Kurt rushed through his usual deliberate routine of shower, shave, moisturize and style. If he was going to make a one o'clock appointment, he needed to hustle. A conscious decision was made to sacrifice hairstyling nuance to the realities of scheduling. 

For once in his life, he really didn't care.

In the back of the Town Car heading north to St. Helena, he considered the wineries he had visited around the world, their differences, their sameness: the regal vineyard estates of Bordeaux and their famous labels, the ultra-modern waterfront villa of Argentina that produced rich Malbec, the slightly scruffy mountainside retreat on the south island of New Zealand, where a Wheaten terrier greeted everyone at the door and the owner served up Sauvignon Blanc that tasted like sweetened grapefruit.

He had learned that it didn't really matter if a winery was styled to resemble Roman ruins or an Alsatian castle, their purpose was the same: to provide a cool and clean environment in which to make wine. Really, it could be done in an industrial park. 

Or a barn.

This is nothing different, he told himself, yet he wanted to tell the driver to turn the car around.

This is nothing out of the ordinary, he thought, yet he wanted nothing to do with it.

I've done this story dozens of times, with dozens of winemakers, he knew, yet he wanted nothing more than to ship it out to a freelancer.

A major, established and perhaps a bit staid — no, stale — winery decides to reboot, hiring a brash and dynamic young vintner to change its image.

This is normal, yet he realized it felt nothing of the sort.

This is my job. And Quinn had unsubtly reminded him of who signed his paycheck. 

"This is your signature project, Kurt, and our's too. Don't blow it," she had said when he protested about timing, and subject matter and anything else he could think of to stall, just for a little while longer.

He looked out the window and could see the Dalton estate in the distance.

Steeped in European elegance and tradition, it resembled something between a country manor and a prep school. Ivy crept persistently up its stone walls, but was neatly held at bay around the main winery's signature architectural element: the arched, oversized windows and balcony over its front doors.

It was one of Napa's most popular sites for weddings, and engaged couples were urged to plan at least a year in advance if they expected to hold their nuptials in the ornate Dalton gardens.

It was also a tourist attraction, and the owners had gradually added and expanded to accommodate guests' penchants for picnic areas, gift shops, rustic tasting rooms, and even delis and an on-site cheesemonger. Visitors could prepare for their trips online by pre-ordering picnic baskets, or ordering cases of wine, or purchasing Dalton signature logo wear and golf accessories.

The vineyards surrounding the main winery building were neat and methodical, meticulously trimmed to exacting standards that scarcely varied from vine to vine. Leading up the front gate, a garden of signature Dalton roses — a deep, ruby red — were maintained to the same exacting standards as the vines.

The driver dropped Kurt off at the main entrance where Dalton's PR consultant, decked out — somewhat garishly, Kurt thought — in a too-short skirt and knee-high boots, waited with a press kit and a picnic basket.

"Mr. Hummel! I'm Rachel Berry, Dalton's public relations representative? So glad you could make it! Mr. Smythe is waiting. We thought maybe you'd like to talk over lunch?"

How long has she been waiting out here? Kurt thought, knowing he was running late and not expecting or particularly wanting a reception.

"If he's busy, I'm more than happy to speak with him while he works, or some other time," Kurt said, hoping for an out.

"We're a little busy getting ready for bottling, but the winery crew has that under control. We're fine. He's expecting you, and we've blocked his afternoon out so you two can talk."

Great.

****

Sebastian Smythe sauntered into the winery lobby, casually ignoring tourists as he made a beeline to Kurt. In trim khakis and a crisply pressed oxford shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms, he looked more weekend CEO than working vintner.

"We meet again," he said, reaching out to shake hands with Kurt. 

"Hello, Mr. Smythe."

"Please, it's Sebastian."

Rachel, bouncing on her toes, was anxious to get the show on the road. 

"How about we enjoy this picnic out in the sunshine?" she said with just a bit more pep than Sebastian could seem to tolerate.

"How about you get back to work so Kurt and I can get down to business? And leave the basket. I'm famished."

Stunned into silence, Rachel handed the basket to Sebastian, the press kit to Kurt, and rushed from the room.

"That's more like it," Sebastian said, smiling broadly. "Come with me."

He led Kurt through the tasting room, where he ducked behind the bar to grab a 2008 Meritage, a 2010 reserve Chardonnay and four glasses which he tucked into the basket. He peeked out the windows toward the picnic area and shook his head. 

"Absolutely not. It may be a nice day, but those tables are loaded with tourists. We can walk the grounds, but I doubt there's anything that's much of a surprise to you. Why don't we make that girl's day and let her give you the tour after we've had a chance to get to know each other?"

Kurt mentally recoiled. Smythe made him feel like he was visiting a dating service rather than interviewing a winemaker. 

"Why don't we take this upstairs and chat? We can eat on the balcony and enjoy a little privacy."

Kurt really didn't like this guy.

Oh, he was attractive, without a doubt — at least until he opened his mouth.

Tall, lanky and naturally windswept, Sebastian Smythe looked like a prep school dream. His look was refined, with a Hyannisport style that would only be confused with casual in a board room. He was also confident to the point of arrogance, Kurt thought. He carried himself like the Big Man on Campus, the four-sport athlete who also happened to compete in the academic decathlon and was named prom king more than once. He had spent years playing Lacrosse, Kurt would learn that afternoon as Sebastian drawled on about himself. 

According to Dalton's bio of its new chief vintner, his educational pedigree was comparable to Blaine's, having completed his education at Cornell before moving west.

But that's all Kurt could or wanted to imagine they had in common.

Kurt followed up a private staircase to an office overlooking the front of the property. The arched, oversized windows were the same ones he'd seen as his driver pulled up to the property. The room was appointed in what Kurt would come to define as rural executive chic: dark mahogany bookcases and desk, and oxblood leather seating, including an oversized sofa and side chairs.

"Technically, this isn't my office, but I work up here a lot," he said, eyeing Kurt. "And play." He reached for the patio door. "It's also a great place to eat in peace."

He set the wine down on a small table, and began pulling meats and cheeses from the basket. Kurt pulled up a chair and set his satchel and the press kit down.

"What would you like to drink?" Sebastian asked. "Red? White? How about a little bit of both?"

"I'll start with the Chardonnay," Kurt said.

"A man of my own heart. Never limit yourself to one option. Start with one, yes, but never commit," he said, handling the sommelier's corkscrew as easily as he would put on a wristwatch.

Kurt felt the sudden need to exfoliate.

"So, my editor would like to see a feature on the Dalton brand and the new direction that you're taking it in," he said, thinking that keeping the conversation focused on Sebastian would keep him at least focused on the interview.

He was wrong.

"Just your editor?" Sebastian asked. "Don't tell me you didn't want to see me again."

"I was given an assignment."

"I should thank your boss," he said, pouring Kurt a generous glass of Chardonnay.

Kurt pulled a recorder and a notebook from his satchel, and did his best to ignore Sebastian's asides.

"So, tell me how you got into winemaking."

"It's all in the press kit," Sebastian said, raising his glass. "Cheers." 

He clinked his glass to Kurt's. Kurt made no effort to reciprocate. "Instead, why don't you tell me about yourself, and what you're doing to fill your time in this cultural wasteland."

"I hardly think it's a wasteland."

"Farmland, then. Not exactly the sort of night life you're used to, I'm assuming."

"I think it's beautiful—"

"And boring," Sebastian interjected. "It must be driving you crazy, not being in the city, especially after living in New York. At least I can get into San Francisco without too much of a problem. If it were any further away, I'd snap."

"If you don't like this life, why did you get into this business?"

"Because it's the family business and someday, I plan to inherit it. So I'd better master it before I do," Sebastian said with shocking candor.

"Dalton?"

"Of course not. My family's interests are back east. But this is an important pit stop."

That seemed to be the trick. Sebastian focused on himself, telling Kurt about his family's winery on the North Fork of Long Island, and the lineage of family interests in the wine industry that could be traced to the Loire Valley. That side of the Smythe family had gone on to concentrate on the production of Cognac, and Sebastian said he was interested in diversifying the family's liquor interests in the U.S. once he gained control of the business.

"Wine's fine, but there are big, emerging markets that we're not taking advantage of," he said. "Look at the growth of the vodka business, and scotch. And the reintroduction of absinthe in the US market. I can definitely see jumping into the absinthe market."

A spirit distilled from wormwood. How appropriate, Kurt thought.

"There's just so much more we can be than a simple winery. We need to diversify."

"Are you talking about your family business or Dalton?" Kurt asked, wondering if Dalton's chief winemaker had thought much about the historic winery at all while plotting his future.

"Maybe a bit of both. Dalton was stuck in the past, a big winery, a big name, but so far out of step with the market. Why not look beyond wine, or at least to wine-related products, or marketing to a younger audience?"

Sebastian went on to detail how he had already charted a course for Dalton to move past its traditional methodology into winemaking tied deeply to the lab, to biochemistry, to secondary fermentation dependent on additives, particularly customized yeast strains developed to encourage the taste of berries in one wine, cassis in another. This was not unusual in modern winemaking, of course, but it was a dramatic departure from Dalton tradition.

"And you're planning on taking Dalton into liquor and spirits? Isn't that a marketing decision?"

"The direction that I steer the production in is the direction of the winery, so my decisions are marketing decisions — the most important marketing decisions. I can see the Dalton crest on so much more than wine, and targeted to broader markets than wine shops. Vinegar production to be paired with locally-cultivated olive oil, sold as high end salad dressing in your better supermarkets. Single-serve wines packaged in pop-tops. Simple, drinkable wines with interesting names and labels for new wine drinkers. And sure, why not scotch? It's aged in the same barrels we order for aging our reds. I've got big plans for Dalton, and myself."

"So you spend more time on the business side than in the vineyard, then?"

"Why would I waste my time out there?" Sebastian snapped. "We have crews for that."

"Well, I just know some winemakers like to be involved in the pruning and development of their vines."

"Don't confuse me with a viticulturist — or a field hand. I don't spend every waking minute playing with grapes, and I don't have much reason to be wasting my time in the vineyard," he said. "There's no reason for me to be out there picking fruit. I'll check the brix and the growth, when necessary, but my job's in the winery and the lab."

"I guess that explains the ensemble," Kurt said under his breath, but loud enough for Sebastian to hear.

"What? I've got to be a slob to make wine? This is my job, too. And I plan on looking good for it. Really? Aren't we finished with this yet? I can think of much better things to talk about."

Kurt didn't want to play into this.

"I have a column to write."

"And then what? C'mon. You didn't tell me how you entertain yourself out here in the middle of nowhere."

"I work."

"I hear you're entertaining yourself with our mutual friend in Sonoma, like, all the time."

"Excuse me?"

"Blaine," he said, letting the name drip off his tongue. "How is our little friend?"

"He's just helping me get an in with some of the smaller wineries over there," Kurt said, wishing he could reel the 'just' back in. 

Sebastian gave him a cold stare, and gradually, as if the idea forming in his head had lifted the corners of his mouth into a calculated smirk, grinned salaciously. "Now, why would we feel the need to say that?" he said, leaning in, closing in on Kurt's personal space.

Kurt didn't usually shrink from aggressors, but Sebastian Smythe made him feel like prey.

"You're just working on those little Sonoma wineries? You haven't considered working on anything else? Because it's certainly understandable if you did. All that skill wrapped up in a package of pretty. Who can blame a guy?"

"I think you've got the wrong idea, and I don't like where this conversation is going," Kurt said, doing his best to sound intimidating.

"Trust me, he's a waste of your time. I have a better idea. Come into the city with me this weekend. I can show you around. I know some great clubs. We'll ditch this place together and spend time where we belong."

"I don't get involved with people I'm working with," Kurt said.

"Who said anything about getting involved?" Sebastian stopped short, then let one of those lopsided grins take over his face. "On the other hand, I could really get behind mixing business and pleasure."

Kurt snapped his recorder off, shut his notebook and rolled his eyes. He'd had enough.

"Seriously? You have got to be kidding me. Where's the hidden camera? Does this usually work for you? Do people actually fall for this?" 

"All the time, sweetheart."

Kurt got up to leave.

"Do you think that was smart? What if you just ruined Dalton's chances of being selected for the Challenge? I'm the one who makes that decision, and the wineries haven't been announced yet. Who's to say I won't pull the plug on this story?"

"Oh, we're in. You wouldn't have come here if we weren't. And you'll be writing about me, and following up to schedule the photographer, even if you don't want to."

"You're spectacularly delusional."

"And your editor is calling the shots. I'll see you soon, and my offer stands."

****

 

SANTA ROSA UNION-APPEAL

Finalists Announced for Taste's Napa-Sonoma Showdown

Jacob Ben Israel
Staff Writer

After a month of evaluating some of the region's finest wines, Taste Magazine on Wednesday announced its finalists for the Taste Challenge, a blind tasting pitting the best of Napa against challengers from Sonoma.

Styled after the Judgement at Paris tasting of 1976, the Taste Challenge will see some of Napa's most storied wineries competing against a group of lesser-known boutique wineries from Sonoma. 

The Challenge will feature 10 finalists — five each from Napa and Sonoma — face off in two divisions: whites and reds. The divisions will be left broad and tested blind, with full-flavored Chardonnays competing against lighter Sauvignon Blancs and Viogniers.

"It's not about finding the best Chardonnay, or the best Pinot Blanc," said Taste Magazine wine editor Kurt Hummel, who announced the list of finalists in his online column Wednesday. "It's about judging each wine on its individual merits and finding the very best of the best."

Representing Napa in the red division will be the historic Dalton Estate Winery of St. Helena, led by new chief winemaker Sebastian Smythe; Carmel Cellars of Oakville; Westvale Wines of Carneros Creek; Defiance Vineyards and Wines of Calistoga and Westerville Wines of St. Helena.

Sonoma's reds will be represented by some of the region's up-and-coming boutique wineries: Rhapsody Vineyards and Wine of Glen Ellen; Haverbrook Wines of Alexander Valley; Rosedale Vineyards of Healdsburg; Addams Family Wines of Kenwood and 12 Steps from Sebastopol.

Two of the wineries competing in the red wine division were also named as finalists in the white wine competition.

For Napa, Dalton Estate's 2010 Reserve Chardonnay will join white wines from Rutherford's St. James Estate; Corcoran Wines of the Diamond Mountain District; Clarington Estate Wines of Stag's Leap and Sylvester House from Atlas Peak.

Rhapsody will also compete in the white wine division with its 2010 Allegrezza Roussanne; where it will be joined by by wines from Rhode House Winery of Rockpile; Holliday Hill of the Russian River Valley; PIllsbury Wines of Chalk Hill and Tibideaux Estate Vineyards from the Sonoma Coast.

Hummel evaluated hundreds of wines to narrow the field to 10. While the choices of smaller Sonoma winemakers versus established Napa brands was intentional, the small wineries earned the right to compete, he said.

"I think our judges have their work cut out for them," Hummel said. "I discovered hidden treasures at some of the small wineries of Sonoma, and Napa roared out of the gates with its established quality still firmly intact."

It has been suggested that the competition has been staged as a David versus Goliath match, but Hummel said that it is important to remember who won that match.

"Never write off a label just because you haven't heard of it before."

Tickets to the competition, scheduled for June 15th at the UC Davis Mondavi Center for the Performing Arts, are already sold out. Limited seating is still available for the Taste Magazine Nights of Champions, a charity reception and auction June 8th at the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone honoring the finalists, through the Napa Wine Bureau and the Sonoma Wine Association. Proceeds will benefit the UC Davis Department of Enology and Viticulture and fund scholarships for aspiring winemakers.

 

****

3:45p Kurt: You there?

4:01p Kurt: There's no hiding, no more ducking this. It's official.

4:05p Blaine: What?

4:06p Kurt: You're a finalist, and the subject of an upcoming column, with an upcoming deadline.

4:09p Blaine: I see.

4:10p Kurt: It's time Blaine, we need to do this.

****