Steven Norton writes I grew up in North Carolina and moved to New York twelve years ago, thinking I would only stay for a three-month internship. I started my career as a business journalist, and now lead media, research, and executive networks for a US-based technology consulting firm. I’ve long enjoyed drinking wine, but my desire to learn about it came in waves: first, when I was given the responsibility of choosing wine at business dinners and, second, when a neighborhood restaurant started selling off its cellar to stay afloat during the pandemic. I bought six bottles, a one-time purchase that evolved into weekly trips to the local wine shop to explore new regions and grape varieties. I signed up for my first WSET class in 2021 and am now working on the Diploma.
Gewürztraminer, golden light
The late-afternoon sun shot golden beams through the redwoods as we descended into Anderson Valley. It was July 2019. Lauren and I had booked a wedding venue two weeks prior, formally marking our engagement, and we were looking forward to a weekend exploring Mendocino and its environs ahead of work meetings in San Francisco. After a long flight in from New York that morning, followed by three hours in a rental car, we were ready to taste some wine.
Unfortunately for us, it was just after 5pm and every place on our “to visit” list was closed. As we continued along CA-128, I gave up on tasting and started thinking about dinner. But after a few minutes scouring Google Maps through spotty cell service, Lauren found a winery on our route that was still open. We didn’t know anything about it, but at this point we both needed to get out of the car.
We pulled into Navarro Vineyards around 5:30, quickly taking in the expanse of vines as we made a beeline to the tasting room. I worried the folks inside might not appreciate us rolling in a half hour before closing, especially without a reservation.
Thankfully, my worries were misplaced. The host said Navarro didn’t take reservations and pointed us to a counter where two other couples stood tasting. Our server handed us menus and suggested we try six to eight wines to get a sense of the range. “Take your pick.” Unlike previous tastings I had been to where the flights were pre-selected, Navarro was telling us to choose our own adventure.
But first we had to decipher the menu. I recognized a handful of grapes (thank you, Pinot Noir!), but most were new to me. Until now, my wine universe included mostly Argentinian Malbec, Provence rosé and whichever label stood out at Trader Joe’s.
My eyes settled on a long word with an umlaut: Gewürztraminer. I had no idea what it was, but its peculiarity intrigued me. After trying a handful of different pronunciations in my head, I gave up, looked politely at our server, pointed at the Dry Gewürztraminer on the menu and said, “that one.” He smiled back, poured, and pushed a glass toward each of us.
As I raised the glass to my nose, confusion struck. It smelled good, but it didn’t smell like wine, at least any wine I’d encountered before. It was like I’d walked inside a giant rose. I wondered if the server had poured a bottle of department store perfume into my glass by mistake.
After the first sip, my confusion turned to curiosity. The wine tasted like flowers, yes, but also like oranges and honey and rocks. The perfume-y thing was still there, but it was more subtle, woven in with all the other flavors. Lauren and I looked at each other with surprise. Why had no one ever told us there was wine like this?
I bypassed the rest of the menu and asked for another Gewürztraminer, the Late Harvest this time. Did I have a clue what late harvest meant? Absolutely not. The server said it would be sweet. I was pretty sure I’d never tasted a sweet wine in my life.
The perfume hit me before I had the glass in my hand. It had the same honey-and-flowers thing going on, but this was dialed up to 100. Taking a sip, a kick of sweetness momentarily shocked my palate, then unfurled into a rich symphony of peach, pineapple, honeysuckle and spice. The finish went on for days, evolving, gaining depth. The golden light I’d seen shining through the redwoods, that same sun hanging over the vines I had barely registered a few minutes ago, had somehow found its way into the glass. I was baffled.
I looked over at Lauren again. She turned to me, a big smile on her face, and nodded vigorously. Whatever this was, we were into it. Thank goodness this was the only winery open that day.
We went back to Navarro two days later and spent the afternoon in wooden chairs overlooking the vines, reveling in our shared discovery. Over salt-and-vinegar chips (and more Gewürz, of course), we talked about work and life, wedding planning, the future. We shared our excitement about taking the next step in our relationship, and our fears about what might change once we did. One thing we didn’t anticipate was that this serendipitous trip to Navarro would be the inspiration for countless unforgettable experiences to come.
In October 2020, with our previously booked wedding venue closed due to the pandemic, Lauren and I got married on a patio in Brooklyn, 120 of our friends and family watching on Zoom. Our loved ones weren’t physically with us that day, but a bottle of 2018 Navarro Cluster Select Late Harvest Gewürztraminer was, a nod to our shared interests and the fact that we were getting married around harvest time. As we each took a sip, we promised to support each other through the sweet moments and the bitter ones.
Since then, Gewürztraminer has continued to weave its way into our lives, most notably as a travel guide. A couple of days after our wedding, we enjoyed a crisp, steely example during our honeymoon in the Finger Lakes. The following year, a fat, oily Gewürz welcomed us to Alsace, where it served as the perfect companion to jet lag and a cheesy Flammkuchen. In 2022, we tried a skin-contact version in the Dolomites and marveled at the scenery while strolling the Gewürztraminer Weg in Tramin.
To be sure, my experiences with Gewürz have not all been highlights—though there have been many exhilarating wines, there have also been plenty of duds. Nevertheless, each bottle has served as both a new discovery and a time machine back to that glass of impossible-to-forget Late Harvest in Anderson Valley, a chance to reflect on the sweetness of life and love through older and (I hope) wiser eyes.
The photo is the author's own. Caption: 'Overlooking the vines at Navarro Vineyards in California's Anderson Valley'.
