I must say that I rarely encounter this question—but I know that it is often posed. I think that I do not often hear it because people don't want to introduce any awkwardness into what is usually a convivial situation, but also—thank goodness!—because the wines do not often show their high alcohols in the course of tasting. Even when a taster looks up and says, “what's the alcohol?”, the answer is always in fact higher than they had guessed. The question most often originates not with tasting, but with reading.

Early on in my designing and composing of labels. it occurred to me that there was no need to hide the precise alcohol levels of my wines. They were already sufficiently off-putting in other ways (no varietal designation, skin fermentation, not much in the way of fruit flavors… .) that high alcohols on the labels would not further discourage potential purchasers. So from the beginning, my labels have been frighteningly candid. 2008 Naucatis—a relatively light white wine—indicatied 16.3%. I probably could have written 14.5 with impunity—and without even the most expert tasters detecting the deceit.

The proof, of course, would be in the morning, when innocent imbibers would wonder when they had consumed a martini or two along with their nice, refreshing, verdelho. This pragmatic concern illustrates how wrong it would be not speak the truth about the alcohol in the wines. After all, that alcohol is a toxin.

All of the alcohol in our wines comes from the sun. Most of that in turn comes from the living functions of the vine—in other words, thorugh the production of sugar, rather than through the dehydration of grapes. We harvest late; there is no doubt. We are waiting for certain flavors and textures to disappear; for a certain intensity in the mouth to be reached; for new flavors and aromas to strike us (for instance, waiting for syrah to smell like ham rather than fruit). For the most part, the vines are still producing sugar and moving it into the grapes while we are waiting. On the other hand, sometimes dehydration defintely occurs—in fact, we usually notice an actual drop in turgor before we find the fruit ready. (In 2009, our syrah was rained on twice during the last two weeks before harvest. The sugar concentration actually went down during this time, as the grapes took up water. The amazing and crucial thing is that turgor decreased at the same time—the physiological changes that we were looking for took place in spite of the water uptake.)

All of this leads to higher concentrations of sugar, and so to higher concentrations of alchol after successful fermentations. None of this is sought for its own sake; all of it is concommitant with a certain kind of maturation that we deem essential.

Yes, of course. We could decide that lower alcohol levels are more important than certain desired flavors or textures. By no means do we think that our way is the only way to make wine: a syrah that smells like ham even before fermentation makes a certain kind of wine—perhaps even a wine that is somewhat unnatural, or that is certainly extreme. I am very glad that it is possible to find and consume syrahs made according to very different principles too.

We could similarly add water (or more water) than we already add, having decided that alcohol levels are more important than intensity. We have deliberately and explicitly not made those decisions. Our wines reflect where they are grown, with the superabundance of heat and sunshine that leads to such high concentration of alcohol. They are the best wines that we can make from these vineyards in this place. The result is that one cannot drink so much of our wines, and perhaps that one might not want to drink them so frequently. That is perfectly acceptable to us.

I would like to mention two more things: I assume that the alcohol in these wines, while high, is in balance. I mean something rather vague by this, but especially that the alcohol does not stand out and dominate the other characteristics of the wine. I would like it never to be noticeable, but even in some cases where it adds a beneficial component to the wine, it is certainly noticeable. Let's say that I would like its positive effects to be sensible in my wines, but otherwise for it simply to disappear. It is nearly always tedious to discuss numbers of any kind. But when a taster finds the wines out of balance and the alcohol sensible in a negative way, I always regret it. That experience is so much more significant than any number.

Lastly, I would like to point to a menagerie full of wines made my me, according to these very principles, but all lower in alcohol than 14%. I am so excited to have a 2009 Sonoma Cabernet maturing at the winery with a potential alcohol of 12.5%, fully ripe and quite stunning. And my colleagues and I at the Red Hook winery bottled nearly a dozen wines under my direction that are powerful and fully ripe—and none higher than 13.5%.