by Bernie Libster

We’re now off to the Amwell Valley Winery, the first farm winery in New Jersey. Actually it resembles a ranch in a western movie, though the land itself reminds me of Vermont. Winemaker Jeff Fischer and his father Michael, a Merck scientist in his late 70s, started growing grapes, then decided to make their own wine. Although we don’t get any ice wine, we do try their Port, which is wine fortified with brandy. Amwell’s is 19.8% alcohol and quite delicious, though not exactly wine. Once again Tom makes cooing sounds and I’m starting to believe that he’s not just a big pigeon disguised as a journalist but is actually onto something.

In the evening we’re wined and dined at the kind of restaurant CIA (Culinary Institute of America, I’d better add) graduates tend to open: basically good food compromised by an incompatible mix of exotic sauces warring with one another for your approval. There are two New Jersey wines on the wine list, neither of which comes from the wineries we’ve visited, and neither goes with food. We choose a modestly priced California Zinfandel. The markup on some of wines is criminal, topping $225 for what appears to be nothing special. I wish Joseph were with us to have a few words with the owner.

The third day
After a relaxing night’s sleep with the soothing sound of the Delaware River in our ears, we return to the rolling hills, to King’s Road Winery. Nick Opdam, the owner/ winemaker, we are informed, isn’t the jolliest of sorts. Actually, he’s been seriously underestimated. He’s not Italian, not a farmer (he’s a chemist), but a delight nevertheless. He is out of step with the other winemakers in several respects, though. He opposes the hybrid grapes the other winemakers rely on. True, hybrids are heartier, and Nick has lost a good percentage of this year’s grape crop to the weather. Still, he says, it’s hard enough to get folks to try New Jersey wines in the first place. His argument goes something like this: Since many hybrids have unfamiliar names, people have no idea what they’re supposed to taste like. It’s too easy for an insecure taster to crack a joke about “I figured that’s what New Jersey wines would taste like” and send a wine back. A bottle of California wine sent back is no big deal (think of where the rot gut you drank in your youth came from). A bottle of New Jersey wine sent back could set back the industry. All this has the ring of truth and I admire Nick for saying it. But it turns out he’s more outspoken than his labels are; they don’t even say New Jersey except in mouse type on the back. Instead, they say Delaware Valley, as though this were the same as Burgundy or Veneto.
As part of a tasting we are given some Pinot Noir straight from the cask, which adds a tannic flavor. I like strong tannins and like the Pinot. The other wines are good, too. Maybe I’m not ready to smile and coo as much as Tom, but I’ve gone from a grudging “not bad’ to an enthusiastic “hey, this is good.” I buy a bottle of 2001 Pinot and Marian buys a jug of their White Zinfandel, which she notices is about 30% stronger than the California label she usually drinks. As a parting gift, we each receive a box containing a 2001 Reisling and a 1999 Cabernet. These are two wines I actively dislike, but it would be unprofessional and ungracious to refuse.

Our last stop is the Alba Vineyard. It immediately becomes my favorite because Alba is also the name of a town in Piedmonte famous for its Barbera, a robust red that I like because it’s cheap (usually), flavorful and Italian. Winemaker John Altmaier tells us that he’s now growing Barbera grapes. This is the first mention of an attempt to grow Italian grapes on the trip. Like every winery we’ve visited, Alba often runs music festivals, harvest festivals, etc., to draw visitors. Today is a wine festival. We taste wines from wineries we haven’t visited on this trip, including a place whose syrupy swill gave me a jaded view of all New Jersey wines some years back. We eat Jamaican jerky and hot dogs and wash them down with bottled water. Then, loaded down with press kits, gift wines and pleasant memories, we return to our cars and drive home.

A Cinderella ending
A week passes. I’ve opened and nursed the King’s Road Pinot, which is delicious and complex. I begin to realize that good wines don’t have to be gulped. With the Pinot gone, I open a bottle of my staple Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, swirl, sniff and sip. Yuk!
I find it coarse and unsophisticated. How can this be? My $4 Italian has been shamed by a New Jersey wine! On face value this is no surprise. The Pinot cost $14.95. But we’re comparing New Jersey to Italy and the Garden State wins hands down.
But wait, there’s still more.

Out of curiosity, I open the Cabernet that was part of the gift pack from King’s Road. It totally outclasses any Cabernet I’ve ever drunk. It ain’t cheap, retailing for $19.95, but I find it delicious, elegant. It’s become an epiphany. Soon I contact my editor at Wine Enthusiast, proposing to tell the world of my surprise. He can hardly believe my enthusiasm. What can I say? He’ll just have to taste and see, as you will. It will be, to re-coin an old phrase, a voyage of discovery. Promise.
If you’d like to make some discoveries of your own, start with a cybertour. It’s not quite the same as a live tasting but it’s a beginning. Then get in the car and go taste. You can do it in a weekend, and the wineries are open all year round. While you’re there, pitch the account.

www.creamridgewinery.com
www.bellviewwinery.com
www.tomasellowinery.com
www.renaultwinery.com
www.groundsforsculpture.org
www.unionvillevineyards.com
www.amwellvalleyvineyard.com
www.kingsroad.com
www.albavineyard.com

SOME LITTLE-KNOWN FACTS ABOUT JERSEY WINES
Before Prohibition, only California had more wineries than New Jersey. During Prohibition, the Renault Winery marketed a very high octane “medicinal” containing botanicals that would precipitate when chilled. The label read, “WARNING: Do not refrigerate or this will turn to wine, which is illegal.”

The year 1978 was the first in which wine outsold other alcoholic beverage in America. That year New Jersey had only seven working wineries. Thanks to the Farmland Preservation Act, wineries hold the promise of keeping agriculture alive in New Jersey. The laws of winemaking and selling are complex, but if the land can produce a profit, it’s less likely the land will be turned into parking lots. And when was the last time you went for a three-day tour of New Jersey Parking Lots? That’s even worse than Exit Jokes.

The unpleasant smell around wineries comes from oxidizing alcohol. This is also why wine can go bad once the bottle is opened. But for 12 bucks or so you can buy a tiny vacuum pump that removes the air from opened wine bottles, preserving the taste.
You can impress your friends if you’re the designated taster in a restaurant by sniffing the bottle end of the cork, once it’s removed, of course. If it smells bad, the wine is most likely bad too. This may not be true for plastic corks.
Look for the Ad Club’s wine-tasting, networking treat to be held on a midsummer night.