Annual Cookbook Issue : Atlas Shrugged: Two Books, One Title

For centuries, gazetteers of Europe’s fine wine-growing regions have claimed that a glass of wine and the soil from which it came were linked.

Now two esteemed authors have trained their microscopes on the much younger California wine country, targeting a similar notion, and the result is a pair of worthy books that prove a wine system unlike that of Europe exists here.

What the new books say, in effect, is that the New World and European systems of classifying wine are different. The authors indicate that at this point, any California wine atlas is merely a first step in a U.S. regional appellation system--but the wine industry is still too young for appellations to have much meaning.

The books are “The Wine Atlas of California and the Pacific Northwest” by Bob Thompson (Simon & Schuster: $45; 240 pp.), a Californian, and “Wine Atlas of California” by James Halliday (Viking/Penguin: $50; 400 pp.), an Australian. Both books are handsome, filled with excellent photos and enough facts to make a wine trivia expert of anyone.

Though both books set out to do the same thing--dissect California’s wine regions--they do so differently, making it easy for me to recommend both books for real wine lovers. Each book complements the other, partly because American vine-growing and wine-making simply isn’t as geographically homogeneous as are most of the prestigious wine-growing regions of France and Italy. So a local view and an imported view are two ways to look at this fascinating state and its wine areas.

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In most of the top wine regions of Europe, a town gives its name to the wine of the area. The law mandates that such a wine be made only from the permitted grape varieties. When you buy an Echezeaux, it must be from the area called Echezeaux and made only of the Pinot Noir grape. Likewise, a Barolo is from Barolo and made of Nebbiolo.

This system works because in Europe the soil and climate are known to be intertwined with the grape. California, with no laws restricting which grapes may grow where, and with no laws mandating maximum yields per acre, is a crazy quilt.

Here, cold-loving Riesling grows side-by-side with warmth-hewing Cabernet. The character of American wines is thus less linked to the area in which it grows and more responsive to such elements as how the vines are grown and how the wine is made.

These last two topics are not for atlases; they are for technical treatises that discuss such things as trellising systems and potassium/pH ratios. Since that isn’t very interesting reading, Thompson and Halliday (who are good friends, incidentally) set off to find out just what the American Viticultural Appellation (AVA) system was all about and to see if there is any meaning to it all.

The conclusion: Not much yet, but the framework is being laid.

Thompson, a resident of Napa Valley, viewed his task structurally. Because he saw the fitful beginnings of the AVA system up close and knows its virtues and shortcomings, his work is a keen, scalpel-edged delineation of what the consumer may expect from the wines of each area.

Halliday, a wine columnist who lives in Australia and owns the excellent Coldstream Hills Winery, went at the task methodically, looking at the AVAs, and at some point threw up his hands.

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Before traveling here to work on the project, Halliday says, “I did an enormous amount of research in advance, but the more I looked at it, the more cynical I became about the real meaning of the AVA.” He says the U.S. government was little help in defining the AVA, unlike officials in France and Italy, where agencies actively trumpet regional identity.

Thompson admits there are failings in the AVA system, but accepts it. “I worked within that framework,” he says. “The system is there, so I addressed it as best I could.”

Thompson’s book appears to cover the subject in greater depth. He begins his discussion of each region with a lengthy overview, then delves into the sub-AVAs. Good maps show the location of some of the most famed vineyards in the state.

Halliday’s book--the maps are nowhere near as detailed as in Thompson’s--provides a general view of each AVA region, large or small, and greater detail on each winery within each AVA, plus monographs on wineries and grapes. It is basically a detailed look at wineries--less an atlas than a biographical analysis. But beyond the thorough biographies of California wineries, it raises some interesting questions and only hints at answers.

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Comparing how each author treated the same region is fascinating. Halliday prefers historical and winemaking quirks; Thompson likes the style capabilities of each area.

Not long ago, the two authors, on a national tour promoting their books, crossed paths and as a gag, each posed with the other’s book. Wine lovers would do well to get both.

Other wine books of note:

“Oz Clarke’s Wine Advisor 1994,” by Oz Clarke (Fireside Books/Simon & Schuster: $11; 288 pp.).

More truly pocket-sized (3 3/4x6 3/4-inch), this alphabetical guide to the wines of the world is slightly easier to use than Hugh Johnson’s venerable annual “Pocket Encyclopedia of Wine.” Clarke, a British wine writer with a droll sense of humor, has an incisive style and pulls few punches with his capsule reviews. An excellent reference when buying at shop.

“The Vines of San Lorenzo,” by Edward Steinberg (Ecco Press: $25; 260 pp.).

Steinberg, an American living in Rome, traveled to Piedmont to write a loving paean to Angelo Gaja, one of the world’s most dynamic winemakers and a tireless champion of ever-greater wines from his region. Steinberg looks at the production of a single wine, Gaja’s 1989 Barbaresco from his San Lorenzo vineyard, and how Gaja lives. The chronological story has much detail that wine aficionados will love, and much lore that novices will find interesting.

“A Cultivated Life,” by Joy Sterling (Villard Books: $22; 238 pp.).

Sterling is the daughter of Barry and Audrey Sterling, the owners of Sonoma County’s Iron Horse Vineyards, and the wife of Iron Horse’s co-owner and winemaker, Forest Tancer. The book follows the seasons in a year at Iron Horse, where it appears there are none of the fiscal or emotional problems often associated with this quirky lifestyle. If you can get past the self-absorbed, almost supercilious tone of the book, there are some nice insights into one family winery’s operation.

“Parker’s Wine Buyer’s Guide,” by Robert M. Parker, Jr. (Simon & Schuster: $21 paper, $40 hardbound; 1,158 pp.).

In this third edition, Parker again rates wines on a 100-point scale and offers much factual data and voluminous opinions about wines from around the world. A drawback is that Parker’s opinions on how wine should be made are not universally accepted and some of the scores for wines other than the mainstream expensive wines appear awfully low. Moreover, many good wines seem to fall into the purgatory between 85 and 89 points, and in the California section (the area I know most about), the book fails to review or comment on some of the best wines.

“The New Connoisseurs’ Handbook of California Wines,” by Norman S. Roby and Charles E. Olken (Alfred A. Knopf: $24; 398 pp.).

The ultimate fast-read for California wine buffs, the book has an excellent section on wine production; maps, and detailed discussions of grapes and viticultural areas. The authors, longtime wine critics, review thousands of wines dating back two decades and rank wineries by varietal and vintages. A splendid, well-researched book that adds much to the California wine scene.

“Hugh Johnson’s Pocket Encyclopedia of Wine 1994,” by Hugh Johnson (Fireside/Simon and Schuster: $12; 208 pp.).

Still the benchmark guide, published for more than a decade and offering sage advice for wine-lovers. Not as opinionated as Oz Clarke’s similar work, but packed with facts.