From the Vines Dept.: Sometimes your past lurks in old bankers boxes. I opened one recently expecting to see only books and found in addition a pile of clippings, including the article reproduced below. I wrote it for the Syracuse New Times in 1988, and it necessitated a very pleasant visit to the winery thus portrayed. I’d written about Hermann Wiemer before, but never visited him in situ. Wiemer sold the vineyard in 2007 to Fred Merwarth, who continues to run the operation under Wiemer’s name.
AS NEW YORK STATE gains an ever-improving reputation for production of good wine, the Finger Lakes, that paw about 80 miles southwest of Syracuse, are recognized as the source of acclaimed wines made from Vitis vinifera, the grape family responsible for the distinguished wines of Europe.
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| Hermann J. Wiemer. Photo by Patricia Darbee Weirich |
“I don’t think the big companies will grow vinifera,” he says. “Their attitudes are entirely different from ours. Unfortunately, they have the resources and time to cultivate what they please, but they don’t realize that the consumer is now asking for a better wine.” Wiemer is fond of characterizing New York’s plonk as reeking of the “rubber hose,” used to move the hybrid juice along its brisk production line. “It’s up to the little guys to take the risk and grow vinifera,” he says.
A native of the Mosel region of Germany, Wiemer grew up among relatives on both sides of the family who were immersed in the wine business. He arrived in this country in 1968 to work for the Bully Hill Winery, and discreetly bought 140 acres of land on Seneca Lake a few years later.
He planted his first crop of vinifera in 1973, surprisingly choosing a different area than that favored by the renowned Dr Konstantin Frank, whose vinifera experimentation near Keuka Lake in the 1950s paved the way for everyone else. “I knew that cherries and peaches were being successfully grown on this lake,” Wiemer explains, “and I think the soil conditions are better right here.”
He speaks with a touch of his native accent, and, at 46, mixes the rugged handsomeness of a gentleman farmer with an ambassador’s sophistication. When he shows you the winery’s various rooms, an obvious pride combines with businessman’s savvy. He knows exactly how his wine should taste. He knows exactly how it should appear.
“We bring in much of our glass from France,” Wiemer explains, indicating stacks of recently arrived pallets. “It’s expensive but necessary, I feel, because we’re competing in sophisticated wine markets where even the appearance has to be superior. I can’t buy the European bottle I want for my table wine, so the glass for that comes from Mexico.”
He holds up a clear green bottle, studying it against the light. This is the wine maker’s blank page, his canvas.
What starts to sound like pro-European prejudice is tempered by Wiemer’s belief in the domestic result. “I feel much more comfortable with wine produced in America. Here we’re trying very hard to show a good product. I know the German wine makers and I know I try harder than they do—I’m very proud when I take my wines over there to show them.”
Barrels stacked against a wall contain soon-to-be-bottled Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. Like many of the local vinifera vintners, Wiemer buys his wood from Europe because of the superior oak and cooperage techniques.
In another outbuilding is a room stacked with foot-long vines. Four machines the size of pencil sharpeners are fastened to a table against one wall. There the grafting of vinifera vines onto American root stock takes place, and not only for the winery itself: Wiemer’s vines are sold as part of a separate company on the premises. This, after all, is the specialty that brought Wiemer to this country.
The machines make for a speedy and surer process, using a deft dovetail to join the vine to cloning material collected from the fields outside. The graft is then dipped in wax and left to mature in a hot room before planting.
“This is even bigger than the wine business here,” he says. “And I had to do it. In 1973 you couldn’t buy any of the plants I wanted to work with.”
Sixty-five acres are planted, with another 20 about to receive a new crop of Chardonnay. The vines have been pruned for the 1988 growth; during the recent rainy days, you would have found Wiemer and crew filling bottles.
“We just finished disgorging my new champagne,” he says, referring to the process by which a plug of sediment is popped from waiting bottles. The winery uses the old-fashioned methode champenois in which part of the fermentation is carried on right in the bottle, requiring much more individual attention to the product.
What you’ll soon find in the stores is Wiemer’s 1986 vintage; no champagne was made last year. “You have to go with the year,” he says with a shrug. “We had no Riesling grapes to harvest.” Unlike his neighbors, who rely on a Chardonnay basis for their sparkling wines, Wiemer uses 100 percent Riesling, imparting an unexpected crispness to the champagne.
American Airlines now serves Wiemer wines to its first-class passengers, joining eateries throughout the state, including Pascal’s in Liverpool. But the best place for sampling may be right at the winery, during a tasting and tour. Tour groups collect in an airy, light-colored room to sample the current selections, often with Wiemer (who lives in the studio upstairs) observing nearby. What was once an unused barn has the elegant look of a small salon, and was intentionally so fashioned by architects from Cornell University.
“The room has to be pleasant because the on-site tasting is more effective than anything else in getting people to know my wine,” he says. “They drink it here and, I hope, go on to ask for it in their local stores.” In planning for the future of his wines, Hermann J. Wiemer isn’t leaving anything to chance.
– Syracuse New Times, 8 June 1988
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