We rode into Paso Robles this past weekend for the Rhone Rangers Grand Tasting. We’ve been part of this group for over 20 years and I’ve spent time along the way as both a director and president. The mission has evolved, but the heart of it is still simple: championing American-grown Rhone varieties.
Before we even arrived, I warned Carrie: “I’m going tasting.”
That’s always a dangerous statement when you’re also supposed to be pouring and representing your own wines. There’s an unspoken balance between holding down the fort and letting your fellow winemaker sneak away to explore. Let’s just say… I definitely took my turn.
I was in such rare form that I even started bidding on silent auction items before guests were allowed in.
One was a six-pack from Bonny Doon, labeled “Take Me to Your Liter,” complete with spaceships beaming lasers down to Earth. It’s a playful take on their one-liter Rhone blend.
The other was sentimental to me: Cline’s Small Berry Mourvèdre.
That wine goes way back for us. Every summer, when the kids were younger, we’d head out to Tomales Bay for kayak camping. We’d break up the drive with a stop at Gloria Ferrer for a glass of sparkling and a bowl of their spicy almonds while the kids ran around. Then we’d swing by Cline and grab a bottle of that Small Berry Mourvèdre.
We’d open it fireside on the beach.
It had this incredible menthol edge that mixed with campfire smoke and the eucalyptus trees nearby. Later, we learned the vineyard sits among eucalyptus groves, where the oils can influence the fruit.
I had to bid.
The Tasting Game Plan
Once things got rolling, I had a mission: find something new.
First stop: Acquiesce for Bourboulenc, one of the newer white Rhone varieties in the U.S.
Then Tablas Creek with Vaccarese, another import from Beaucastel. It was interesting, with an herbal quality I couldn’t quite pin down, but it was their flagship Esprit blend that knocked my socks off.
Bonny Doon had a giant bottle of 2012 Le Cigare Volant open. The cork was the size of a cross-section of a baseball bat! The wine was incredible, showing beautiful age with surprising freshness.
The name and label come from reports of cigar-shaped UFOs seen over Châteauneuf-du-Pape vineyards in the 1950s. I still remember them flying a remote-controlled spacecraft in the massive hall at Fort Mason back when this event was held in San Francisco.
Bob Lindquist was pouring a 2006 Qupé Syrah and Bill Easton had a beautiful 2017 Terre Rouge. I wasn’t expecting all these older vintages.
A College Visit and a Wine Detour
We brought our youngest along for the trip. She just got into Cal Poly, so we figured we’d combine a college visit with a wine weekend.
She also got into a school in Walla Walla, which just happened to influence my next stop: Sleight of Hand Cellars.
Their 2022 Higher Ground Grenache immediately hit me with small berry, eucalyptus vibes. Before I even said anything, they mentioned the vineyard is surrounded by sagebrush.
Their Sorceress blend was more my speed, bright, clean fruit, less herbal intensity, really dialed in. We might have to swing by when we’re up there this weekend.
The Unexpected Standout
Right across the aisle from us was Element 79, practically neighbors back home. They poured a 50/50 Syrah-Viognier co-ferment.
Not 5%. Not 10%. Fifty percent.
The exotic, guava-like fruit profile was totally different from the rest of the room.
And Then… Texas
What really stuck with me wasn’t just the wines. It was who was pouring them.
Texas showed up.
Not big brands. Not widely distributed names. Small producers hauling their wines across state lines, which suddenly made my drive from Placerville feel a lot less heroic.
I met Josh Fritsche from Tatum Cellars. Cowboy boots, western shirt, the whole deal, only 800 cases total production. He poured a rosé named after his daughter, Tatum Rose, which he began making the year she was born.
Then Doug from Lewis Wines poured Mourvèdre and Picpoul Blanc that were completely different from what we see in California. He walked me through the differences between Texas Hill Country and the High Plains, harsher conditions, bigger temperature swings, a totally different growing challenge.
I asked him why he came all the way out here without distribution in California.
He smiled and said, “If you want to be taken seriously for making Rhône wines in America, this is the room you need to be in.”
Exactly.
Then I asked what he did at the winery.
“I’m the janitor.”
Turns out… his last name is Lewis.
I liked him immediately.
Why It Matters
What I walked away with this year wasn’t just a list of great wines.
It was a reminder that the Rhône movement in America is growing, not just in varieties, but in geography, in people, in perspective.
From Paso to Texas to Washington, there’s a whole lot of energy behind these grapes.
And we’re proud to still be part of it.
Rumor has it there may be a Rhône Rangers tasting back in San Francisco this November. If that happens, we’ll be there. And if there’s a silent auction, I’ll at least wait until it opens before placing a bid. Then again, if it’s another bottle of Small Berry, all bets are off.
Josh Bendick,
Co-winemaker
2 Responses
I sure miss the Rhone Ranger events, especially the days of Fort Mason when you were pouring there.
Those were some fun events for sure. Paso is fun too though! Thanks for reading.