Think wine is stuffy and pretentious? Get ready to change your mind.
Up the mountain
When asked what drove him and his brother up the hill and into the wine business nearly 40 years ago, Charles replies deadpan, “I was cuckoo about wine. It was a hobby that got totally out of control, for both of us, really.” Perched at the highest point in the Spring Mountain appellation in St. Helena, looking out over the vineyard and valley floor below, younger brother and general partner Stuart Smith elaborates, “I was at Berkeley in the ’60s, where a food and wine revolution started in the Bay Area. At the time, roast beef wasn’t ‘done’ unless it was gray, vegetables weren’t cooked unless they were limp and exotic cheeses were Monterey Jack, sharp cheddar and Velveeta. All of that started to change.”
Stuart fell hard for the wine part of the equation and became an intercampus exchange student at UC Davis, where he took viticulture and enology classes. “I really liked that, so I applied for grad school, was accepted, and that was how it all started.”
In the fall of 1970, he walked through a forest on the top of Spring Mountain and, in 1971, founded Smith-Madrone Winery. Its expanse lies at elevations between 1,200 and 1,900 feet with steepness up to 35 percent—easily qualifying the property as a mountain vineyard. In 1973, Charles (formerly a grammar school teacher) joined the operation, and so began a tight family alliance that would flourish, much like the old Madrone oak trees and grapevines that fill the 200-acre property, evidence of a previous vineyard that was abandoned at the onset of Prohibition.
With one tour around the grounds, it’s easy to understand why people are quick to make the “mountain” distinction, though hard to determine if it’s because of the vineyard’s rugged terrain or the men behind the wine. Each brother, decidedly different in personality and beard length, is a hoot in his own right. Charles, the more understated of the two, is shy, sarcastic, full of wine and life antidotes…and passionate for competitive croquet play. Stuart is equally entertaining, with a sharp viewpoint that he’s not afraid to share (more on that later).
With nearly four decades of history behind them, one has to wonder if, given the choice to do it all over again, would they, on a mountain? “I believed then, as I believe now, that you can only make great wine from great grapes, and great grapes come from the mountains,” says Stuart.
The roots of Riesling
After a barrel sample taste of the ’09 Riesling, I’m a believer in the fruits that this particular mountain bears. It offers a light and lively flavor punch with staying power, exuding floral tendencies and a hint of mandarin orange. It didn’t take more than a minute or two for Riesling to creep its way into the conversation (OK, it was me—hard to resist those urges).
“We can’t escape Riesling,” laughs Charles, recalling how, on a lark, the duo sent two cases of their first vintage 1977 Riesling to the American Embassy in Paris. Unbeknownst to them, the wine was entered into the Gault-Millau Wine Olympics competition in Paris in 1979, where it won top honor as Best Riesling. For the brothers, it’s never been about contests or the pedigree behind the wine, just a collective mindset. “Both of us agree that Riesling is one of the great wines of the world,” Stuart explains. “Because we always thought highly of it, we didn’t relegate it to second-class status.”
Charles echoes the sentiment, “Carrying the Riesling standard has been a source of real satisfaction for us.” He’s quick to point out, however, that he and his brother didn’t always see eye to eye. “I used to argue for tearing out the Riesling: ‘Nobody cares, we don’t get any respect.’ And Stuart would say, ‘Doesn’t matter. The wines are really good.’ Nothing gets done if we don’t agree on it. Point is, it was a war of attrition and I lost.”
Charles continues, “And it’s good I lost. It would have been very unfortunate if we had done that.” This anecdote speaks to a contributing factor in the success of their partnership and represents a point they do agree on—unity on all issues relating to the winery. “It’s like a marriage,” says Charles. “When you’re together over a really long time, you work out successful ways for negotiating your issues. If the other person is unhappy, it’s important to pay attention to that.”
Stuart concurs, “It’s like a good marriage. We cooperate well and have very similar tastes and ideas.” I test their “togetherness” by asking each to pick their favorite Smith-Madrone wine. “It’s like asking me which of my children I like best. It depends on who’s behaved that day, what’s happened, how we’re getting along that day,” Stuart says. “We love all of our children equally!” agrees Charles.
The nearly 80 years of experience between them begs the question: Does winemaking and vineyard ownership ever lose its luster? “You never get tired of harvest,” says Stuart. “There’s nothing else like it. Harvesting grapes, crushing Cabernet, smelling the aroma coming off the equipment, listening to Chardonnay fermenting in the barrel, driving home after a long day and seeing a fox or bobcat running across the headlight, it’s all part of life on the mountain.”
Charles agrees, saying, “Wine has never lost its magic for me. To watch things change and to be a part of that, I find gratifying.”
Let the wine lead
Charles gets to the root of his winemaking approach, “It can be challenging if you’re not living by a formula—and we’re not. We do our best to let the wine lead us. There’s always something unexpected. The things that seem like they just won’t work sometimes do. It’s a satisfaction that doesn’t dissipate with time.”
Theirs is a partnership built with one goal in mind—to yield the best wine possible. “Despite the economy, we don’t cut back on wine quality. This is the time to make the very best wine you can,” says Stuart.
“We have one vineyard that’s exposed to all four points on a compass. We use a small crew and custom pick the vineyard, sometimes in very small blocks. We can do it that way, because they’re our own grapes. Because the two of us are here, everything is customized all along the way,” Charles explains.
Then and now
Although the brothers are thought of by many as pioneers of mountain winemaking, Charles is quick to correct, “We were early, but the real pioneers were Stony Hill. Things have changed a lot.” Each brother has varied beliefs on the severity of change and its impact. “In the old days, there was a great deal of cooperation among wineries—friendship and a great deal of help. Now, on the surface it’s still there, but underneath, there’s a great deal of competitiveness. It’s like a virus. It’s infected. Not all of the industry in Napa [is like that], but a good chunk of it is. It’s just not quite as friendly. And I’m sad to say that. It hurts me to say that,” says Stuart.
“I formed a little partnership of family and friends. You can’t do those things today. It’s just too expensive. The market has eliminated people like us.” Here come those strong viewpoints I alluded to; no tiptoeing around the wine barrel here. Stuart has been quoted and sought out for his expertise as a mountain vineyardist by the New York Times and National Public Radio as well as many other local press outlets. When asked about his views on the evolution of the valley over the last three decades, he’s quick to comment. “Regulation is changing Napa Valley. The wine issue is regulated locally, statewide and federally. Little wineries are paperwork-challenged instead of being able to go out and compete in the marketplace.”
For each one of these candid statements, there’s another that shows a love and commitment to the industry. It’s further demonstrated in his work in the community, where he’s served on the boards of the Napa Valley Vintners and the Napa Valley Farm Bureau and was appointed chairman for the 1986 and co-chair for the 2005 Wine Auctions. In addition, The Napa County Board of Supervisors appointed him to the Napa County Watershed Task Force and the General Plan Steering Committee. If that and the winemaking weren’t enough to keep this burly man busy, he spent many years as Scoutmaster for St. Helena’s (Boy Scout) Troop One.
Pet peeves
In speaking with an admittedly opinionated veteran of the wine industry, who’s always ready to share his viewpoints on everything from valley floor-versus-mountain viticulture to dry farming and the changes that have “infected” the wine industry, I feel compelled to offer him a soap box to stand on.
Biggest pet peeve: “Everybody is rushing off to get their wine scored and making wines so Robert Parker and Jim Laube will give them a high score. Why do you want to get in the wine business if all you’re trying to do is get good scores from a couple guys? To me, wine is grace, elegance, complexity and balance,” says Stuart. “Pursuing a high score so you can stay in business? I think that’s a terrible reason to be in the wine industry. But that’s just me, a lone voice in the wilderness,” he says with a crooked grin.
Another shot across the hull: “Everybody is trying to redefine when grapes are ripe. Do you harvest when skins are chewy or do you harvest when seeds are brown? I think the industry is moving away from the science that got the wine industry so far so quick. It’s what let California move from a provincial small industry to a world partner in wine quality.”
Economic aftershocks
As the sun begins to set, the question of our time bounces to the forefront—where is the wine industry headed? “Many of us are wondering if there’s going to be a permanent shift, a change in paradigm? Can a winery that’s dropped prices by 40 percent come back and regain price point, or have we killed the goose that laid the golden egg?” Stuart asks.
“Will the economy come back and allow these prices to return, or are we going to live with lower prices? You can make all the rules you want, but if the industry isn’t economically viable, it’s all going to go away in a heartbeat.”
When a winery has weathered as many storms as the mountains on which it sits, this question soon follows: Is this recession worse than the ones prior? “It’s unlike any other I’ve lived through, because credit has been so badly hampered. So distributors who work on credit have been squeezed very hard. Last year, I had three distributors go broke, where I haven’t had a distributor go broke in the last 25 years. That’s a significant change to the industry.” He says all of this with an air of frustration, while also exuding an utter respect and passion for the art and business of winemaking.
Wine words
With the lively conversation, stellar wines and 100-year-old olive trees that dance in the distance, it’s hard to find a reason to leave, but the brothers have work to do. For every point of distinction between these two men, there are many more where they align, especially when it comes to their wines. “We both deeply agree on this. We want the wines to make a statement,” says Charles. From where I sit and what I’ve tasted, mission accomplished.
“The ’07 Chardonnay is Burgundian with a decisive quality to it. The edge of the wine is very focused, with a creamy spot,” Charles explains. The ’04 Cabernet Sauvignon starts out as an aggressive hillside Cabernet, morphing, in a couple years’ time into a more traditional Bordeaux style. Charles sums up his brother’s view of the wine as, “‘High hedonistic factor.’ Fun to drink, yet complicated [agreed]. I used to think, when we first started out, the wines turn out the way they do because of the grapes—and that’s true, up to a point. You make decisions all along the way. So when you get a bottle of Smith-Madrone, you’re getting a bottle of wine that Stuart and I like to drink. We make wines we like.”
The kind many others enjoy a whole lot, too.
