Berger: Heard through the grapevine

Driving past a huge vineyard the other day during recent rains, I noted that almost all of the leaves had fallen and the vines were bare, their canes devoid of fruit, the plants heading for winter dormancy.

It is part of the cycle of the vine during which it stores carbohydrates and recharges itself, waiting for spring’s reawakening.

During this period, the viticulturist will choose when to prune the canes in a precise way to leave places for next spring’s flowers to burst in a way that will create a balanced vine.

The greatest wines, say those who grow grapes, come from balanced vines. And if you have ever heard the phrase “the smaller the tonnage, the better the wine,” forget it. It’s not true.

If it were true, the best wines would come from grapevines that gave little fruit. If it were true, farmers in the premium areas would make certain that their vines gave them only infinitesimal crops every year, which they can do by vineyard manipulation.

If they did so, it would be counterproductive. Not only would they be cutting their own economic throats, but it wouldn’t work.

Grapevines are some of the most self-protective of plants, able to detect even minor changes in the way Mother Nature or humans treat it. In a drought, for instance, vines have been known to shut down to protect themselves.

Vines can protect themselves from various forms of stress and can adapt to many forms of pressure. Sure, you can get tiny tonnage from a plant that desires to produce more, but the result can be dangerous to the resulting wine quality. Not to mention, it’s economically risky.

Moreover, modern farming techniques these days try to take advantage of the greater knowledge the wine industry has acquired over the decades. The “smaller tonnage equals better quality” myth has been replaced with knowledge that for certain varieties, regions or soils, larger tonnage actually produces better quality for some wines.

As a result, farming has become really site-specific and some vineyards now produce significantly larger amounts of fruit than they did during the myth-generated days. That’s because the farming that one does with, say, sauvignon blanc, should be different from what one does with chardonnay. And both differ from how you should farm pinot gris.

And with some grape varieties, the hand of the viticulturist can only do so much. Viognier, for example, is a variety that in some areas produces a good-sized crop every year, and in other areas is so erratic that crop sizes vary from medium to nonexistent without much warning. It’s enough to turn a grower’s hair white.

But being fooled by grapevines is nothing new. It’s one reason that viticulture today is a science, and is no longer the guesswork that for hundreds of years was a casually haphazard way of country life.

Today we need soil analysis, weather analysis, vine nutrient assessment, pest management strategies, fertilizer strategies, cover-crop discussions, books on canopy management and vine diseases.

Viticulture today calls for a professional approach and, at the highest levels of the art, calls for a multiyear degree obtained at prestigious universities that teach this science (or set of sciences) around the world.

It may well be true that farming vines isn’t hard. But farming with the idea of making a fine wine is nearly a magic trick that calls for far more expertise than most people realize.

It’s common to see the name of the winemaker on the label of a fine wine. But when you see a wine that has the grower’s name on the label, not only is it rare, but it’s proper respect to the people who give the winemaker the raw material from which to craft a classic.

I once asked Robin Day, who then was head of Orlando, one of Australia’s largest and most successful wineries, what the secret to great wine was. His response was classic:

“Get good grapes and don’t trip on the mat.”

Dan Berger lives in Sonoma County, where he publishes “Vintage Experiences,” a weekly wine newsletter. Write to him at winenut@gmail.com.