Stem research: is whole cluster fermentation the recipe for Pinot Noir?

Wines & Vines, Feb, 2005 by Jordan Mackay

To rile up a Pinot Noir producer, you need only mention two simple words: "whole cluster." With Pavlovian reliability, the phrase will send them into one of two states: orgasmic bliss or black rage.

To destem the grapes or ferment whole cluster on the stems is the first important decision a Pinot Noir producer will face beyond the vineyard. Most producers in North America are content to destem and make lovely Pinot Noir. A few, however, are brave enough to include the dangerous stems in the must, chancing the inexcusable green flavors that can result, in pursuit of something more complex and unique. It is undoubtedly a high-risk gambit. Whether it is high reward is something that winemakers continue to debate.

Before proceeding, allow me to offer the following account. Last March at the World of Pinot Noir (WOPN) festival in Pismo Beach, Calif., a remarkable panel tasting occurred. Six producers of Pinot Noir had been asked to make two batches of the same wine. One was fermented completely whole cluster, where the grapes had not been taken off the stems before fermentation, and the other sample was made from grapes that had been completely destemmed. The wines of each producer were served up next to each other for the entire panel and an audience.

On the panels sat some producers who are devout practitioners of whole cluster fermentation, including Josh Jensen of Calera, Greg Brewer of Melville and Brewer Clifton and Joe Davis of Arcadian. Also represented were producers who prefer to destem, including Mike Sinor of Domaine Alfred and Michael Terrien, then of Acacia (now at Hanzell).

The differences between the wines in each pair were obvious. Some of the whole cluster samples were distinctly stemmy. That is, rich with such aromas as asparagus and canned green beans. Others were not. The destemmed samples uniformly emphasized fruit. At the end of an hour-and-a-half, a show of hands was requested to gauge the audience's preference. The consensus was unexpected.

I was surprised, as Jensen later recalled being, that the majority of the audience preferred the whole cluster wines. The stunning discovery for my palate was that all of the whole cluster wines shared the most amazing mouthfeel. True, a few of the samples that had been prepared by the non-whole-cluster producers were herbaceous.

My revelation, however, was that I was willing to forgive a degree of vegetal aroma in favor of the divine mouthfeel. The best way that I can describe the difference is by comparing two fabrics. The texture of the whole cluster wines was like that of an infinitely tight latticework, a soft, cashmere-like fabric that had been meticulously woven. It had weight, softness and breadth across the entire palate.

The texture of the destemmed wines was smooth, but more linear, starting at the tip of the mouth and efficiently flowing to the back palate by way of the middle of the tongue. They were like good vinyl in feel, not necessarily a bad thing. The destemmed wines smelled gorgeously of pure berries: bright, perfumed and ripe. But the best of the whole cluster wines smelled like that and more.

The most expressive way I can put it is that they smelled alive. That is, they combined the sensual aromas of ripe berries with the leaves of the bushes those berries grew on, the branches that held the leaves and the soil and roots that supported the bushes. There was something organically complete and compellingly complex about the experience.

Once again, to appease the wine-makers now going into apoplectic shock: Some of the whole cluster wines were too green. As admirable as their texture might have been, it would have been a challenge to drink even a full glass of such liquid asparagus. However, there was something so compelling in the texture of even the green wines that it led me on a quest to discover why they tasted and felt so attractive.

The problem is that no one seems to have a good answer. Theories abound but, as with so many aspects of the production of wine, the variables involved seem almost infinite. Those who go the path of whole cluster do so with a very un-Californian, faith-based approach: They don't know why it works, it just does. But faith is an important component of a winemaking issue that brings up such passionate, religious discussion.

The most successful and high-profile practitioner of whole cluster fermentation in the United States is Josh Jensen of Calera. However, Jensen didn't come to the practice by way of highly reasoned and intensive research. He simply emulated the example given him where he first learned how to make Pinot, which happened to be at Burgundy heavyweights Domaine de la Romanee Conti and Domaine Dujac, two of the world's most highly respected producers.

It's no surprise Jensen became a whole cluster producer: You take Sunday school from the Pope and you're going to get some religion. What is surprising is how well it's been working for him for almost 30 years, since he made his first wines at Mount Harlan in 1977. Many of today's other whole cluster practioners either took their inspiration from the same sources Jensen did or directly from the man himself.