Napa Valley Cult Cabernets. Winemaker Alchemists. And The Magic Of Vida Valiente

It was a taste. It was an experience. It was liquid poetry, written by a winemaker who was masquerading as an alchemist in the heart of Napa Valley.

The sun-drenched asphalt of CA-29 stretched out into the distance before us like a ribbon of molten tar. The road cut through the verdant expanse of Napa Valley as it twisted into the distance. The late March air was thick with the promise of spring as it carried the heady scent of pruned and budding vines, and sun-baked earth. We cruised past the manicured rows of grapevines as they stretched out into the east and west on either side of the highway. The CA-29 pulled us through history as the valley unfolded beyond the windscreen like a well-worn map. Each crease, every fold told a story of time, of terroir, and of the tenacity of those winemakers with a dream who chose to make their living coaxing miracles and magic from the ancient, rich soil.

We drove lazily through nature’s tunnel as overhead, gnarled oak trees formed a canopy across the highway. Their branches were jagged and intertwined like old friends sharing secrets of the valley’s past. These silent, knobby sentinels stood watch over Napa for centuries. They bore witness to the ebb and flow of fortunes, the rise and fall of family wineries that were built and changed hands on the back of the humble grapes that were grown through out the valley. Their twisted limbs cast dappled shadows on the road as we passed beneath them. The moving shade was a welcome respite from the relentless California sun that beat down on the valley floor, coaxing sweetness from the fruit and complexity from the soil.

We rolled past the parade of tasting rooms on the wine route, our attention moving from one century-old winery to the next. Many of the wineries that still stood today had never changed hands and were still family owned. They stood as a testament to the stubborn persistence of those early pioneers who saw potential where others saw only hardship or remoteness. We passed by the sleek, modern monstrosities that were built to impress. They were covered in concrete and glass, and stretched out into the valley, hugging the landscape. But there were others. Small, humble farmhouses and weathered barns that dotted the countryside. Places like Chateau Montelena, built in 1882, or Beringer, with its famous Rhine House completed in 1884. All of these still stood as living, working museums to the valley's rich viticultural history.

I rolled down the windows as the warm Napa wind filled the car. The air was thick with the heady perfume of fermenting grapes and blooming vines. It was a scent that was equal parts intoxicating and nostalgic. It was the smell of tradition. It was the aroma of countless harvests. A hint of vintage triumphs and failures. All of these were distilled into a single, powerful experience that hit us like a punch to the palate. This was the true essence of Napa. It wasn’t a sanitized version of the valley, peddled in glossy travel brochures and flashy websites. It was the raw, unfiltered reality of an industry that was deeply rooted in blood, sweat, and dirt. It was is about terroir and tannins.

As we followed the winding highway, the Vaca Range loomed large on our left. It was a massive wall of volcanic rock that shielded the valley from the scorching heat of California's Central Valley. Lush and green due to recent rains, it was a fleeting mirage of lushness, that would soon be stripped by two weeks of dry weather. These weren’t the soaring peaks of the Rockies or the Alps. Instead, they were a collection of ancient fire-breathers that have long since been silenced. Their fury now channeled into the very soil that gave Napa wines their distinct character and their unique taste. The jagged face of Stags Leap and the vertical spires of the Calistoga Palisades rose as stark reminders of the violent geological forces that shaped this unique valley. This incredible place was lucky enough to have nearly half of the world’s soil orders, boasting more than a mind-blowing one hundred soil variations.

We slowed the car around the upcoming turn in the road to enjoy the view of the Mayacamas Mountains. These giant, rocky beauties just opposite the Vaca Range told a very different story of this same valley. These green, rolling hills were formed from the remnants of an ancient seabed. They were a geological time capsule and held deep secrets of layers upon layers of sediment compressed over millions upon millions of years. It was a stark contrast to the volcanic drama of the Vaca Range just on the opposite side of the valley. But this incredible difference was absolutely crucial to the terroir that made Napa wines so unique, so special, and so revered. The interplay between these two distinct geological formations created a perfect storm of conditions that conspired to make this narrow strip of land literally, viticultural gold.

The landscape subtly shifted as we wound our way up the highway, slowly taking in the breathtaking vistas. The fog that often blanketed the southern end of the valley gave way to clearer skies and warmer temperatures the further north we drove. This gradual change in microclimate was noticeable and reflected vibrantly in the wines that were produced here. There were crisp Chardonnays of Carneros and bold Cabernets of Calistoga. The most shocking fact was that the valley floor was a mere 35 miles long and no more than 5 miles wide at its broadest point. It was a patchwork quilt of vineyards, each block meticulously tended to coax the best from the vines. Grown with love. Cultivated with care. Produced with brilliance. This agriculture was really masquerading as a form of alchemy. It transformed sunlight, soil, and water into pure liquid, ethereal ichor. Rows upon rows of precious vines lined the wild landscape that was surrounded by stunning mountain vistas. I was lost in thought, fully absorbed by my surroundings. I barely noticed turning off CA-29 onto Bella Oaks Lane. It was a discreet side street that was so small, we could have driven past it and barely known it was there. It whispered quietly. Silently present. Guiding us forward. The road narrowed away from the highway and presented a view that seemed to have been plucked from a vintner's dream. We pulled up to a private residence and paused as the landscape revealed another postcard-perfect vista of rolling hills and meticulously tended vineyards that surrounded the private drive.

We proceeded through the gate and pulled our car through the driveway, parking next to a welcoming bucket of champagne and empty glasses. The gravel drive crunched under our feet as walked through the baking Napa sun. Considering that we had just left downtown Napa moments before in overcast, cool, cloudy shade, the clear skies and warm surroundings only justified everything that I had read about this valley’s climate swings. The midday sun beat down mercilessly on top of us, turning the air around us into a shimmering mirage. Jessica, our host and the Business Development Manager for Vida Valiente wines, greeted us with the kind of warm smile that made you feel like you had known her for years. She poured and handed us glasses of champagne to welcome us to the property. The wine sparkled like liquid diamonds in our glasses. She explained to us that this was a small local establishment that imported the champagne from France, thereby allowing the bottle to bear the champagne name. As we walked across the property, we slowly slipped the welcoming drink, allowing it to cool us from the heat. Through the crispy bubbles we could taste honey, vanilla, and a hint of pear on the nose. It was a wonderful palate cleanser and a welcoming refreshment as we strolled towards the tasting area on this magnificent private estate.

Jessica welcomed us into her home which was a space that managed to feel both expansive and intimate at the same time. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the surrounding vineyards like living paintings. Polished wood and gleaming stemware added detail and was a welcoming setup. We settled into our seats awash in excitement and anticipation. This tasting was special. It was unique. It wasn’t a run through list of library cabernets and new offerings. It wasn’t a bolt through the various bottles and grapes that most wineries featured as their winemakers danced between regions, varietals and winemaking methods. Instead, this was a journey through the masterpieces of Sam Kaplan. This was a walk, a stroll, and not a run. Sam was a winemaker whose name was well known in the valley. The man had a gift. He had this way of coaxing the very soul of the terroir out of the vine, out of the grape and then putting it into each bottle. For years at Arkenstone, Sam created some incredible age worthy wines that included Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, and Chardonnay. Having tasted several bottles of Memento Mori; bottles that recognizably had Sam's fingerprints all over them, I was notably excited to dive in to the four bottles sitting on the table in front of us in this small tasting room, shielded from the mid-afternoon sun.

We started at the beginning with the first pour of the High Ranch Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. It was a wine that easily captured the very essence of Coombsville. I swirled the deep crimson liquid in my glass slowly. I brought it up to my nose and quickly inhaled deeply as the wine easily released a bouquet of black cherries and violets with a very subtle hint of graphite. And then, I did something that probably ruined me for the rest of my life. I took the first sip. It was, in a word, fucking sublime. Silky tannins wrapped around a core of ripe fruit that held it tightly on the palate. It had layers of complexity that unfolding so gently, you felt like you were listening to a perfectly composed symphony for the very first time. I set the glass down and took a moment as I processed what was I experiencing. It was evident from the first smell, from the first taste, and from the first swallow why Sam Kaplan’s bottles had earned the status of being called a “cult cab” in the valley.

I reached for the Beckstoffer To Kalon Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. It was a wine that needed no introduction. I could already smell the aroma drifting towards me as I tilted the glass to my nose. The smell alone was enough to make any oenophile weak at the knees, ask to take the entire bottle into a dark corner, and demand to be left alone for hours of enjoyment. This dark, brooding nectar in my glass was liquid history, having been grown from some of the most hallowed ground in Napa. The vineyard that the wine came from had unique gravelly soils that provide a superb and ideal canvas for Cabernet like this to flourish and to show its magnificence. The wine was a powerhouse in the glass. It was fucking unbelievable on the palate. It was all muscular fruit and firm structure. But even with its incredible strength, it had this underlying elegance to it. It was noble. Quiet. Understated. It knew it was magical without it having to say a single word.

Reluctantly, I set the glass of the To Kalon Cabernet down, saving a little to taste again. It had easily emerged as my favorite of any Cabernet that I have ever tasted. One could say that Sam created something truly unmatchable. This was the elegant secret of this wine. I reached for the glass of Graveside Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon next. Yet again, the simple tilt of the glass immediately showcased the perfumed elegance of this Cabernet. This wine embodied the very soul of Oakville. Each sip was a journey through a landscape that was packed with dark berries, cocoa, cassis and sun-warmed earth. The tannins were firm yet approachable, promising years of evolution in the bottle. This vineyard was extremely unique and its story only complimented its name. Jessica explained that the vineyard was in the heart of St. Helena. However, you had to look beyond the massive grounds and tasting rooms to discover it. While it was nestled amongst some of the most prestigious vineyards in the valley, it had a morbid twist. It could only be reached by driving through a beautiful local cemetery. I swirled the wine gently in my glass, marveling at the juxtaposition of such lusciousness and elegant beauty and aromas, surrounded by a cemetery. It was a strange feeling, tasting something that is an experience in life that was so close to a place that captivated death.

We discussed and savored the wine as we sat and enjoyed an evening of hospitality. I am often fortunate to meet so many people in the wine industry. The industry uniquely brings people in from so many diverse backgrounds, interests and careers. I’ve met winemakers who were in a previous life, engineers, bankers, opera singers and even marijuana farmers. I even met vineyard owners who left a modest career in technology to work with grapes. It was an industry that brought people together, luring them in to share their knowledge, their love and their creativity, to create something truly marvelous together. Jessica told us her journey. From teaching kindergarten, to meeting her husband who had an interest in wine, to entering the wine industry together, both becoming wine aficionados in their own right. She had a passion for the valley. A love for the fruit that won over the most stringent Parisian judges. It was a dedication to a craft, a draw to people, and a deep emotion for a place where nature and human endeavor intertwined to create pure liquid poetry.

I reached for the glass of the Movement Cabernet Sauvignon. This bottle brought the entire experience together in a blend of harmony and creativity. Sam Kaplan blended this wine from all of the vineyards that Vida Valiente sourced from. The Estate, High Ranch, and Beckstoffer To Kalon. All of the best aromas, flavors, textures and layers, were brought together into one bottle and paired beautifully with one another. It was a showcase of Sam Kaplan's skill in crafting something so incredibly harmonious from very different and disparate parts. Jessica also said that there was something else that was extremely special about this wine. One hundred dollars from each bottle sale of The Movement went directly to support the Vida Valiente Foundation. The Foundation was created by Hayes and Susana Drumwright to help first-generation students. These were students who were inspirational and promising young scholars. It helped facilitate a path to an education for these young superstars, who otherwise would never have had the means to attend a prestigious school with a rigorous and distinguished curriculum. She explained that the name itself—“Vida Valiente” meant “Valiant Life.” The foundation, the people behind the wine, and even the wine itself were an embodiment of the name.

Our tasting and experience drew to a close. And just when we thought the experience was over. When we couldn't possibly elevate our tasting any further, Jessica unveiled the pièce de résistance. At first glance, the bottle was stunning. It was carved glass and something truly unique and special. She kindly poured the Estate Vida Valiente Cabernet into each one of our glasses. This wine was a love letter to the land painstaking written by the winemaker. Jessica explained that the vineyard was planted in 2018 to four Cabernet Sauvignon clones. The Cortina soil was cobbled rock and sand. But the vineyard had another secret. A darker secret. When we first entered the tasting room, in the very center of the table sat a pile of shiny, glassy, black, dark rocks. At first glance, these beautiful, old, volcanic rocks appeared to be knickknacks or souvenirs that someone might wish to keep as a memento. Or, potentially paperweights. Little did we realize that these little gems had a much deeper significance to our tasting. You see, the vineyard itself was also laced with these large chunks of black obsidian. These little rocks were what gave the Glass Mountain in St. Helena, California it name. It was a mountain which bordered the vineyard. Napa itself was an incredible and diverse place. And in keeping with expectation, this unimaginable site was formed after thousands of years of alluvial fallout, which slowly created this unique composition. I could smell the aroma wafting from my glass as it hit my nose harder than any of the other bottles had even dared. This estate wine nearly slapped me in the face with just how fucking good it was. It was the perfect balance of power and finesse. The exquisite composition of light and dark. It had a unique and very distinct way of making me just want to stare endlessly into the depths of my glass. I twirled the obsidian rock between my fingers, feeling its cool, smooth surface, as I slowly sipped the wine. This wine was deep. It was brooding. It was beautiful. And it left me momentarily, and completely speechless.

We thanked Jessica for a truly wonderful and engaging experience as we rose, reluctantly to leave. We walked the grounds back to our car, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the vines, the oak trees creating a protective canopy over our heads as the sun lazily drifted towards the Mayacamas Mountains. We drove south down CA-29 back to reality. I rested my head against the glass of the passenger window as winery after winery seemed to fly by in an instant, blending together into obscurity. The neat rows of grape vines, aligned and pruned to perfection, seemed to merge into a blur, as they stretched out into the distance. The taste of every distinct vineyard of Vida Valiente lingered on my palate. It was the best example of the genius of a winemaker. Sam Kaplan’s creations had us captivated the moment we walked into the tasting room. It was the aroma of the wine. That hint of raspberry, vanilla, and chocolate in the air as it drifted across our noses filling the void of the room. It captured our attentions and filled our imaginations. It could be seen in the color of the wine. It could be tasted instantly, when the deep, rich, velvety liquid touched our tongues and activated our emotions, and even triggered a memory or two. Sam had created something unique. Something special. Something extraordinary. It was a taste. It was an experience. It was liquid poetry, written by a winemaker who was masquerading as an alchemist in the heart of Napa Valley.