From his high-density 2001 planting, Baron’s 2009 Syrah Armada Vineyard leads with a high-toned, penetrating nose that one can scarcely avoid calling Cote Rotie-like: bacon fat, fresh cherry, kirsch, framboise, and violet. But there are also black tea, caramel, and a penetrating note of sealing wax that’s reminiscent of mature Bordeaux. Around one quarter of the 600-liter barrels in which this was raised (following fermentation in a mixture of cement and wood) were new. Dense, fine-grained but more evident tannins than in most of the present collection appear on a palate whose savory salinity and saliva-inducement, however, are utterly Cayuesque. The interplay of flavors here is kaleidoscopic and at the same time almost eye-squintingly bright. What’s more, as the wine opens to the air, a real layering and interplay emerges of diverse carnal elements alone: smoked meat, game, bloody roasted red meat, marrow and bone meal. This Syrah’s phenomenal sense of energy as well as of sheer, sappy, expansive presence, make for a finish whose vibratory intensity shakes-up my entire mouth. A truly awesome effort, it will surely be worth following for at least 15 years, though I’ve a hunch – without knowing how Baron’s earliest wines (which were surely different in important respects anyway) have matured – that it will reward for significantly longer. (And if you wonder what Baron can do for an encore to such a performance, just sit tight for a year or two!) I’m relieved I didn’t consider it necessary to “score” this wine any higher, otherwise I’d have left no room to express symbolically that the best is yet to come. Just as the cobbled soils around Milton-Freewater captivated Champenois Christophe Baron’s imagination on what he calls “a fateful April morning in 1996,” so the 100% estate-bottled wines he has grown in them since have amazed and inspired oenophiles to the extent of creating a veritable cult. “I’m here because of the rocks,” says Baron, who, although he loved the Rhone as much as he did Burgundy, was at the time planning to grow Pinot in the Willamette Valley, “and because I just happened to open a book and show a friend in Walla Walla what vineyards look like in Chateauneuf. ‘I know where we have rocks like that,’ he told me, and I said: ‘Take me there tomorrow!’” “The only way to tell how deep” the striking carpet of stones in his vineyards extends, says Baron “is to go down a well.” Baron – who emphasizes that he is conservative but at the same time scientifically rigorous about when and how much water to drip onto his vines – was one of the few Washington growers I met who spoke about, much less offered some specifics regarding root penetration. “In the summer – after crop-thinning (is done) and the (bird) nets are on, we get bored, so we rent a backhoe and we dig holes. And by the third leaf (i.e. year) the roots are already ten feet down.” Laura Pursley – who assists Baron in the vineyards (her fellow “assistant vigneronne” and counterpart in the “wine studio” – Baron’s name for his facility – is Elizabeth Bourcier) – notes that “opposite to what you’d think, it’s our sites with the highest clay content, with a bit more soil and less rock, that dry-out soonest.” From the inception of Cayuse, Baron commenced the painstaking work of generating his own vine selection from the clonally monotonous Syrah and Grenache material then available. From 2000 on, he has been taking advantage of the new diversity of clones available stateside and begun grafting these onto rootstock, explaining “I believe that sooner or later phylloxera will make its way to Washington.” Baron’s most recent plantings of up to 4,840 vines per acre are, he believes, as high-density as any in North America and are horse-tilled, typically eight times a year. “That’s how to get fruit ripe at lower brix; get unbelievable (tannic) structure; and unlock the gates of terroir,” he opines (offering elucidation I won’t detail on this occasion). Farming biodynamically since 2002, Baron’s approach – which involves 25 full-time staff, one person per hectare – appears as labor-intensive and detail-attentive as I have encountered anywhere in the world. The inaugural, 2011 Syrah from The Tribe – his ultra-densely-planted latest vineyard – is bound to attract intense scrutiny and devotion, and I suppose there is no point in withholding my opinion, based on tasting it from barrel in March and July, that both will be deserved. Another self-described “epiphany” of Baron’s while bicycling into the Blue Mountain foothills in 2004 led to his latest vineyard start-up. “A little heaven,” he calls it – with the Walla Walla River rippling by; pastureland for his beloved vegetables and animals (some participants in biodynamics; some destined for the table); and vertiginous rocky slopes with vines trained to stakes (en echalas), make it the image of Cote Rotie. He unabashedly says he intends to make this “one of America’s jewels in terms of viticulture; that every American wine aficionado knows; and a place I can be proud of. After this, I’ll have nothing to prove.” First crop: next year. I’ll have more to say on another occasion (as well as in certain of my tasting notes in this report) about the approach Baron and Bourcier take in the cellar, but a critical part of the big picture is his announcement that “This year is it: I’ve bought my last barrique” used or new. The result – even with Baron’s wines based on Bordelais cepages – will be a regimen consisting of fermentation in wooden foudre or concrete tank and elevage in 600-liter demi-muids supplemented by foudre. And a trend begun already five or six years ago will continue: toward utilizing decreasing percentages of new oak. “There was a trend – especially in Washington and California – toward all new barrels” from the most fashionable couple of tonneliers, notes Baron, “but what we found out is, the new wood dries out the wine.” (“Well, duh!” would have to be my own smart-ass reply.) “And,” adds Bourcier, “we’ve found that a wine can go quite quickly from well-balanced to overly oaky and drying, which is why we often take them out of barrel early,” i.e. well ahead of bottling. (Notes on Baron’s small-volume project known as No Girls will be found under that name, as it refers to a self-standing winery.)Tel. (509) 526-0686

Rich and powerful, the 2009 Syrah Armada Vineyard offers up a boisterous bouquet of cassis, black truffle, plums and berry liqueur, complemented by savory notions of dark chocolate, loamy soil and orange. On the palate, it's full-bodied, ripe and ample, with considerable mid-palate volume and an exuberant core of fruit that conceals its ripe tannins. It's complex and compelling, but the difference between this more overtly ripe and sun-kissed wine and the more recent 2014 and 2015 vintages from Christophe—even warmer years—subtly speaks volumes.

Dense and concentrated, this has thick, almost jammy blue and purple fruits, with a peppery highlight and an undercurrent of sweet grain. The palate is tight, featuring layers of cassis, ink, anise, coffee and iodine, with an earthy salinity that runs through the finish. The Armada is perhaps a bit less fruity and more austere than the other 2009 Cayuse Syrahs, but is every inch their equal. — (3/1/2013) —97