Napa Valley's Gripes of Wrath

By John Elson

California winemakers are rather like an extended family, in which fierce competition to concoct a better Chardonnay seldom intrudes on friendship. These days, however, a territorial dispute is pitting neighbor against neighbor. "I am thoroughly opposed to slicing up the Napa Valley," declares winemaker Joe Heitz. "It is asinine, stupid and ridiculous."

What riles Joe Heitz involves a subject that mystifies many oenophiles, even though millions of marketing dollars are affected: American Viticultural Areas, often informally called appellations. Heitz is prominent among the winemakers who are fighting a proposal put forward by many of his neighboring vintners that would designate new AVAs within the Napa Valley. As the nation's most prestigious wine-producing area, the lush valley north of San Francisco is entitled to an AVA, which Napa's wine producers proudly display on their labels. But partly because the valley's vineyards have proliferated from 40 in the early 1970s to 200 today, some vintners want to create more exclusive subregions in the valley. Opponents of the new AVAs are worried that creating subregions will Balkanize the valley and dilute the reputation of its wines.

Inspired in part by laws that designate many of Europe's prestige winemaking regions, ranging from the Medoc to the Moselle, the Treasury Department's Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (BATF) first authorized AVAs in 1978. There are now some 106 appellations, about half of them in California.

Most winemakers favor AVAs in theory. Top-of-the-line varietals (wines named for the specific grapes used to make them) reap the industry's biggest profits these days. But Napa vineyards can cost $50,000 an acre, and prime grapes go for as much as $1,800 a ton in good years; accordingly, vintners argue that labeling a bottle as the product of a prestigious AVA like Napa Valley or Sonoma County makes the wine more appealing to buyers. Vintners whose acreage lies within the suggested borders of the four new Napa appellations (Rutherford, Rutherford Bench, Oakville and Oakville Bench) figure to do even better.

Under AVA rules, growers first petition BATF to declare an appellation; then the bureau conducts public hearings on such matters as the area's grape- growing history and distinguishing topography. When the bureau approves an AVA, it sets the appellation's boundaries. Critics charge that some BATF decisions seem motivated by a political need to please as many winemakers as possible, rather than a concern for quality. Opponents of the Napa Valley's proposed AVAs charge that the new boundaries would exclude some of the best vineyards and that there is no historical justification for referring to any part of the valley as Oakville Bench. (In geology, a bench is the floodplain of a lake or river.)

Meanwhile, some vintners are searching for distinction in a different way by assigning their top wines proprietary names (the Clos du Bois vineyard's Marlstone, for example). Despite Heitz's Napa Valley pride, his lush, minty Cabernet Sauvignons (typical price: $40) are best known by the names of two farms where the grapes are grown, Martha's Vineyard and Bella Oaks. But for many growers whose wines lack the cachet of Heitz's, new AVAs represent profits and prestige.

Earlier this year, when BATF was considering a Stag's Leap AVA for the southern part of the valley, the modest (49 acres) S. Anderson winery spent nearly $40,000 to make the case that it belongs inside the boundaries. "Appellations like Stag's Leap are going to have more meaning in the future," says marketing director John Anderson. P.S.: his vineyard made the district.

With reporting by Paul Witteman/San Francisco