Smoky evocations of peat and black tea along with pungent, well-hung gaminess are what first tweak the nose from Baron’s 2009 Syrah En Chamberlin Vineyard, followed by high-toned candied lemon and orange rind; bittersweet distilled floral essences; and evocations of kirsch and framboise eau de vie, a wealth of aromatic constituents that may well arise from the relative coolness and long hang time of this site. Bourcier suggests that there might be something about the 2009 growing season that particularly favors this vineyard, and it sure tastes that way to me! Its soaring and penetrating smoky and high-toned intensity seems to billow across the palate, where dark cherry and plum preserves mingle with marrowy rich meaty savor. Salt and crystalline impingements so vivid one seldom associates their like with red wine, lead to a finish that leaves my mouth tingling and my salivary glands helplessly stuck wide-open. (“Long hang time:” could have been a reference to my tongue on Chamberlin.) Above all, this wine is just plain mysterious, not only in the intrigue of its flavors, but in engendering wonder as to how it manages to taste as it does. Baron’s response to that thought is (no doubt but half in jest): “The monks and nuns of Cayuse need their own thousand years to figure that out!” Follow at least one or two bottles – assuming you’re lucky enough for this to be possible – well into their second decade. Just as the cobbled soils around Milton-Freewater captivated Champenois Christophe Baron’s imagination on what he calls “a fateful April morning in 1996,” so the 100% estate-bottled wines he has grown in them since have amazed and inspired oenophiles to the extent of creating a veritable cult. “I’m here because of the rocks,” says Baron, who, although he loved the Rhone as much as he did Burgundy, was at the time planning to grow Pinot in the Willamette Valley, “and because I just happened to open a book and show a friend in Walla Walla what vineyards look like in Chateauneuf. ‘I know where we have rocks like that,’ he told me, and I said: ‘Take me there tomorrow!’” “The only way to tell how deep” the striking carpet of stones in his vineyards extends, says Baron “is to go down a well.” Baron – who emphasizes that he is conservative but at the same time scientifically rigorous about when and how much water to drip onto his vines – was one of the few Washington growers I met who spoke about, much less offered some specifics regarding root penetration. “In the summer – after crop-thinning (is done) and the (bird) nets are on, we get bored, so we rent a backhoe and we dig holes. And by the third leaf (i.e. year) the roots are already ten feet down.” Laura Pursley – who assists Baron in the vineyards (her fellow “assistant vigneronne” and counterpart in the “wine studio” – Baron’s name for his facility – is Elizabeth Bourcier) – notes that “opposite to what you’d think, it’s our sites with the highest clay content, with a bit more soil and less rock, that dry-out soonest.” From the inception of Cayuse, Baron commenced the painstaking work of generating his own vine selection from the clonally monotonous Syrah and Grenache material then available. From 2000 on, he has been taking advantage of the new diversity of clones available stateside and begun grafting these onto rootstock, explaining “I believe that sooner or later phylloxera will make its way to Washington.” Baron’s most recent plantings of up to 4,840 vines per acre are, he believes, as high-density as any in North America and are horse-tilled, typically eight times a year. “That’s how to get fruit ripe at lower brix; get unbelievable (tannic) structure; and unlock the gates of terroir,” he opines (offering elucidation I won’t detail on this occasion). Farming biodynamically since 2002, Baron’s approach – which involves 25 full-time staff, one person per hectare – appears as labor-intensive and detail-attentive as I have encountered anywhere in the world. The inaugural, 2011 Syrah from The Tribe – his ultra-densely-planted latest vineyard – is bound to attract intense scrutiny and devotion, and I suppose there is no point in withholding my opinion, based on tasting it from barrel in March and July, that both will be deserved. Another self-described “epiphany” of Baron’s while bicycling into the Blue Mountain foothills in 2004 led to his latest vineyard start-up. “A little heaven,” he calls it – with the Walla Walla River rippling by; pastureland for his beloved vegetables and animals (some participants in biodynamics; some destined for the table); and vertiginous rocky slopes with vines trained to stakes (en echalas), make it the image of Cote Rotie. He unabashedly says he intends to make this “one of America’s jewels in terms of viticulture; that every American wine aficionado knows; and a place I can be proud of. After this, I’ll have nothing to prove.” First crop: next year. I’ll have more to say on another occasion (as well as in certain of my tasting notes in this report) about the approach Baron and Bourcier take in the cellar, but a critical part of the big picture is his announcement that “This year is it: I’ve bought my last barrique” used or new. The result – even with Baron’s wines based on Bordelais cepages – will be a regimen consisting of fermentation in wooden foudre or concrete tank and elevage in 600-liter demi-muids supplemented by foudre. And a trend begun already five or six years ago will continue: toward utilizing decreasing percentages of new oak. “There was a trend – especially in Washington and California – toward all new barrels” from the most fashionable couple of tonneliers, notes Baron, “but what we found out is, the new wood dries out the wine.” (“Well, duh!” would have to be my own smart-ass reply.) “And,” adds Bourcier, “we’ve found that a wine can go quite quickly from well-balanced to overly oaky and drying, which is why we often take them out of barrel early,” i.e. well ahead of bottling. (Notes on Baron’s small-volume project known as No Girls will be found under that name, as it refers to a self-standing winery.)Tel. (509) 526-0686

In a vintage that produced the finest overall lineup of Cayuse wines to date, it may seem a little nit-picky to score some higher and some lower. But the En Chamberlin deserves first place again. Brilliant aromatics of smoked meat, bacon fat and otherworldly roasted accents seduce instantly. Once on the palate, the silky, balanced, near-perfect mix of umami and fruit, plus licorice, cassis, coffee liqueur and black tea notes suggest it’s as decadent as it is delicious. — (3/1/2013) —99