Berger: Winery tasting rooms have come a long way

We have come a long way in winery tasting rooms since the days when a number of such attractions actually sprayed on cobwebs to make them look ancient.

That was the situation at the former tasting room of Monterey Peninsula Winery in the early 1980s. The place looked old, and it was part of the theatricality that made the tasting room such a success.

Even before that, long before I began writing about wine, I had an even worse experience.

My first exposure to seeing a “winery” up close was when I went to one of those old Brookside tasting rooms in southern California.

It was in the late 1960s, and the places (there were a number of them) all looked a bit like working wineries, with rusted presses and bottle corkers and other vinous gadgetry strewn about.

At the time, I was a wine consumer -- half-gallon jugs of Hearty Burgundy. And I was seeking better quality and a bit of wine education.

So on my first visit to a Brookside tasting room, I was shocked when I was offered a tiny plastic cup into which about a third of an ounce was poured.

Stupidly, I now realize, I complained to the server that I couldn’t smell the wine. She was unmoved. However, as I tasted the wine, a realization hit me: It was just as well that I couldn’t smell it!

Only then did I realize that the building I was standing in had nothing to do with the making of wine. It was wine theater.

And that became clear when the woman behind the bar began speaking about how wine was made, and I realized that she was wrong in just about everything she said.

So I went back to my bottles of Hearty Burgundy. By 1973, I was moving up: I had graduated to bottles of California Burgundy from Heitz, Sebastiani, Simi, and Martini. Each of the wines was $1.99 a bottle, with a 10 percent discount for case purchases.

I began writing about wine in 1976 and three years later had a nationally syndicated wine column, and my tasting room visits had grown to places that still had yet to have aprons, “wine country jewelry,” tapestries, and decanters for sale.

But tasting rooms back then all seemed to have logo-adorned glasses that were a collector’s dream. And still a lot of misinformation.

It was in 1980 that a good friend visited a well-regarded Sonoma County tasting room hoping to try a particular Cabernet Sauvignon that had gotten plaudits from a Los Angeles wine writer.

As soon as the doors opened to the tasting room one Saturday morning, my friend asked to try that wine, since he wanted to see if it was worth buying a case.

A gruff old gnome who had long patrolled the tasting room bar told my friend that that particular wine was not available for tasting. “I’m thinking of buying a case,” said my friend, “and I wonder if you could open a bottle.”

The gnome shot back, “We’re here to educate, not inebriate.”

My friend left and never again bought a bottle of that winery’s products. It is now 35 years later and counting.

I have had my travails in tasting rooms, such as the time around 1978 in Lockford on a day when it was 100-plus degrees outside. A small tasting room had a big sign that said, “Air Conditioned,” so we went inside.

A white wine that was poured for us was delicious and being closed out at $18 a case. I took a case.

When we got back home, we realized that the wine we had been sold was radically different from what had been poured. We had been baited and switched.

Today’s tasting rooms up and down California, thankfully, are largely filled with knowledgeable and friendly people. We don’t get any of that haughtiness of the past, that arrogance that once pervaded the barren rooms, where swill was being passed off as elixir.

Many winery tasting rooms today charge for tasting. Sometimes the fee is nominal, but some fees are exorbitant and are there to act as a deterrent to hordes of newcomers to wine.

That’s sad, but the reality is that tasting rooms can attract a lot of people who simply want a free outing and a free buzz. Tasting fees keep the tire kickers at bay.

Wine of the Week: 2012 Dry Creek Zinfandel, Dry Creek, “Heritage” ($20) – A sensational aroma of the past features raspberry and cherry, and the mid-palate is charmingly balanced with moderate tannins and excellent food-friendly acidity. Excellent value.

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