Clos Pepe Vineyards and Estate Wines
A Private Farm and Residence: Trespassers will be Arrested
Vineyard Tours/Tasting By Appointment Only
4777 East Highway 246Lompoc, CA 93436
On weekends, the air that hangs over the town of Solvang smells like powdered sugar. Almost as if the puffy down comforter of cloud cover that hangs groggily on the rolling mountains every morning is one solid mass of confection. On this Tuesday morning however, the town was empty, the sweet scent was missing and the only thing filling the air was the fattened dew rolling down the hills, too lazy to be mist, but not ambitious enough to become rain.
This is a typical morning in the pinot noir country of central California. No weekend tasters, to tourists, no festivals, just quiet, damp and oddly still.
I had been on the road since 5:30 in the morning in order to make it to my vineyard tour appointment with wine maker Wes Hagen at Clos Pepe in Lompoc California at 10:30, about ten minutes outside of the town of Solvang. In my confirmation email from him I was sent a link to the conformation rules that are to be read and understood if one is to tour Clos Pepe. The link goes to a web page that states quite clearly that if anyone is more than ten minutes late, he or she may not be permitted to join the tour. The instructions give the gate code, navigation of the small vineyard property under different livestock conditions, and directions to stay to the left and look for the small houses. The web page states: When you're there, you'll know you're in the right place because Wes will greet you with a big wave and a smile and he'll say: "welcome to Clos Pepe."
I envisioned a scene not unlike when Charlie finally got to see Willy Wonka for the first time (that's Gene Wilder, not Jonny Depp). I wondered if I too would be able to look on from a distance as the wine -Wonka wobbly walked his path to greet his tour, only to stall, fall, and recover with a miraculous somersault. But that wasn't exactly how it happened.
Fifteen minutes early, I sat outside of his small tan house with blue shudders listening to a brown dog bark at me from behind the confines of a wooden fence made of old wine barrel staves. Two more cars arrived before Hagen finally emerged from the house with more of a spring in his step than I had drummed up in my imagination. Well known as a world-class wine maker, a founding father of both the Santa Rita Hills & Happy Canyon AVAs, and an all around colorful character, I must admit I was intrigued to meet him. When Hagen neared, on path to greet the occupants of the car behind me, I got out of my car with an extended hand and told him my name, to which he replied with more of an accusation than conformation, "of course you are."
I have always known Clos Pepe (Klo Peppy) for producing beautifully layered, crisp and mineral touched Burgundian style chardonnay, as well as pinot noir ... but not just any pinot noir, Clos Pepe pinot noir. Juice that has a balance of acid and fruit with woven synergy highlighting the melding of earth and hand, steeped deeply with an elegiac sensuality. I've always loved the bursts of red berry and aromatic flower petals, silky and soft in texture, and yet there's usually a sprinkling of the hot-stuff - a little spice - often showing with a hint of astringency. That's how I've come to know these wines, at least. I use to associate these unmistakeable flavors with terroir, something unique to the Santa Rita Hills, but Hagen says: "we like to use terroir because we [Americans] don't like to admit that we are ignorant infants in this business. We like to believe that somehow we have terroir too," he says. "I just think it's a truly French idea. The Italian idea, I think, is more like: the earth speaks through the wine. 'Wine is the poetry of the earth' and I love that idea. I think pinot noir at Clos Pepe is the poetry of the earth ... but it has no terroir." His contention is that vines can have a connection to the land, but it takes hundreds of years create that connection.
So maybe what I've come to know in his wines, and in fact the wines of this part of the central coast, isn't terroir after all, maybe it has nothing to do with the land where the vines thrive. If wine truly is the earth's poetry in the bottle, then wouldn't that make the winemaker merely the scribe, and the idiosyncrasies in each bottling akin to the swoops and dots of his penmanship? If this is the case then everything that is the winemaker, meaning his or her personality, beliefs, level of concentration and ability to focus, learn, adapt and accept in his or her surroundings, in effect is the wine. No different than a monk quilling the pages of a bible. Or a drunken starlet with too much smoky eye makeup being praised for her portrayal of a vampire, when in fact her only real value is somewhere between the genetic makeup given by her parents, and her performance coaxed by the director.
This is something I've realized retrospectively. After he passed me without feeling the need to introduce himself and went on to the intended greet-ees whom I had intercepted, I went over to say hello to the dog. When I returned to the collecting group the conversation had drifted from a "corked" bottle of wine that was being returned by a fellow tour guest, to the topic of Joseph Smith and necromancy. Hagen was saying: "on any given day I put on a little bit of Mormon / Muslim repellent - just a little scotch whiskey behind each ear - carry a copy of Origin of Species - works really really well." What they were in fact talking about, I don't know, but now I have a better idea of the origin of the spice and mild astringency so ever present in his award winning pinot noir.
The tour has three stages: live stock and sustainability, vineyard, and wine tasting.
"Let me introduce you to the livestock," he said to the group, "because that's always a good place to start." He led us behind the small tan houses to a gate on the other side of which were free range wandering chickens and a pen of sheep. "We use to save this for the end of the tour, but I've found that it's a lot safer starting with sheep and ending with alcohol, than the opposite."
He explained the sheep, which all looked vaguely like filthy white teddy bears, and how they have a specific job at the vineyard. Not only do they help to breakdown the compost, but they act as growth management in early spring, clearing grass and weeds which, in turn, staves off frost while simultaneously fertilizing the ground. The idea is sustainable, and essentially veering in the direction of biodynamic without all the crystals, woo-woo and dream catchers dangling from the trestles. "The fertilizer has a perfect sort of nitrogen, potassium and phosphorus levels for our grapevines," he explained. "We mix a little bit of chicken manure in with the compost - it's a lot of nitrogen so we don't want to drive the grape crazy and suddenly all-of-the-sudden be big, vigorous vines - that's not really what we're looking for. It's also partially - part of - a symbol of our commitment to sustainable philosophy. About 85% of our cultural practices here would be considered organic by the CCOF - we have no interest in being certified." And then he added: "I personally find conversations of organic rather bourgeois and exclusionary. It's nice to talk about organic food if you can afford it, and then laugh when the rest of the poor world has to eat conventionally farmed food." He went on to explain that his dedication to sustainable practices is also because it makes a difference in the grapes, and thus the wine produced.
From the sheep pen we walked to the vineyard where each vine row is numbered and crowned with clusters of roses growing at each rows head, which Hagen explained was a Burgundian tradition. Speckled throughout the property are posts with round baskets loosely guarded by drooping chains for catching flying disks during the heated Frisbee golf tournaments that fill the slow growing months of summer.
With excitement in his voice, Hagen explains what's different about the soil in the Santa Rita Hills. With fistfuls of dirt in his hand, he is able to retrace the steps of time, all the way up to the hiccup that is today in the grand scheme of history. He explains the composition of the soil, where it came from, and how it differs from the red clay soil of Burgundy and Washington. "Diatomaceous earth is calcium silicate, which lowers soil pH. Low pH saddled with poor sandy soil, saddled with cool temps and windy days keeps our clusters tiny, the berries minuscule." He explains that calcium in the soil builds thicker skins on the grapes, and "because there is more skin than juice, it really concentrates the flavor of the pinot noir and chardonnay grapes here at Clos Pepe."
From the papyrus of the vine we made our way to the poetry of the tasting room, which is the patio of the main house on the property. The tour guests all took their glasses and picked their seats at various tables, as the winemaker himself offered a selection of cheeses and then poured from each bottle. As he did, Hagen explained the winemaking process in detail while fluttering from glass to glass with the nectar of each pour releasing fragrances in plumes. He explained everything from what was unique about the grapes of each particular vintage, to what he was trying to accomplish. Why he chose certain fermentation separations and certain yeasts, what he wanted to achieve inside each vessel and what he was trying to capture under the closure he selected for that particular bottling. In a sense, why he chose a certain nib for his pen, or one ink for this verse, and another for the next, and mostly, what he was hoping to say when the two verses were blended together and read on the same page.
What was most interesting about the tasting was the lineup because, quite frankly, not all of the wines poured were stellar, but that wasn't a bad thing because not all of the wines poured were for sale either. Starting with sparkling blanc de noir rose and ending with a pinot noir grappa, the tasting was a truly unique and personal experience that included a 1998 chardonnay broken out of the vault just for the sake of giving it a try. In many ways it was the tasting of a chardonnay that was long past its prime that was the best part. It was - to stretch an analogy - the crumpled up papers, the first drafts, and the sketches of a thought. The flavors that were once obviously there, now only vaguely showing as visible as the ghosts of erased words on an old page. The melding of art and agriculture has often been used to describe winemaking, and now, after visiting Clos Pepe for a couple of hours on a misty spring morning, the idea has been argued in the field with science and passion, and then proven in the glass with the proverbial poetry of the earth - scraps of paper, first drafts and all.
Too many times I find tastings are the same from one tasting room to the next. One is poured a succession of wines with overly explained introductions that unless the taster is relatively well versed in the wine trade, simply wouldn't and usually doesn't. Touring Clos Pepe is different; it's a lesson in viticulture, history, practices, and theory.
Note: it's advisable for those not in the wine industry to study a bit before requesting a tour, not because you won't understand what winemaker Wes Hagen is talking about, but so you can appreciate what he is telling you.
CLOS PEPE WEBSITE
From the sheep pen we walked to the vineyard where each vine row is numbered and crowned with clusters of roses growing at each rows head, which Hagen explained was a Burgundian tradition. Speckled throughout the property are posts with round baskets loosely guarded by drooping chains for catching flying disks during the heated Frisbee golf tournaments that fill the slow growing months of summer.
With excitement in his voice, Hagen explains what's different about the soil in the Santa Rita Hills. With fistfuls of dirt in his hand, he is able to retrace the steps of time, all the way up to the hiccup that is today in the grand scheme of history. He explains the composition of the soil, where it came from, and how it differs from the red clay soil of Burgundy and Washington. "Diatomaceous earth is calcium silicate, which lowers soil pH. Low pH saddled with poor sandy soil, saddled with cool temps and windy days keeps our clusters tiny, the berries minuscule." He explains that calcium in the soil builds thicker skins on the grapes, and "because there is more skin than juice, it really concentrates the flavor of the pinot noir and chardonnay grapes here at Clos Pepe."
From the papyrus of the vine we made our way to the poetry of the tasting room, which is the patio of the main house on the property. The tour guests all took their glasses and picked their seats at various tables, as the winemaker himself offered a selection of cheeses and then poured from each bottle. As he did, Hagen explained the winemaking process in detail while fluttering from glass to glass with the nectar of each pour releasing fragrances in plumes. He explained everything from what was unique about the grapes of each particular vintage, to what he was trying to accomplish. Why he chose certain fermentation separations and certain yeasts, what he wanted to achieve inside each vessel and what he was trying to capture under the closure he selected for that particular bottling. In a sense, why he chose a certain nib for his pen, or one ink for this verse, and another for the next, and mostly, what he was hoping to say when the two verses were blended together and read on the same page.
What was most interesting about the tasting was the lineup because, quite frankly, not all of the wines poured were stellar, but that wasn't a bad thing because not all of the wines poured were for sale either. Starting with sparkling blanc de noir rose and ending with a pinot noir grappa, the tasting was a truly unique and personal experience that included a 1998 chardonnay broken out of the vault just for the sake of giving it a try. In many ways it was the tasting of a chardonnay that was long past its prime that was the best part. It was - to stretch an analogy - the crumpled up papers, the first drafts, and the sketches of a thought. The flavors that were once obviously there, now only vaguely showing as visible as the ghosts of erased words on an old page. The melding of art and agriculture has often been used to describe winemaking, and now, after visiting Clos Pepe for a couple of hours on a misty spring morning, the idea has been argued in the field with science and passion, and then proven in the glass with the proverbial poetry of the earth - scraps of paper, first drafts and all.
Too many times I find tastings are the same from one tasting room to the next. One is poured a succession of wines with overly explained introductions that unless the taster is relatively well versed in the wine trade, simply wouldn't and usually doesn't. Touring Clos Pepe is different; it's a lesson in viticulture, history, practices, and theory.
Note: it's advisable for those not in the wine industry to study a bit before requesting a tour, not because you won't understand what winemaker Wes Hagen is talking about, but so you can appreciate what he is telling you.
CLOS PEPE WEBSITE
