I'd heard talk this summer that some big wine companies were looking at the Northwest after Canandaigua purchased Columbia Winery, Covey Run Vintners, Paul Thomas Wines and Ste. Chapelle in the spring.
Rumors were that Mondavi and similar California wine giants perhaps were gazing north. But I was floored when I got the news that The Hogue Cellars was purchased in August by Vincor, one of the largest wine producers in North America. And after I thought about it, I was thrilled.
I don't know what it's like to work for Donald Triggs, CEO of Vincor, but I like what his company is doing in British Columbia's Okanagan Valley. Last year, Vincor purchased Sumac Ridge Estate Winery and Hawthorne Mountain Vineyards, adding them to its lineup of B.C. wineries, which includes venerable Jackson-Triggs Vintners and Inniskillin Okanagan.
Harry McWatters, who started Sumac Ridge two decades ago and has been instrumental in building the quality of B.C. wines to the level they're at now, seems very happy with his arrangement as a Vincor employee. The folks at the home office in Ontario let him continue to run the winery the way he wants and give him the resources he needs.
And there's no denying the quality of wines coming from Jackson-Triggs and Inniskillin Okanagan. In fact, one of my first thoughts after hearing about the Hogue acquisition was, "I wonder if that means I won't have to drive all the way to British Columbia to buy ice wine?"
Personal conveniences aside, big is a good thing for Pacific Northwest wines. And so is small.
When we think of huge wineries, we often think of one in particular: Gallo. This doesn't always conjure up images of high-quality wine. But the large companies that have invested in the Pacific Northwest — including Stimson Lane, Vincor, Canandaigua, Petaluma and Chalone — seem committed to great wine, not just a lot of wine. And they can take our great wine and spread it across the continent and around the world.
The Northwest is suddenly getting a lot more attention from the rest of the wine world. And this might not have been possible if it weren't for a pretty significant event that occurred a quarter-century ago in Woodinville, Wash.
In 1974, Ste. Michelle Vineyards was purchased by U.S. Tobacco of Connecticut. And in 1976, the parent company made a huge commitment by sinking $6 million into building an upscale facility and turning the winery into Chateau Ste. Michelle.
It seems like a simple thing now, but in 1976, just a few wineries were in Washington, including Associated Vintners (now Columbia Winery) and Bingen Wine Cellars. Preston Premium Wines, Hinzerling Winery and Salishan Vineyards were just starting up. In Oregon, Dick Erath and David Lett had a few vintages behind them, and Myron Redford was just getting going at Amity Vineyards. British Columbia was in disarray, leaning heavily on hybrid grapes. And Ste. Chapelle was launching an Idaho industry that had been mostly dormant since before Prohibition.
There just wasn't much here.
So Ste. Michelle's parent company was taking a big chance that the Northwest wine industry might actually come to be something. And Stimson Lane, the umbrella company for Ste. Michelle, Columbia Crest and its other Washington and California wineries, has committed to quality from day one. No Thunderbird, no Boone's Farm and no Night Train.
If that commitment hadn't been made, our wine industry still might have developed — but not nearly to what it has become.
I'm sure there is grumbling among smaller wineries about the distant ownership of several Northwest wineries, but you won't hear much complaining about the quality of their wine, their distribution or their marketing potential. The smaller producers know Ste. Michelle, Hogue, Ste. Chapelle and Jackson-Triggs are ambassadors to consumers across North America and beyond.
And the big boys are doing it with quality. They're sinking cash into their vineyards and cellars. You don't make the kind of wine Columbia Crest does without great grapes, great barrels and great winemakers.
Thankfully, there's plenty of room for boutique wineries amid the huge producers. I love the fact that I can buy a bottle of tempranillo in Roseburg, Ore., late-harvest siegerrebe on Bainbridge Island, Wash., or pyramid-aged Ehrenfelser in Kelowna, B.C. The big wineries probably won't ever make a lot of these wines — unless I'm terribly wrong about the marketing potential for siegerrebe.
I was at an industry event this summer and mentioned to a well-known winemaker that Chateau Ste. Michelle had won some big award at an international competition. He could have complained about it, but instead he said, "Well, you have to give those guys their due. They make great wines."
He knew that Ste. Michelle's success further proves the quality of Washington wines — and that can help him succeed.
So how does all of this affect us, the wine drinkers who already know how good the wine is? Other than regional pride, probably not much.
Except maybe my drive to get B.C. ice wine will be shorter.
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