In the past two weeks – since Monday, May 16, to be exact – every single publication on this Earth has run a story concerning the Supreme Court’s ruling disallowing bans on interstate wine shipping. I’m not kidding. Church bulletins and PTA newsletters, not to mention daily and weekly newspapers (including this one) have all trumpeted the story like it was the second coming of Elvis Presley.
So, in the best tradition of Wine Chat, I’m going to ignore it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a very important milestone in the wine business and is a huge victory for the wine industry. But frankly, I’m sick of the story. And that’s that. On with the show.
I Googled myself the other day. There. I’ve said it. I believe that everyone should Google themselves, even if it’s just to find out if there is an old girl/boyfriend out there posting nasty things about them. (Thankfully not, in my case.)
Those of you who read the weekly ramblings in this space may find it a bit hard to believe, but I make a pretty good living by writing for various publications and businesses. Several of my published pieces came up in my Google search, some I’m rather proud of, and some I wish would just go away. An example of the latter is a regular feature I write for a slick magazine in which I profile dogs owned by various business people in Carmel. Not Pulitzer material, believe me, but as a way of keeping the wolf from the door, it’s better than the summer job I had driving a Dumbo Ice Cream truck while in college.
The gig wasn’t really all that bad. Summer came early that year, and I made a bundle peddling Rocket Pops, Push-ups and Fudgsicles to the overheated kiddies in my hometown of Battle Creek, Mich. It’s also a documented fact that a giant white step-van with a cartoon elephant painted on the side is an irresistible chick magnet. My roommate Dave Arft also shilled for Dumbo, and at night we would play Dumbo bumper cars in the backyard with our trusty Dumbomobiles. Ah, memories.
Anyway, I found in my Google search a few listings for the “Chatfield Winery” in Lodi. Sometimes it’s listed as being in nearby Woodbridge. “Oh, how cool,” I thought. “Maybe I have a relative who makes wine.”
So I phoned ’em up.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice said, rather, I thought, unprofessionally. I explained that I had called the number for the Chatfield Winery.
“OK.”
So is this it?
“Yes.”
Emboldened, I explained that my name is also Chatfield. That warmed her up some. I further said that I write a weekly wine column and that I thought it would be fun to write about a winery that shares my name. She warmed up even more, and told me her name was Jackie.
Jackie went on to explain that the winery’s name came from the owner’s middle name. Turns out that the business is in the process of (probably) changing hands. She was very nice about my request for background on the winery, but really couldn’t give me any information.
Jackie took my name and number and said that she’d have the owner give me a call. Well, it’s time to file this column with my editor, and he hasn’t called yet. So, I’ll go with what I know.
Check this out: in terms of production, the Chatfield Winery is 79th in the entire United States, producing 600,000 gallons of wine each year in that one plant in Lodi/Woodbridge. By the way, guess who number one is? Surprise! E & J Gallo.
I couldn’t find a whole lot of information concerning what kinds of wine are produced by Chatfield, but a 2001 article posted on EOpinions.com entitled “The Scoop on Value Priced California Chardonnay Wine” by reviewer Tom Carr gives an indication of the quality of the wine my namesake winery cranks out.
In his article, Mr. Carr concentrates on wines that retail for under $8, because his research indicated that the bulk of the chardonnay consumed in the United States (48 percent) falls in that price point. He chose four wines to comment on and rated them as “recommended” and “not recommended.” And there, at the very top of the “not recommended” list is a wine called “Hawaiian Paradise White Wine.”
Now, with a name like that, you gotta know you’re in for a treat. Add that name to the bottle price, 99 cents (That’s right. Ninety-nine cents. Probably the only wine you’ll find at the Dollar Store.) and you’ve got a recipe for a sure-fire, Liberty-Bell-clanger of a headache. Mr. Carr uses the following words to describe this Hawaiian punch: “aroma of tamarind, sour fruit, rotting fig pulp.” Yum. I don’t think I know what rotting fig pulp smells like, but I can state unequivocally that I do not want any of it in my wine. No sir.
So guess who makes this nectar? That’s right. Chatfield Winery. Which just goes to show you that sometimes, Googling yourself can bring some unexpected, even startling surprises.
I highly recommend trying it, though. Perhaps you’ll find a winery somewhere with your name on it. I hope you have better luck than I did.
