Two Central Coast vintners walked through a pristine-looking vineyard last fall—it had no cover crop, a usual sign of organic or biodynamic farming—explaining why they use herbicides.
I spend many meals in fine restaurants these days trying to play defense against every passing server topping off a glass I don't want refilled. Let my guard down for a second -- laugh at a friend's joke -- and suddenly I have a full glass I didn't want.
Henry Sidel knows how to market high-end beverages; he helped launch Belvedere and Chopin vodkas. He thought he had his eyes open to the market obstacles when he founded Joto Sake in New York in 2005 but that doesn't make those obstacles easier to overcome.
For Israeli wines, “kosher” is a blessing and a curse. Israel right now is one of the most exciting wine countries in the world. The country made almost exclusively bad sweet wine for its first 50 years, but now it’s like California of the 1970s, in a period of rapid growth and experimentation and great increases in quality. But the kosher marketing conundrum hangs over everything: how to sell Israeli wines, kosher or not, to non-Jews, a necessity if the industry is to sustain its present growth.