The Way of Zin

This is the time of year when Zinfandel really hits the spot. Bold, gutsy, succulent, spicy, smooth and above all red, Zin somehow captures the bittersweet tang of a crisp winter evening and can make a drizzly, sodden weekend seem cozy.

I’m not talking about those over-hyped Zin extracts with 15% alcohol or more. Those velvet monsters are impressive in their larger-than-life way but hardly civilized. There’s no good reason a Zin can’t clock in around 14% (still rather high for a table wine) and be perfectly scrumptious.

To me, Zinfandel is a synonym for Dry Creek Valley. I realized that for the gazillionth time one rainy afternoon in mid-November as I drove along Dry Creek Valley Road.

The last grapes had been harvested a few days earlier (the ’99 harvest was one of the latest on record), but there were still a few bunches of second crop fruit on the gnarly old head-pruned vines along the road--so I got out to spend a few minutes trudging along a row through the gravelly red mud, popping the little purple beauties in my mouth and savoring each little explosion of flavor.

That got me thinking about the Dry Creek Valley’s impressive coming of age. Almost stealthily, with a deliberate sense of community purpose but little outward fuss, Dry Creek Valley has joined the first rank of California viticultural areas.

The definition and focus are new. They are largely the result of a united commitment to the appellation’s future by the recently formed Winegrowers of Dry Creek Valley, a coalition of growers and wineries that took its cue from the successful Carneros Quality Alliance.

Now, along with Carneros and Napa Valley, Dry Creek Valley is one of California’s most progressive, heads-up appellations. Not coincidentally, it is also one of the most traditional, with a viticultural continuity going back to its earliest 19th century pioneers.

That through-line can be summed up in one word: Zinfandel.

Like all of California’s coastal grape growing areas, Dry Creek Valley offers a more than adequate home to just about any grape variety. As one old-timer expressed it, “You can get just about any kind of grape to sugar-up real good here.”

But certain grape varieties produce finer, more distinctive wines in a given area than others, and rather than trying to be all things to all wine consumers, the growers and winemakers of Dry Creek Valley have accepted the time-proven fact that their little corner of paradise excels in red wines, particularly Zinfandel and gutsy Mediterranean blends.

I’d be willing to bet that most wine lovers, facing an array of geographically labeled wines from unknown producers, would be indifferent to a Dry Creek Valley Chardonnay but would show definite interest in a Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel. I thought of that the other night in a North Coast restaurant as I drank a bottle of ’97 Rafanelli Zinfandel with tender Sonoma venison. It occurred to me again in a San Francisco trattoria where the ’96 Preston Zinfandel was wonderful with a grilled chop and hearty risotto.

Another evening there was a beautiful ’96 Quivira Zinfandel that seemed to have been made expressly to go with Chinook salmon steak and olive-oil mashed potatoes.

And that’s just scratching the surface of my recent experience with Dry Creek Valley Zin. I can recall easily the lip-smacking pleasures of, let’s see: Mazocco, Nalle, Dry Creek Vineyards, J. Fritz, Gallo (the tasty Frei Ranch Zin), Ferrari-Carrano, Bannister, Les Deux Amis, Duxoup, Teldeschi and Lytton Springs.

In terms of being perceived as a well-defined entity, Dry Creek Valley has a natural advantage in its neat geographical form. From the air, it looks likes the creation of a landscape designer--the charming meander of the valley floor, the well-defined benches, the garden-like niches and pretty little canyons set into the opposing ridges and the asymmetrical accents of unexpected hillside plantings.

The ridges themselves are wild, home to bears, eagles, mountain lions and true wild boar--along with herds of the grape-loving feral pigs that drive growers crazy with destructive rooting and, occasionally, volunteer to grace their barbecues and dinner tables by way of compensation.

Dry Creek Valley is about half the size of Napa Valley. It is 16 miles from the confluence of Dry Creek and the Russian River near Healdsburg (Alderbrook Vineyards is right on the line) to Warm Springs Dam (with Lake Sonoma behind it) at the head of the valley. The valley is two miles across at the widest point but quite a bit narrower in most places; the valley floor accounts for only about 25% of the 80,000 acres (125 square miles) that make up the appellation.

There are about 5,000 acres of vineyards in Dry Creek Valley (for comparison, Napa Valley has more than 35,000 acres of grapes).

Dry Creek Valley is warmer and wetter than the neighboring Russian River and Alexander valleys. During the wet months, as grower Jim Forchini put it so well, “the hills tend to scrub the rain right out of the clouds when those northwest fronts come through.”

On a typical summer day, the valley will be blanketed with fog or low clouds until late morning, but many of the best vineyards are above the inversion layer (about 650 feet and up) and thus warm up faster and get more morning sun than the valley floor plantings.

However, those same vineyards get the first cooling ocean breeze in the afternoon and tend to cool off and shut down earlier than the lower ones. Likewise, there is a difference between the way grapes ripen on the west side of the valley, where it gets dark and cool faster, and the east side, which basks in sunlight until 9 p.m. or so at the height of the season. In general, the combination of warmth and tempered marine influence makes for a long growing season throughout the appellation.

Perhaps the most important thing about Zin’s success in the valley is that in the best areas--that is, on the benches and slopes--Zin is in a relatively marginal situation. With fine wine the question is often not whether the fruit will ripen but how it ripens.

Everyone in the wine world seems to be theoretically aware that long hang time (protracted maturation) creates new levels of intensity and complexity, and yet so many vineyards are planted where they simply “sugar up.”

In the Dry Creek Valley’s favored Zin sites, the grapes mature long and slowly, maintaining a delicate balance between sugars and acids (it’s important to speak of these things in the plural) until the very peak of the cycle.

Nailing that peak is all-important. Most of the Zin-growing families, and many of their vineyards, go back to the 19th century. Their long experience with the land probably has more to do with the area’s excellence than the more recent mastery of high-tech vineyard and winery techniques.

When they get it right, which is pretty much all the time these days, that exquisite fruit makes a stunning wine known as Dry Creek Valley Zin.