Like Kenneth, I am wary of absolutes. We like to simplify and uncomplicate a system like the vineyard so people can more easily understand it. But then we forget it has been simplified, and people assume it’s simple. The best we can do is try to identify some principals behind what is a complicated matter.

There are several ways to define terroir. The site, or place, consists of the ground and the climate. Let’s include features like elevation and exposure in the general category of soil. Then we include elements such as temperature, rainfall, fog and wind under climate. That’s what nature gives us.

We must deal with the soil’s water-holding capacity, because the ability to provide just enough water when needed is a vital viticultural tool. And the land must be less than abundant, not overly fertile, so that it provides restrictions or limitations on the grapevine’s growth. You can add something that’s missing to soil, but you can’t take away what’s there.

Restricted water or nutrients prevents over-vegetative growth. Limitations create character in the wine. You can taste the vine’s effort, whether its roots must go deep in rocky soils or are restricted by shallow soils.

The grower can add two elements to the equation – plant materials and farming practices. Our job is to learn to choose better plant materials to match the site we’re given, then farm it appropriately from vintage to vintage.

Some say rocky soils give us tannins. Others say dense clays impart structure. They’re probably both right.

We know that nitrogen gives us vigor, phosphorus promotes color, potassium contributes to fruitfulness. And this magical process involving earth, rain and sun transforms flowers into berries into ripe grapes. Then another miraculous transformation produces a liquid which, in turn, transforms the human who consumes it.

In the healthiest of humans, well-conditioned athletes, the goal is “lean and mean.” It’s the same with our vines. We don’t like over-vegetative growth, nor do we want anemic, water-deprived plants that can’t ripen their fruit. As growers we drive that – it’s called balance. And if our approach is finely tuned, we can off-set vintage differences.

So we can’t really change the soil, or the climate. We can choose appropriate plant materials and attune our farming practices to tailor them to the site.

But I’ve come to realize that farming can’t necessarily make a lesser site into a really good one. In cooperative vintages, you can shift them to the better, like a student who flourishes with a good teacher in a given year.

The great sites can perform very well year in and year out. Our main job is properly matching what we plant and do on that site apropos to each vintage.

This isn’t unusual. If your garden doesn’t have full sun, you might want to plant an early ripening tomato that takes 76 days instead of an heirloom that needs 96. Similarly, if your Pinot Noir is planted closer to the coast where there’s a shorter season, you’d plant Dijon clones because they do better in cooler, riskier areas.

The longer we work with a site, the more site specific we become in our farming. That’s exciting – really understanding the components and the dynamics of the system. As an industry, as we sort out our plant materials and hone our farming to individual sites, quality will soar. Why are some growers successful repeatedly? Because they have good sites and know them well.

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