Wine & Spirits - August 2018 - 1

EDITOR'S

note

on writing
and wine

wenty years ago, Rod Smith wrote a story
for our August issue, "Purple Gold Rush."
It focused on the pioneer winegrowers of
the far Sonoma Coast. To help Rod research
the story, I rented a car and a couple of
cabins at the mouth of the Russian River,
in Jenner, where we set up base camp.
Rod Smith
During the day, we'd drive into the hills
to visit the zinfandel vines at Wild Hog,
the chardonnay at Flowers and the early
planting of riesling vines, now long-since replaced by pinot noir, at Hirsch.
We would return in the evening to Jenner, open a bottle of wine from one of the vineyards and
watch the hawks circling over the river in the fading light. One night, we wandered up the hill
past the River's End Inn and down a dirt road to a fire pit, where a crowd of locals were sharing
stories of the day. Another night, we headed farther out on the spit of sand that forms at the
edge of the Pacific. One morning, we drove up Route 1 to a cutout on the west side, then climbed
down the cliff to a beach far below. Rod was always insistent that a place needed to be explored.
Rod earned a James Beard Journalism Award for that story, though he should have received
much more acknowledgement for a career of remarkable writing. His work helped growers
on the North Coast understand the place where they tended their vines, a place with no long
history of winemaking. Rod chronicled their work and helped guide their exploration. He was,
scrupulously, not a wine critic. He refused to write tasting notes. Instead, he wrote about the
land and what it might bear.
It was a loss to me, to readers of this magazine and to all of Rod Smith's readers at the San
Francisco Chronicle and the LA Times when he left journalism to grow grapes in Forestville, in
Sonoma's Green Valley. That was back in 2006. When news broke that Rod had died this past
May, at 65, it was a great loss for his family, and a sad day for those of us who had worked with
him, who had known him as a friend and a great talent.
I thought of Rod recently when I met Roberto Santana and his assistant, whom he introduced
as Ulises, in the Canary Islands. Santana is a partner in Envínate-which roughly translates
as "wine yourself "-a group of four Spanish winemakers exploring their land in thoroughly
distinctive ways. Santana is from Tenerife, where he is resuscitating ancient vines on the south
side of the island, up-mountain from his winery. Ulises led us through the high stone walls and
stands of cactus to scattered bush vines trailing along the ground, interspersed with fig trees and
flowering herbs that had grown into small shrubs. Ulises remained silent, serious about his work.
I composed several ways to ask his last name, and attempted to coax it out of him several times,
but he just kept responding, "Guanche, Guanche," as if to dismiss my request. So I later asked
Santana if the indigenous Guanche people did not have family names, and he laughed. "They
do," he said. "He just didn't understand you. His name is Ulises Doniz."
Rod talked to the people growing the grapes. His genius was to ask questions of winegrowers
and not to be satisfied with an explanation that isn't tied to the land. He showed growers and
vineyard workers respect, and often started by asking people's names.

#MyWineMyGarden
stsupery.com | Rutherford, CA

JOSHUA GREENE

http://www.stsupery.com

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