These wines are not reviewed. They get some press, but no ratings. People talk about them; mostly late at night and in the presence of other wines. This is all very good.
For many, the wines have no reputation at all—that is not bad. For some, the reputation is daunting: skin-fermented whites, orange wines, screaming intensity, unconventional profiles … That is not bad either. But this means that the wines require introductions; they need shepherding. Or they will languish in a warehouse in American Canyon, CA—a mezzanine in Purgatorio.

The wines have many shepherds in many places. In Colorado; in Louisiana; in Florida; in New York; in Massachussetts. There are ambassadors too; nuncios who spread the word gracefully and without prompting. This leaves me full of wonder and gratitude. But I cannot rely on them alone. It is necessary to reach out, to travel, to visit places both familiar (Manhattan) and exotic (Pensacola). The visits are rewarding since they offer an education--in the local wine cultures of the United States, in local cultures simply, in landscape and geography. I meet people who nourish me with their eagerness; in return, I offer a little insight, a clarification about the use of sulfur dioxide, an anecdote from the crush pad, the nomination of a favorite champagne.

The success of the Scholium Project depends fundamentally on the excellence of its vineyards. But it depends also on a winemaker with a ready suitcase.