June 30, 2000

Stony Hill's Bygone Era by James Laube

Stony Hill Vineyard is staging a comeback of sorts, though in typical Stony Hill style, it's quite low-key. At a time when the emphasis is often on what's new or flashy, this Napa Valley winery, with its unusually long-lived Chardonnays, is decidedly old-fashioned--and proud of it.

Though savvy collectors bought and cellared its Chardonnays for years, Stony Hill never developed a mass following. It's been out of the spotlight for so long that many wine drinkers might reasonably wonder, "What is Stony Hill? And why does it matter?"

The first part of the question requires a more detailed answer than the second. As stories go, they don't get much dearer than Stony Hill's, especially for those who appreciate the romance and history that goes with a wine.

Stony Hill dates to 1943, when Fred and Eleanor McCrea bought a large parcel of land north of St. Helena, at the base of Spring Mountain. They built a home and used it as a weekend retreat to escape San Francisco's notoriously cool and blustery summers. Then they planted a vineyard, adding an acre or two each year until they counted about 30 acres of vines. The grapes were almost all white varieties, mostly Chardonnay, with a few acres of Gewürztraminer, Riesling and, for a dessert wine, Sémillon.

The McCreas' Napa Valley friends thought Chardonnay might fare well in the rocky soils, but no one knew for sure. At the time, Chardonnay barely existed in California, but Fred McCrea took a stab at making it anyway. Encouraged by the results, Stony Hill went commercial. The McCreas sold their 50-case output of the 1952 vintage almost exclusively through a mailing list, from which came a devout clientele.

Connoisseurs prized Stony Hill Chardonnay as if it were liquid gold. Drinking a bottle was considered a near-religious experience, and for good reason. Stony Hill Chardonnays were unlike any others in California.

Gospel held that you needed to age great vintages of Stony Hill for six to 10 years. Drinking them too early typically didn't impress, as the young wines were tight and steely, offering little of the complexities and nuances that would emerge with time. A 15-year-old Stony Hill tasted young and vibrant, fruity and perfumed. Some vintages, such as 1964 and 1965, seemed as if they were trapped in a time warp that allowed them to retain their youthful vitality.

The secret to Stony Hill's success had to be in its soils and in the spartan 1- to 2-ton yields from two key parcels. The McCreas were hardly sophisticated winemakers. They made their Chardonnays in the traditional way: barrel-fermented, but with no malolactic fermentation. Even today, their winemaker of 27 years, Michael Chelini, uses barrels from the 1960s and 1970s. While the 1995 through 1997 vintages have been good, the 1999 vintage appears to be exceptional, particularly the wine from the old vineyard blocks. It is intense and perfumed, with floral and grapefruit notes that are crisp and vibrant. If this wine is not blended with grapes from younger parts of the vineyard, it should be like the Stony Hill of yesteryear.

Today's Chardonnay market is quite congested compared with that of the era when Stony Hill first made impressive wines. Also, Fred and Eleanor are gone now; their son, Peter, and his wife, Willinda, inherited Stony Hill in 1991.

But the McCreas still think like McCreas, and one of their most important considerations is their traditional loyalty to longtime customers. Willinda and Peter fret about not having enough wine to sell, and they worry about raising prices--their Chardonnay is a modest $24 a bottle--for fear their customers might think the worst.

After all, the McCreas have owned the vineyards for years, and the winery, housing ancient barrels, is nothing but an air-conditioned shed. No, they're only bothered when their neighbors raise concerns that the prices they charge don't convey the proper image, particularly in this tony, pricey market.

When you think about it, that's probably as good a reason as any to look forward to buying the 1999 Stony Hill. This is a winery that still believes that it's what's in the bottle--and what it costs to put in the bottle--that truly counts. Consider that.