Wine industry professionals head for Sacramento each winter. The annual Unified Symposium held at that city’s Convention Center draws thousands from both grapegrowing and winemaking segments of the business.

Attendees typically fill the ballroom of a nearby hotel one morning to hear various experts define the state of their industry. Later, they can attend smaller seminars catering to individual interests. This year growers could check out sessions such as Applying Research Results in My Vineyard: What Are Research Dollars Doing for My Business? Winemakers were more likely to reserve places at seminars like Revisiting Microoxygenation. Business topics packed the smaller rooms, too. What small operation wouldn’t be intrigued by the potential to circumvent the archaic three-tiered distribution system suggested by Selling Your Wines Direct to the Consumer?
      
      

Ted Huber pours a second sample of his Indiana Blueberry
Port for Brendan Cooke.

Of course, there’s a trade fair, too, and spread over what seems acres are vendors of products large (tractors and overhead picking machines), small (corks and closures) and sizes in between.

This annual three-day event is part my continuing wine education. It’s business, but at times it can be fun. Such is the case of the annual tasting when promotional boards from around the country pour their products. Much of it is splendid. Cabernet from Napa Valley? Pinot Noir from Santa Barbara? Good stuff of course, but then it’s presumed to be and I’m familiar with much of it.

A few years ago I bellied up to the wines from Texas table where I experienced a couple of Cabernet Sauvignons that were outstanding by any standard. The fellow who poured them, Craig Parker, was also the winemaker—an Australian making great Cab in Texas Hill Country . . . who’d have thought it?

Not every state is as blessed as California. Most don’t share its relatively long winegrowing history and benign climate. Sometimes I think people devoted to developing wineries elsewhere might be deemed heroic. Or maybe they’re just misguided.

I’ve tasted some truly awful wines from other areas, but I’ve found some nice ones, too. In the last couple of years I’ve visited Texas and Colorado to learn more about their developing wine industries and was invited back to judge at competitions in both states. Just a few months ago I explored a relatively new Missouri wine region south of St. Louis along the Mississippi River and will be reporting on that visit in the next few weeks. On these sojourns I’ve met a raft of nice people and learned a lot along the way.

For the last three years I’ve cajoled friends and colleagues to taste with me at the Unified Symposium. Our “assignment” is to find a wine we like, preferably something with personality. We must eschew California wines in this exercise. That goes for Oregon and Washington entries, too. So, glasses in hand, we go off on a two-hour expedition to find trophies in wine’s hinterlands.

This year Brendan Cooke was the first scout to report a positive development. He’d found a port. He thought it was made from blueberries, he said. Were this recommendation coming from someone else, it might have been met with a sceptical, arched-eyebrow response. However, Brendan was reared in England. And those Brits know their Ports.

The rest of us trooped over to the Indiana table where we met Ted Huber, owner and winemaker at Huber’s Orchard & Winery (www.huberwinery.com). His Borden, Indiana winery is situated on land an ancestor purchased in 1843—a man who was a fruit farmer and winemaker in his native Baden-Baden, Germany. Ted did, indeed, have a Port-style wine made from blueberries and it was very good. Did it taste like a “real” Portugese vintage Port? Not exactly, but it was closer in style, I thought, to a vintage Port than a ruby or tawny. And, if judged on its own merits, it was a fine drink—one that would be splendid if served in traditional after-dinner circumstances with blue cheese and nuts. A bottle of the Huber Blueberry Port is $15.99.
      
      

Patty Held-Uthlaut, Director of PR for
Missouri's Stone Hill Winery, shares
the 2003 Norton with Mike Eady.


Michael Eady, whose work has appeared frequently in both this publication and in Taste California Travel, found a wine from Hermann, Missouri to his liking. The 2003 Stone Hill Winery Norton is a dry table wine, which might be appropriate in circumstances where a Zinfandel—or other red variety familiar to Californians--would be served. The Norton is a hardy native American grape which is virtually unknown on the West Coast, but well-suited to vineyards located in harsher climates such as those of Missouri and Virginia. Perhaps more than Zinfandel, it reminded me of brawnier wines from France’s Rhone Valley containing Syrah, Grenache or Carignane. It delivered plenty of character without the excess alcohol of so many food-unfriendly California wines. Neither Mike nor I would have any hesitation pouring this one with roast lamb or barbecued steaks. The 2003 vintage is priced at $17.99 at the winery (www.stonehillwinery.com).





      
      

Gary Young (left) and winemaker Bryan Ulbrich celebrate a
good Riesling from Peninsula Cellars in Michigan.

There were some good whites, too, and Gary Young found a very attractive Riesling from Michigan. Gary’s a home winemaker, but relatively few California winemakers—home or commercial--have much hands-on experience with this noble grape. There just isn’t very much planted here. Unfortunately, too many restaurants in our state still don’t understand or appreciate Riesling, either. That doesn’t mean that we don’t enjoy the variety, though, and the 2005 Semidry Riesling from Peninsula Cellars of Traverse City (www.peninsulacellars.com) was a winner in our eyes. The wine was “fruity and well-balanced,” said Gary, who detected a slight frizzante quality that he liked. “If it were available in my area, I’d be inclined to buy it,” he concluded.
      
      

Virginian Carl Brandhorst touted his state's Nortons, but said
he liked its Cab Franc also.

My team had come through with flying colors. Half an hour remaining and Brendan, Gary and Mike had all made their picks. Now I had to get in gear. By common agreement, there was to be no repetition. I couldn’t pick a wine from Indiana, Michigan or Missouri. Nor could I select one of the varieties they’d chosen. Over the years I’ve enjoyed some Virginia wines and I headed upstairs to the table staffed by the Vinifera Wine Growers Association, where Carl Brandhorst recommended a Norton he seemed particularly fond of. I tried it, naturally, and had to agree it was a nice wine. But choosing a second Norton would have been a violation of our rules and even the publisher can’t get away with that. However, there were several open bottles of Cabernet Franc and I’ve enjoyed wines of that variety from France and from California. Two or three examples were acceptable and I liked one from Rappahannock Cellars of Huntley, Virginia (www.rappahannockcellars.com). Their 2005 is 75% Cabernet Franc, the balance equal parts of other, lesser-known Bordeaux varieties of Malbec and Petite Verdot. Priced at $19, this wine had a little of that blueberry quality I sometimes find in Cab Franc, as well as aspects of cherry and a little tobacco or cedar.

Four people who love wine had just two hours of tasting. Our method wasn’t scientific (I wouldn’t trust any wine judging that purported to be) and it wasn’t comprehensive. It probably didn’t really prove anything, either.

But it did remind us that there’s a big world out there beyond our own environment and that if you trust your own palate and keep experimenting, you can find some nice surprises.