I was intrigued by the idea of the Studio recently when I was seated next to its founder, Eric Hamacher, at a dinner for the Oregon Chardonnay Alliance. Eric had brought his own chardonnay, produced at the Studio under his own label, and we were much taken with it. (I'm working on a separate article on that dinner, and on Eric's intensely passionate take on chardonnay.)
The idea of the Winemakers Studio is fairly simple: Construct a location where small winemakers could share resources (space, fermentation vats, bottling facilities, the all-important forklift for carrying cases of wine to be shipped, etc.) and allow them to take their wines to the next level without the huge investment in property and equipment normally required. As a result, ten wineries participate in the Carlton Winemakers Studio to make wine in their own personal style. And best of all from the enophile's standpoint, they're all available in the same tasting room, with some inventive and creative ways of presenting them.
I arrived midafternoon on a warm August day, and was delighted to find a very modern, cool tasting room just in from a pleasant sheltered patio. How tasting works here: on any given day, the tasting room has a selection of wines from among the members' available vintages; their house wines (that is, wine produced under the Carlton Winemakers Studio label) are always complimentary, and there are modest tasting fees associated with the other offerings of the day.
The way to get the best results here is to go with one of the flights they offer. The principle is simple: take two or three wines of some similar characteristics, serve a small amount of each, and let the taster compare and contrast them. The flights vary, of course, from day to day depending on what's open; on my visit there was a flight of white and rose wines, another of "miscellaneous reds" (about which more later), and the one that caught my eye, pinot noirs. For $10 I was treated to a generous splash from each of three different pinots produced at the Studio: their house pinot ($18), made by Eric Hamacher for the Carlton Winemakers Studio label; a J. Daan ($22), described by the young woman who poured as her personal favorite; and a Boedecker ($28).
My take on the tasting is that the Studio's house wine is one of the most salmon-friendly pinots I've had recently, light enough not to overpower a grilled slab of Copper River sockeye but with enough complexity and range to be good with other white meats—it would have been just fine, for example, with the pan-roasted pork tenderloin with cipolline onions and fresh sage that I made for Father's Day this year (and considering that I splurged on an Argyle Nut House pinot for that dinner, this is quite a compliment for such a modestly priced Oregon pinot). I'd stop short of serving the Studio pinot with lamb, duck or goose, however, as it's just not deep enough for those flavors. But it's light, with fresh red fruit in the aroma and enough earthiness to keep it balanced.
The J. Daan was interesting. It had almost no aroma at all, just the barest hint of fruit, but it was the most powerful in the glass of the three I tasted. If you've reached the point in your wine-tasting experience that you understand it when the winemaker talks about a "strong mineral backbone," that's what this wine has in spades. If that's just wine-snob jargon to you, let me explain: if you've ever dug a hole, whether for a garden or to plant a tree or just because you were a kid and digging a hole was fun, you must remember the way freshly dug earth smelled, dark and cool but neither sweet nor sour. That's what "strong mineral backbone" means when it applies to wine: the sense that the vines have extracted this fresh, cool strength from the soil itself, like Antaeus getting his power from being in contact with the earth. The J. Daan layered elements of blackberry on top of this earthy substrate, making for a powerful and satisfying pinot that could stand up to much heartier fare than most pinots; I wouldn't hesitate to pair this with a mixed grill including beef and Italian sausage as well as pork or chicken, or even a mildly seasoned prime rib.
The Boedecker was closest to the style of wine I personally enjoy the most, with more power than the Carlton Winemakers Studio but more complexity than the J. Daan. A luscious bouquet hinting at black cherry, with a bit of the forest-floor earthiness that becomes transcendent in the best Oregon pinots, this one is a good all-rounder, though at $28 you're approaching the price of a reserve pinot that will have even more of everything. However, this is still a worthy taste, and as I sipped it I couldn't help but think of osso buco, the Milanese dish made by braising veal shanks in a sofrito (the Italian name for the "holy trinity" of savory vegetables: carrots, onion, and celeray) with wine, sage and fresh brown stock till the meat slides off the bones as you lift the shanks from the simmering liquid.
In the end, I left with a bottle of the Carlton Winemakers Studio pinot noir because Kim has been craving salmon lately and this really will be superb with salmon on the grill, especially since she broke down recently and did a test piece by marinating it in fresh blackberry juice before cooking over indirect heat. And I had to buy a Hamacher chardonnay (and yes, I promise to write up my conversation with Eric at the Chardonnay Alliance dinner before we head to Ashland next week).
And finally, as a shot in the dark, I bought a bottle of Boedecker rose. Kim and I are very fond of certain kinds of rose, but only certain kinds; as I put it recently, we like roses that are more like red wine served cold, rather than roses that are like white wines turned pink. One of my benchmark rose preferences is Randall Grahm's Vin Gris de Cigare, from Bonny Doon in Santa Cruz, California; made from a blend of southern French varietals (grenache, syrah, mourvedre, cinsault, etc.), this one is bone-dry and very, very subtle, but with the kind of balance and complexity that a good Cotes du Rhone brings, but light enough to chill and sip while watching the sun slip into the Pacific. The staff at Carlton Winemakers Studio concurred that of the various rose offerings they had, the Boedecker was the fullest-bodied and most like a red wine in complexity and dryness. It's still in the refrigerator now; I'll be sure to add tasting notes when we try it.
Got a favorite discovery in Oregon wine? Have a tip on a farmer's market or roadside produce stand with an emphasis on organic and sustainable treats? Let me know!
