Celebrating long history of Oregon pinot noir

McMINNVILLE, Ore. — These are heady times for wineries that specialize in pinot noir. The "Sideways" effect is for real; more than two years after that film's premiere, sales of pinot noir are still in the stratosphere.

So it was all smiles recently at the International Pinot Noir Conference (IPNC), held annually in McMinnville, Yamhill County — the heart of Oregon pinot country. This was the event's 20th anniversary, and the traditional opening ceremonies, which always include brief introductions of all participating wineries, started off with a lineup of vintners from the very first conference. Gray hairs all, they were a poignant reminder that even as the industry itself celebrates the first real bloom of young adulthood, those who founded it are headed for retirement. Dick Erath has just sold his winery, now in its 35th vintage, to Ste. Michelle Wine Estates.

David Lett, who started the whole Oregon fascination with pinot almost 40 years ago, is finally ceding control of Eyrie to his son Jason. Dick and Nancy Ponzi, Terry Casteel (Bethel Heights) and Joe and Pat Campbell (Elk Cove) are some of the other pioneers now on their way to the golf course, while the kids schlep the barrels.

This is a good thing and is leading to sweeping changes that are transforming the Oregon wine industry. In the rarified air of pinot noir growing, the talk is focused on clones, clones and more clones.

Vineyard practices have been completely changed in recent years, with different rootstocks; tighter vine spacing; and a much more rigorous approach to trellising, pruning, green harvesting — in short, everything that goes into growing grapes.

"You don't make pinot noir," one vintner says, bluntly. "You grow pinot noir. It's made in the vineyard."

Some other interesting puzzles are being posed. One longtime winemaker with whom I shared lunch mentioned that his wines had been sold out for the past seven months, something unprecedented in his 30-plus years in the business.

"Congratulations!" was the natural response, but he went on to explain that in the wake of "Sideways"-mania, he had sold 31,000 cases of wine in the past year, while only producing 23,000. "That's not sustainable," he concluded; worse yet, it creates problems of its own.

"All my salespeople are essentially starting from scratch with the next vintage," he told me. "We're off every restaurant list we've worked to get on for the past 20 years."

Another hot topic was the growing number of vineyards using sustainable, organic and/or biodynamic grape-growing. Though these terms and the complicated legalities that define them are impossibly confusing to consumers, the trend to Earth-friendly viticulture is laudable.

Oregon is struggling to find ways to market these wines with a message that consumers can understand and will embrace. Here's an idea: Why not develop a simple, clean logo — I'm thinking a globe circled by a heart — signifying that the grapes that went into the wine bearing the logo were grown in a way that is healthful for the planet?

Such a message may seem a bit simplistic, but it's true and to the point. And truth be told, Oregon (and California) are both doing wonderful work in this area. At an IPNC tasting of Earth-friendly wines, some excellent efforts were showcased from Bergström; Bethel Heights; Elk Cove; Handley; and Alma Rosa, a new winery to watch in the Santa Rita Hills. It's the latest project of Richard Sanford, who pioneered the region in the early '70s.

Apart from the sheer numbers of wines available for tasting throughout the weekend, IPNC is notable for the way it combines winemakers, growers, trade, press and consumers in a series of casual encounters.

Small groups are assigned to buses and sent to a surprise winery. On my bus were winemakers from Tasmania, Jim Clendenen from Au Bon Climat in California, Thomas Bachelder from Le Clos Jordanne in Canada's Niagara Peninsula, Burgundians Cyril Audoin (Domaine Charles Audoin) and Didier Chevillon (Domaine Dupont-Tisserandot) and Robert Morus from Phelps Creek in Hood River. I chatted with the Herb Farm's Ron Zimmerman as we rode through the Eola Hills on our way to Cristom.

There, winemaker Steve Doerner walked us up into the immaculate vineyard, where we were treated to a wide-ranging discussion of all the minutiae of grape-growing that somehow fascinates wine lovers. How do you deal with hail, rot, rain, drought, bugs, birds, bears, deer, heat, cold and the myriad plagues that can ruin a vintage?

What are the latest experiments in your vineyard? (At Cristom, it's tighter vine spacing, new plantings of syrah and viognier, experiments testing the effects of "hang time" on leaves, changing the timing of leaf-pulling and cluster-thinning, and much more.)

From all of this emerges a rich picture of winemaking, and particularly the art of making pinot noir, around the globe. At the two big dinners, both prepared and served outdoors by an army of volunteer chefs, sommeliers and servers, rare bottles are passed around like party favors.

Late Saturday evening, thoroughly satiated, I strolled the lantern-lit grounds, still buzzing with groups of happy imbibers. Thousands of wine bottles were strewn about. I sat down at an abandoned table and spotted an untouched oddity: A bottle of Italian pinot nero, from Trentino's Pojer e Sandri, stood rather forlorn and forgotten.

I poured a sip; the wine was delicate and demure, a lovely creation, but a bit out of its league surrounded by the blockbuster wines of the New World and the icons of Burgundy.

I drank the final glass of the weekend — a toast to elegance, to purity, to grace and refinement. To pinot noir!

Paul Gregutt is the author of "Northwest Wines." His column appears weekly in the Wine section. He can be reached by e-mail at wine@seattletimes.com.