xcept for a few interesting efforts in Southern California earlier in the 19th century, wine in the state started in the north, in the 1870s, around the town of Sonoma, and was based first on local grapes that made interesting generic wines. Among the grapes of the period was Mission, a grape that remains little more than a historic memory today. And that was the way it stayed for the most part, through the mid-1960s.

To be sure, Inglenook, founded in 1879, and Beaulieu, from 1900, both made varietal wines, and there were some reportedly fascinating varietals made south of San Francisco in Santa Cruz. But these were exceptions and didn’t represent a trend.

A major change in thinking came in the early 1940s when wine marketing expert Frank Schoonmaker took one of the first serious looks at the California wine industry of the period. He published an influential book on the subject, California Wine. The structure of the book was a region-by-region look at wine in the state, but another agenda developed.

Schoonmaker acknowledged that many wineries were making excellent “house style” wines, but the best wines, he pointed out, were those from people like Martin Ray, Ray’s former mentor Paul Masson, the aforementioned Inglenook and BV, and a tiny handful of others. And the vast majority of these, he noted, were varietal wines.

Schoonmaker pointed out that it might have been possible to establish a European model for the best wines, which was based on regionality. The best wines of Bordeaux were and remain Cabernet Sauvignon- and Semillon-based. Hermitage of the Rhône was Syrah. Piedmont was Nebbiolo.

And the model could well have been followed had Dry Creek been mainly Zinfandel, Russian River been mostly Pinot Noir, and the Santa Cruz Mountains been mostly Cabernet. Then the best wines could have been called by their locales, and the European model would have been understood by the fine-wine buyers of the day (which represented a tiny percentage of all wine consumers). Keep in mind that when Schoonmaker was writing, about 90 percent of the U.S. public’s choice of wine was sweet and fortified - port, sherry, tokay and more.

Without a long, regionally based history, or a legal model that mandated which grapes could grow where and still carry the regional name, a regional-naming system was doomed. This was, after all, a democratic society (with grapes it was actually more anarchistic) in which a grower could plant anything desired. In the spirit of a free-enterprise system, the success of a product determined if it would remain. It was decided to allow the marketplace to determine if, for instance, an Alexander Valley Pinot Noir or Gewurztraminer were worth growing. If a wine didn’t sell, it would disappear.

As a sound alternative to regionally based wines, said Schoonmaker, the best wines from California should logically be named for the varietals that made them, and at some point about 25 years later it became clear that that was the best direction for wine makers to go. Stony Hill, the first Napa Valley winery after the end of Prohibition, got the ball rolling in the early 1950s with a 100 percent Chardonnay, following what had been pioneered earlier by other quality wines. The late Robert Mondavi’s 1966-founded Napa winery followed with mainly traditional varietals, including Sauvignon Blanc (which was named Fumé Blanc because Mondavi believed it wouldn’t sell under its main name). It was probably coincidental that 1967, the year after Mondavi founded his winery, was the year that Americans first drank more dry table wine than sweet fortified.

Varietals would, by government regulation, be at least 51 percent of the grape named on the label - until the mid-1970s when the government mandated 75 percent. Except for a small but growing number of proprietarily named grapes, this became the accepted model for most wineries.

All this was fine for most consumers. Wine makers, especially in the less-than-high-image regions, were happy to point out that a Carneros Cabernet wasn’t going to be just like one from Rutherford; that a central coast Chardonnay would deliver something a bit different from one out of Russian River.

But sub-regional designations were still on the mind of many wine makers, and in the 1970s it became clear that many of the most image-conscious in the Napa Valley were eager to differentiate their regions from neighboring ones. As appellations were sought and approved for Rutherford, Oakville, Stags Leap, Spring Mountain and others, some wine makers and owners believed that such designations would eventually lead to regional distinctions that would matter, and thus would alert savvy consumers to elements worth spending money on.

So, just as the “Rutherford Dust” component would help distinguish its Cabs, the silky-tannins of Stags Leap’s wines would differ from the more astringent Mount Veeder.

When this regionality completely failed to materialize, due in large part to the demands of those who wanted all Napa Cabs to be brutish, dense, oaky, and soft, local wine makers didn’t seem to fret. They took what the consumer gave them (lots of cash) and happily moved the wines into a mode that didn’t exhibit distinction as much as a me-too sameness. Sub-regional character failed in the most famed wine region of all.

Enter The Third Wave

So now we finally get to a point where Napa has its star firmly entrenched in the firmament (with a well-hyped regionless weightiness), and the rest of the wine industry is left to discover how to compete. To be sure, some wine regions already have begun to focus on, and charge for, the distinctiveness that they see as unique to their regions. Such as Lodi dark reds (Zin, Petite Sirah); Anderson Valley Gewurztraminer and Pinot Noir, Santa Lucia Highlands and Russian River Pinot Noir.) But is there sufficient justification here for a value-added statement in the form of a slightly higher price?

Savvy wine consumers have already begun to define this Third Wave by their willingness to pay more for certain special wines from special regions. The most obvious areas of excitement: Russian River and Santa Lucia Highlands Pinot Noir. It is obvious from the prices these wines are commanding (into the $50-and-more range for many wines), and the rapidity with which they are selling out that the rage for these wines is, in some ways, as intriguing as is the demand for cult Cabernets from Napa. And this is an un-Sideways-related connection. Passion for Pinot predates the production of the film, and has a far more long-lasting impact. (More proof: existence of Pinot Noir related magazines, publication of at least two major books on the subject, and rising scores in glossy magazines.)

But will the Third Wave, as it materializes, create other regional/special wine connections that begin to carry their own weight and offer their own excitements, for the emerging millennials? I envision this to be a “specialty wine” and regional connection, and at this early stage the examples I will offer below may sound a bit premature. But the excitement that I saw well over a decade ago for the nascent Pinot boom is presaged by what I’m seeing now in other areas of the wine world. And although it may take a decade before some of these waves begin to take hold in a big way, it seems relatively certain (to me, at least!) that far-thinking wine makers and grape growers should be alert to what’s happening.

One demand certain to take hold is with dry Riesling, and there are a couple of small drawbacks with this prediction that are minor hurdles to be overcome. The key word here is dry. And that’s because Riesling as a wine category has traditionally been related to quite sweet wine. German Riesling, in particular, which has sold in the United States for decades, has mostly been sweeter in style; and the vast majority of American Rieslings also have a noticeable level of residual sugar. As such, buyers have believed that Riesling is supposed to be sweet, and until very recently the dry versions have veered 180 degrees from the “soft and succulent” versions that have predominated.

What makes this such a hard category to predict as a Third Wave wine is that the level of sweetness in a wine determines exactly what sort of dryness the wine will exhibit. Some dry wines are literally dry, with zero sugar. These are mainly Australian. Even the German wines called Trocken can be and often are made with up to the legal limit of 0.9 percent residual sugar (9 grams per liter). And among the dry Rieslings that have been made quite successfully in the last three years are wines that have as much as 1.5 percent (15 grams) of residual sugar.

So here is hurdle No. 2: Most dry Rieslings actually have a bit of sugar in them. This is why the newly founded International Riesling Foundation has set itself the task of defining the various sweetness levels of Riesling as well as the terms that it hopes will become universal for how to describe such wines. (Early scenario: there will be six levels of sweetness, with the lowest three designated dry, off dry, and medium dry.)

The success stories we have seen with dry Riesling over the last few years have been with wines that have decidedly lower alcohol levels than traditional table wines. (With Chardonnay and Viognier rising in alcohol to 15 percent over the last few years, most Riesling buyers I have spoken with have pointedly stated that their choice of Riesling is specifically because they desire a white wine that doesn’t deliver a wallop; a deft touch is what they are after.)

And yet the lower alcohol doesn’t seem to be a problem for those who are pairing the wine with food since the wine’s dryness plus food compatibility is one aspect of its enjoy-ability factor. A moderating influence is the (usually modest) amount of sugar that helps to soften the blow of stern acidity that makes such a wine both tart and succulent at the same time.

What About Other White Varietals?

Here’s another reason why dry Rieslings can be compelling alternative white wines: Consider the availability of dry white wines for today’s foods and aperitifs. Once you get past Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, you find a noticeable dearth of choices: Viognier is often heavy-handed and clumsy, as are the far rarer Roussanne and Marsanne; Pinot Gris is generally thin and lackluster; Gewurztraminer is usually relatively sweet. Semillon and Pinot Blanc are misunderstood and thus rarely made. And what else is there?

Yes, some newcomers are hitting the wings of the opera hall, but at the moment they are understudies, bit players like Grüner Veltliner, Cortese, Grillo, Alberiño, and Vermentino. As lovely as they can be, few people know of them, and they are mainly relegated to the Obscure Varietals list.

So Riesling, with a far more recognizable stage name, is in the forefront of white wine stars ready for a reemergence – with the vital word “dry” appended at the start to alert the consumer, both new and already in-the-know, that this is a separate category of wine. It may not take much time for the two wines to find their way into separate categories. But it will take wine shops and restaurants to launch the process by creating separate sections/lists for these wines so those who want a dry version will not be saddled with an Auslese-style of wine in sugar terms.

It is already happening in some areas of the world. Chateau Ste. Michelle’s vast holdings in the Columbia Valley permitted the making of nearly one million cases of the wine in 2007 with newly hired specialist Wendy Stuckey from Australia adding expertise to the Riesling program. Some of that wine was dry enough to called Dry Riesling, and despite the fact that the wine was selling for just $13 a bottle, it was already gaining star status with savvy wine consumers. As is the winery’s exceptional Eroica, an off-dry wine that finished with superb acidity.

The same sort of attention has been paid to New York’s dry Rieslings, mainly those of the Finger Lakes, whose sales for the last decade have grown so strong that most wineries are on allocation, with prices rising to more than $20 a bottle for them. Talk about a Third Wave! The unlikely success of New York Riesling has put the grape into a shortage situation with not enough acreage planted, and various forces making for a situation that may not be solved soon.

In both cases, the regional aspect of the public attention to these wines is not to be ignored. Although we have seen some focus on vineyard-designated Rieslings from certain locations (such as the fascination a few wine lovers have for the tiny Cole Ranch appellation in Mendocino County), sales of Riesling in general, dry and off-dry, are rising across the board, but without the intensity the market shows for wines from the “special” regions. In a slightly lesser way, we are seeing Rieslings from Michigan, notably from the Upper Peninsula, from Ohio, Oregon and Idaho, and even a small number of Rieslings from Virginia begin to sell with a bit more interest than in the past.

No, it is not with the enthusiasm for Pinot Noir that we saw after the movie Sideways, but the sales (even surprising to the owners of the wineries making the wine) seem to be a portending trend, and not a fad.

Verification of this comes from the savviest of wine merchants and a few sommeliers in the savviest wine town in America - San Francisco - who note that Riesling sales there are booming and that the fastest sales are wines from more recognizable regions, with German wine sales. And here it is leading to more definitive wine sections, some of them regional.

Back in the 1970s, some of the state’s finest Rieslings came from places like Santa Barbara County, the Carneros, Monterey County, Santa Cruz Mountains, and Russian River. As the Chardonnay culture of the 1980s took center stage, much of that acreage was torn out and replanted to varieties that were less distinctive, but which sold. But the long-ago history of success with Riesling in many locales that now have almost none of the grape may well be enough for it to make a comeback.

Moreover, some of the best Rieslings in California that never went away, such as from Trefethen and Stony Hill (both with stupendous dry versions) soon will be back on allocation the way they once were. To answer the coming Third Wave, Trefethen is committed to putting in 12 more acres of the variety over the next three years, and Janet Trefethen admits that if sales continue to march forward, that may well not be enough.

Next in the progression of this Wave is the advent of vineyard designates for Riesling, which would be regional distinction at its best - as long as the wine carrying a vineyard name is an exemplary wine.

Think Pink!

Another Third Wave wine that will verify the fact that this is indeed a serious trend is Dry Rosé and I use both words with capital letters to establish the category. And again the wine need not be bone dry to qualify since a trace of sugar occasionally is used to ameliorate the sharpness of the acidity in a wine.

Here, the evidence of its already-significant impact comes from scanner data in supermarkets showing sales of all rosé to be rising quickly, one of the fastest increasing categories of wine. And it is significant to note that the category of rosé, for the scanner companies such as A.C. Nielsen, is rather new. Just a couple of years ago, it didn’t exist; the catchall category was “blush.”

As rosé sales rise, we have first seen imports dominate the category with wines from the south of France and Spain leading the way. Even a a rather blah wine, such as Bandol Rosé (the wine doesn’t travel all that well), seems to be selling. The key factor about rosé from other countries is that most are dry - there’s that word again.

But this trend doesn’t include North American rosé. Until recently, most fine-quality rosé was made sweeter than sophisticates seek. Either that or the wine was a result of saignée, the French term for bleeding off a tank of fermenting red wine so the juice was just pink or dark pink, and that liquid was left to ferment in another vat.

Most wine makers who did saignée did so because it helped them make a darker-colored red wine (a greater ratio of skins-to-juice), and believed that the resulting rosé would be a saleable wine that could command a price without the necessity for an oak barrel, and without the need to age the wine much if at all. Instant wine. Instant sale.

But a lot of saignée wine isn’t very good rosé. For one thing, in today’s mode of making red wines with 15 percent alcohol or more, rosé made using this method calls for the basic juice to be drawn off a tank of fermenting red wine. And that means the pink wine will be roughly the same alcohol if it is dry. At that level of alcohol, even a dry wine is going to taste sweet, and few wine makers are willing to make such a wine with the acid level sufficient to balance a high-alcohol rosé.

Alternatively, a wine maker can make a saignée rosé that’s lower in alcohol than the resulting red wine, but then the rosé will actually contain residual sugar, and the result is, again, a wine sweeter than would make for a balanced taste. And worse yet would be higher-alcohol pink wine with residual sugar as well as contact with oak barrels. The concept boggles the mind. (Yes, I understand the vin gris concept, but unless the wine is balanced, such a wine can become awfully tiresome awfully quickly.)

And so here comes the Third Wave: a rash of lower-alcohol rosé wines that are picked specifically to make pink wine, at low sugars (20° to 22° Brix) and with acid levels that are appropriate to such wines. This is like the great pink wines of Tavel, Italy, Spain, the south of France, and even (more recently) Australia, South Africa, and even New Zealand. And those Californians who are making such wines are using quality grapes, with Grenache and Syrah seemingly leading the way. I prefer Pinot Noir-based rosés.

Regionality comes into play here as well since the best of rosé is wine that is rather transparent, showing its flavors without regard to extraneous flavorings, such as oak, chips, lees contact, and other factors that can rob a wine of its distinctiveness. Again, vineyard designations here could well be an added benefit to top-flight dry rosé, but we haven’t seen that step yet.


The Third Wave isn’t limited to just Dry Rosé and Dry Riesling. Regionality is beginning to become a well-understood benefit. So, as a sub-category of all Rieslings, we have Michigan Riesling, New York Riesling, Ohio Riesling, and even Virginia Riesling. And as a sub-category of all rosé wines we have reds made intentionally lighter (such as Gamay Noir and more delicate, Grenache-based Rhône blends)

But there are also such elegant wines as Canadian Pinot Gris, Oregon Pinot Blanc, and Washington Semillon. And there are many others now just being freed after years behind the bars of an experimental laboratory, such as Pinot Meunier, Lagrein, Albarino, Vermentino, Ehrenfelser, and Petit Verdot.

Many of these wines are one-off experiments by wine makers who are fascinated with the wide variety available out of the world’s vineyards. There is a Michigan Riesling by Scott Harvey of the Napa Valley, who trucked in Michigan juice and made the wine in California. From l'Uvaggio di Giacomo comes both a wine called il Gufo Barbera Rosato and a Vermentino, both from Lodi; Imagery and Tobin James have both made Lagrein, and there is quite a following for the Trousseau Gris from Fanucchi and for the Sylvaner from Rancho Sisquoc. And Chenin Blanc seems to be making a minor comeback as well.

If these were totally isolated wines, you can’t tell it from the enthusiasm their supporters have shown in the past, and it helps when supporters of the ABC movement openly admit to consuming some of these wines.

This kind of wine is part of the Third Wave that is making an end run around the scorers, avoiding being placed into a numerical box from which it’s nearly impossible to escape. True, some of the wines might be mainstream enough to be rated, but most wine makers who make such wines do not want to risk being at the mercy of palates ill-equipped to make appropriate decisions that can have a life-or-death sort of aftertaste.

They are not feeding the ratings ogre. They are not sending in wines for review. They trust their tasting room and restaurant sales people. Few of the Third Wave wines are candidates for retail wine shops except for those operated by passionate Third Wavers, people who are turned on by mature wines, both white and red; by classic dry sherry, and Dolcetto, and sparkling Shiraz, and Semillon, and all the esoterica that makes wine such a fascination to those not wedded to the next bombshell Cabernet.

The Third Wave is building with consumers unafraid to say they like wines that lack a numerical insurance policy.