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Head-Spin
Zin Up on the crumbling 22nd floor of Eugene's oldest, creakiest high-rise, Mole and I rammed around our combo office/laboratory, frantically preparing our back-to-school report on autumn wines. Mole, first-time readers, is my associate. We call him, affectionately, the Round Mound of Merlot (he has a weakness), stubby little guy with hawk's eye for value and hound's nose for scams, also a heart of platinum and worth his weight in oil. I could hear him clinking beakers and bottles, something eating at him. I wondered what: war, terrorism, global warming, rich New Yorkers' schemes for gutting Oregon's school budgets? I waited. Mole's a sweet goof, steady and stable, but sometimes develops volcanic rumblings, precursor events preceding eruption. Best just to monitor and maintain until the top comes off and lava begins to flow. I idly riffled through stacks of wine publications and print-outs from gobs of wine-related websites that have popped up in the last few years, heavy on hype, light on facts, sorta like Fox News. Seen the documentary Mondovino? A don't-miss for wine geeks, the film reveals some of the effects of globalization on the world of wine: corporate comglomerization of ownership, pressure on local producers to "open" their land for vineyard development, pressure on indigenous people in places like Uruguay to convert their forests and farms into vineyards, engineering of winemaking to construct "consumer-friendly" wine "products," all that and more. Hard to say what's more disturbing in the film, the golly-gosh fun folks are having in the global marketplace, or the soft-voiced nostalgia for fascism expressed by Italian wine aristocrats, one of whom actually says, "At least the trains ran on time." Swell stuff. Truth is, wine is awfully close to being an almost perfect free-market commodity; supply, demand, pricing and trade practices all work in charming harmony with crafty marketing to make the mondo of vino go blithely round and round. Some people make raft-loads of dough, some just get by, some struggle and fail. Simple Darwinian survival machinery. Mole came steaming out of the lab, cheeks glowing: "It's criminal, felony pricing," he cried, pointing at the papers. I nodded. The facts were clear: Prices for futures (buy now, get later) of 2005 Bordeaux wines have reached felonious levels. List-toppers Chateau Ausone at $1,375/bottle, Ch. Latour $766, Lafite Rothschild only $622. Average bottle price, reported in the Wine Spectator, $545. Elsewhere in the issue, we find Napa Valley's Screaming Eagle cabernet sauvignon ticketed at $500/bottle. "Somebody should be arrested," Mole grumped. Keeping my voice soothing, I said, "Market forces, pal, Adam Smith's invisible hand, the simple answer to questions about what people who have too much money do with their surplus loot: Buy mansions, expensive cars, yachts, first-growth Bordeaux and premier cru Burgundy. It's all that fresh money in Asia just comin' home. Heck, Mole, you got all peptic when Oregon pinot noir went over 50 bux a bottle, so check this." Little guy was so vulnerable, I probably shouldn't'a done it: I reached under my desk, hefted a bottle, set it down. "Oregon's first wine to break $100." Mole blanched. "Omigawd, Sleut', it's a zinfandel!" Thought he'd blow his hair off. "Yep," I came back, "Troon Vineyard 2002 Zinfandel Reserve: a c-note, retail. Back label reads "The best Zin ever made. Period." Cool, huh? Mole?" He was gone, leaving only echoes of whimpers. Dick Troon planted in the Illinois Valley west of Jacksonville in 1972, and he's long been my favorite rogue in a valley full of such. His Siskiyou Vineyard 1985 Troon Zinfandel stomped 37 California zins in a 1987 Grand National tasting, winning Diamond, Double Gold. The winemaker of that landmark wine was Donna Devine. The 2002 Troon zin was also made by Donna Devine, but this time for Troon Vineyard's new owners, the Martin family, who bought the venerable site in 2003. This zin won four golds at this year's New World International Wine Competition. Only 138 cases were made and the wine can only be found in odd places, mostly specialty wine shops. Later, calmer, we tasted/tested the Troon: terrific, deeply layered in flavors of dark berries and pepper, high alcohol (16.5 percent), good structure, classic. Best ever? Well, there was the 1985 Hood River Zin, so deep, so rich … The Troon is awfully good, and only a handful of zin-fiends will ever know it. Lotta top Oregon wines never get out of the state: Broadley Vineyards 2005 Chardonnay may be the best Oregon chard we've ever tasted — lovely tropical fruit, light oak, good acidity — but only 50 cases were made and only a few bottles might remain in the area, stickered at $26, a wine for the flush and lucky few, but a real stunner. By contrast, even supermarkets will soon offer Columbia Crest 2003 Columbia Valley Grand Estates Merlot, at only $11. Spectator rated this at 90 points, excellent. Mole swooned: deep, rich, round and soft, flavors of blackberries, plums, black currants, a hint of chocolate, lingering finish, a stone bargain, and 150 thousand cases were made, plenty of supply. The vino mondo's a weird world, fraught with risks and rewards, and Oregon's a lovely slice, full of sudden surprises and elusive beauties. Stop by the wine booths at the Eugene Celebration: Henry Estates, LaVelle, Hinman, Noble Estates and, oh, yeah, Broadley. Be happy you're here as early autumn walks our lands.
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