Christopher Costales writes hello, my name is Christopher Costales. I fell into the world of wine unexpectedly in 2008 and have stayed ever since. With 16 years of wine industry experience I have worked in a variety of roles from wineries both large and small, Michelin restaurants, hotels and country clubs. Some of my greatest memories in wine are the least glamourous, working in vineyards at dawn and seeing the joy in someone’s eyes when you pour an amazing wine pairing. Please visit my website, storiesofthevine.com to read more about my experiences in wine. The following article is based on my experience attending the Finger Lakes Riesling Camp, put on through the Finger Lakes Wine Alliance. I do not have a commercial interest with this association.
A Finger Lakes Winemaker is born
The list of responsibilities to finish before my trip to the Finger Lakes wine region was still frighteningly long but after working through lunch and googling heart attack symptoms I somehow managed to leave work early and board the nearly 6-hour flight from Southern California to New York. As the plane ascended and crossed time zones, I imagined the upcoming trip put on through the Finger Lakes Wine Alliance and stole glances of the setting sun through window seats I was too cheap to pay extra for. The plane landed at a small airport which was originally created for executives at the nearby Corning glassmaking company back when Mad Men wasn’t just a television show but a lifestyle. A representative from a local winery was kind to come pick me up and give a tour while we drove to my hotel. She effortlessly spoke about the history and natural beauty of her home, pointing out the local waterfall in Montour Falls we were about to drive by. With a lack of bright city lights, we kept driving through shadows and in the darkness, I could hear the sound of rushing waters crashing against slate rock.
In the morning our group, affectionately called Riesling Campers, boarded large buses and traveled through the verdant green seas of grass of the local Amish dairy farms. Our destination was the Cornell AgriTech building where it was announced that everyone would participate in a Riesling blending trial resulting in each person creating a finished bottled wine. After announcing some additional rules and fine print a timer was set, creating a mad dash of chaos in all directions. Each of us had access to seven different finished Riesling wines that had been donated from local producers of the region and labeled alphabetically. Every sample had their own unique qualities, ranging from lemon tart acidity to a honeyed texture with classic petrol notes. I quickly tasted through all of them to understand their personalities and took a chef’s approach towards the creation, a pinch of mystery wine B, a dollop of wine G, and a gulp of Riesling J.
Glancing up from adding wines to the graduated cylinder, I took a moment to observe what my fellow first-time winemakers were experiencing. The mix ranged widely, some with sweat wrinkled foreheads holding teeth stress marked pencils, others held a carefree relaxed manner that came with missing work, and some had bottled their blends early out of frustration. My first attempt was composed of four wines and featured generous stone fruits and light spice with a pleasant taste that was satisfying but not outstanding. My next attempt used the same blend but with different percentages to try and capture fragrant Mandarin orange and peach fruit intensity usually found in many crowd-pleasing Rieslings. The result created a wildly different wine, full of my aromatic intent but with a fruit profile that was overpowering. With only a few minutes remaining I decided to try a last attempt, keeping in mind that the judges would appreciate more acidity and brightness in the wine. For this example, I added two wines, one with tart green apple notes and the other featuring a quality of salty mineral lemon peel. With barely any time left I rushed over to the bottling line, placed cork to glass and wished my wine good luck.
The last day of our trip we were told that our group would be deciding the winner of our efforts through a blind tasting competition. Our group and a panel of local winemakers would be judging the wines based on appearance, bouquet/aroma, taste/texture and overall impression. The local winemakers were overall very generous toward our best imitations of their careers, within our peer group however the chatter was quite merciless. The lack of qualities of a skilled winemaker readily appeared in our group’s wines. Many were lacking either the aromatic intensity Riesling is known for or tilted too far in one direction towards total dryness or cloying flabby sweetness. There were a few standouts though, wines of complexity with undertones of flavor and nuance that married bold fragrance with steely electric nerve. The scores were added up with a pregnant pause the length of a growing season and when my name was called as the winner I was in complete disbelief.
After thanking everyone associated with the Finger Lakes Wine Alliance and all the winemakers who donated their wines, it was time to pack again to leave home. I later reflected on the drive back to the airport on the short-lived delusion of grandeur of being a winemaker. Of course, blending finished wine is only a brief moment of the entire challenge winemakers subject themselves to every vintage but I like to think for a quick instant I shared in their experience of making something that people cherish. Passing through Montour Falls again I remembered to turn toward an emerging roar, watching as the sunlight filtered down though the shimmering water for a few rapid seconds before the car pushed along to the next destination.
Image by Constantine Johnny via Getty Images.
