by Bernie Libster

It was Ken Kesey meets Rodney Dangerfield. On a bright morning in early October, 2002, a motley crew of writers and publicists boarded a chartered bus that would crisscross the Atlantic Highlands and Hunterdon County regions of New Jersey. Our trip would last three days, cover hundreds of miles and take us to eight of the 13 vineyards on the New Jersey Wine Trail.

Our mission was to discover whether the “What exit are you from?” state actually produced drinkable wines, and, if they did, to perhaps tell the world. Our ranks included freelance publicist Pegi Adam; Tom Claire, a staffer at Country Living magazine; Arlene Zatz, travel writer and the world’s most unlikely trap shooter; and me, best known in wine circles for my article on grappa and soul recovery in Wine Enthusiast. We were joined on the bus by Karen Wolfe and Toni Jones of the New Jersey Commerce and Economic Growth Commission and Donna Csolak of the Garden State Wine Growers Association. Marian Calabro, who writes about cruise ships and puts up with me, and Stuart Miller, whose articles appear in The New York Times and other publications, would join our tour on the second day. Although our expenses were picked up by the state, we were under no obligation to say something nice or, for that matter, anything at all.

At first I had little hope of assuaging any guilt at accepting this seemingly quixotic adventure. But our encounters with the winemakers, whom I found committed, funny, generous and dedicated, changed things immediately for me, and the trip ended with a substantial surprise for many of us. As far as this article’s relevance to the advertising community, once you read it you’ll be able to pitch New Jersey winemakers as clients before the rest of the world hears about them. And now, on with the tour.

Discoveries await
Our first stop was the Cream Ridge Winery, owned by retired PSE&G worker Tom Amabile. It was well before noon, decidedly early for a tasting, but the wines were made from cranberries, raspberries and cherries, all of which seemed perfectly appropriate for a brunch. Tom Claire, the only one among us with any real expertise, swirled expertly, sniffed expertly and sipped expertly and we followed suit, laughing at how pleasant the wines were to drink.

It turns out that cranberry wine is 14% alcohol, as high as the strongest Zinfandel or Amarone, so “Get a Buzz with Your Bagels” might make a suitable headline for an ad promoting Cream Ridge. Mr. Amabile is a gracious host and his graciousness cancels out any reservations I have about fruit wines. Besides, by the time we leave the winery I love everybody.

Our spirits soaring, we’re off to Bellview Winery, run by Jim Quarella, a youngish man with powerful arms and a southern drawl. Jim’s roots are in Bologna, which is one of my favorite places on earth, which predisposes me to liking his wines. On the other hand, I am predisposed to disliking Merlot, to me a nondescript fad wine with an unpleasant “nose,” but Jim’s is surprisingly nice — full of the oak typical of Italian reds. Many New Jersey wines are from French hybrids, which are sturdier than viniferas, the vine equivalent of purebred dogs, and stand more chance of surviving our hard climate, although Jim also produces a powerful red made with Native American grapes, which actually refers to the grapes, not the people. To my surprise, I enjoy the whites we’re served, though whites have always seemed cloyingly sweet. At this point I have no idea whether my fondness for the winemaker is influencing my fondness for the wine.

Let’s Hear It For Rotting Grapes
After a delicious Italian lunch — how nice to have one’s good will cultivated; I could get used to this — we’re off to Tomasello, New Jersey’s largest winery, where we’re introduced to “ice wine,” a potent liquid made from grapes that have been exposed to a killing frost. The cold drives up the sugar content, which makes a wine that’s way higher in alcohol than even the cranberry wine. Ice wine is sold in 500 ml bottles—wine usually comes in 750 ml bottles — for $26. Unfortunately, we never get to taste any because it’s sold out. We do get to sample a white wine made from Russian grapes. I’d never heard of wine coming from my ancestral homeland. It is very sweet and unmemorable.

When we get around to the “normal” wines, I still have no idea why Tom is making such ecstatic sounds, although, since Tomasello wines have won numerous medals in state and national and even international competitions, there must be something to them. I observe our friends in the Wine Commission observing us eagerly, hopefully. The most interesting part of this visit to me is the mechanical grape pickers, which look like a cross between a tractor and a pasta drying rack.

I don’t connect emotionally with Tomasello, perhaps because the winemakers are too busy to give us the kind of attention we’ve come to expect. This is more than remedied at the Renault Winery, where we’re greeted by Joseph Milza, who looks and speaks like a retiree making a few extra bucks. Turns out that he owns the winery. He also owns the elegant restaurant within it, plus the posh new hotel across the street. The guy is modest in the way that only entrepreneurs can be modest. He used to own some small newspapers. Now he’s got this empire 20 minutes from Atlantic City.

I imagine him as a Venetian Doge in a past life.
We eat in the hotel restaurant and for the first time we drink rather than sip and spit. With great savoir faire we order a Renault wine. Not bad, but not special either. After dinner Joseph joins us and talks about limiting markups on wines in restaurants. I can’t imagine this is much of a problem. I’ve never met anyone who has bought a New Jersey wine, much less ordered one in a restaurant.

After a night in Joseph’s very comfortable hotel, and probably to keep us from tippling right after breakfast, we’re driven to the Grounds for Sculpture in Trenton, a gorgeous museum cum park built by Seward Johnson, the sculptor/black sheep of the J&J family (there are no statues of pills to be seen). Marian arrives just as we’ve emerged from a secret garden. Stuart shows up too, completing our merry band. The landscaping is spectacular and statues spotted throughout depict scenes that might have been straight from a Monet painting, assuming Monet had a sense of humor.

Following lunch in the museum cafeteria, it’s back on the bus. We are bound for Hunterdon County, with a vastly different topography and climate from the Atlantic Highlands. At the Unionville Vineyards, we meet the owner, Chris, a mechanical engineer who maintains construction business interests here and Australia. He’s not hedging his bets exactly but kinda. The rolling hills of Hunterdon remind me of Piemonte, home of Barolo and Brunello, except for all the French names on the labels. To me, Unionville’s wines top anything of the day before. Is it my imagination, or my fondness for hilly terrain, or could it be that with my expanding expertise I’m able to detect just how good New Jersey wines are? Here we learn that between 1830 and 1850, this part of New Jersey was the peach growing capital of America and that Georgia peaches still grow on vines with their roots, historical at least, in the Garden State. Other interesting tidbits: Hunterdon County grapes produce 3-4% more sugar than those of the Finger Lakes and, because a shale layer 30 feet below the surface in this part of New Jersey holds water, there’s no need for irrigation, even in drought. On the other hand, Hunterdon is more vulnerable to hurricanes, which can produce mold and fungus. It’s also more vulnerable to frost, but cold, as we’ve learned, can also produce ice wine. Unionville’s is called Cool Foxy Lady. I imagine a campaign with a foxy fox draped in a human skin coat and the headline, Make a Date with A Fox, or some such nonsense.

Naturally it’s sold out. To be continued . . . .

If you’re willing to accept the possibility that New Jersey Wines could turn out to be the state’s secret economic and gastronomical weapon before reading Part II in the next issue of AdTalk, and you have questions, contact Donna Csolak, Garden State Wine Growers Association, 609-890-8188 or communiqpr@aol.com. And/or call Karen Wolfe, PR Supervisor, or Toni Jones, Director of Marketing, at the New Jersey Commerce and Economic Growth Commission, 609-292-2523.