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How the pursuit of beautiful things means no rules in a wine world obsessed with convention; Taste testing Maggie Harrison's Antica Terra Aequorin & Litera Chardonnay, Antikythera & Botanica Pinot Noir, and Lillian Syrah & Gold Series

 

 

Maggie Harrison is one of America's foremost winemakers, helming Oregon's Antica Terra winery, whilst at the same time running her inter-state Californian project, Lillian. And whilst her wines are phenomenal, that they are as sought after as they are, has almost certainly something to do with Harrison herself - whether she likes it or not, she's created something of a cult of personality. Within just 20 minutes of listening to her, it's easy to see just why it is that anyone would find themselves drawn into pledging loyalty to Harrison's perspectives. She speaks with arguably the most soothing voice on earth, and strings together her winemaking philosophy as if it were poetry, detailing her larger than life experiences in such vivid detail that you forget you weren't yourself right there when it happened. 3 hours of listening to her stories passes in a blink of an eye, not all that unlike a fever dream. Harrison is at once of black cat mystique, as she is the most warm person you'd ever meet the very moment she speaks, making for an utterly compelling combination. That all is nevertheless just the packaging and delivery of what is even more intriguing and mindbending, which lies in what she presents as the entirety of winemaking the way she sees it.

Very quickly, it's obvious that Harrison runs counter to near everything the wine world says itself to be, has sought to communicate and even the very foundations that it bases itself upon. Harrison hardly delves into viticultural or winemaking techniques in specifics - often stating that she doesn't know anything about winemaking, having never formally studied oenology and also only ever apprenticed under a winemaker who too never studied winemaking - instead preferring to discuss concepts like "making the most beautiful thing", alongside the works of artists from Christo and Jeanne-Claude to Eric Fischl and Ruth Asawa, all whilst personifying her wines as possessing "emotional transparency" and her winemaking as akin to "live theatre". Rather than talking about green harvesting and high density planting in the vineyards, or long lees ageing and the use of different aging vessels in the winery - to be clear, Harrison does indeed do all of that - she would rather matter of factly state with a stunning degree of candor that "terroir is a myth", and that "winemaking is cultural, not natural", where the entire act of which is "aesthetic only". Where most winemakers tend to focus on the act of winegrowing, with their ceaseless desire to master the elements and express terroir, many of whom have little interest in talking about any wine aside from their own, Harrison is more than happy to tell you she doesn't know how to do any of that, just as much as she is well known for offering up the legendary wines of others alongside her own in tastings that take the cake (many tout it as a casual weekday tasting of the century), which incidentally serves as a strong mark of confidence in her wines, yet in reality is simply a pursuit of offering to her fans a glimpse into a collection of all things beautiful. Oh, and she also runs an interdisciplinary creative program called the Beauty School at the Antica Terra winery where attendees are brought along on foraging trips and practice cooking, whilst discussing art. 

 

Christo and Jeanne-Claude (pictured with Wrapped Reichstag in Berlin, which stood for just 14 days but took 24 years to pull off) whose art installations Harrison is a fan of, centered around transforming iconic monuments by covering them in vibrant fabric, were also equally known for their tenacity in overcoming the sheer challenges of mounting their works over massive landmarks.

  

On the surface, it could be perceived as "moonbeam" as Harrison likes to say, or perhaps some sort of desire to go against the grain, yet a deeper dive beneath the surface - which really just involves more listening and being open-minded in rethinking what wines are - shows that Harrison isn't in the business of courting controversy or being the caricature of an antihero. It is clear that what it is that Maggie Harrison isn't a winemaker, she's an artist whose canvas happens to be wine. When viewed from that lens, everything begins to come into clarity and focus, and it's from that vantage that something very pivotal happens - and is really where her legions of fans are won over.

 

 

The Making Of Maggie Harrison

Harrison's story starts not with an epiphany on first sip, nor having grown up in a family of winemakers, or even having had anything to do with wines for that matter. It starts with a prestigious job in conflict resolution waiting for Harrison at the Carter Center in Atlanta, US, after she had graduated from the Syracuse University in New York with degrees in peace and conflict resolution, and also international relations. Harrison had worked with former US President Carter whilst still in university and had won him over so much so that he had a role created for her at his institution. Yet, in a tale she's told at least a thousand times over, Harrison would find herself constantly looking to get away from the role that seemed terrifyingly very much like what could have easily become the rest of her life.

A Chicago native, Harrison had grown up in a warm and loving home where her parents (her dad an ophthalmologist, and her mom a cooking teacher) were deeply embracing of the arts, and would constantly encourage Harrison to pursue a career of artistic creation. And so Harrison would constantly delay the start of her job, instead choosing to wait tables in order to raise just enough money for plane tickets to her next adventure. It was during this time that she had begun learning more about wines, although only so she could sell wines during service in order to get better tips that could then bring her closer to her next trip. Harrison credits the restaurant she was at for having a culture of learning, where she was able to be exposed to various wines and learn alongside her peers, which in turn quietly opened up a "kaleidoscope" in her. She would nevertheless spend the next several years travelling to South America, and then it was Europe, and thereafter Kenya, which was finally where it all came to a head. Whilst still recovering from a bout of malaria, Harrison was having a beer with a travel mate when she had began spiralling about how she didn't know what she had wanted to do with her life, but had figured that her constant desire to be as far from Atlanta was probably indicative of a deeper dissatisfaction with her eventual lot in life then. When prompted on what it was that she wanted to do, Harrison would serendipitously land on wanting to learn how to make wine.

 

Manfred and Elaine Krankl.

 

Returning to the US in the mid-90's with a new sense of direction, Harrison would begin trying to land any position at all that would put her closer to winemaking. As the story goes, Harrison's sister in a bid to help out, would ask Maggie to send her a resume that was to be passed on to a Californian winery whose name she could not remember - granted that this was before the widespread use of the Internet. Incredibly hesitant given the sparse details that was offered, yet with her sister's constant heckling, Harrison would eventually cobble up a cover letter that had simply read "To whom it may concern,... That's why I would like to work at a winery like yours, committed to making quality wine." To Harrison's horror, as it had turned out, her sister would after sending off the poorly written resume, later remember that the winery in question was in fact the cult winery Sine Qua Non (SQN).

At the time Sine Qua Non, founded by Manfred and Elaine Krankl, had already become the hottest thing in the US, right off their inaugural vintage, having originally been established to provide the house wine for Krankl's equally famous restaurant Campanile (whilst also running an incredibly famous artisanal bakery, La Brea Bakery). In a feat of daring, Harrison knowing that her resume was insufficient, would begin calling Krankl at every phone number she had on hand. After a month of relentless albeit polite calling, Krankl would finally pick up and agree to interview Harrison. Still living in Chicago, Harrison would get off her feet and fly down to California over the weekend for the soonest available meeting with the Krankl's the following Monday. As it turned out, the Krankl's had been so incredibly busy that they simply needed an assistant (which was especially difficult to find before the Internet), and preferably one who did not come with any hang-ups from previous winemaking experiences, themselves having never studied winemaking nor worked a harvest. This was perfect for Harrison given her complete lack of experience up till that point, and after a long day of showing her around, Harrison was given the role of first employee of the legendary Sine Qua Non in 1998.

 

 

“We were working one day, and Manfred [Krankl] said to me, ‘Do you get it? Do you know the secret? Do you know what this is all about?’ [To which I said], ‘No, I don’t know the secret.’ And [Manfred] said, ‘It’s all in the details.’ You don’t have to be twice as good as everyone else; you just have to be one one-hundredth better in every moment. You just say, “What’s the most beautiful thing I can do in this moment?” no matter what you’re doing.”

 

For the next eight years, Harrison would learn everything from the Krankl's, from stuffing envelopes to handling book-keeping, and of course racking wines and learning how some of the world's most sought after wines were made. Yet along the way, just as Harrison was ready to happily settle in the role for what would be the rest of her career, the Krankl's began to encourage her to try her hand at making her own wine. They were adamant that Harrison had learnt everything she needed to know and that she "didn't want to be 60 years old and wonder if [she] could have done it". And so at first, Harrison would begin using Syrah, amongst other Rhone varietals, sourced from vineyards around California to make wines under her own brand Lillian, so named after her grandmother. The Krankl's had offered Harrison one more year at Sine Qua Non, where she could make her first vintage, which ought to give her the reassurance of their continued guidance, but were clear that she would have to eventually find her own path forward.

 

Harrison felt the potential to bring Antica Terra to life.

 

Finding Home In Oregon At Antica Terra

The following year as it turns out, three friends - John Mavredakis, Scott Adelson and Michael Kramer - who were wine lovers and had been looking around and hoping to purchase a winery would so happen to turn to the Krankl's for advice on a vineyard up for sale in the Eola-Amity Hills of Oregon. The vineyard, named Antica Terra, which meant "Old Earth", had been previously purchased by two aspiring winemakers in 1988 and had its first vines planted the following year in 1989, and yet by 2004, would find its founders having given up on winemaking there despite their best efforts. As such, given their lack of winemaking expertise, the three friends would turn to the only people who they knew had experience with making Oregon Pinot Noir, which just so happened to be the Krankl's. The Krankl's had thought the vineyard promising and when the three friends asked if the Krankl's could help make the wine, they were quickly rejected as the Krankl's had already had their hands full - but they would offer Harrison up to the three friends as their new winemaker. The only issue was that Harrison wasn't the least bit interested.

 

 

"Because why would I? I lived in Santa Barbara and I was making Syrah. I had just started Lillian and I was happy! I had never considered moving to Oregon, and everyday Manfred [Krankl] would talk me into it in incredibly compelling ways. And I would be convinced until I was driving from the winery to my house in Santa Barbara, and I thought there is no way, I am not leaving. But then in May of 2005, they [the three friends who had bought the Antica Terra vineyard] asked me just to give them some advice, just to come up for the day. And go look at the vineyard because I'd never been here. To just give them enough advice about farming that vineyard until they could find somebody to hire,... and then once I got here and looked at it, I didn't want it to be somebody else's. I could see the vineyard - a sea of yellow leaves and stunted shoots. The vines were at the beginning of their growth cycle, but they were already beginning to defoliate. The site was so beautiful, the potential so clear - but the suffering was equally clear. And so I called my husband on my flip phone and said, 'We're moving to Oregon.'"

 

As the story goes, the three friends had turned Harrison's repeated rejections into what would become her career for the next two decades by tricking her into simply taking a look at the vineyard under the guise of soliciting her advice. One look at the six acre vineyard, allegedly just 26 seconds in, and which at the time had been in terrible shape, would stir Harrison's "maternal instincts" and embed in her a desire to nurse Antica Terra back to its full potential. Harrison would return to complete the 2005 vintage with Sine Qua Non, and would officially join Antica Terra in 2006. 

 

 

Without any grasp on winegrowing, much less what was hurting the vineyard, Harrison knew that whatever the case, she had to do something, and would quickly began the 2 year effort to switch to organic farming, whilst also intuitively beginning to walk the vineyards row by row with a bucket of molasses in hand, spooning alittle bit along each vine, a trick that she had learnt from legendary Austrian winemaker Alois Kracher who was a frequent collaborator with Krankl at Sine Qua Non, who had talked of how molasses held the most available nutrients a vine could receive. Harrison is undecided till this day as to whether it helped, yet more importantly it allowed Harrison to realise that it was only in specific parts of the vineyards where the vines were particularly stressed. She would have 38 pits dug up along these stress sections, which would immediately reveal the problem - the vines had been growing on little to no topsoil, simply gripping onto the bedrock which left them with no water and resulted in their immense sensitivity to temperature changes. Making the tough call, Harrison would decide to cut through these old root systems, all whilst the vineyard was also just undergoing conversion to organic farming, and would ultimately remove a whopping 3,600 tonnes of rock from the 40 acre estate. It was a big risk, yet thankfully it panned out well.

 

 

Harrison would also figure that regardless of the prescriptive dogma around the use of water and its supposed dilution of terroir, that the unique Antica Terra vineyard would require irrigation given the incredibly shallow soils that held onto little water. Whilst much of Oregon enjoys deeper, younger soils that came about as a result of geological activity in the area some 15,000 years ago, where Antica Terra sat in the Eola Amity Hills was a solid sheet of parent rock that dates back even further to a prehistoric period that took place millions of years ago where the area was once an ancient seabed that is today a mix of sandstone of and marine sediment. Consequently Antica Terra has been able to produce with its small and gnarly vines, unique fruit that is characterised by smaller clusters (of "hens and chicks", with clusters of mixed berry sizes that work well for Pinot Noir, offering higher skin-to-juice ratio, and therefore greater concentration) and incredibly small fruit with thicker skins, that are also seedless. The result of which is naturally lower yields, concentrated flavours and flavour complexity, with little bitter tannins but a good deal of structured and long-lived tannins, given that seed tannins are more bitter than skin tannins.

 

Deconstructing Social Conditioning In The Wine World

For the next two decades, Harrison would go on to carve out a name for herself, stepping out of the shadows of the garage winery that was Sine Qua Non, and into a canvas that was entirely of her own, one that came with its own philosophy. As has been alluded to, Harrison takes what is today considered an almost heretical view towards winemaking - albeit in the form of a pastoral yet principled moral non-conformist - where rather than playing simple servant to the land (where the winemaker's job is to supposedly get out of the vine's way, and simply allow the purity of the terroir to express itself through the wine via a mythicised process of elevage), Harrison believes more so in "human terroir", where it is the winemaker whose active decisions create the wines. For her, great vineyards don't just magically create great wines, rather it is an "entirely human undertaking requiring intense effort and artistic commitment" that makes splendid wines. Yet, Harrison simultaneously holds deep respect and reverence for the land, and if anything openly talks of how she has no way of knowing how any vintage will play out, much less the ability to manipulate the land into giving her a definite style of wine. It's just that for Harrison, terroir is but simply one half of the answer, where the winemaker supplies the second half - not all that dissimilar to the widely accepted co-existence of nature and nurture in interacting to result in an individual's personality. Somehow, Harrison has struck a position that is both anti-Burgundian and at the same time, incredibly Burgundian. 

 

Is there room for the winemaker in the winemaking story?

 

"Winemaking is not natural, it's cultural. It just doesn't happen by itself, right? Somebody had to plant those vines, and somebody had to decide what vines to plant and where to do it and how to farm it and when to pick it and what to do with it. It is not to say that a piece of land, the soil, the micro organisms in the soil, the plant material, the aspect, the orientation, the climate, or the microclimate, don't play a part. They play a massive part. If we think of myth [in reference to having once said that terroir is a myth, in what she called the war against wine] in a more Joseph Campbellian way, it is a way of explaining an otherwise unexplainable phenomenon. A nod to the indisputable fact that we haven't got all the answers. Terroir is half of the answer, in the same way that there's nature and nurture. All of the fruit is delivered to us with a certain mark. It is given to us marked by the place where it was grown and all of the components that are wrapped into a single idea of terroir. But what I would argue is that terroir is not enough on its own."

Crucially then you realise that more than anything Harrison is not just touting a personal belief, she's also fundamentally right. Where winemaking has today embraced the notion of fixing the vineyard, region or style, and therefore each vintage demonstrates a different facet of that same yardstick, which holds its virtue in allowing fans to continually gain more insight into the terroir (winemakers for that matter, don't typically work the vineyard and cellar identically each vintage, often instead trying to eke out the best from the same parcel), Harrison offers a new approach where the power rests in the hands of the winery in doing everything they can to produce the most "beautiful" expression. For Harrison, there is simply no value in sticking to a pre-determined recipe - especially in Oregon where winemaking is still fairly nascent and its weather and climate remains volatile, creating huge vintage variations - if she knows she can offer something even better. Taken from that perspective, it seems clear that Harrison's view is hardly contentious beyond requiring that one dispenses with social conditioning.

 

Antica Terra vineyard today.

 

Whilst all of that might just be contained to her own perspective and work - she certainly doesn't preach, nor set forth any doctrine or call to action - the reality is that what might sound radical is in fact the straightforward, unfiltered truth, regardless of how anyone takes it. By extension, Harrison's philosophy therefore pays greater account for the quality of the wine produced as being the result of those human-made decisions (some better, and others worse) that is made over the fruit that is yielded from harvest. To her mind, it's impossible to predetermine what sort of fruit would be produced beforehand, and by extension what wine is to be made - one can only take what's available and decide what to do with it. And for that matter, there is no inherent necessity for wine, and therefore its purposes are purely for pleasure, which can of course range anywhere from libation to art (or as Harrison says, "the act of drinking something for the sake of beauty"). Given these foundational beliefs, Harrison's north star is to then simply take the fruit that's in front of her, and at every turn, make what she calls "the most beautiful choice" which she characterises as the means by which she is able to yield the best possible wine. This ethos therefore naturally translates to see Harrison's wines forgo any standard winemaking convention, with each vintage a completely blank canvas, where even Harrison herself concedes that she has no clue what will come out on the other side, nor how much of it, or even where the fruit will specifically come from. Some vintages yield a single vineyard wine, whilst others a cuvee of fruit from various parcels within the Eola-Amity Hills or even the wider Willamette Valley, with also the occasional interstate blend of fruit from California and Oregon. Ultimately it's all about finding "the highest possible answer for [the fruit]".

 

“If you could say one thing [that ties together Antica Terra],... I think it’s about the way that we make wine and it’s paramount to understanding what we do: we don’t call out anything in advance, ever. It’s a constant conversation, and it’s about figuring out the nicest thing to do next. If you’ve set a structure for yourself - “I make low-alcohol wines,” or “My wines are always fifty percent whole cluster” - when I look at some of the things people do to wines to make them fit their conception of what a great wine should be, I think that’s not the nicest way to make wine. The reality is, you never know where you’re headed. You don’t really know what that wine wants to be. If you’re not willing to lean in and meet the fruit where it is, and meet the season where it is, then personally, I think you’ve robbed yourself of the opportunity to pare away everything imperfect and find the one true expression.

 

 

All you’re ever looking at is the tiny thing in front of you, no matter what it is, right? If you’re pruning a vine, sitting at the blending table, selecting a cork, or doing a pump-over, you simply ask, “What’s the nicest thing I can do in this moment?” Then you do it, with fairly maniacal rigor, until it’s done. Oftentimes, those choices are the most inconvenient, the most tiring, and the most expensive - things you know you don’t have to do, because so many wines in the world are made without that level of care. But you do them anyway, and you allow those tiny details - those beads - to string together. Not because an audience is swaying toward more whole cluster, or moving away from oak, but because the real question is: what does this thing in front of me want? And you trust that you won’t know where you’re heading. You don’t know what the resultant wine is going to be or feel like, but if you are always doing the most beautiful work exactly where you are, then all of those beads will string together, and you’ll end up in a really fine place.

I’ve learned that you simply stay really close; it’s about intimacy. That is the way we work here, and I am always going to operate in exactly this way.”

 

The Tables in The Trees.

 

The Artist Doing The Work, Or Also Winemaking At Antica Terra & Lillian

What nevertheless is guaranteed every vintage is as Harrison calls it "maniacal rigor", where at every turn her allegiance is with doing the absolute best - even if that means declassifying 40% of her fruit at a spectacular expense to the winery, which would not make it into Antica Terra's wines. At the core of Harrison's artistic commitment is nevertheless her unique blending process. Each season, Harrison in effect works two harvests - the first being in California for her earlier wine project Lillian, and after which a second round at Antica Terra in Oregon. The entire process is immense work, taking between 6-9 weeks each year, with Harrison and her team often working round the clock, producing a wide range of wines that will eventually serve as components in a wider palette. Every fall, Harrison first flies to California where she picks the Rhone varietals of Syrah, Roussanne and Grenache, which is then sent in the form of vented plastic totes via refrigerated trucks over to the Antica Terra winery in Dundee, Oregon, to be made under the Lillian name. She then gets to picking the Pinot Noir and Chardonnay from the Antica Terra vineyard (which has since been expanded to a total of 188 acres, now with a dedicated Barrel Hall and Table in the Trees set-up for the winery's dining experience) whilst also purchasing fruit from around Oregon, which will together with the Californian fruit be sorted twice at the winery at what Harrison describes as being at a particularly slow pace going at just one tonne an hour. This is as Harrison's winemaking emphasises long lees ageing whilst the Oregon climate, which sees massive swings between warm and cold years, itself poses challenges from uneven ripening to botrytis, and thus pristine fruit is essential to quality fermentation, something that she admits is difficult to do at scale, thereby constraining output.

 

 

With the goal of creating as much diversity in the cellar, once the fruit is ready and secured (with varying amounts of whole cluster), it is then loaded into fermenters where Harrison manually presses the fruit (with manual punchdowns and traditional food treading), eschewing the use of automated press programs, which gets siphoned (as opposed to pumped) directly into barrels until two-thirds full. The remainder tail-end cuts are gauged by taste and divided into various individual buckets which are then used to create different compositions within each barrel so as to make as many unique blends as possible. Without any holding or settling tanks, fermentation takes place naturally for various timeframes in over 150 French oak barrels of eleven different sizes, where they will then remain on the lees, unracked, unfiltered and without fining (with only the Chardonnay receiving battonage), for an average of 14 months, and up to 36 months (as you might expect Harrison keeps no fixed timeline here as well), when they are ready to be be blended. 

 

 

Once the components are ready, the wines are then drawn from the various barrels into sample bottles that are only blind-labelled numerically, with Harrison and the team then tasting each sample to write their notes. Over the next 9 days in three day blocks of 10 hours each day, the team then begins to assemble various blends with the blind samples, hoping to simply create the best possible result from the vintage. This is crucial for Harrison who believes that only by blind blending can biases and sympathies for particular wines or vineyards be removed, with each vintage offering a completely blank canvas from which the team can work to build from scratch. Consequently, one vintage's wines can therefore land anywhere from a blend of fruit from 10 vineyards to possibly being a single vineyard wine. “When we first started making wine, there was a real concern over how anyone was ever going to understand who we are,” says Harrison, who then goes on to say, "I don't know how people do it otherwise. It feels impossible that you would be able to see it otherwise". As laborious as each season is, Harrison cites it as her favourite time of the year, emphasising that winemaking as a craft only presents such few chances to experiment and learn, with just one annual harvest of fruit to work with, and thus with a winemaking region as young as Oregon, it is therefore imperative to be as open-minded and as versatile as possible. Harrison also acknowledges that any insight gleaned will likely only be useful to the next generation, with Burgundy's expertise having had centuries to develop, which therefore justifies the risk of failure that comes inherent with experimentation.

 

Harrison with co-winemaker Mimi Adams tasting their wines in Antica Terra's Barrel Hall.

 

"I just came from a winery that there were a million different wines, and each one had a different name and a different label and a different bottle. You know, it's the nice thing about Bordeaux, or about Harlan, right? Like, have you ever had Mouton? Yes or no, right? It's not like oh, well, I had the one with the bugs, but I didn't have the one with the octopus. I tried to make one wine, but at that very first year at the blending table. What I found was that there was a certain expression on one end of the range of flavor expression and textural expression that was on the table in front of me. And if I added too many barrels into the composite, I was trying to make, It really quickly obfuscated some of the finer detail or higher aspects, the more ethereal qualities that existed in the wine that I was working on. And so, in that very first year, I ended up making two wines."

 

Originally wanting to simply make just one expression for each varietal, having preferred the winery having just a single point of contact with its fans, which can then serve as a common point of discussion, Harrison nevertheless found that every vintage presented a "dovetailing" of profiles, where she would assemble two, if not more, equally qualified cuvees through her blind tastings that would however sit at opposite ends of the spectrum. "What I've really started to understand over time is there is this dovetailing that happens. And so, if you look at all the wines on the table, there's always going to be this huge range, especially because we're working across a pretty wide swath of the valley, there's a whole atlas of expression on the table in front of us, and it goes from A to B, whatever the A to B in that year is. [And so] the final marker for a great wine, like one that goes from good, or good and delicious, or even extraordinary, is clarity. And, there is just a much higher level of clarity that is attainable if you allow those things to unzip and find two lines. And so, all we're doing is turning our attention towards the two ends of the range of the expression," explains Harrison, who goes on to conclude, "When we do this, at the end of that process, on a piece of paper or a spreadsheet in front of me, I'll have a name of a wine and then a long list of numbers under it. So only when we have all of those numbers and what's going to be in that wine, can we match up what those numbers mean and what those barrels hold. That's the moment, once we've decided what the wine is, that we find out what the alcohol by volume is, what the percentage of new oak contribution was, what the whole cluster inclusion was, and what the cépage is or what vineyards and hilltops and blocks and soil types this wine is being built out of."

 

 

The end result is a range of several Pinot Noir and Chardonnay expressions (with also a Pinot Noir Rose, and a Chardonnay dessert wine and icewine) under the Antica Terra banner, each given a latin-name, whilst Lillian sees single varietal Syrah, Roussanne and Grenache bottled (and the occasional Gold Series for when Harrison finds something distinctive beyond her labels) - interconnecting Antica Terra and Lillian is then an interstate blend named The Glories, which sees Oregon Chardonnay combined with Californian Roussanne. Each wine that comes from Harrison carries no fixed recipe, but instead carries a phenolic profile, which is then reassembled blind and from scratch each vintage with any combination or lack thereof of the fruit made available that season. Once the wines are assembled, everything that doesn't make the cut is then declassified, with as much as 40% done so, which remains significant considering Antica Terra's relatively small scale. And so each year, Antica Terra's wines, whatever and however much they may be, represent the best that Harrison is able to produce from the season.

To that end, whilst Harrison's philosophy - regardless of how brutally honest they may be, all wrapped up in the poetic cadence that Harrison demonstrates so seamlessly and naturally - requires an overhaul of everything we're told about winemaking today, she makes no qualms in also pulling into the picture the context with which she works in, that is the relative newness and unpredictability of Oregon. And so, where Harrison takes a completely different yet equally justifiable view as the Burgundian philosophies that are much more widely embraced, it's worth contemplating the co-existence of both spheres of thought given their context, whilst also recognising that both schools carry the same weight of intentionality. Nevertheless, that Harrison has carved such a distinct style of winemaking that is embodied by her wines, Antica Terra and Lillian have therefore rose to great prominence, and in so doing have elevated Harrison to amongst the most lauded of winemakers today.

 

 

Only The First Chapter In The Unfolding Oregon Story

As Antica Terra celebrates two decades of winemaking, - it's even made its first acquisition with the next door Keeler Estate vineyard in 2023 - with Harrison at its helm so much has already been achieved, and yet Harrison makes clear that there's so much more to go. Her belief is that as first-generation winemakers - herself personally and broadly in Oregon - their duty to the unfolding winemaking story of the region is to put aside predeterminations and serve as pioneers helping to discovery what potential exists, "not because I think that Pinot Noir is boring or because I want to be avant garde, or because I want to be the first person to plant Willamette Valley Godello. Maybe it is a better Timorasso region than it is a Pinot Noir region. Oregon is a young winemaking community and yet it feels like everything is set in stone, it’s all Pinot Noir. Yet I feel like in Burgundy spent several hundred years sorting out what was best for them, and I think it’s too soon to be sure Pinot Noir is the only thing possible in Oregon. Every year we look forward to seeing what else is possible,... It's just foreknowing, right? So that if one day I hand this to my daughter, she just has more of the story than I knew when I got there. So many of the things that we plant will be failures for sure, but I don't even look at it that way. It's just discovery. It's just to always be learning." 

 

 

“I used to have terrible dreams about what if I became allergic to grapes or what if I run this business into the ground - because the way I make wine is antithetical to the way one should run a business. But what I realize now is that I just like making beautiful things. If somebody took wine away from me I would make candles and if those were taken away I’d make ceramics and if they were taken away I’d make dinner. I like making.”

Maggie Harrison

 

And so with that said, let's get to tasting a spread of Maggie Harrison's wines from both Antica Terra and Lillian!

It's worth noting that Antica Terra and Lillian doesn't typically issue the industry standard tech sheets, and as for its very pretty labels, these were designed by Harrison's husband, Michael (who also helped make the first vintage at Antica Terra)!

 

 

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PS. Singapore's Park90 wine bar hosted Antica Terra and Lillian winemaker Maggie Harrison for a casual tasting and chitchat, which allowed fans a chance to not just try some of America's most sought after wines, but to also speak to Harrison herself on themes ranging from where she draws inspiration from, to her philosophy, the stark nature of farming in Oregon, as well as some of the most out of this world experiences she's had helming Antica Terra for two decades.

It was a great experience that also marked Park90's recent opening at the iconic Pan Pacific Orchard hotel! If you're a wine lover, definitely head on over for a rotating monthly wine menu with a very healthy and well-priced by-the-glass selection, daily happy hour promos, a very deep bottle list, great food thoughtfully curated by Michelin restaurant Maguerite's chef Michael Wilson - and of course, incredible hospitality with an awesome sommelier team!

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Wine Review: Antica Terra Aequorin Chardonnay

Willamette Valley Chardonnay, Aequorin (in reference to the bioluminescence of glowing jellyfish) is only produced in select outstanding vintages. Aequorin is made when a standout expression is produced, which Harrison describes as rising into its own, sometimes taking the form of something ethereal, whilst other times saturated - ultimately they demonstrate a clear mark of singularity.

This is the 2023 vintage.

 

Tasting Notes

Colour: Straw

Aroma: It opens incredibly fragrant and at the same time supple, with a firm richness of musky green fruits and tropical fruit preserves. Gooseberries, pears, pineapples, apricots and quince are candied and coaxed in honey and topped over a soft vanillic creaminess. It's garnished with delicate white florals with a slight herbaceousness of mint and thyme, along with some crushed almonds. There's a high altitude minerality of mountainous slate that envelopes the bouquet. The acidity is fresh yet delicate, enhancing that crisp, luminous brightness.

Taste: Medium-bodied here, it's plush and rich, with lush robes of vanilla cream, hay and an assortment of fruit preserves of quince, gooseberries, lemons, pineapples, lightly musky, and backed by a deeper layer of baked and bruised apples and pears, which brings a depth of mellow savouriness. It's creamy, supple and velvety, yet at the same time fresh and firm. Light honey, bit of pepper, with then a touch of umaminess of chicken broth. Still that undercurrent of wet stone minerality that trails along.

Finish: More candied with also a prominent citrusy tartness here of lemon, passionfruit and grapefruit zest and pith, with more of a coastal oyster shell minerality. That cream, honey and black pepper combo carries through. Seamless and plush finish, with a lingering pithy quality.

My Thoughts

At once lush and also somehow weightless, it's gracefully well integrated, showing impeccable saturation, whilst also commanding this exciting tension in its ability to pull its body across different dimensions that feature variants of minerality, herbaceousness and savouriness. It's a very generous expression that feels thoroughly evocative and luxurious, coming through in rich and luminous robes of musky and exotic tropical fruits backed up by baked apples and pears. Great presence that holds its own terrifically, and would also pair beautifully with fish, asparagus, or a zest and cream pasta.

Wine Review: Antica Terra Litera Chardonnay

Willamette Valley Chardonnay, Litera (to mean "message") is an ode by Harrison to the practice in ancient Rome of having priests wait at a hillside in search of a message from nature which came in the form of birds who were thought of as messenger for the gods. Harrison interprets the act as one's conscious choice to make meaning from the signs made known to us along the way.

This is the 2022 vintage.

 

Tasting Notes

Colour: Deep Straw

Aroma: Richer, firmer, and more brooding, it's giving more musky fruits of gooseberries, quince and grapefruit, with also a greener note of bellpeppers. It's markedly broader, mellower and heftier, bolstered by vanilla cream and hay. The outlines remains clean and precise, which allows for a higher toned coastal minerality to come through. Refreshing and luminous fruit, with more roundedness.

Taste: Medium-bodied, super plush, yet here more delicate and candied. Contrary to the brooding aromas, the body here is lighter, brighter and more vibrant, with an incredibly fresh and elegant lift. Quince, gooseberries, green apples form the body, slightly candied, with the acidity shimmery. Garnish of citrus peels as well, with an electric zippiness. It's creamy, yet firm and polished, with a waft of toastiness.

Finish: Lush through the finish. It's lightly musky, with also quince, hay, black pepper and a touch of pithiness. More creamy and candied here. Long, drying citrus peels.

My Thoughts

A tale of two halves, the Litera feels at once broader and more bodied on the nose, whilst showing more vibrance and delicateness on the palate, which together makes for a very interesting experience - something that perks you up and compels your attention. The fruit is luminous once again, yet here with a more prominent coastal minerality, that's then amped up with the electrifying acidity of the body. It's complex and polished, and incredibly captivating. The finish again presents yet another dimension of a long, drying grip that is so riveting. Where the Aequorin feels more singular and seamless, drawing your attention to its execution, the Litera comes through more multi-dimensional and engaging - and also less tropical. The Litera would go well with sashimi, and perhaps most particularly cuts of fatty tuna otoro.

Wine Review: Antica Terra Antikythera Pinot Noir

Eola-Amity Hills Pinot Noir, the Antikythera (named after the ancient Greek device that is often called the world's first analog computer, and was used to calculate eclipses) is made entirely from fruit from the Antica Terra vineyard.

This is the 2023 vintage.

 

Tasting Notes

Colour: Deep Ruby

Aroma: Opens rather earthy and rustic, of rich soils and animal hide, garnished then with vibrant florals of crushed violets and dried rose petals, and a touch of stems. Beneath is a darker, more brooding bit of gamey meatiness accompanied by tart cherries and cranberries. It's creamy and rich, yet at the same time evenly matched between brighter and darker tones.

Taste: Medium-bodied, it's immediately gamey and meaty, delivering a salinity and savouriness that's cusped by an earthiness of freshly tilled soil. Red fruits ensue, with raspberries and dark cherries, at times combining with the salinity to give salt cured fruits. A swath of vanillic creaminess that pairs with the rusticity, the acidity bright, tannins completely resolved. It integrates into salted ham, dried herbs and a crack of black pepper into the finish.

Finish: That meatiness carries through, as does the salinity. Salt cured cherries, with an undertone of mineral spring water, which seamlessly carries into a clean finish. Lingering salty gaminess accompanied by dark cherries and cranberries, with finally plum preserves and cacao that show up right at the end.

My Thoughts

Ethereal, complex, and almost a little bit brooding, sort of inviting you to brush away the soil to reveal the delicate and pure fruit underneath. It carries a rustic character throughout, on the nose showing a vibrance of garden florals, really raw greenness that gives it such depth and evocativeness, with then beneath that core of salt cured red fruits that is accompanied by the meatiness. It feels elegant and multifaceted, demonstrating quite some finesse in how these strong traits are constantly mixing and matching along various axis to reveal so much dimensionality. It's body is luminous, a plume of gourmet flavours that seamlessly integrate and pull into a singular note leading into the finish, where it then fans out once again. The finish is lengthy yet highly engaging, even showing beautiful plums and cacao all the way in. In many ways, Antikythera truly encapsulates that raw, rustic purity that is the Antica Terra vineyard, it's as brooding as it is charming, so full of character that just compels you in so intuitively. This stands on its own.

Wine Review: Antica Terra Botanica Pinot Noir

Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, Botanica is a tribute to the fertility of the flora in the region.

This is the 2023 vintage.

 

Tasting Notes

Colour: Deep Ruby

Aroma: At first rather musty, of vintage wooden libraries, particularly with that bit of lacquered wood and tobacco, and then with alittle bit of coaxing, a lustrous and vibrant bouquet of roses and violets suddenly emerge. Intoxicating and so compelling, it's thoroughly immersive. It's garnished then by dried herbs, agarwood, with then a floor of freshly tilled soil and animal hide that wraps around a core of dark cherry preserves. 

Taste: Medium-bodied here, it's plush, rich and lifted. Heftier for sure, really firm, yet coming off suspiciously luminous. Gamey meatiness, dried herbs, black pepper, rose petals, accompanied by tart cherries and cranberries, also hawthorn. There's an underlying greenness of stems, which sits very closely next to truffles, black olive tapenade, cacao and dried herbs, which together offer this earthy savouriness that packs around the fleshy greenness. It's velvety yet with noticeably structured tannins that are even alittle grainy. The acidity is fresh and delicate, contrasted against the rustic and muscular body. 

Finish: Black cherries, freshly tilled soil, animal hide, licorice, rose petals, salted ham, it's rustic and gourmet, with an undertone of vanillic creaminess. Impeccably cohesive, with a thread of mineral spring water through the clean finish. Salt cured cherries and ham stay on.

My Thoughts

Decidedly heftier and rounder, the Botanica opens with a deep, perfumed mustiness that is enigmatic and evocative, and with just a light coaxing, it almost suddenly springs to live with the most vibrant and radiant bouquet of florals. The nose alone is simply enchanting, drawing you to dig into it with an Alice in Wonderland type suasion. A polished and stylish earthiness then cusps the nose, with just a bit of dark cherry preserves sat at the center. The fruits step forward on the palate, with that herbaceous savouriness, this time underlined by a deeply fresh earthiness that's even alittle high toned and industrial, this almost mechanical, steampunk dirtiness that's quite one of a kind. It is velvety, with fresh and delicate acidity, yet also more muscular and tightly structured here - it should open up with more age and feel more snug. This all ties in and coalesces seamlessly into the finish. This feels like a perfect match for a nicoise salad or antipasto.

Wine Review: Lillian California Syrah

This is almost entirely Syrah, with just a small bit of Roussanne from California, in particular the White Hawk and Bien Nacido vineyards.

This is the 2021 vintage.

 

Tasting Notes

Colour: Deep Ruby

Aroma: Deep tones of dark cherry, raspberry and mulberry coulis underscored by a more confectionary vanillic creaminess. It's giving cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, lightly tart, brambly, with then a slight rusticity of animal hide, leather and tobacco, also a bit of stems. There's a tidbit of miso umaminess, topped then with perfumed rose petals, outlined with a slate minerality.

Taste: Medium-bodied, superbly plush, rich and creamy with the acidity bright and tannins completely softened. It's on to raspberries and dark cherries, underscored by leather, tobacco and also a slight meatiness. That nudge of miso umaminess finds its way here as well, with a rocky minerality veiled beneath. 

Finish: More of that meaty salinity, accompanied by this time blackberries and blackcurrants over rose petals, with dried lime leaves and a touch of cacao. It develops onto salt cured ham with heaps of dark cherry preserves treaded over mineral spring water. A persistent saltiness.

My Thoughts

A very vivid and vibrant Syrah that's at once idyllic and playfully decadent, and at the same time clockwork serious and artisanal, cusping two worlds apart, of childhood recollections of Sunday dessert treats and also some type of avant garde, minimalist, culinary test kitchen. That all said, between the richness and the gourmet complexity, it is nevertheless perhaps the precision and fine detailing that is most impressive. The clarity offered here allows for all of that expressiveness to come through, well defined and at the same time harmonious in surprising and delightful ways. A Syrah that is quite unlike others. Would love to have this with smoked mackerel, terrine, or a brown butter and mushroom orecchiette.

Wine Review: Lillian California Syrah Gold Series No. 12

California Syrah from California's Bien Nacido vineyard, this is a special selection of a small handful of barrels that have been thought to stand out beyond the Lillian range.

This is the 2022 vintage.

 

Tasting Notes

Colour: Deep Ruby

Aroma: Big miso umaminess on the open, with then bright red fruits of cherries, raspberries and pomegranate in the form of plush fruit preserves, along with rose petals and that saline meatiness. It's creamy and rich, with then some mulberries and cacao that lends some darker heft.

Taste: Medium-bodied, that savoury umaminess persists, with bouillon cubes and salted ham, topped with that bramble of raspberries, dark cherries and mulberries, with a serving of vanilla cream. The acidity is bright, the tannins completely resolved. It's super plush, rich and velvety, fragranced with rose petals too.

Finish: Supple bramble preserves and berry coulis backed by vanilla cream, it's hangs on to a consistent character from earlier, with that umaminess of bouillon cubes and that meaty salinity. A clean, plush finish, with a slight grip. Tobacco, animal hide, dark cherry preserves, salted ham and vanilla cream comes all at once and together, lingering on with a velvety richness.

My Thoughts

This just feels outrightly decadent - it's heftier and richer, more generous so to speak. And yet it maintains a fairly similar profile, with the phenolic differences only inches apart, even as texturally it's remarkably dissimilar. More of that umaminess comes through, with a re-stacking and re-ordering of plush fruit preserves and then the meaty brininess, which thus presents a different view to the same totem pole. It's luxuriously rich and velvety nevertheless, fragrant and perfumed as well, with a wonderment of a finish where everything comes in all at once, seamlessly and so immersively. Perfect for a confectionary dessert of berry crumble, cream cake, or olive oil drizzled over vanilla ice cream.

 

Kanpai!

 

@111hotpot