Needless to say, he’s not a wine drinker. Indeed, before I brought up the topic he had no idea that Oregon and Washington even had vineyards. As someone who avoids Pinot Noir, I share his lack of excitement about Oregon. Washington, though, is another matter, which explains why I travelled several hundred miles to attend a tasting in London.
I warmed up for my journey south by drinking several bottles from this unheralded part of America, which I obtained in the Great Wine Co.’s stellar January sale. One was the 2018 Eroica XLC Dry Riesling from Chateau Ste. Michelle, Washington’s leading producer.
The lack of familiarity with Washington hit home when a colleague asked if I knew they grew Riesling there before my purchase. (Yes, I did.) Anyway, the wine was off-dry with a lovely honeyed flavour, an endless finish, and the grape’s trademark crazy acidity.
The vineyards in Washington are planted on a huge swathe of parched land in the east of the state. Rainfall is so low that irrigation from the broad Columbia River is essential. It’s very continental: hot (100 degrees fahrenheit, or about 38 degrees celsius, is common in July) and exceptionally sunny in the summer, but frigid in the long winters. I was told at the London tasting, for example, that in 2022 there was still a foot of snow on the ground in April.
Unusually, Washington is phylloxera-free, owing to the freezing winters and sandy soil, and disease pressure is very low. Still, vintage variation is a real issue. 2011 was so cold that the Cabernet Sauvignon wasn’t harvested until November at l’Ecole No. 41 winery in Walla Walla AVA (American Viticultural Area), which extends across the state line into Oregon.
Two grapes stood out for me at the showcase, Merlot (muh-LOW in American parlance) and Chardonnay. As Ryan Pennington of l’Ecole No. 41 Winery put it, Washington is 'one of the great places in the world to grow Merlot’. The Merlots I tried were indeed outstanding, with a heady aroma of blackcurrants, very soft tannins and ample body.
Horse Heaven Hills AVA, a windy area where the heat is moderated by the Columbia River, is ‘where Merlot kicks ass’, according to a representative of Chateau Ste. Michelle. Throughout the state, the Merlot benefits from the fact that the temperature falls off a cliff when the sun goes down in the summer, helping the grapes to retain acid. In August, the diurnal variation can be as much as 40 degrees fahrenheit.
Merlot is, I think, superior to Cabernet Sauvignon in Washington, which can be very tannic and austere, at least when young (the oldest vintage I tried was 2020). A lot more Cabernet is present in the vineyards, though, as the sought-after grapes carry a higher price. I can say that Washington Merlot does age very well, for I had Chateau Ste. Michelle's sublime 2016 Canoe Ridge Merlot, from Horse Heaven Hills AVA, before going south.
Chardonnay, the second most prevalent grape after Cabernet Sauvignon, was the other varietal which really made an impression on me in London. The fruit is grown in cooler AVAs like Yakima Valley and Ancient Lakes (the wine regions in Washington have really evocative names). The latter is both further north than most of the state’s best-known vineyard zones, and the soils have a higher calcium content, making it a good spot for Chardonnay. The ones I sampled had a lovely rich mouthfeel and a delicious pear flavour.
I only had a few wines from Oregon in London, although many were available to try. In my opinion, the most interesting thing about ‘The Beaver State’ is that it’s where D. B. Cooper boarded a plane in 1971. As for the wines, they are expensive and you have to really love Pinot Noir, which occupies about 60 percent of the vineyard area.
I imagine that, like my stepfather, I will never set foot in Washington. It’s very far away and I’d be reluctant to subject myself once again to the American airport experience (long ago I spent a night of despair in Newark Airport). There’s something about the place that will probably always appeal, though. It’s not just the excellent wines, it’s also the thought of a daily dose of sixteen or seventeen hours of warm sunshine in the summer. When you live in Scotland, that’s not to be sniffed at.
Published in The Wine Merchant, April 2025.
