Diary Of A Start-Up Winemaker: Pushing The Wine Envelope

When we began to even think about getting into the wine industry, we knew one thing: We didn't want to be like anyone else.

What was the point, we asked ourselves? Does a painter set out to be like Chagall, or a musician like Hendricks? No! And so we set out to make a singular wine based on Scott's vision — one that had been solidified in a pre-global palate France, and growing in him for 20-plus years. It would use grapes from the vineyard we farmed, the land painstakingly chosen for the wine we envisioned. No way were we going to emulate another country or person's style. We only wanted to reinstate what we found sorely on the wane in the industry: Wines that dare to be different because of where and who they come from. We were going to push the envelope. Little did we know how hard the industry would push back.

We grow grapes and make wine in Oregon, on land once part of the Oregon Trail — land settled by what were some of the most individualistic and new-way-of-life-seeking people ever to live. In the beginning of our wine-growing adventure, we thought our ideas, our approach, and our wines would fit in perfectly with that heritage. Add that to how we so often read in the wine media that the trend-setters and influencers — the ones who buy, sell, and/or promote wine — are constantly searching for the new and different. We figured we were doing it right.

For example, Wine Spectator's Matt Kramer recently wrote in an article about what he would do differently than others in the industry today:

"If I owned a winery I would ask, when tasting my wines, 'Is this just another me-too wine?'...Most wines, from most places in the world, are me-too wines, interchangeable with other wines of their type. It's inevitable... The only way to become above-average is to impose a demand that what you offer is indeed superior. Too many winery owners do no such thing. Either they can't taste the difference (which is more common than you might suppose) or they're content with merely equaling their neighbors (ditto)."

Hooray! Some validation! Stephanie had been speaking of "me-too" wineries for years, and how people would be interested in us specifically because we were not a me-too wine. If you did the amount of research we did when assembling our business plan, you'd see how apparent me-too wineries really are, especially in the Pacific Northwest, where mega-vineyards supply grapes to dozens of labels. Walla Walla is a great example — in the last few years, the number of labels out there have been popping up like mushrooms after a forest fire. The Grande Dalles was going to do things differently and without a care for how everyone else did it.

Then wine writer Steve Heimoff recently had this to say:

"...One subject that came up...was that people dislike sommeliers; they think they're pompous snobs. I suppose some are, but it's because they're really turned on by wine. They love discovering new things, and they do tend to get bored with the same old 'names.' Maybe that's why some people think they're snobs. Mr. So and So comes in and orders a bottle of [name a cult wine]. The somm says, 'I could bring you that, but we have a wonderful [whatever from wherever] I think you'd enjoy, and it would actually complement chef's food better.' What's snobby about that?"

Well, people, let us tell you the reality of what we've experienced, primarily in the Oregon retail market, as no-name newcomers trying to break the mold: So far, it does not pay to make wines that stand apart. If you're not me-too, you're plum out of luck.

Last fall Scott tasted our wines with probably the most notable sommelier in Portland. He really liked them but said, "These wines don't taste like they come from the Northwest, they taste like they come from Europe. What am I supposed to do with them?" Ummm. We were speechless.

And then there are the people who ask, "Who are you trying to emulate with your wines?" Dumbfounded by such a question, Scott's response has been "Nobody." Inside we're screaming, "Don't you yahoos realize how wine, more than any other agricultural product has an inherent value, and that is its individuality?" Heartbreaking. Just heartbreaking when we hear an inane question like that.

The equation that appears to "work" in today's market is: well-known winemaker signs up with well-known vineyard manager, they in turn sign up with moneyed tycoon to make the next world-class ultra (I'm yawning as I write) super premium me-too wine. And consumers find that exciting? Sure those wines will sell out before they're even in the bottle, but will they be identifiable wines, or simply same-old, same-old?

Just today one of the most well-known Masters of Wine (MW) in the US described our wines as "very vins du terroir." In Scott's opinion, it will take years or maybe decades for our terroir to become apparent, but what we think the MW was intending to convey was that he tasted something identifiable in our wines that he had not experienced before (he also said our wines struck him as more European in character). And not to mislead — not everyone that's tried our wines likes them. But the more unique and individualistic something is the more divisive it often is.

In the end, or at least to this point, it's not that we think people are uninterested or reject those who push the envelop. Rather, they are uneasy about being the first to truly sign on as a fan — the sommeliers, retailers, and distributors we've poured our wines for to date are not out seeking the new and exciting at all. It would seem they don't dare to, or don't care to, because we're not me-too wines. We don't know. We only know there's a long road still ahead for us, looking for those few, elusive individuals who appreciate the same for their wine. And, no, we won't stop pushing.

With a vineyard planted in the "unproven" wilds of wheat country outside The Dalles, Ore., Scott Elder and Stephanie LaMonica struggle to promote their label, The Grande Dalles, and make a go of selling their wine. From the start, the couple has set out to do things their own way, with the belief that staying out of the crowd is better than being lost in it. These posts share their ups and downs.