selected (1996) by the prestigious Wine
Spectator as world’s best pinot noir.
Oddly, this year the Spectator (6/15)
rated 292 wines from Oregon, from Abacela
to Youngberg Hill, almost half earning 90
points or better on their 100-point scale.
Notably missing is Broadley, though they
produce almost 3000 cases, pinot noir only.
Craig comments: “We’ve always produced
what I call ‘interesting’ wines [but] our wine
is not for everybody. It’s a niche,” one that
does not fit the profile preferred by current
raters at WS. So Broadley sends no wine
into the game, gets no press, still sells out
each vintage: “We’re trying to find people
who like a style of wine that we personally
like, and if that happens, and if reviewers
find us and want to review our wine, good.”
If not, matters not; those who know pinot
know Broadley.
Price plays a part: Broadley offers buy-
ers chances at “futures;” buy now at what
might be less than wholesale prices for the
next vintage (e.g., $23/bottle for 2002
Claudia’s Choice), pick the wine up on
release (next spring). “We make a living.
[Buyers] feel like that’s a good value. And
we’re happy. And we’re making good
wine.” Claudia: “And within our style.”
Retailers in urban markets like New York
City have complained that Broadley’s wines
don’t sell because they’re underpriced
(madness, thinks the Steppenwolf) but the
Broadleys insist on pricing their wines at
“fair” (meaning honest) value for distinctive
quality.
“What we’re trying to do here, or to
define better ... is, if we go back to the vine-
yard, we got that property for certain rea-
sons, to make a certain style of wine, and in
the winery here where we’re trying to make
the wine, we’re trying to accentuate that
style .... If we want people to come this far,
there’s got to be a reason.” And the reason
lies in signature character: First, “pinot noir
that’s not over-ripe.” Then, “I like red fruit
flavors,” especially cherry/raspberry notes.
“I like good acidity,” that will support
drinking the wine with foods. “I don’t mind,
in a young wine, tannins,” that support mat-
uration in the bottle, life over time. “And I
want some length to that wine,” meaning
flavors linger on the palate.
Amble to the cellar, oak barrels holding
last year’s vintage. Craig dips the glass
“wine thief,” extracts deep garnet liquid.
And there it is: in the nose and on the
tongue, painfully pretty, candied chocolate
cherries, raspberries, flawless balance,
medium tannins, length in the finish, lovely,
lovely Broadley pinot noir.
Craig smiles. Claudia smiles. If their
son, Morgan, had attended, he would smile.
Morgan is the next generation; he and his
wife have joined the enterprise of better
defining their family’s wine for “thoughtful
people.” Still, Craig worries: “Nothing is
forever.” He worries that the families who
work in his vineyards, the “guys out in the
field, are making a living.” He worries
about this year’s crop, remembering May
23 when “pea-sized hail went through the
leaves like bullets.” Prices, loads of com-
peting, badly-made wines, more rough,
rude corporate giants, staggering population
growth burying farmland under little boxes.
“Nothing is forever.”
The Steppenwolf would understand.
Outside, he’d see again little green lines on
the sidewalk, where ODOT will slice
through the maples to widen 99W. See
signs: “Pride in Our ... Future” and “Not for
Everybody,” a swinging gate, “For
Madmen Only.” And the “dead weary pil-
grim” would roll back down the tired
ew
asphalt, homeward, trying to laugh.
PHOTO BY DOREEN L. WYNJA
MORGAN AND CRAIG BROADLEY.
CHOW! JULY 3, 2003 7