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Stories and Reviews
18th Annual Santa Cruz Mountains Commercial Wine Competition Results
An article from the Santa Cruz Sentinel by June Smith. Click here for the article.
A Taste of Santa Cruz, July 2004
An article from the Style section of the Santa Cruz Sentinel by Max DeNike. Click here to read the article.
A Tasting Room with a View, July 2004
An article about our Tasting Room by Christina Waters, Excerpted from the Good Times. Click here to read it.
Metro Santa Cruz, October 2003
Beauregard Vineyards was featured in the Metro's cover story on Santa Cruz winemaking. Click here for an excerpt.
Travels with Romney
Click here to see us on Travels with Romney, a local travel and tourist information program.
Tales From the Vine From Metro Santa Cruz, July 2002
By Christina Waters
On a recent visit to Shoppers Corner, I ran into owner Jim Beauregard, who proudly turned me on to his Beauregard label Ben Lomond Mountain Chardonnay 2000. Jim grows the grapes and his son Ryan makes the wine. The result? Supple mouth feel with crisp structure, citrusy with a few kisses of tropical fruit. An enlightened, nonponderous chardonnay, and at under $14 it's well within your budget. Old-timers will recall that Jim was one of the original partners of Felton-Empire Vineyard, which made some tasty vintages in the days before the property was transformed into Hallcrest (again).
Hirsch Vineyard and Jim Beauregard, a History
From Wine Enthusiast
...Hirsch, now 56, had made some money and was looking for some “elbow room” to live in. He decided on the Sonoma Coast “because it was unsettled. I wanted to buy a big piece of land, and it was cheap.” Hirsch knew nothing about grapes, but he was friends with the owner of the old, Santa Cruz-based Felton-Empire winery. (Felton-Empire’s Late Harvest Rieslings were famous in their day.) One day, the owner Jim Beauregard, came to visit Hirsch. Hirsch recalls, “[He] comes up here to this place with no electricity and very suspect roads, and he walks around, looks at me, and says, ‘Plant Pinot Noir here, and this will be a very famous vineyard.’ And so,” Hirsch smiles, “the very next day, I did.”
Beauregard was prescient. Hirsch planted his first grapes in 1980; today, he follows the Sonoma Coast pattern: He makes no wine of his own, but sells grapes to wineries including Kistler, Williams-Selyem, Littorai and Siduri, who bottle his Pinot Noirs with the Hirsch Vineyard designation.
Totally stoked on wine
Beauregard brothers carry on family tradition
By PEGGY TOWNSEND
Sentinel staff writer
The big Ford 350 pickup is straining under the load.
Hooked behind it is a trailer piled with 22,000 pounds of farm tractor.
In front of it is a steep, dirt road that winds into 32 acres of hilltop vineyard.
" This is really pushing it," 28-year-old Ryan Beauregard says a little worriedly as the truck bucks and groans up the hill.
His younger brother, Andre Beauregard, 20, leans forward in the back seat.
He’s not sure the truck and its load are going to make it either.
Finally, yellow dust spitting into the air, the truck and tractor crest the rise.
" Whoa, we made it," Ryan says. "That was kind of hardcore."
Ryan and Andre are brothers, part of a family tradition set more than 50 years ago in the hills of Bonny Doon.
They are a new breed of winemaker — guys who discuss cover crops and fruit sugars in conversation peppered with surf slang. A kind of old world meets "Real World."
This year, Ryan and Andre, great-grandsons of the man who first bought land on the hills that fall steeply down to the ocean, will turn out about 6,000 cases of wine under the Beauregard label.
Their father and mentor, Jim Beauregard, predicts that in a few years, the winery will be turning out 10,000-15,000 cases of estate-bottled wine.
It’s a vision the boys share with their father and their grandfather, and perhaps even with the old Italian mountain man who taught them how to make wine when they were barely out of diapers.
They love the land, the brothers say, and love the tradition that runs in their blood.
" I’m totally connected up here," says Ryan, standing in the driveway of the family property earlier in the day. Before he and his brother dragged farm equipment up to the other vineyard in their own version of a tractor pull.
" This is where I was born," he says, "and this is where I will die."
In their blood
Dwight Amos Beauregard, a sheriff who, Ryan says, was fired after he got into a fist fight with a judge, bought the family’s first 200-acre piece of land in Bonny Doon shortly after World War II.
Later, Ryan and Andre’s grandfather, Bud Beauregard, planted the first grape vines on the property with his friend, Frank Avidano.
The men planted Zinfandel, Chardonnay and Cabernet the old way, following the soil types, snaking the vines over the hillsides in rows that weren’t always perfectly straight.
" It was the way winemaking used to be," Ryan says. "They did it for the hobby and the sport of it."
Families would gather for the crush, donning rubber boots to stomp the juice out of the grapes, sipping red wine out of tumblers under a big oak tree at the Bonny Doon ranch.
Frank would give the kids wine watered down with water and sugar in the old Italian way.
" I could tell the difference between Zinfandel, Cabernet and Chardonnay by the time I was 5," Ryan says.
Ryan’s father, Jim, grew grapes and made wine too, opening the Felton Empire Winery in the Santa Cruz Mountains, which he later sold.
But the land and winemaking was in his blood, says Jim, who also runs the family’s longtime business, Shoppers Corner grocery store.
He and his sons began planting more vineyards. They have four vineyards in Bonny Doon and three scattered around the county that they oversee.
Ryan and Andre talk almost reverently of the land and of the men who went before them — their grandfather, father and Avidano.
" Frank (Avidano) grew vegetables and rabbits. He made wine and hunted mushrooms. He never had to go to the store. He was a true mountain man," Ryan says.
" That’s the way I want to live, exactly."
‘ It’s the grapes’
The Beauregard brothers’ truck is heading down a steep, twisting road to their Bald Mountain Vineyard with the ungainly tractor in tow.
Ryan is dropping the truck into lower gears, pumping up the trailer’s brakes with a little console hooked to the dashboard.
It’s the kind of stuff young guys like to do. Except, Ryan and Andre are talking about wine, not trucks or gear ratios.
" Our Cabernets are very rich, but not over tannic," Ryan says. "They’re very fruit forward."
Their Chardonnays have a pleasing mineral taste that is not too buttery or over-oaked, he explains. They are wonderful with food.
" People say I have a style of winemaking, but it’s not me, it’s the grapes," Ryan says, as the truck bumps down the road.
" The hill has its own flavors."
The hill he is talking about is Bonny Doon where the soil can range from sandy to loamy. But it’s the ocean that is the biggest factor in their winemaking.
The area has a major coastal influence that cuts down on the big temperature swings that happen in places like Napa and Sonoma, Ryan says.
Here, the climate is more moderate, so the grapes ripen slowly, making for a more intense fruit, he says.
" It’s the same climate as Bordeaux and Beaun (in France)," says Jim who helped establish the Ben Lomond Mountain growing appellation which includes Bonny Doon.
" We have the potential to produce some of the finest wines in the world," Jim says. "It’s not a boast. It’s just the climate."
The boys are not any less enthusiastic.
" We take the beast," Ryan says, "and turn it into a beauty."
Restaurants and stores around the state now carry the family’s wines, which have been well-received by critics and wine enthusiasts.
On the land
After Ryan and Andre unhook the tractor, they head off on a tour of their Bald Mountain Vinyard.
They harvested 120 tons of grapes out of here last year.
" Last spring was warm, and we got a good fruit set," Ryan says. "It’s going to crop really heavy this year."
Next year won’t be as heavy, he predicts, surveying the rows of Chardonnay vines that stretch in perfect lines over the rolling land.
The brothers climb out of the truck and head into the vinyard in their surf T-shirts and baggy jeans and talk about things like vertical shoot positioning that makes the vines more fruitful and how they’re going to start discing the cover crop into the ground to add minerals to the soil.
They love it here, they say. They love working the land and seeing the harvest. They love the way there are meadows and hills and tall redwood trees.
" When you get here," Andre says, "you’re finally home."
They stand on a small rise and look out over their vineyard, thinking of the men who worked the land before them.
" Frank," says Ryan, "would be stoked on this place."
Wine and Wind
The magic of Chardonnay wine meets the motion of the ocean
by Paul Cummins
“Moby Dick” opens with a statement by Ishmael saying that when “nothing particularly interested him on shore,” and he found himself lingering too long in front of coffin stores, or growing grim about the mouth, he would simply heave-ho onto a long sea venture. For example, go hunting down a Great White Whale in behest of his alter ego who posed in his story as a megalomaniac, peg-legged sea captain. He said this about his sea trips: “It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.”
I get these urges myself every few hours; whenever my cell phone fritzes out on me, the ATM lines are too long, or upon receiving “final notice” letters from the IRS. So it was on such an impulse, being fed up with the normalcy of my bourgeois, landlubberish, existence, that on a recent fair-skyed weekend I decided to rent a two-hour seat on the good ship Chardonnay bound from the Santa Cruz Harbor, and sail ’er straight out, far enough into the Monterey Bay. And whereby with the aid of natural anti-seasickness herbal remedies ingested prior to cast-off—and numerous plastic cups of Beauregard Chardonnay served aboard ship—I could for a short time give the slip to my humdrum existence, and “drive-off my spleen.”
The good ship Chardonnay, in all its alabaster perfection, is a miraculous contemporary technical incarnation of a Phoenician sloop. Its steerage is cleverly marketed to those of us who need, nay, can ill-afford to escape only for the moment onto the foaming organic brine from which we sprang. And who among us would go there without the sure hand of an experienced tiller man. Ishmael spoke of having a “strange awe” of Captain Ahab, and such was my feeling towards our shipmaster, Captain Homer Lighthall, a man of athletic bearing whose hair is turning a confidence-inspiring gray, and whose very stature set us all instantly at ease. This was assisted again by more glasses of Beauregard Chardonnay which our thoughtful crew generously forced on us the instant of launch. My trepidations and my identity soon vanished.
I sat on the rear aft fan tale gunwale (I’ve included every possible term here to be sure) of the boat, high enough to keep a firm eye on the horizon, and be accessible to the Captain should he need my assistance, which luckily, he did not. Lighthall stood with his back to me which made rapport difficult, but I was better able to watch his posture as he stood with legs spread wide, and like a wise, wary owl, continually rotated his head in an almost 360 circle in order to constantly scan our surroundings. Lighthall admonished us that the spilling of wine was considered alcohol abuse. His orders to the crew were direct and kind, and his demeanor affable, unlike Captain Ahab who was a sulking manic-depressive.
We motored slowly over to and around the Santa Cruz Wharf admiring the sleek sable-coated sea lions. Then we came about and deiseled more rapidly directly out from the wharf, until when we got just slightly beyond the lighthouse, where sails billowed up to full blown, and the Chardonnay leapt forward like an unharnessed steed. Charging into the open bay at what Lighthall said was a heady 11 knots, the sea with only two- to three-foot swells, our boat knifed rapidly and exhilaratingly straight through the water. Even a neophyte could feel that these were perfect sailing conditions, and great food and wine not-withstanding, the reason we were here.
The gymnastic crew continued to serve food and wine without pause or break in rhythm. Even when the ship was leaning mightily on its side, they displayed amazing feats of balance, appearing to walk “up hill” as easily as another might walk on a flat surface on land. Their movements were dance-like, well choreographed, and totally gracious.
Drifting in quiet waters off the Capitola pier mid-way on our route, Lighthall pointed out the house of local Jack O’Neill, “the man who invented the wet suit.” I commented that it was too bad the idea had not caught on. The ocean surface was dotted with thousands of little jellyfish called “By the Wind Sailors.” Crewmember Kathy Carney pointed out that an equal number of the little scooped-sailed jelly fishes are inverted as opposed to converted so that regardless of winds and currents they’ll drift in equal numbers with the breezes in different directions as a survival mechanism.
Expecting little more than bread, cheese, and cold cuts, we were instead plied with copious amounts of very high quality food prepared by Chef Jason Cullen of the Mainsail Restaurant. The Mainsail is located in The Westcoast Santa Cruz Hotel. I was impressed enough with Chef Cullen’s offerings that I plan to have dinner in his restaurant soon. Samples of the shipboard menu: Shrimp and Lobster Tempura Rolls, Coconut Dusted Prawns, Maryland Lump Crab Cakes (more crab than cake) with Spicy Rémoulade, Mongolian Hot Potstickers, and Antipasto tray, and finally Petit Fours. He had us on all fours. It was a little hard to hear at times on the ship, but I believe that the chef offered to buy dinner for the first 100 people who read this article and call him up to make arrangements. Or maybe he said something different—couldn’t be too sure with all that wine and wind.
About the wine—wine that, at first, tastes good because of the anticipation one has built around it, and the excitement of breaking the ice with the first glass, can fade in quality with each plastic cupful unless the wine is of a higher than expected quality. Let’s call this the free-wine-lush rule of incremental returns. The Beauregard Chard began to show its merits as the sail went on, thereby increasing the desire for more, not less. There is a tie-in between the boat and the winemaker. Jim Beauregard, who is owner of Shopper’s Corner market and responsible for the incredible collection of high quality, reasonable priced wines there, is also involved in the Chardonnay (the boat, that is), and the maker of the wine.
The grapes for the Beauregard Chardonnay are grown in the Santa Cruz Mountains; a typical robust, full forward fruit wine being the result. However, there is no cloying, or thick oak-and-butter obstacles to distract from the intrinsic grape flavor. The fruit turned to flint and gravel in the mouth, and eventually to citrus, leaning towards lime. There was practically enough citrus to stave-off scurvy on a long cruise. The finish was quite dry and left one begging for more. When I find a good deal, I tell everybody about it, finally maturing enough in life to realize (slightly) that I cannot buy and stash every bottle of wine ever made. But I can encourage others to buy and enjoy good deals I come across. Beauregard sells his excellent Chard in his store for $9.99, which makes it an extremely good value.
In comparing the mysteries of the sea to the “knowledge” of the land, Ishmael says: “Consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half-known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!”
Grab a bottle of Beauregard Chardonnay at Shopper’s Corner in Santa Cruz, 429-1804. In the mood for a sail, call Chardonnay Charters at 423-1213.
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