The word rowen – which is of Middle English ancestry, from an Old Northern French variant of regain, and almost certainly will have your phone’s auto-correct annoyingly trying to change it to rower – almost literally means to make hay.

Well, technically, it means “a second growth of grass or hay in one season” – in other words, a lucky break of prosperity. It’s also the peculiar choice of Rodney Strong‘s latest (and most expensive) foray into a brand-within-a-brand, Rowen Wine Company – which, as I learned during a recent visit to their Sonoma HQ, began as a bit of a fluke.

RS winemaker Justin Seidenfeld, apparently thinking that he needed to keep himself even busier, approached the Rodney Strong ownership with a request to use some of their winemaking space for his own experimental label.

They told him no. But with a caveat.

If he would make a new label for them, then Seidenfeld would be given free rein to make the wine in any way that he deemed fit; which in his mind was to be hand-crafted, premium, and exclusive. The results are probably a bit more expensive than what the RS ownership had anticipated…

There’s nothing like a good scandal to encourage a hit of the reset button.

Or, in the case of Sonoma’s venerable Flowers Winery, it’s more akin to just hitting the next-phase button.

Flowers has always seem to operate a bit under-the-radar by upper-tier California wine brand standards; which makes sense, considering that founders Joan and Walt Flowers were Bucks County, Pennsylvania folk who just happened to fall in love with the Sonoma Coast area. By the close of the `80s, the Flowers saw an ad in an issue of Wine Spectator for available land in an area that most people cautioned them against using as a vineyard. But they saw potential there above the fog line, made the purchase, and, as history in the bottle has mostly borne out, it turns out that they were right.

The scandal part comes not from the Flowers, but stems tangentially from the fact that in 2009 they sold the brand to 2009 to Huneeus Vintners. Yeah, that Huneeus Vintners. The one until-recently headed by Agustin Huneeus, Jr., who was caught about as guilty as one can be caught guilty in the recent college admissions bribing scandal.

According to Flowers, the Huneeus Vintners board is (understandably) more involved these days, after Agustin Huneeus Jr. was speedily sped out, and his father stepping in to retake the company reins. Flowers, due to its size in the Huneeus portfolio, acted with a good deal of autonomy through it all, being in, as one employee there put it, “the outer reaches of the solar system” within the parent company. And so Flowers went chugging right along, opening up a new Healdsburg tasting room, and basically just making the same thought-provoking, scandal-free stuff they always have. Speaking of which…

Earlier this year, I happened to get invited to the 2019 Austrian Wine Summit because, well, I’m just that kind of lucky fellow these days. Since one should almost always begin with bubbles, it seems apt that my first foray into an Austrian wine feature would be about the official changes to their sparkling wine quality pyramid, and also end up being the kick-off piece for my new gig contributing to the Napa Valley Wine Academy’s online content stream.

You can head over to the NVWA website to get the skinny on the new Austrian Sekt designations, its history, and what it all potentially means for the fine wine sparkling import markets. You’ll want to hit that article first so that you get the context of the new Sekt pyramid levels, and because you’re just that kind of informed person who digs learning and not just drinking, right?

As for what the latest developments in Austria’s Österreichischer Sekt mit geschützter Ursprungsbezeichnung (g.U.) means for your mouth, I did have my boots on the ground, tasting through several examples in every level of the Sekt g.U. pyramid. In a Sekt vineyard. In the Weinweg Langenlois, which sports a panoramic vineyard viewing platform, riddling rack, charming little tasting huts, and a couple of hammocks. Go ahead and hate me, I even hated myself for a few minutes after experiencing that embarrassment of riches (if it’s any consolation, it did rain on us, cutting short the tasting by about five minutes… ok, forget it…).

Anyway, here are the highlights…

It’s in Israel‘s north, along the borders with Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan, where you realize that you’re definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto, viticulturally-speaking. Actually, let’s correct that – it’s not just viticulturally-speaking, it’s just-about-everything-speaking.

Certainly the rocky hills in the Golan Heights and Galilee speak to Israel’s unique location as a transition zone between the Sahara and Europe, with the requisite variations in soils (from volcanic, to terra rossa, to chalk, to te dessert-like Les), climate, and elevation; you know, the standard grape-growing stuff.

But while that sort of geological and climatic scene is mirrored in many wine regions across the globe, there aren’t many that are surrounded by imposing barbed wire fencing, dotted with even more imposing signs warning of land mines, and sporting the occasional airfield patrolled by very imposing drones.

Welcome to wine-growing, northern Israeli-style. It wouldn’t be for the faint-hearted even without the explosives.

As a wrap-up finale on Israeli wine, here are highlights from my not-so-recent media tour there, which culminated in trips to some of the most promising producers in the Golan Heights and Lower Galilee…