Fine wines in funky places

SEATTLE -- A new crop of urban winemakers is proving you don't need to live in the country to make great wine.

You don't even need a back yard.

These winemakers get their grapes from the rolling hills of Eastern Washington but they do the crushing, fermenting, bottling and everything else in the big city.

Gordy Rawson crushes grapes on the dead-end street outside his Seattle home, accompanied by the dull roar of traffic on nearby Interstate 5. Oak barrels fill his basement, home of Chatter Creek Winery.

Bill Owen and Rob Sullivan of Owen-Sullivan Winery inhabit a drab, olive-colored warehouse in a semi-industrial Tukwila office park just south of Seattle.

And to find Ben Smith's Cadence Winery, drive south of Safeco Field and look for a wine barrel on the cracked sidewalk, nestled between a brake-and-clutch shop and a bread factory.

"Washington state is really, for many people, the land of opportunity in the world of wine," said the Washington Wine Commission's Steve Burns.

Growing industry

Making wine at home is a centuries-old tradition. In Europe, home winemakers are called garagistes. A few California garagistes have attained cult status, with their wines sometimes selling for more than $1,000 a bottle.

The work of garagistes in Washington -- the nation's No. 2 wine producer after California -- is winning attention and praise, although at more affordable prices.

These winemakers' backgrounds vary as widely as their wines. But they share a dream of making great wine, and a common determination to make it happen wherever they live.

Smith, who owns Cadence winery with his wife, Gaye McNutt, was always a beer kind of guy. But when a friend of his invited him to help with the harvest for a day at a Washington vineyard, he was fascinated -- and soon hooked.

The Boeing mechanical engineer's homemade wines started winning local prizes. When wine shop owners told Smith his wine was good enough to sell commercially, he put together a 50-page business plan and said goodbye to 737s and 757s.

"I've always liked to see tangible results for my work," said Smith, gesturing to the French oak wine barrels lined up behind him. "Wine is a pretty special thing."

He's not the only one who thinks so. His wines are sold at fancy restaurants such as New York's Gramercy Tavern, and Wine and Spirits magazine named Cadence "the new name to watch" in its June 2002 issue. His wines sell for around $30 a bottle.

Owen's journey into winemaking was less accidental. He worked as a waiter, a wine steward, a wholesaler and a wine buyer for QFC and Fred Meyer.

"I was plotting this all along," he said. He teamed up with Sullivan, who handles the business end. They needed about $500,000 over five years to start the winery, Owen said. Their wines sell for $25 to $35.

Owen happily shows visitors around the 4,500-square-foot warehouse, stopping occasionally to swirl, sniff and sip some of the wine being aged in French oak barrels.

"Unlike other jobs, where you don't want to work all the time, winemaking is more fun," he explained.

Of course, it's hard work, too. Owen recently strained his back chasing after a barrel of wine that fell off a forklift and was threatening to roll into someone's car.

Multi-faceted career

Urban winemakers must learn how to do everything, from financing equipment to doing the heavy lifting.

"Every day it's a new thing," Chatter Creek winemaker Rawson said. "I'm a mechanic, a lab guy, a pump jockey, human resources, accounts payable, accounts receivable ..."

Rawson started out making champagne, but had to revise his plan quickly when he realized customers didn't love it as much as he did. Now he makes several reds along with sparkling wines, and they sell for $14 to $20.

Small wineries require a group effort. One recent day, Rawson was using Smith's labeler, while Smith was borrowing Owen-Sullivan's bottling machine. For grape crushing, bottling and other big jobs, they rely on friends who are thrilled to volunteer -- especially since everyone leaves with some wine.

It's tough not being involved in growing the grapes -- which is, winemakers agree, the most important part of the process. But they say they trust their vineyard managers.

Smith relies on handshake agreements with his vineyard suppliers.

Making wine in Seattle has benefits, though. The biggest is being in the middle of your customer base.

Recently a restaurant called and told Rawson a table loved his wine so much they just drank the last bottle; how fast could Rawson get them some more? He loaded a case in his car and delivered it before the glasses had run dry.