texas to attend a national meeting of sales reps of SHI Inc., known as Software House International, experts at software, hardware and integration, not to mention partying after hours. These are good people who service software buyers throughout the country and I was glad to be there to show them our company’s software. With some 50 other vendors in attendance, I knew we would stand out from the crowd by offering a little country hit from our little winery in Blue-Merle Country. To help me out, I hired me a professional wine pourer from San Antonio, Ms. Connie, known as the quickest pourer in the West. She pours a mean glass of wine, has more gun-powder in her personality than Annie Oakley and has a wicked gift of the gab to entertain the guests with the wine while I washed their brains with my software. When the Blue-Merle sets up its wine distribution in Texas later this year, she’s the one tapped to be in charge.

While setting up before the event some of the SHI reps came up and greeted me with hugs. “What’s that for?” I asked. “We heard you brought your wine,” they’d say. “Well come on back during the show and I’ll pour you an extra glass for that hug.” The strategy was working.
Just after Ms. Connie suggested we keep a low profile – lest there be some obscure Texas laws we run up against – the Banquet Manager, who had been so helpful during set-up finding me a power supply and extension cord—come up to me with a lovely smile. She looked like she was ready for a quick pour.
“I heard that you’re planning to serve wine?”
“I cannot tell a lie to one as beautiful as the Yellow Rose of Texas.”
“Well you can’t.” She went on to explain that there was a bar being operated by the hotel in the same banquet room as the SHI event and there was a law that prevented us from pouring our outlaw wine in the same room where the licensed bar was operating. “We can’t allow co-mingling of the wine.”
“Do you allow co-mingling of guests?”
“If you want to invite guests up to your room for a private wine tasting, that’s allowed.”
Now that was an interesting proposition. I could see it now, telling everyone who came to our table top to see the software: Private wine tasting in my room after the show, room 1402, with a view of the river, Austin City Lights and the State Capital building. I asked the manager, “What time do you get off work?”
“4:30 a.m.”
“Perfect, we’ll have a sip before I catch my plane.” So not wanting to mess with Texas, I put the cork back into the bottle and the manager left. “Connie,” I asked, “Was that a yes?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look, now that I’m living a straight and righteous life, if my mouth escapes my brain and invites you up for a private wine tasting please slap me!”

I gathered up some boxes that couldn’t fit under the table top and took them to the 14th floor room to get them out of the way. I was riding down the elevator on the way back to the exposition when it stopped at the 5th floor and in walked a strawberry blonde with a glass of Merlot. “Miss, did you know that you’re in violation of Texas alcohol laws?”
“Do you mean walking around in public with an open container?”
“No, something more serious than that. Co-mingling. You’re carrying around a glass of wine and the hotel has a bar serving wine and it’s not allowed for you to have your own glass.” I then gave her my elevator speech about how I was an outlaw winemaker and was planning of having a legal wine tasting in my room after the exposition. (The astute reader will note that I did not invite her for a private tasting although I certainly thought of inviting her to Merlot Mike’s next wish crush where she could supervise and define the making of “fine Merlot.”)

Back at the exposition the sales reps made their rounds and my outlaw instincts resurfaced as I thought of discretely pouring from a bottle to our fans. It would be good for my outlaw image. I reminded myself that the 3-pri ests would be reading this (if not watching) and I survived the temptation. We demonstrated the software for the next three hours and held a raffle for the bottles of wine and we were so busy there was no time to eat. As soon as the bar closed at 9pm I looked at Ms. Connie and I proposed that we enjoy a well deserved dinner at our little table top display so she rustled up some meat from the carving station and some fromage from the cheese station and some crackers from another station and we sat down at our little table as the other vendors were tearing their displays down around us. I placed a candle on the table while Ms. Connie reached down and pulled a bottle of the Blue-Merle’s finest Petit Verdot Plus right out of her boot and poured a round for us and a few lingering sales reps.

“So that’s what you Texas gals keep in your boots!” She corrected me explaining that down in the no country for old men where she lives not far from Tommy Lee Jones a woman’s more likely to keep a revolver in her boot than a bottle of wine.

My phone rang at 4:30am and I remembered my date with the banquet manager. “It’s time to get up you lazy cowboy.” It was Joe the Wino.
“You told me to meet you at the airport at eight. What’s going on?”
“W and I are going hunting this morning. Wanna join us?”
“Is Dick Cheney gonna be there?”
“Hold on, let me check.” A few seconds later, “W says Dick’s gonna be there.”
“Look, give W my best, but Bluey can’t stay still if he sees a bird. He’s a wine dog, and W doesn’t drink. Besides, I gotta get back home and get this pruning started.” So Bluey and Outlaw left Texas, without breaking the laws, much, and started the task of cutting, twisting, bending and tying the vines.

(Will the vines get pruned before bud burst? Will it ever rain again in Southern California? Will Texas Rangers raid the Blue-Merle ranch? What will Joe the Wino say next? Will Bluey catch Mr. Gopher before he meets Mrs. Gopher and baby gophers over-run Blue-Merle Country? Be sure to tune in next week for the continuing adventures of Outlaw and Bluey to find out.)

Weeding Before The Inauguration

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 05:14:00 +0000

While the rest of you outside of Southern California are huddled by fires (or freezing your private-parts off), it’s been over 70 degrees here in Blue-Merle Country the last week and the weeds are sprouting. We tried to go organic last year and I let the weeds grow, attacking them with a hoe and a weed-whacker, but the foxtails waxed strong and set their booby-traps finding their way between Bluey’s toes causing another $1,000 vet bill and a violent tongue-thrashing from Bluey’s matron against the environmentalist who let the weeds get out of control. As I have vowed today, and will vow tomorrow, "to make everyone I meet a ‘raving fan’" -- (for this to work as a philosophical way of life "everyone" includes your spouse)-- I am obeying the pleas of The Queen who runs this place to round-up the weeds with a back-pack sprayer, transforming me into a clone warrior from a Star Wars movie. Since it is difficult for me to pick up a pen with those thick gloves, I have asked her to write a letter to the President-elect excusing me from his inauguration, as there is too much work on the farm to attend. The President-elect knows that in our nation’s hour of need when he requires an assistant who speaks Japanese, Chinese, Russian, German & French to help him negotiate the economic recovery and peace with the world’s leaders he can count on me, and, following the example of Cincinnatus of ancient history I will drop my plow and go to Washington with a case of wine as my secret weapon. Meantime, it's out to the vineyard.

In addition to the deadly foxtails (one of those in a dog’s ear will penetrate his brain), there is annoying thistle which spreads faster than mint. The vines have lost their leaves and the buds are beginning to bulge and I wonder if the warm weather may result in an early bud-break this year and how that would effect the grapes and the taste of the wine. Lum says that "good wine is made in the vineyard" and I believe him. The vines look fine and the weeds are only a problem at the bottom of the hill where the dirt is rich and the spraying is soon finished. The buds of the almond trees, however, are bursting and so are the apple trees and this can’t be good for them because it is still too early in the season and apples need chill.

The new President, as the chief steward of our land, will be called upon to weed the government of out of control programs and to plant seeds of future growth. Were it as easy as managing a vineyard.

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to refinance the mortgage – it seems that almost all of our money is going to pay interest to the bank for this property leaving very little for women and wine. By not eating out; by not getting cable or satellite TV; by buying as little food as possible and living on home grown grapefruit, persimmons, avocados, oranges, bread and wine; by not buying a clothes dryer; by not buying Starbucks; by not hiring any helping-hands to assist us in the vineyard and by working hard and earning some commissions I managed to pay off a credit card this week and I thought it the perfect time to contact Chase Home Mortgage about a refinance. Now, like the rest of you, we pay our mortgage on time and we pay our bills and I have never declared bankruptcy and I’m not about to walk away from this property so it is discouraging when the fellow from Chase responds immediately that there doesn’t appear to be enough equity in the home to do a refinance. While laboring in the vineyard thoughts become clear and it occurs to me that I pay the Federal Government taxes each month, and I pay the Federal Government social security each month, and I pay the Federal Government Medicare tax each month and it doesn’t seem to be an issue. They know where I am and they just take it out of my paycheck and they get their money. So how much trouble would it be for The Government to take a mortgage payment out of my paycheck too? Chase Home Mortgage is able to borrow money short term at close to 0% interest from the Federal Reserve Bank of that same Government and at slightly higher rates for longer term loans, and I’m paying Chase 6.5% on a "Jumbo Loan" and they are making a ton of money off of me. Because most of my money is going to Chase there’s no money for me to spend on Starbucks, batteries for the digital camera, restaurants, nannies, vacations, clothes, dog sitters, Home Depot supplies, meat, Christmas presents, college tuition and all the rest, and my not spending, combined with millions of my neighbors in similar situations, is dragging our economy back to the depths of 1932. Now, suppose the Federal Government held my mortgage and I paid the Feds 2.5% interest – not only would the Feds make money (given their low cost of borrowing), but hundreds of dollars a month – if not a thousand – would be freed-up as discretionary income. And if you multiply that by a few million people it becomes "real money" and wouldn’t that be a boost for the economy? You bet it would. We could spend more. We could also save more for retirement. Wishful thinking? Perhaps. On the other hand, perhaps not. "Yes we can!" -- can’t we? For those of you attending the inaugural balls next week, please feel free to pass along this idea.

Back to the weeds and the gophers. The spraying is done (or, at least I’m done) and it’s only 3pm and since I’m the "making a raving fan out of everyone" perfect husband today, next on the list is replacing the light bulbs. We get that done without falling off the ladder and the Queen is impressed and I suggest let’s go down to the local wine shop and taste some wines. It’s Saturday dog days at the wine shop and we can bring Bluey and leave him on the terrace while we taste the wine and get a fish taco across the street when we’re done and it won’t cost that much. It’s our wedding anniversary next week and wouldn’t it be grand to eat out for a change and since I paid down that credit card let’s treat ourselves to a little treat. The Queen says that if we do that I’m going to end up spending money buying a bottle of wine and more so why don’t we just stay at home and enjoy a glass of wine by the gazebo? That’s a great idea I say (since I’m mister enthusiastic today) and I know that she’s right about spending money. So I stuff a bottle of Malbec in my right pocket and a bottle of Blue-Merlot in the left pocket and grab a shovel and a couple of gopher traps and head to "the gazebo" with Bluey. We call it the gazebo because it’s the one flat area of our property with a 220 degree panoramic view to the Pacific Ocean and Catalina Island and Big Bear and all the mountains. It’s the perfect spot for a gazebo after we refinance our mortgage and our Princess finishes college and when there’s some money to spend. It’s priceless to watch the sun sink below the horizon of the Pacific and the sky turn orange and we sample triple cream brie on crackers with fruit of the vine. It has been quite a day. To start, Bluey and I were up before dawn and we jogged the Three-Vineyard cross-country course with a half-moon overhead and a faint orange glow behind the eastern hills to guide us. We attacked the thistle in the vineyard and boxed up a Macadamia tree (for future resale) and I potted a creeping geranium into a hanging basket that I hung on the terrace. Her majesty the Queen of the property was satisfied with our efforts and at the end of the day we sipped wine and ate cheese and talked about a future with a gazebo and more olive trees. I walked over to an area of the Zinfandel block where there was a gap between vines and showed the Queen how, when pruning begins in two weeks, you could take a shoot going up towards the sky and pull it down to the cordon wire to make a cordon arm. And as I showed her, pulling the shoot tightly to the wire, it snapped in my hand.

How Not To Turn On A Vineyardista: Top 10 Pick-Up Lines

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 19:00:00 +0000

The San Diego Amateur Winemakers' Association, affectionately called SADAWS, held its January meeting in warm, spring-like conditions yesterday at neighboring Coyote-Oaks Vineyard and all the local vineyardistas were in attendance including the Coyote herself (Ms. Karen), Celestial Sandra and scores of other nubile maidens from San Diego County. This is a monthly education event in which the price of admission is three bottles of wine: 1 to share with the group, 1 to trade and 1 for the group's webmaster. Every drop is consumed. After selecting the bottle I had won in the raffle, I put it in my pocket for safekeeping (an unopened bottle of wine disappears in 10 seconds with this crowd). An observant young woman asked, "Is that a bottle of wine in your pants?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm just really happy to see you." This started a discussion about the Top-10 best and worst "pick-up" lines for winemakers and vineyard owners. So, here goes, not in any particular order. (Government warning: Some of these lines are high octane and only recommended when the other party has consumed 1.2 bottles of wine.)

1. I'm driving to Paso Robles next weekend to scout out land for planting a vineyard ... would you like to be my co-pilot?

2. The view of the full moon in my vineyard is magnificent ... would you like to come over with a few friends and see it?

3. I really like your carboys.

4. May I put my bung in your barrel?

5. Said to a vineyardista clearing away a plate of prosciutto, "Wait a moment. May I have a piece?"

6. Would you like to help me bottle wine next weekend? I'll let you do the corking.

7. "How is the wine?"

"Delicious."

"May I taste it from your lips?"

8. Would you like to see me peel a grape with my teeth and my tongue?

9. Would you like to plant a vineyard with me?

10. Would you like to go for a vineyard tour next month -- in Italy?

11. If you were starring in a movie about wine, which character would you be?

12. I think we could make beautiful wine together.

13. The gophers around here are quite clever and have found ingenious places to hide. Do you mind if I check for one in your tunnels?

14. Since vineyard owners spend all of their money on women and wine, may I spend everything I have left on you?

What are the best lines you've heard? Please leave your comments below.

As the Princess was in town, I let her prune 3 "Ugly Hanako" Aglianico vines this afternoon -- we will soon begin pruning in earnest and you can be sure something's going to happen you'll want to read about.

Annual Sex and the Vineyard Edition & The Great Race

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 06:48:00 +0000

To pacify the insatiable and prurient interests of our readers – and to take a respite from continuing battles against the gophers who have morphed into plastic chewing varmints that devour water pipes -- we start the New Year with our annual Sex and The Vineyard Edition. President-elect Obama is inviting bloggers to attend the inauguration to record history for posterity and it is with utmost regret that this writing – and our publication of that interview with Obama-foe Joe the Wino – has resulted in my being banned from the Obama White House for the duration of the upcoming celebrations.

Let us begin the story with the exchange of Christmas gifts. Coyote Karen is given a sachet of lavender from the Blue-Merle Vineyard. "What shall we do with it?" she asked her winemaking partner Celestial Sandy from Ceilio Vineyards. "Put it with your panties," Sandra suggested shooting me a sly smile and a whisper in my ear, "We’re just pulling your rope."
"Keep pulling, baby, and I’ll be sure to stop by each month and put a refill of lavender in her drawers."

The next day I returned home from work to find a bottle of Nebbiolo wine delivered by the elves of Coyote Oaks. As we had made this wine together in 2006, I thought it might be nice to save her bottle for a year or two to enjoy after it had reached perfection (just like the maidens who made it). But the Queen in our house does not understand the concept of not drinking wine to let it age, so there was only one place to hide it: In my underwear drawer. Thus began the Pantie War between the neighboring vineyards and the grounds for a future divorce, full of sordid details about the mixing of lavender with panties and the discharge of fluids and stains [specifically wine] in a drawer of Fruit of the Loom.

Back at the ranch, the members of our local winemakers’ association felt it would be worthwhile to hold the 2nd Annual Three-Vineyard Fun Run, Walk, Mule Ride, which is our version of the Great Race overcoming mountainous hills, unmarked paths and beautiful, drunken sirens. On the Sunday after Christmas we gathered together at 2pm at the bottom of the slopes of Blue-Merle Vineyard, first the neighbors walking over, then the coyotes dressed out in bleach white pants-suits. Merlot Mike and Nancy came next touting the horn of their Gator as they rode up the hill and then came Jim on "the mule", a Vietnam-era army vehicle that he restored which has more torque than the Gator and Bluey’s (the Australian Shepherd who runs this place) hind legs. One of the coyotes snickered, "The boys will bring their toys," at which point Joe the Wino came climbing up the hill mounted on a shiny, orange, brand-spanking-new Kubota tractor wearing a red cap with white trim.

"Joe, good to see you. Welcome to the Blue-Merle. Did Santa Clause bring you that toy?"
"Nope – the Kubota dealer in town has a lot full of ‘em and can’t sell ‘notta one. I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse and drove off the lot paying 1/3 price -- in cash." As I always say, the rich get richer in a recession and now is the time to make money. That’s why my wife bought up all the palm trees in town.

"Joe, why don’t you lead the procession?" I suggested.
"Thanks for the invite, but I can’t stay. As you read in the paper the San Diego Padres [baseball team] are for sale and I’ve got a meeting with the club’s CEO this afternoon to see if we can strike a deal." We took a moment to say a prayer of thanksgiving for all of our blessings and good friends and family – especially mom and dad who had traveled here from Virginia, and sent Joe on his way with a bottle of wine. Then Merlot Mike and I walked up the hill to survey the road before driving it, since no one had successfully driven the course since I slid off the dirt road in a pickup truck last March. As it had rained 5 inches the previous two weeks, I thought it might be a good idea to survey the course. I pointed out a trench in the road and an awkward angle around a curve at the steepest point (50 degrees).
"Mike, I hear those Gators are notorious for flipping over."
"Only when you drive them where you’re not supposed to." That assurance didn’t make me feel any better.
"What do you think about the safety of this road?"
"Well, tell me something. How much do you like your dad?"
"A lot." Then I borrowed a line from Jack Benny. "If it’s that dangerous, please, take my wife."

With the fate of my father in the hands of Merlot Mike, the procession began, with the Gator speeding up the hill, making it to the top and out the back gate quicker than the Blue-Merle can make it to the nearest rabbit hole. As they recalled the journey afterwards, "It was a piece of cake." And, it looks like we’ve got a property designed for a Gator advertisement. Given the emerging pain in my knee after hauling 5-tons of rocks over the Christmas holidays and 5-yards of dirt to box up the remainders of the 46 palm trees, I’d save money buying a Gator vs. the surgeon’s bill for getting my knees rebuilt.

The purpose of the Fun Run was to promote fitness and exercise by running the Three-Vineyard course, or if you couldn't run, walk. And if you couldn’t walk, we encouraged participation by all by offering a ride. It was a fine California winter day as we hiked up the hill – no one running this year – and I was proud of my retired neighbors for walking the entire course. As the boys with the toys raced around the countryside giving Dad a tour, we summited Nancy & Mike’s Escondido Sunrise Vineyard and stopped to take in the view of the valley below and the mountains on the horizon and the floating hawks above. Mike came back from the wine cellar with as much Merlot as he could carry which was about more than we could drink and we were sloshed as we began the descent. It was all downhill from there. We passed the famous sign declaring the law of "0 to Naked In 1.2 Bottles of Wine" and since everyone had their clothes on we knew that no one had consumed more than 1.2 bottles yet and that we were sober enough to keep walking while the rest of the boys continued their race of Gator vs. The Mule. We approached the hidden gazebo in the middle of the Olive trees half way down the vineyard and stopped in our tracks in front of a line. Not a booby trap but a line flying a flag of victory. A pair of panties. "Mike, what the hell was going on out here?"
"Fiiiiidellllllllll!" Mike called .
"Yeah Mike, what is it?" Fidel said as he waddled over from the tool shed.
"What are these panties doing her?"
"I don’t know Mike, they’re not mine."
"Which senorita do they belong to?"
"Mike, I have no idea. I swear."
The Coyote said, "Looks like there’s been a little hanky panky in the vineyard."
"Maybe they’re left over from the picking when all those people were here," suggested the Celestial one.
"Yeah, it must have been from the harvest, when all that wine was flowing," I said. "You see, the sign, it’s true!" To that we all agreed, and toasted: "To the sign! Zero to naked in 1.2 bottles of wine! Cheers!" We left the lone pantie in the tree as a memento (Mike said it was good for his vineyard’s "branding") and we arrived at Coyote Oaks, where as many bottles of wine as the Coyote could carry were brought out to the band for another toast and another taste, while back at the ranch the Celestial one’s mom, my mom and the Queen were busy popping pastries and chicken wings into the oven and putting Champagne on ice. It seems that the gourmands of the Hidden Meadows Vintner’s Association can’t get exercise without eating 2,000 calories afterwards. Mike was so fascinated by how Karen was dressed in white but did not have a single spot of dirt or wine stain on her lovely clothes after all of that hiking and toasting that he drooled wine on Nancy. No worries. Karen brought out her bottle of wine-away which Mike sprayed all over Nancy which left several wet spots in embarrassing places. The motley group rallied forces for the final assault up the big hill back to the foot of the Blue-Merle, picking up Judy & Jack along the way – so now it was a real party with all the neighbors and the Three Vineyards.

Meantime back in the winery the true coitus of the afternoon was taking place as the bung slid out of the hole of the barrel. Pop! The bung had come out of the barrel exposing the wine’s treasure to risks of contamination, infection disease and ruin. If there was any Viagra, it was within the wine, climaxing with a spent bung on the floor…. And the wine, she tastes delicious.

Grafting & Barrel Topping & Woodchips

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 01:34:00 +0000

John the Avocado Grower from New Zealand paid a visit to Blue-Merle Country over Thanksgiving weekend with his wife and son. I invited Joe the Wino to join us for some gophering and wine tasting. Joe likes New Zealand wine, and often flies to Wellington to go skiing during our summer (their winter.) Joe said he was playing in a golf tournament. I couldn't believe it. "You don't play golf well enough to play in a tournament."
"I've been taking lessons with Bruce," he replied. Macadamia Bruce is our local Macadamia tree grower and nut vendor who is a golf pro with a golf-course on his 4-acre plot that winds through his macadamia grove. Some of the holes are tougher than Pebble Beach.
"What tournament is this?"
"It's a tournament for handicapped and blind kids -- I think I have a chance to win!" he said erupting in laughter. Joe thinks he's a comedian.
"Yeah, I read that joke on the Internet too."
So, without Joe's humor or presence, we were left to entertain the Kiwis by ourselves. Although we didn't strike back at the gophers as planned (the gophers started this war in 2006 with a ruthless attack on the lone, surviving, 25 year old kiwi plant on our property), John's son the U.S. Navy helicopter pilot volunteered to lend us some napalm. We picked up our clippers and marched through the vineyard to the boutique avocado grove with me at the front of the line carrying a shovel just in case.
"Just in case what?" Mary asked.
"Just in case we meet Mr. Rattlesnake." It had turned warm again that day, and the Queen had spotted one in the area the week before. They don't have poisonous snakes in New Zealand. Nor do they have gophers. Just Hobbits.
After determining that our favorite avocado trees are "reed" avocados and not the "bacon" variety, then showing us how to prune the avocado foliage to let in more light at the top of the tree, John & Mary took some samplings of budwood to graft onto a free-range, volunteer, avocado tree growing out of control, but which would never yield fruit as it had never been grafted. One of the mysteries of this tree is how it grew so fast and so lush without watering? The general state of avocados in San Diego country is worse than Detroit automakers. Earlier this year, most San Diego growers cut back their groves 30% -- that is, they stumped 30% of their trees -- because of mandatory water cutbacks for growers on the agriculture water plan. One of our neighbors who grows avocados told me they were going to take out all of their avocado trees this winter, because the cost of water is forecast to increase significantly. So in the middle of avocado wasteland, a tree is growing. (I wonder if there's a spring nearby?) The tree had 3 shoots, so we tried 3 different grafting techniques in the hopes that one might work. John sawed off most of the tree, but left a large trunk which still had some branches. Then, he cut a wedge in the top of the trunk, and inserted into the wedge some budwood, which Mary had whittled to expose moist weed. On a different trunk which had been sawed, we placed budwood on locations around the perimeter of the trunk (this technique was recommended by the University of California, Davis). And, on the third, smaller shoot, Mary just simply sliced the shoot in half half and taped some budwood to the shoot, forming one, new shoot. As we walked back to the house, with Mary pulling out clippers faster than the Sundance Kid and snipping every rose bush in site, "Don't forget to go back there tomorrow and place some gauze around those grafts to protect them from the sun."

The next day was warmer and the sun was brighter. After Bluey and I taped some gauze bandaging (aka a paper towel) around the grafts, I started pulling some weeds around the nearby Aglianico vines when I spotted Mr. Rattlesnake slithering in slow motion on by me right down the middle of the row. The Queen had implored me not to behead the beasts. She says that they have spirits and to decapitate them is an ill omen. She could be right. In China, there are 1,000-year old, white, cultivated snakes, who assume human form. There are operas written about this. They are the scourge of men. I know about this, having met one first hand in the City of Hangzhou near the West Lake. Almost ruined my life. As I considered my dear wife's request not to harm the snake, I realized that my shovel was 10-yards away by Bluey, asleep in the cool shade of the wines. I took a step towards the shovel and Mr. Snake (or perhaps Miss Snake if she were a 1,000-year old spirit from China touting me to return?) picked up speed, and darted under a large boulder, hidden from view. I grabbed the shovel, and did what needed to be done since dogs and rattlesnakes don't mix, and thrust the shovel under the rock multiple times. My assumption is that the snake escaped through a gopher hole, and is out there, hibernating, growing larger, until Springtime.

And then there was winemaking. One of the ongoing tasks is to top the barrels (we have three wooden ones this year). Makes you wonder if you can really classify this as a chore? It involves: removing the bung, sticking your nose into the barrel. Inhale. Relax. Pull a sample of wine with the Turkey-baster-thingy and taste. Spray the bung-hole entrance with a mixture of potassium metabisulfite and water, then wipe the hole. Add a little bit of sulfite solution for good measure (typically, I'll mix in about a quarter teaspoon or so with each topping.) Next, open a bottle of topping wine, taste it, and fill the barrel to the top. (Normally, "the angels" in the winery will consume 1.5 - 2 bottles per month per barrel depending on the temperature -- the angels are more thristy in summer). I was pleased to find "sprtizyness" from the wooden barrel I tasted last night, indicating that malolactic fermentation had kicked in naturally (without me needing to inoculate the barrels with malolactic bacteria this year). And the 2008 Petit Verdot is "bolder" than the 2007. In fact, the 2008 wines are tasting great at this stage, and it's like Opening Day of the baseball season when any team can win and become the World Champion that year. These wines are promising and could win awards, until I do something to screw them up! This happened when I tasted a 3-gallon carboy of Petit Sirah pressings which I had been saving ... the bung of this container had been knocked off (I don't know for how long) -- when I tasted this wine yesterday, it had an "oxidized" taste to it... so I probably cannot use it for topping wine -- but it sure will make an excellent grappa when I find time to take it to the man with the licenced still.

We started a Winemaker's Forum on the business networking site LinkedIn recently, and I'm amazed by the number of business people out there who are planting vines and making grapes. (Misery loves company I suppose.) One of the discussion topics that came up this week was adding wood chips to wine. Lum Eisenman, our mentor in San Diego, uses wood chips all the time with his 15-gallon stainless steel beer kegs. It's an acceptable way for a small producer or hobbyist to make wine. When I was in Australia and NZ this summer (their winter), I met several winemakers using "oak staves" -- these work quite well also, in combination with breathable "flex tanks" -- these are "permeable tanks" which allow the wine to oxidize slowly (as if the wine were being barrel aged). Merlot Mike purchased several of them during this crush season, which are about $300/each for the 50 gallon size and $400 for the 100 gallon size. About small, 15-gallon wooden barrels, STAY AWAY FROM THEM! (It's a long story.) It's much easier to use the 15-gallon beer kegs. Hint: have a keg party and "forget" to return the keg (forfeiting the deposit as payment).

We used French oak wood chips in our "neutral" 60-gallon barrel last year. In the past, I would just put the chips through the bung hole into the barrel and let them settle at the bottom. (I would use about one pound of chips.) After bottling, I'd manage to get most of the chips out. (Remember, I'm the guy who always makes mistakes when making wine, so I'm not saying this is the best way to do it.) This year we tried something different... I had a very low-tech net/nylon type of stocking, and a special bung that had a protrusion, so that I could "tie" the wood chips in the stocking to the bung -- this kept the chips from going all over the place at the bottom of the barrel -- and made cleaning the barrel much easier when we bottled. In fact, we didn't clean the barrel at all this year ... we just put the new wine into the freshly emptied barrel this year -- because we were so tired at that point. Check out future editions of the Winemaker's Journal to see if that was a mistake, or resulted in award winning wine.

White Wine: A Turkey?

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 03:46:00 +0000

Some people think I don’t like white wine. What I don’t like is the thought of making it because making good white wine in large quantities typically involves refrigeration for which we just don’t have the equipment. After months of drinking thick, chewy Nebbiolo wine or rich, inky, Petit Sirah with every dinner, a little white wine would be a welcome relief. In fact, one of our favorite experiments this wine making season has been “Bluey’s Blush” -- we took a 40-lbs. basket of Petit Sirah,Tempranillo and Zinfandel grapes from our vineyard, crushed them (breaking the skins and removing the stems) then immediately pressed them (separating the juice from the skin and seeds) and began the fermentation process with pink grape juice. The result has been surprising. We love the rose color and there is a hint of “banana” —it was a wonderful use of the grapes, since this is just the “second leaf” of the vines planted 18 months ago and the grapes are not that complex, yet. This is a fun wine. Like Nouveau Beaujolais. Something not to be taken too seriously. But to enjoy.

As we had run out of food a couple of days ago and the cupboard was bare and oranges, pomegranates and lemons can only sustain you for so long, I made my first trip to the grocery store in months, a Trader Joe’s located in the valley 15 miles from the vineyard. The first thing that caught my attention was “white wine” for $1.99 which wasn’t white at all. It was labeled White Zinfandel, and it was pink as Bluey’s Blush, so I put a bottle in my basket as I wanted to give it a try to see how we compare with Napa winemaker Charles Shaw. And who do I see at that moment but none other than Joe the Wino, vintner and owner of a high tech company who’s seen me just make a selection of $2 wine.

“How ya doin’ there partner?” Joe asked.

“Doin’ fine. Doin’ fine, thank you. Spending all my money on women and wine and the rest of it I’m wastin’. Good to see you Joe.” We shook hands. “Whatcha doin’ here at Trader Joe’s – buying Two Buck Chuck to refill your empty bottles of Chateau Laffite for your dinner guests?”

“How did you know?” Joe winked.

Just then a cute little thing acting as a sommelier came up to the millionaire vineyard owner and asked, “May I help you select a wine?”

“I like Pinots; do you have any Pinot noir?” Joe asked.

“This one’s my favorite,” said the Trader Joe’s staff member pointing to a bottle. “And it’s only $9.95.”

“I like the picture on the label,” Joe said. Then he asked, “Do you have any Pinot more?”

“Pinot what?”

“I heard it through the grapevine. A new varietal developed by researchers at the University of California, Davis. A new grape designed for older people like myself. After drinking a whole bottle at dinner, it’s not necessary to get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom. It’s called Pee-No-More.”

My eyeballs rolled and the little thing blushed pinker than the rose wine and Joe The Wino just laughed at himself. It seems Joe must be on the same e-mail list as my father who sent me the joke earlier in the week. I asked the attendant if they had any local wines for sale. She said sometimes. I made a note that some of the wines were selling for $30 or more, and this would be a good place to sell Blue-Merlot – especially if the Trader Joe’s artists did a picture of Bluey in Technicolor on the chalkboard. Something like this:

Since John the Avocado Grower from New Zealand is planning to visit us this weekend, I bought a package of kiwi fruits. Our vineyard used to be a kiwi ranch 25 years ago but fell into disrepair as the price of kiwis fell lower than the cost of water, so the place was abandoned. When we moved in, it was a ghost town, navigating through remnants of the old kiwi trellis system, and the locations of a thousand kiwi vines. There was nothing left of the old vines, except for dried, rotted roots which we found as we dug up the place planting olives, persimmons, apples, avocados, macadamias, almonds, figs, guavas, blood oranges, palms and eventually end posts and grapes. Except for under the Man In the Rock. The Man In The Rock is a rock formation whose frown always follows you from whatever angle you look. Is he an Indian? The guardian of the property? Or just a rock? Under his shadow, we found a shoot. A remnant from an old kiwi root, which sprouted forth a few green leaves, unmistakeably those of a kiwi plant. Imagine that, after 14 years of neglect. A survivor. What were the odds? The Queen watered the baby vine very day, and it grew, and she covered it with a clothes hamper from the laundry to keep out the rabbits. When she arrived one day with her water bucket, the kiwi was gone. Nothing. Nothing but a hole. The hole of a gopher. And thus started The Gopher Wars, which will be rekindled after a brief Thanksgiving Truce, with John the Avocado Grower at my side. The Kiwis Strike Back!

Back at Trader Joe’s, I pick up a bottle of Nouveau Beaujolais which I’m delighted to see. The Queen and her species love Nouveau Beaujolais. Where she comes from, they think that this is high quality wine – but it’s Thanksgiving and I know it will make her happy so I’m willing to splurge and spend $8 for the bottle (well, if she drinks that, then I’ve saved one of our $39 in inventory and can sell that and make some money and pay off the Beaujolais purchase). I bumped into Joe The Wino at the checkout counter. His cart was full as he was shopping for Thanksgiving and I wagered the cashier, “I’ll bet you a bottle of wine there’s $200 of groceries in Joe’s cart,” and the cashier said, “You’re wrong – there’s $300.” And at the end of it there was $277.77 and I got to thinking there’s about a week’s worth of food in there and if there are 4 weeks in a month then that’s over $1,100/month for food and that just includes Two Buck Chuck and his $9.95 Pinot More and that’s what I used to spend on my mortgage and now food alone is that much. How is Joe The Plumber going to live let alone this guy who drives a Jaguar?

Back at the ranch there’s an e-mail from my friend Jeff who runs our local commercial winery Belle Marie, where I’ve entered a contest with my answer to the question: “What’s the best temperature to serve white wine?”

To which replied, in order to score a free bottle with at least the most creative answer: “When wine is involved, any temperature is good for serving and drinking!” Lum Eisenman, our master winemaker mentor, would like that answer.

Jeff writes:

“Well there's a sales guy's answer if I've ever heard one! Not that I take issue with your logic. Just so you know, in our opinion a fine dry wine is best served at about 55 degrees. Since most refrigerators are maintained at about 45 degrees, this means that a white wine served directly out of the fridge is too cold. The next time you try a premium white wine, such as our 2006 Paradiso or our 2007 Fume Blanc, try taking the wine out of the refrigerator for 15 or 20 minutes before you drink it... or pour a glass right away but drink it slowly, paying attention to how the wine changes as the temperature rises. In the end, the best serving temperature (just like the best wine) is up to you, the one doing the drinking and enjoying! Thanks for playing along with our challenge Craig. Since taste is subjective and your answer is at least our sentimental favorite, you are officially entered into our drawing to win a bottle of premium white wine. We'll look forward to seeing you again soon. “

I’ll need to remind Jeff that at our house, wine lasts about 15 seconds after being taken out of the refrigerator, and to all of you drinking white wine on Thanksgiving, I send you a toast, as we sample from our land pomegranates, persimmons, olives, oranges and gopher filled with Stauffer’s stove-top stuffing.

The Vineyardista

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 05:45:00 +0000

I’ve realized that my dearly, beloved wife, the Queen of this narrative, is a vineyardista – someone who dresses up before going into the vineyard to get dirty. Her morning begins with a shower, then she dons color coordinated pink polka-dot boots, slacks and a pink sweat shirt and spays a cloud of Channel No. 5 over her hair and clothes. It has been raining a bit today – I call it Normandy weather – a few sprinkles here, a little sunshine there – so she’s fashionably dressed for wallowing in the mud.

When it comes to a night on the town Saturday there is no "recessionista" chic here – we go as we are.The pink polka dots are muddied over. There are brown stains on the pink sweat shirt, and even the Channel No. 5 is a faint memory. We don’t need to dress down to tone down during tough economic times – we’re always dressed this way. And, we’re just too tired to shower and change after working all day with the vines. (Maybe the Queen has it right taking her bath before vineyarding because I haven’t bathed in a couple of days which is soon to become a few days because I would just rather collapse into bed.) I half expect the wino outside the liquor store to give us a quarter as we limp in after a day of work. I’m more frightening then him – in the afternoon I grabbed a pomegranate and gorged on it leaving deep red stains around my mouth. I look like an advertisement for "Got Vampire?" combined with my disheveled look – the wino edges away.

This aptly named "Liquor Store" in the California version of a redneck town called Escondido, CA has a hidden jewel in the basement—a machine called an Enolmatic which dispenses a measured taste of wine by inserting a SmartCard into a slot. The wines vary from $9.95 to $99.95 – the beauty of it is you can taste the most expensive wine for $4 a shot, while the cheap stuff is 99 cents. As we have already pre-paid the remaining $12 on our card, there is no cash outlay for us to have a few sips Saturday night. Needless to say that the $99 wine from Napa Valley tasted pretty good and the $54 wine from the Stags Leap area also tasted pretty good and the $10 wine wasn’t that bad. What was nice about it was that we got to taste some pretty good wines pretty quickly and it didn’t cost us any cash, and we walked away not buying any of the bottles that were on sale. That’s trickle down economics. We trickle down the aisles and out the store without spending a cent.

There is a McDonalds 100-yards from the Liquor Store and I was thinking about Tina Fey as Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live when she talked about the $70 BILLION economic bailout and why it’s important to restore $1 value meals. The Queen is craving French fries so we go to McDonalds and order from the $1 menu: Hamburger: $1. French fries: $1. Espresso: $1. I kid you not. This was one of the McDonalds with gourmet coffee service: cappuccino, lattes, the works. In the interest of full disclosure, I must state: I am a shareholder of Starbucks (having purchased at $10/share recently) and the Princess was gainfully employed by Starbucks in Manhattan this past summer. Moreover, when I joined Joe The Wino on his march to Wall Street, I was given a free Starbucks coffee by the Starbucks manager (as that was the shop where the Princess had worked). Not only did we eat dinner for $5 cash on Saturday (including the cost of sips of $99 wine, $54 wine and $10 wine), the espresso we enjoyed at McDonalds was delicious, had a bit of froth on top, and was large enough to serve 3 people. Yes, a triple espresso, for 33% less than the cost of a Starbucks espresso, and 3X the liquid. "Would you like a flavor with that?" asked the MacDonaldsista. "No thanks. Plain is fine." No one had ordered an espresso from that location before and the barristas need a bit more training. I’m planning to stop by there for my morning Joe tomorrow.

It was not a good week for Joe The Wino—it started out promising with the newfound celebrity he enjoyed from his interview with The Winemaker’s Journal and his march "From Main Street To Wall Street." Then Tuesday came, and Obama was elected president which sent Joe, who was in denial about the possibility of an Obama presidency, into a tizzy. On election eve he went to visit Gerry Meisenholder, one of the premier grape growers in Blue-Merle Country, bringing with him a bottle of 1970 Chateau Lafite Rothschild wine. I don’t know how much Joe paid for it but let’s just say it might have cost $15 per sip had it been featured on the enolmatic. When Fox News announced Obama the winner, Joe told his host he might as well open up the Lafite, since the President-elect was likely to implement a wealth tax and tax assets including wine collections. So they sipped the 38-year old wine before the cost went up from taxation, and Joe thought it tasted a lot like Gerry’s 8 year old wine which had oxidized and is worth $1 a sip or less.

In spite of drinking a rare wine on election eve, Joe was in a foul mood when he arrived at his company the next morning. Joe is the CEO of a high tech firm in San Diego, and he’s not at all pleased that his taxes are going to go up in the Obama regime. What’s more, his company was forecast to grow 50% this year but with all those economic troubles around the world, business only increased 15% year over year in October, so Joe restructured the company and laid-off 15% of the work force. Joe’s friends in his CEO round-table applauded his moves which they say are necessary in tough times. I say there I go but for the grace of God and I’m grateful to have a job to support my winemaking, my vineyard and my women.

Back at the Blue-Merle ranch, the Queen had already fired the work force last winter when she figured out that she could do the work of the staff in half the time (and could save the money she would have paid the workers and purchase 46 canary island palm trees for $39/each which will be worth $10,000/each 49.7 years from now). So when I was cutting the large limb from the Pepper tree in the vineyard that crashed down on the wires of the trellis system which snapped the end post causing all the vines on that row to sag where the rabbits could jump-up and reach and eat and make disappear overnight what had taken us two years to grow, there was nothing to do but fix it. So I started digging a hole to China in the hard, brick clay and the going was slow but as I progressed I noticed the soil was moist underneath a vine that had been irrigated regularly and it was still moist two feet under and the baby vine’s roots had traveled to that 2-ft. depth as well. A good sign. I put the replacement pole in place and then a metal rod to support it and as I was preparing to pour cement into the hole the wheel barrow hit the metal support rod and the wooden pole feel on me and the metal support rod fell down to the ground breaking the irrigation head on the irrigation line on the way down. Self reliance is a good thing to have in a recession when you don’t have the money to hire workers or when you’re saving your money to invest in palm trees so there was nothing to do but to try and fix it. I found that the Queen kept in the garage enough irrigation parts for us to plant another vineyard or to open a wholesale supply outlet for valves, bushings, T’s, connectors, blue glue and primer glue. I was able to piece the assembly back together and this only took less than a day. I began thinking about economic theory and the division of labor and began wondering if this was the best use of my time when I could have spent the day looking for new customers and increasing sales at my company and with an increase in sales could come an increase in jobs and economic wealth.

"Do you see the smoke," asked the Queen drawing me out of my reverie. A wildfire had started on the horizon and we had a perfect view of it and it was a good excuse to go into the house and call it in just in case no one else was reporting it.

Back inside there was a message from Merlot Mike who wanted to borrow our enolmatic which is slightly different than the one used at the Liquor Store – we use it to bottle wine. The Queen came in and complained about being tired and had that look that said she was more than tired. I pricked her finger and tested her blood sugar which at 66 was very low so we poured some orange juice into her to raise the sugar and made her a snack of bread and olive oil. It’s not easy trying to manage a vineyard when your blood sugar puts you into a comatose state, there are wild-fires starting on the horizon, the banks won’t loan you money, and it seems that everytime you touch something (like cutting a tree) you break something that needs repair and while you’re doing the repair you break something else. Then you see that with the cool weather the gophers are getting active again and you’re just too tired to set a trap for them. You pray for your sister who has cancer and then your other sister complains because you haven’t called her for weeks and your parents keep asking you when you’re coming out for Thanksgiving when they live 3,000 miles away and you’re just trying to hang on and there’s so much to do.

I headed to Merlot Mike’s and I promised I wouldn’t have anything to drink. I was good when he offered me a glass of wine and I said I’ll have it to go and save it for the evening so he poured it. But since the glass couldn’t transport very well without spilling there was nothing to do but drink it. Then I needed to sip what he was bottling and it was 2007 Merlot which he had just blended with some Cabernet Franc made a month before. And now you’ve learned a winemaker’s secret and time will tell if it’s good. When I got back home I gave what was left of the wine to the Queen who was feeling better and I finished digging the hole for the post and that’s when I broke the irrigation line. We got the line fixed and managed to restring the vines that were sagging so the rabbits wouldn’t gorge on them. Then Bluey and I set a few gopher traps and went about giving haircuts to a few of the overgrown vines and soon it was dark and I was working by moonlight and Bluey took a nap with a stick in his mouth.

It’s another full moon eve and it’s a magical time in the vineyard. It’s cooler now than last month, and if I were a rattlesnake I wouldn’t be out of my den on a cool evening like tonight which means it’s safe for me and Bluey to jog through the vineyard this evening so long as the mountain lion is not nearby. Life is pretty good. My middle sister is surviving cancer and the Princess is surviving New York and my favorite World War II Veteran from Greensboro, N.C. is surviving and our investments in palm trees are growing. Life is happening. And the vines … the vines just keep being vines and they grow a little here and change a little color there. The work is finished and I finish the last sip of wine and the bottle is empty. The cupboard is full and there will be another glass tomorrow.

Joe The Wino Speaks Out On Politics, The Economy & Joe The Plumber

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Justice) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 02:38:00 +0000

(Editor’s Note: “Joe The Wino” lives in Blue-Merle Country and is an accomplished high-tech entrepreneur, farmer, grower & vintner. Concerned with all the attention given recently to “Joe Six Pack” and “ Joe the Plumber”, our Joe felt the concerns of winos were being neglected. In an exclusive interview with the Winemaker’s Journal, Joe the Wino speaks out. The views expressed are his and do not represent the opinions of Winemaker’s Journal nor the editors.)

Winemaker’s Journal (WJ): Joe, I understand you have a sign in your driveway that states “Keep Right.” Is that an expression of your political views?

Joe: It’s just a traffic sign I took from an intersection.

WJ: Isn’t that theft of government property?

Joe: I call it “fair trade.” What do you call it when the government takes thousands of dollars from me and gives it to some bankers so they can have parties in California?

WJ: Then, you’re not a liberal?

Joe: I’d like to take Sarah Palin on a date to a wine bar.

WJ: Wouldn’t that make Joe Six Pack jealous?

Joe: I used to make beer before I started making wine. I have nothing against Joe Six Pack and beer drinkers. It was costing me $6 a six-pack to make really good beer, but with the increase in micro breweries during the last 20 years, I could buy the best beer in the world for about $6 a pack so I quit making it myself. It costs me $6 to make a bottle of $46 wine, so I’m actually saving $40 a day with every bottle of wine I drink.

WJ: Speaking of home economics, how would Obama’s policies impact U.S. wine production?

Joe: Under Obama’s plan, my taxes are going up. He’s proposing to increase the tax on anyone who makes more than 250 cases of wine a year. I was thinking of buying out the Mondavi estate, but I just don’t know how I’m going to do it with my taxes going up. Obama says he’s only going to tax the rich, but where does it stop? Sure, he starts by taxing you if you make more than 250 cases, then the next thing you know, he’s charging a $10 tax on every bottle of wine produced in America in order to fund the bank bailout. Hey, Mr. Obama, would you mind lowering the mortgage on my vineyard by $250,000? The other thing the politicians don’t understand is that when they raise taxes, I’m going to hire fewer workers. When that happens, unemployment goes up in San Diego and in Mexico.

WJ: Concerning Mexico, how do you feel about the candidates’ positions on immigration?

Joe: I predict that Obama, bending to pressure from protectionist special interests, will ship all illegal Mexican workers back to Africa.

WJ: Wouldn’t that negatively impact you? How are you going to manage your ranch without farm hands?

Joe: Because our taxes are going up, I’ve taken preemptive action to cut costs and fired our workers. After things pick up again, we can always go down to the street corner to hire some day laborers.

WJ: Do you or did you ever employ undocumented workers?

Joe: Are you with the “Justice” department or something? No. Never.

WJ: How do you know?

Joe: They never told me they were illegal.

WJ: What would a McCain presidency mean for wine makers?

Joe: John McCain would free the grapes. The Republican Party, going back to the days of George Washington, has a long history of supporting brewers, winemakers & distillers. Did you know that George Washington himself made a pretty mean brew? Sam Adams used George’s recipe.

WJ: What about the Whiskey Rebellion, when Washington crushed a movement by distillers who refused to pay taxes to the federal government?

Joe: As Jesus said, pay unto Caesar what is due Caesar, then he broke out the good wine at a wedding. Under a McCain administration, the states would no longer be able to interfere with interstate commerce and the Constitutional Right of American citizens to purchase wine direct from any winery they want. McCain would end the tyranny and protectionism of the monopolistic wine distributors and we would be able to ship our wine anywhere in United States, especially Alaska. Did you know that Governor Palin nips a glass of wine every once in a while? She has a plan, whereby we could stock wine in Alaska then slip it into Russia. The idea is to get Russians addicted to wine, so they’ll quit vodka undermining Russia’s industrial base. As the saying goes, when vodka factories fail, down goes Mother Russia, and along with that Putin and his cronies. When McCain was campaigning out here in California wine country, he promised to cut tobacco subsidies (what with all the complaints about cancer and those other problems caused by smoking) and he promised to help the winemakers. Only John McCain and Sarah Palin are maverick enough to stand up to the tobacco lobby. Instead of a $10 tax on a bottle of wine which we would see under Obama within three years – under a new Republican administration I’ll be given a $10 per bottle subsidy to make wine – plus I get to keep the revenue from what I sell. McCain has a plan for fixing Iraq. He’s going to take the $75 billion annual surplus from Iraqi oil revenues to purchase wine to ship to Iraq. And finally, McCain has an alternative energy plan. He’s going to purchase millions of gallons of premium wine to convert to ethanol for use in America’s cars. Under McCain, wine production goes up, we hire more workers, unemployment in San Diego drops, unemployment in Mexico drops.

WJ: Are you planning to hire workers from Mexico?

Joe: I invited my friend Joe the Plumber to come over and install an irrigation valve because the Mexican workers were taking too long to get the work done. When Joe arrived, they freaked out. But I’ve got to tell you, Joe didn’t install the valve correctly, and the Mexicans repaired Joe’s sloppy work. It was a victory of the Mexican worker over the American worker, and the beginning of the end for Joe the Plumber.

WJ: You’re trying to be a farmer in a desert. Aren't you concerned about the future availability of water?

Joe: I used to be an avocado farmer before I planted grapes. In the summer, I was giving each avocado tree 300 gallons of water a week – my water bills were astronomical. A grape vine only needs 10 gallons of week in the heat of summer – and 8 months out of the year I don’t need to give them any water at all. I’m saving thousands of gallons of water with every grape vine I plant. I have a friend in New Zealand. His name is Joe, Joe the Avocado Grower. He’s the father of the avocado oil business over there, and has his own avocado groves. I asked Joe how much he spent on water. He said $500. I asked $500 per day? No, he spends $500 the whole year! He’s got much greater rainfall over there, and a well. Shoot, we should just buy all of our avocados from New Zealand, and the New Zealanders should buy all of their red wine from us.

WJ: Do the policies of the San Diego water district and the San Diego county government support avocado growers at the expense of grape growers?

Joe: That’s a complicated question – all I know is that there’s going to be less water to go around and that avocado trees require a lot more water than grape vines . While the politicians try to figure that one out, I’ve already made my decision: I planted grapes.

WJ: Which Presidential candidate is more supportive of the rights of wine producers to sell the product of their labor from their own backyard?

Joe: With the strategic importance wine producers will play in thwarting Russian aggression, alternative energy initiatives and the Iraqi balance of payments problem, I’m concerned Congress will nationalize wine production after the banks.

WJ: Wouldn’t boutique wineries benefit from billions in public investment?

Joe: Do you think the government can make "fine wine"? The Italians make good wine. Good wine is made by stomping grapes with your feet. But according to my good friend Merlot Mike, Fine Wine™ can only be made when lush grapes are gently crushed between the subtle breasts of nubile maidens. Can you see Uncle Sam doing that? Besides, what would we do if given billions of tax dollars? Go to California and throw a party? There’s no point in that – we’re here already and have as much as we want to drink already.

WJ: Is it true you’re organizing a protest march in New York?

Joe: I call it “Main Street Goes to Wall Street.” I’m calling for all winos to meet on the steps of the New York Stock Exchange building in Lower Manhattan next Tuesday, election day. It’s not a protest – it’s to provide emergency relief. After Hurricane Ike struck the Gulf Coast, we bottled up wine to send to our brothers and sisters in Texas as a symbol of our solidarity. After all this financial carnage on Wall Street , I’m sure there are some bankers who could use a drink.

WJ: Won’t you need to hire New York wine distributors to do the pouring for you?

Joe: Not if McCain wins. He’ll bust the monopolies.

WJ: Any final last words before the election?

Joe: Vote early and vote often.