Matt Kettmann

The end of an era is upon us: Sagebrush Annie’s is for sale; plus, stories you may have missed.

The idea of wrapping up a bottle of red wine to present as a gift to someone special during the holidays may pop into your head easily enough.

[Quick Correction: Last week's Full Belly Files was missing a critical paragraph when emailed, so here is the full version posted online in case you didn't see it.] At a time when supporting honestly raised, regionally grown, sustainably minded food is on the lips of every self-respecting restaurant lover, why is it essentially impossible to make a stable living off of working the land? In the case of one Buellton farm, which rose to prominence raising the exact kind of gourmet pork that source-conscious chefs seek out, the rigamarole of regulations combined with high costs and low market prices is forcing them out of the pig business. Instead, they're shifting to subsistence farming as a model for survival, exploring how harvests of buckwheat, barley, amaranth, acorns, spelt, squash, corn, cactus, and many other crops can support modern human existence. “This is not just my story,” said Bruce Steele, who owns Winfield Farm with his wife, Diane Pleschner-Steele , together raising the largest registered breeding herd of swallow-belly Mangalitsa pigs in the country for more than a decade. “It's all of us.” Over the next six months, they'll be winding down operations, selling off the last of their once-celebrated chops, ribs, and sausages to restaurant chefs and home cooks. “This doesn't work,” lamented Bruce on the porch of his drying shed one recent morning as bright sunshine recharged the solar-powered property. “Nothing you can do will ever work,” he continued, to which Diane added the caveat, “in California.” Bruce's farming saga goes back to the 1860s near Moorpark, where generations of his family tended beanfields that evolved into orange groves. When he was at Camarillo High, he'd visit his grandparents and extended family in Oregon, where they'd moved to grow hay and potatoes while practicing plenty of traditional food preservation techniques. “They were all babies of the Depression,” said Bruce, who is 70 years old. “That had a huge mental impact on those who went through that time.” He enjoyed the lifestyle, especially gardening with his Aunt Shirley. “I always wanted to be a farmer — that was maybe my first mistake,” he laughed. “My grandfather said, ‘If you ever want to make any money, don't do this! If you buy land, buy water!'” (It's no coincidence that Winfield Farm has riparian water rights along the Santa Ynez River.) But he also loved fishing, and marine biology classes led him to pursue hard-hat diving as a career, originally intent on working the deep-water oil rigs. No one took him seriously at 18 years old, so he wound up back in Ventura County, settling into life as an urchin diver in 1973. The route from his house in Camarillo to Anacapa Island and back was easy, and he'd stash away $100 a day after covering his current and future expenses, selling urchin for 8 cents a pound. (Today, the popular spiny treats can fetch $10 a pound.) “It was like a banker's hours!” he exclaimed. He kept at it after moving to Santa Barbara in 1976, building a life and well-known garden on the Mesa, and was still diving for urchin regularly until about a decade ago. “In my heart, I'm still an urchin diver,” said Bruce, who was a major player in the development of the rules and zones that govern fishing today. “I still have a permit.” In 2000, he used urchin income to purchase 30 flat, occasionally flooded acres between the Santa Ynez River and Highway 246, just west of Buellton, and named it Winfield Farm after his dad's middle name. Bruce and Diane — who worked for two decades as the head of the California Wetfish Producers Association — started farming a wide variety of common row crops like tomato, melon, and squash, selling them at their farm stand every summer. The farm generated a massive amount of compost, which is where the pigs come in. But not just any pigs: the almost extinct Mangalitsa breed from Hungary , discovered after the Iron Curtain fell with only around 100 pigs remaining. Like the Ibérico breed of Spain — whose jamonistas are credited with rediscovering and restoring the Mangalitsas — these pigs produce incredibly marbled, intensely flavorful meat. “They're the only pigs other than Ibérico that can be called pata negra ,” said Diane of the top-shelf “black foot” designation, which Bruce feeds a special malted barley spiked with chestnut powder. “If you feed tannins to these pigs, it changes the fat composition,” he said of such nut powders, citing recent research out of Serbia. Winfield Farm welcomed its first swallow-bellied Mangalitsas in 2013, and the herd grew exponentially in size, reaching about 120 at peak pig. Many restaurants were buying the meat, particularly the late Jeff Olsson of Industrial Eats as well as, on occasion, Barbareño Barrelworks , and Chef Cameron Ingle when he was at Pico in Los Alamos . (Today, Niner Wine Estates in Paso Robles is the most dedicated buyer.) The Bacara's chef at the time was also a steady customer, and that's where Bruce was planning to supply pork for an event about eight years ago when he got a standard inquiry about his liability insurance. He quickly learned that California regulators frowned on farms that raise both vegetables and pigs. “Pigs and vegetables?” they told him. “You're canceled!” According to Bruce, the issue goes back to an E. coli outbreak in the Salinas Valley. “No one really knows what happened,” he said. “But they blamed the pigs.” Such concern makes sense on the industrial farming scale, but applying such broad regulations to a tiny farm that only sold produce to neighbors? Bruce and Diane felt like unintended targets. It wouldn't be the last time. Suddenly, since pork made marginally more income than vegetables, Winfield Farm was out of the veggie business. Meanwhile, the pork business got harder . COVID killed restaurants for a time, although the direct-to-consumer market briefly exploded. The war in Ukraine, which was a major global supplier of grain, caused feed prices to skyrocket, doubling Winfield Farm's cost from around $30,000 a year to more than $60,000. Said Bruce, “You can't just double the price of your already expensive meat.” Problems arose close to home as well. “Ultimately, my butcher quit,” said Bruce of when the primary Central Coast butchery service, J&R Natural Meats in Paso Robles, shut down operations earlier this year. That's triggered processing problems all across the regionally raised meat realm, but it's particularly tough for pigs. Unlike many other states, which allow pork to be distributed so long as it's processed according to each state's health codes, California regulations require pork to attain federal health standards before being sold broadly. The USDA rules are onerous since they're aimed at industrial pig farms, but Bruce and Diane feel like they don't make much sense for small farms like theirs. He said that this is the one law that, if changed to allow state-level approval before distribution, could potentially save California's small pig farmer. Instead, the route from Winfield Farms to a plate for this Mangalitsa meat runs from Buellton to Fresno, where the animals can be sparged, all the way down to Glendale, where the USDA-certified Schreiner's Fine Sausages handles the bacon, ham, sausage, and other smoked meat products. (Smoking is even more highly regulated.) Such transportation is expensive and not very eco-efficient, undermining the critical argument for buying local. On top of that, California voters in 2018 passed an animal welfare proposition to clean up factory-sized meat operations. The new rules about spacing — which finally went into effect this year after much legal wrangling — didn't impact operations at Winfield Farm at all, but still created costly confusion and a bunch more hoop-jumping for small farmers. Not only that, but Bruce said that the proposition's main point of keeping animals out of cages was ultimately relaxed anyway. [Click to enlarge]: From left: Bruce Steele grinds foraged acorns; Spelt at Winfield Farm “The bottom line is that it didn't change anything on my farm,” said Bruce. “It's paperwork that serves no purpose, developed by a bunch of well-meaning people who didn't have any idea of what the pig business was about.” Add to that higher wages and fuel costs than other states, and the writing started covering the wall. “Every single thing is expensive to do here,” said Bruce. “Restaurants won't pay you what it costs to do this.” It was time to ditch the pigs. Bruce and Diane's interest in subsistence farming goes back to before COVID. On one New Year's Eve, he told her that they'd do “The Challenge,” which involves living off of their own land and not going to the store for an extended period of time. They made it a month, and that was without any proper planning. They ate a lot of eggs and acorns. He started exploring the crops needed to do it for a longer stretch, planting grains, more fruits, and hearty vegetables that last longer on their shelves. He's learning how to grow and process each of them — farming more than a half-acre all by himself, mostly with a rusty hoe — and, perhaps most importantly, how to turn them into food. “If you can't figure out how to cook it and make it taste good,” said Diane, “you're wasting your time.” He's learned to use the wind to winnow white-blossomed buckwheat, that “you need to crush the hell out of” spelt, and that one ear of corn amounts to a batch of cornbread. A later attempt at The Challenge lasted about three months, but they're preparing to go all in, even though they admit the cuisine can become a little bland. (I suggested more hot and pickled peppers.) “We're on the verge of doing it right now,” said Diane, explaining that they're dining subsistence-style “almost every night.” The night before I visited, for instance, they ate a tomato and cassoulet bean soup with pork meat followed by a squash pie for dessert. The whole project — from a solar-powered tractor to the gritty handwork to the knowledge unleashed in ancient grains to using every part of their land to survive — struck me as fascinating, perhaps only eclipsed by the fact that no one seems to care. When I asked if Bruce had any acolytes out at Winfield Farm learning these ways, Diane responded bluntly, “No one wants to know.” Her dream is to document what Bruce is up to, while he would like to see a handful more farmers use his land to explore similar crops and invest in the wisdom they offer. Said Bruce, “It's gonna matter.” But Winfield Farm pork is not dead yet. They still have about six months of meat to process and sell, which anyone can buy straight from the farm. To do so, visit winfieldfarm.us My Latest Drinks & Dishes The usual rundown of recent ingestible experiences: After hanging with Bruce & Diane, I stopped by Dragonette Cellars to catch up with Brandon Sparks-Gillis and John Dragonette. We tasted through a flight of recent wines against the 2014s, from the sauvignon blancs to the pinots and syrahs. All were shining, but those sauv blancs really do unique magic over the years. The latest Just 8 Supper Club at Clean Slate in Solvang went down last week, pairing wines from my own cellar with the inventive and downright delicious cuisine of Chef Melissa Scrymgeour . We have a private one for later this month, and then will be scheduling a couple more of these eight-seat dinners for 2025 soon. [Click to enlarge]: From left: Just 8 Supper Club's salmon-pumpkin curry; Veal saltimbocca spring roll at Just 8 My wife and I were invited to the friends and family opening at Bar Lou on Coast Village Road in Montecito last Friday. We were the last seating, which was unfortunate since there was a small fire in the wall between the kitchen and the bathroom. So all we got were drinks and some fried cheese with pepper relish before having to evacuate. They plan to be open again by this weekend, and I can't wait to return. Instead, we headed down to Lion's Tale , the latest bar from the Good Lion Hospitality crew. I settled into a couple brisk martinis — complete with the sidecar extra pours — as well as salads, fries, and a satisfying lamb burger. We caught the Saturday matinee of Ensemble Theater Company's Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors at the New Vic. It was funny and really entertaining. We followed that by a proper bar and restaurant crawl: sushi at Wabi Sabi and cocktails from Cooney' s in the Public Market ; bottle of cider on the street at Satellite S.B. ; a return check-in on the reopened Augie's , where the food and drinks were solid and the ambiance still great, all culminating in a flight of karwinskii-based mezcal; and lastly, drinks and fries at Gala [Click to enlarge]: From left: Augie's flight of karwinskii mezcal; Augie's La Niña Due to generous friends, I took a private plane from the Santa Ynez Airpor t to the 49ers–Cowboys game on Sunday (as you do), where we learned that the club food on the shady side of Levi's Stadium (which we enjoyed last year) was better than the sunny-side eats we encountered this year. (Though the spicy chicken strips and burgers were good enough.) On Tuesday, my son and I took our first bites of La Cantina , serial restauranteur Chris Chiarappa's new place in the shopping center on the corner of Turnpike and Hollister, near our home. It's a casual spot, with a centralized bar, many TVs, and a wide range of Mexican cuisine. It should do well there, and I'll be back for sure. [Click to enlarge]: From left: La Cantina's cochinita pibil tacos; La Cantina's Chile Compadre From Our Table Here are some stories you may have missed: Tia Trinh checks in with soul food fusion Chef Guidance Moon Here are a couple of my recent pieces for Wine Enthusiast : a tasting room roundup for the Lodi region , and a critic's guide to gifting red wine for the holidays

Community-Minded Artist's Latest Work Unveiled at Santa Barbara Wine Auction

Kristin Harris Luis and Nick Luis in the vineyard | Photo: MacDuff Everton A few years ago, when it was abundantly clear that their original medical school plans had derailed due to gleeful entanglement in Santa Barbara's wine industry, Kristin Harris Luis and Nick Luis started pondering what meaningful role they could play in the business. If they were to take the steps toward creating their own brand — a mission that had begun quietly in the cellar back in 2018, with a barrel of pinot noir they named “Pipsqueak” — what should be their mission? “We wanted a purpose,” Kristin told me a few months ago, sitting under a large oak tree outside of the small guest house they rent in the middle of the Santa Ynez Valley. Said Nick, “What value can we add to the industry?” Having worked with the down-to-earth people who run vineyards and wineries, they noticed the discrepancy between wine's grassroots, on-the-ground realities and the lofty, luxury-aimed image that's pushed through marketing channels. Could they make wine more approachable, yet adhere to the traditional techniques? Seeking such balance led to naming their winery Cote of Paint . “We don't want to change the way wine is made,” said Nick one day aloud. “We just want to put on a new coat of paint.” When everyone around stopped talking, they knew that they had found a name, especially by swapping in the common wine word côte , which means “slope” in French. There was some concern that people may not take them seriously, but they decided to lean into the message even more strongly. Said Kristin, “It became our goal to make our wine relatable for the consumer.” Today, Cote of Paint remains a very small producer, crafting about 150 cases annually. That includes, depending on the vintage, pinot noir from Duvarita Vineyard, grenache from Christy & Wise, grüner veltliner and sangiovese from Cocquelicot, sauvignon blanc from Happy Canyon, and a rosé of grenache. The best way to taste them all is by signing up for the recently launched “Base Cote” wine club, whose members gain access to discounts, exclusive merchandise, and even the option to host private tasting parties by signing up for 12-bottle shipments two times a year. (There's a six-bottle option as well.) But Cote of Paint is also splashing a new color on the wine club model. A $25-per-month tier called “Dab of Paint” grants members access to the discounted prices but allows them to delay their shipments until a time when they have a need for the wines. “We wanted something a little different than the traditional wine club,” said Kristin. “It gives versatility for people who don't have wine storage or can't commit to six bottles twice a year.” Their website warns that this option “may induce feelings similar to finding money in your couch cushions or jean pocket.” Perhaps nothing exemplifies Cote of Paint's creativity more than the release party they had last spring. Called “Pours & Scores” and hosted at the Peasant's Feast arcade in Solvang, the affair mixed video games with wine pours, and was an instant hit across demographics. For some younger fans, it was their first wine event ever. For others, including people in their seventies, it was just the coolest. “The event almost validated everything,” said Kristin. Kristin and Nick's paths to wine started out similarly, both coming from households that didn't really drink much alcohol. Nick was raised in Santa Maria, where he graduated from St. Joseph's High School, and Kristin hailed from the San Diego area. They met at San Diego State, where they plotted to become doctors, working in various medical industry jobs during and after college. Having finished their undergrad degrees and preparing to get serious about being doctors, the couple moved to Orcutt for the summer to relax a bit, having gotten to know wine country during trips to see Nick's family. “We decided to get fun jobs in wine and just hang out before going to medical school,” said Kristin. They credit Dan O'Neill and Sherrill Duggan O'Neill, who owned Wine Country in Orcutt, with really opening their eyes to the wines of the region. In June 2015, after braving a “super intimidating” interview with Brandon Sparks-Gillis of Dragonette Cellars, Kristin started working there and quickly loved the hands-on work of production. Then about to become an EMT, Nick took note. “He got super jealous,” said Kristin. Agreed Nick, “How would you not want to do this?” Their lives would not fully change for a few more months. “Up until the harvest of 2015, we were on the track to be doctors,” she said, and then they walked away. “It was pretty heavy. You work your whole life toward a goal and then do a big 180.” Thankfully, their parents were okay with it. “They were totally supportive as long as we were happy,” said Kristin. Since then, Kristin has worked primarily in production, with jobs at Jackson Family Wines and Margerum Wine Co. before coming back to Dragonette. “I get my workout in,” she laughed. Nick works on the tasting, sales, and wine club side of the business at the Dragonette tasting room in Los Olivos. Kristin also serves in various nonprofit capacities, including three years on the board of the Santa Barbara Vintners Foundation and recently starting in a role at The Veraison Project. “It's a nonprofit organization dedicated to diversifying the wine space through initiatives, scholarships, and bridge programs,” said Kristin, who is managing a storytelling project that will launch early in 2025. As one of the few female Black winemakers on the planet, she's also brought Cote of Paint to numerous diversity-minded wine events around the Bay Area and Los Angeles. All of that work neatly aligns with their pursuit of making wine for everybody to enjoy. “With Cote of Paint and everything I'm doing, I'm trying to create my own space where not only do I fit in, but other people do as well,” said Kristin. “It's more of just trying to do different things and represent wine in a different way to attract a bigger audience.” Cote of Paint is hosting a holiday-themed “Pours & Scores” event at the Peasant's Feast Arcade on December 14. See coteofpaintwine.com Sat, Dec 14 7:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Sun, Nov 17 11:00 AM Solvang Sat, Nov 23 2:00 PM Santa Barbara Sat, Dec 14 7:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Sun, Nov 17 11:00 AM Solvang Sat, Nov 23 2:00 PM Santa Barbara Sat, Dec 14 7:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara

After five years of exploring and capturing images of the Channel Islands, photographer Justin Fantl believes that there are basically two kinds of folks around these parts. “Either people know them and treasure them, or they just vaguely know that they're out there,” explained the 44-year-old to me over hot drinks in the Dart Coffee garden a couple months ago. “A lot of people who have lived here for generations have never been there, which is kind of mind-blowing to me. How could you not at least go? Aren't you curious?” Fantl's new photography tome Santa Rosae should spark more intrigue for the uninitiated while simultaneously entertaining those of us who treasure the archipelago through familiar sights seen in brand new ways. Aside from a short preface by Fantl and introduction by Jordan S. Downs, the 215-page book is full of photos sans words, blending scenes of smooth natural purity with shots that reveal the sharp influence of man on the landscape. There are also aerials that he shot while flying his own plane, and a number of Easter eggs to find for islanders in the know about special locations. “My hope is that people who don't know anything about the islands can learn something and want to go out there,” said Fantl, though he doesn't ever want the hordes to overwhelm this sensitive place. “People that have spent time out there fiercely guard them,” he said. “I've found a whole mix of ideas of what should or shouldn't be done, or how they should or shouldn't be managed. “ The New Hampshire native started his adult life after graduating Union College in upstate New York by becoming a Jackson Hole ski bum, during which time he met his now-wife, Katrina Sprague, who grew up in a prominent Santa Barbara family. He worked for the local paper, and scanned slides of adventures from Antarctica to Everest for an established photographer. That made him think about becoming a pro photographer rather than going to law school, which led to the Academy of Art in San Francisco and his first commercial gigs. That work was steady for a long time, including campaigns for Old Spice, Apple, Crown Royal, and, once, even making a massive poster of a Chiquita Banana for New York City. But then too many cooks got in the kitchen. “It just wound up being like, ‘Well, we're gonna shoot it on white, just to be safe,'” said Fantl. “That kinda bummed me out, but I had a lot of great clients and great projects along the way.” He always wanted to do a book, and living in Los Angeles for many years brought him closer to his in-laws in Santa Barbara, which he visited frequently before moving here permanently three years ago. Once he started exploring the Channel Islands, “it clicked one day,” as Fantl realized there weren't many fine art-aimed books on the archipelago. He's since made about two dozen trips since his first visit to Anacapa Island in 2019, mostly going solo, but sometimes backpacking across Santa Rosa Island with friends or doing marine cleanups with various nonprofits. Fantl was plotting his book the whole time. “The first time I went out, that feeling of being completely removed really kind of hit me,” he recalled. “You felt a world away. It felt adventurous. I like that feeling of adventure and solace.” In between trips and making the book, Fantl launched a new adventure as well, starting to work as a landscape designer. He was initially inspired by doing his own yard near Riviera Ridge School, where his wife works in development. “I took it on myself to redesign it and figure that whole thing out, “ said Fantl, whose company is called LSD Studio . “A lot of the work is communicating that visualization to the clients, and then estimating. I've been working with budgets for 15 years.” Though Santa Rosae is dominated by images captured out at the islands, it actually begins with photographs that Fantl took of taxidermied specimens at the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History , which he had completed earlier as part of his graduate thesis. “The museum archive photographs speak to the importance of all the endemic species out there,” he said. “There is one picture of an island fox in the book, but that's not what it's all about. There's so many ways this book could have gone,” explained Fantl, noting Chumash, ranching, military, and other histories. “It's really hard to include it all.” Cover of ‘Santa Rosae' by Justin Fantl | Photo: Justin Fantl Rather than a specific focus, Santa Rosae 's throughline is its creator's aesthetic, in which close-ups and distant landscapes carry a similar sense of enchanted, arresting soul. “It's a study of place,” said Fantl, who looks forward to taking his own young children out there someday soon. Where would he go? “My favorite Island is Santa Rosa, for the diversity of the terrain,” said Fantl, who is particularly fond of Skunk Point. “I've had some magical, otherworldly experiences out there.” Justin Fantl is holding a book launch party for Santa Rosae at Warlock (Victoria Court; 1221 State St. #4A), on Dec. 5, 4-8 p.m. See santarosaebook.com

The Lake Fire burned nearly 40,000 acres almost entirely across the Los Padres National Forest, and above thousands of acres of Santa Ynez Valley vineyards. | Photo: Luke Stimson (File) Bad mezcal with a hint of soiled diaper. This is not the tasting note anyone wants to find on a bottle of $50 grenache, but that's about what a smoke-tainted sample of grapes grown near this past summer's Lake Fire smells and — at least for the bold — tastes like. Frequency Wine Co .'s Zac Wasserman dropped a tiny bottle of affected wine off at my house a couple of weeks back, alongside a bottle of last year's clean version. After investigating the bad one, I decided to just save the good one for later. There was no need for a direct comparison. “Smoke taint” is the phrase for when a wildfire's plumes inundate a vineyard so much that smoky compounds permeate the grapes, leaving slightly toasty to rather odd to downright disgusting smells and tastes in the finished wine. Thankfully, despite Santa Barbara County's penchant for wildfires, this is not something many vintners here have been forced to reckon with, due mostly the fortunate timing and distance of recent blazes. Thanks to climate change, though, smoke taint is now knocking on more cellar doors. In Santa Barbara wine country, it banged for a number of vineyards — and their grape-buying winery clients — when the Lake Fire erupted above Zaca Lake on July 5. By the time it was contained almost three weeks later, it had burned nearly 40,000 acres almost entirely across the Los Padres National Forest, and above thousands of acres of Santa Ynez Valley vineyards. Concerns arose at that time . The hope was that, because the fire came before the grapes went through veraison — a critical maturation point in which they turn color from green to gold or red — the impacts would be minimal. By and large, that appears to be true for most of Santa Barbara County, where the bulk of vineyards, from the Sta. Rita Hills to Happy Canyon, appear to have been adequately far from steady smoke. But as harvest went forward, it quickly became apparent that smoke problems did exist. The most public acknowledgement came on October 14 from Fess Parker Winery , which emailed its club members to say that the 2024 harvest from Rodney's Vineyard was negatively impacted by the Lake Fire. “Out of concern, we tested the various blocks extensively and many of them came back positive for high levels of smoke taint,” it read. “These results have led us to make the difficult decision to not harvest and produce wine from any of the red grape varietals grown on our estate vineyard this year. While this is terribly disappointing, we simply won't take the chance of compromising the quality of our estate programs under the Fess Parker and Epiphany labels.” The email went on to explain that the white grapes from Rodney's remained viable. It also emphasized that the winery's other sources of fruit, particularly for pinot noir and chardonnay in the Sta. Rita Hills, were not impacted at all. While smoke taint is relatively new for Santa Barbara vintners, the open acknowledgment of it was definitely cutting-edge for the industry at large. That email surprised many, and was quickly applauded by others. When I spoke to Fess Parker Winery's president Tim Snider a week after the email went out, he was pleased that they did it. “It seemed pretty obvious that we should share that outcome with people and especially our team,” he explained. “We wanted to make sure our team was prepared to properly answer questions as questions started to arise.” He always wanted to make sure everyone knew that it was a “localized” incident. “It's this single vineyard, but it's not affecting broad swaths of Santa Barbara County, and definitely not our chardonnay and pinot noir,” said Snider. “We were thoughtful in terms of how we were conveying the point.” Turning Tide winemaker Alisa Jacobson thought Fess Parker's admission was the right move. “It's better than being scared or hiding about it,” she said. “That's not gonna help.” Having founded the state's smoke taint task force — she was actually watching firefighters battle the Lake Fire above her Santa Ynez vineyards when I interviewed her for that story — Jacobson wants winemakers to be more forward-thinking when it comes to all things smoke taint. She openly talked about her concern for this vintage, how she treated her whites and rosés more gently so as to not extract bad compounds, and how she ran a number of “smoke buckets,” which are small fermentations to test for taint. “It was a learning experience, and people are still going to be learning,” she said. “It will be an ebb and flow of winemakers making decisions on what areas they feel like are more impacted.” Just because there's a little taint, it doesn't mean the lot is all bad. “It's something you can at least work with if you have the right tools and knowledge ahead of time,” said Jacobson, noting a large gray area in this analysis. “If you're able to be preventative, you're just fine.” Jacobson didn't take a massive hit herself. “Where I was getting fruit from was not that heavily impacted,” she said. Frequency's Wasserman, meanwhile, was not so lucky. He initially lost about 40 percent of his usual tonnage due to smoke taint at vineyards near the fire's epicenter. After looking at the map of the fire and seeing that some of his main sources were nearby, he was very much concerned, so drove past the closed road signs to see for himself. “It was toxic,” he reported. He started running fermentation tests as soon as the grapes had enough sugar, as the smoke compounds tend to release and show themselves when fermented. “People were telling me, ‘You're crazy, why are you testing?'” recalled Wasserman. “But I don't have investors or anything like that. If I don't make good wine, my daughter won't eat.” Immediately, the results came back high, and the reds he tested were worse. (Hence the mezcal-diaper sample.) He shared those results with each vineyard so that they could use the data in any insurance filings down the road. (Starting next year, vineyards will be able to enhance their policies with the new Fire Insurance Protection–Smoke Index, or FIP-SI, endorsement, which was introduced to growers statewide during a November 14 webinar The historic Zaca Mesa Vineyard was one such property, and Wasserman said they handled the complicated issue diplomatically. When I talked to the 125-acre estate's president Stewart Cushman, the only thing he really felt comfortable about saying publicly was, “We've experienced significant loss.” Wasserman is proud of how he approached the vintage for Frequency, but fears for others. “I spent a lot of money on the test results, but I saved a ton because I didn't bring in bad fruit,” he said. “There are gonna be wineries that have smoke taint who are oblivious to this problem. It's going to rise through the vintage.” Because he was proactive, Wasserman found enough fruit to produce nearly a full vintage, eventually buying grapes from other vineyards around the Santa Ynez Valley. Some sources were even as close to the fire as the Alisos Canyon appellation, revealing how narrow in scope the impacts may be after all. “I was ahead of the curve, and I was testing this before anyone was talking about it,” he said. “I hate anxiety. I tackle problems head-on. I sniff them out and find a solution.” Sat, Nov 16 10:00 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:30 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 3:00 PM Santa Barbara Sun, Nov 17 2:00 PM Goleta Sat, Nov 23 2:00 PM Santa Barbara Thu, Nov 28 12:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 6:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 9:00 PM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:00 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:30 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 3:00 PM Santa Barbara Sun, Nov 17 2:00 PM Goleta Sat, Nov 23 2:00 PM Santa Barbara Thu, Nov 28 12:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 6:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 9:00 PM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:00 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:30 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 3:00 PM Santa Barbara

The business climate is such that the creation of a wine country business improvement district is now gaining support. | Photo: Courtesy Could Santa Barbara County vintners better compete with more popular regions by imposing a miniscule charge on every bottle of wine they make and sell here? That's the hope behind a renewed push to add a one percent fee to Santa Barbara wines sold through tasting rooms countywide, which would generate money for regional marketing efforts through the creation of a business improvement district, or BID. “Right now, more than anything, wine regions need to market themselves,” explained Alison Laslett, the CEO of Santa Barbara County Vintners Association , which first put forth the idea more than four years ago. “After that nice little bump after COVID, the wine industry has not been flourishing as much as it might be if we had a robust marketing budget.” Last month, the County Board of Supervisors approved the petition in support of the effort, so Laslett and her team are now actively gathering signatures to proceed to the next of many steps. The “Wine Preserve” initiative — which failed due to winery opposition back in 2020, when it could have been the first wine BID in the country — requires the signed support of at least 50 percent of the “assessed industry” in order to create the district, which is estimated to generate more than $1.5 million for the association's marketing budget. There are a number of milestones and meetings to come before the BID becomes reality, and the move must be endorsed by each of the eight cities within the county. Laslett hopes to have enough support by one of the Board of Supervisor meetings in December to move onto the cities. That will be followed by a public hearing without any board action to be taken (aiming for January 2025) and then the meeting where the supervisors create the district, possibly as soon as February. If somehow all goes as planned, the district could become reality by March 2025. Of course, all that time leaves plenty of opportunity for opposition to arise, but Laslett believes the dissent is much more subdued today. “The whole tenor and tone has been much more civilized and calm,” said Laslett of this second attempt. That's especially since three other regions — Temecula, Livermore, and Amador County — have now approved wine BIDs, with others such as Paso Robles and Monterey coming soon. “The vintners understand that this is not a novel concept anymore,” she said. “They have been able to see it play out successfully.” One such vintner is Pierre LaBarge of LaBarge Winery . LaBarge opposed the original wine BID attempt but has since come around to being one of its most adamant proponents as the president of the Santa Barbara Vintners board. “I didn't even bother to read about the BID and I was just against it,” said LaBarge, who had been lobbied by winemaker friends that first time around. When it failed, he decided to learn more about the association by joining it. Suddenly, he was on the board and is now president. “It's easy to complain if you're standing on the sidelines, but you need to get involved to know what's really going on,” he said. “I got to really see what was going on behind the scenes and the success the association was having. It gave me a very different perspective.” He said that there was a lot of fear and misinformation spread around during the first attempt, in part because Santa Barbara would have been the first wine country in the state to pursue this model, which is otherwise a very common tool in travel regions and redevelopment districts. “We're not the guinea pigs anymore,” he said. “There have been appellations and counties that have passed this, and we have seen the success they've been having.” The Temecula Valley is probably enjoying the most success since passing their BID in April 2021. “We have all been able to see the benefits to Temecula,” said Laslett, who said the Riverside County region is now generating $1.7 million more for its association each year, which tripled its budget. “They have been able to increase their visitation at a time when visitation to other wine regions is decreasing. That correlates exactly to when they passed the BID.” With more regions pursuing this, it may come down to whether Santa Barbara County can stay competitive at all. “We're concerned about being passed up,” said LaBarge. “We deserve a strong and thriving association, and that's the one thing everyone can agree on. It's just a matter of how we can get there. We determined that this is the best way forward.” “Now I'm just trying not to get left behind,” said Laslett. “In order to stay competitive and in order to keep an edge, we have a little bit of time left where we can still be a frontrunner.” For more information, see sbcountywines.com/santa-barbara-county-wine-preserve Sat, Nov 16 10:00 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:30 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 3:00 PM Santa Barbara Sun, Nov 17 2:00 PM Goleta Sat, Nov 23 2:00 PM Santa Barbara Thu, Nov 28 12:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 6:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 9:00 PM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:00 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:30 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 3:00 PM Santa Barbara Sun, Nov 17 2:00 PM Goleta Sat, Nov 23 2:00 PM Santa Barbara Thu, Nov 28 12:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 6:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 7:30 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 8:00 PM Santa Barbara Fri, Nov 15 9:00 PM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:00 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 10:30 AM Santa Barbara Sat, Nov 16 3:00 PM Santa Barbara

This past summer, I drove up to the top of San Marcos Pass to taste fruits that I didn't know existed, identified by combinations of letters just as exotic as their shapes and flavors — itangatuba, guabiju, and guazumifolia, to name a few. This past Tuesday, I went back to try one specific fruit that grows right on the trunk of its tree: the jabuticaba, a dark purple, nearly black orb, the near-perfectly circular size of a massive grape. Wrapped in a tannic, lightly tart, and somewhat floral skin, the sweet, juicy, slightly tropical interior flesh surrounds a stubbornly gelatinous seed covering. Taken all at once — the bark-clinging balls; the complex pairing of sweet and sour and floral; the balancing act of varying textures — the jabuticaba (or jaboticaba, if you please) just may be the most interesting fruit I've ever tasted. But Tuesday's mission to see Santa Barbara's rare fruit tree man Kevin Reimer — who I wrote about here , and here , and even mentioned here — wasn't all about tasty things. As we wandered through the maze of trees sampling other ripe species, including his beloved cherry of the Rio Grande, Kevin told me that he was getting the boot from the rented home whose yard he's cultivated for the past 10 years. The second-generation owner is buying a home elsewhere, and he's now scrambling to find a place for himself, for his girlfriend who is a nurse, and for their hillside-worth of rare fruit trees that must be the most interesting edible garden in town. Kevin did put an offer in on the property where he lives, but what he can afford is a bit short of the asking price. Being acutely aware of the mountaintop property's existing concerns and future challenges, he's cautious to pay too much, knowing the work that's likely to be needed down the road. And committing to live even longer in a high fire zone atop the region's most dangerous road is enough to give everyone pause. I asked him if I could write about his plight and, given that he hasn't found the right option yet, Kevin obliged. He needs a place with ample land, but also a solid flow of well water, and it has to be temperate enough to keep the plants alive. The Santa Ynez Valley, for instance, with its frequent winter frosts, won't work. He's had some potential opportunities arise with fruit-interested property owners in Hollister Ranch and Hope Ranch, and had near misses on Mountain Road and Mission Canyon. It's still possible one of those may work out. The ideal situation would be a landowner seeking to use Kevin's services on their own fruit trees, or perhaps wanting to start a fascinating orchard of their own, whether that's coffee trees or sapote, guava or fig. (We tasted a bunch of the latter fruit on Tuesday, and they were wildly distinct and delicious.) Given how many large properties exist on the South Coast, it doesn't seem impossible that a little word-of-mouth magic might help find a home for this rare fruit wizard. Perhaps that will be at your friend's mountain pad that needs some TLC, or just in one of those pool homes behind a Montecito mansion that wouldn't mind a steadier presence on the property — and cool plants, of course. In the meantime, Reimer is also recovering from breaking his foot. I guessed that was due to downhill skateboarding, the sport in which he was a world champion and what initially led him to the top of the mountains. But it was just a freak accident that occurred while down the outside steps of his current home. That happened right after my September article came out, which had led to a number of calls for his services that he had to cancel or reschedule because he couldn't walk. Clearly, it hasn't been the easiest few months since I met Kevin, but maybe we can do our part to make sure that Santa Barbara's rare fruit man keeps up his sweet work. Olio e Limone Turns 25! One of the finest Italian establishments ever to call Santa Barbara home, Olio e Limone is celebrating its 25-year anniversary this year. I was a young cub reporter working in the Independent 's offices upstairs at Victoria Court when Olio took over a downstairs address, and I watched as Santa Barbara's epicureans, business lunchers, and other assorted well-dressed folks began clamoring for seats at the white-tableclothed tables. It took me a few years of self-polishing and palate-elevating to dine there myself. But I quickly became a fan, eating with dignitary-friends like Roger Durling and enjoying winemaker lunches, both intimate ones with vintners like John Falcone and larger group tastings featuring wines from across Italy. I've been an even more frequent visitor over the years to the casually inclined Olio Pizzeria and Olio Bottega (here was my 2021 intro to that sandwich & supplies spot I've also written about the Italian-sushi-minded Crudo Bar (back in 2014) and the short-lived, but Sicilian-super Bedda Mia on State Street (in 2022). But enough about me. To celebrate Olio e Limone, they're hosting a giveaway deal through their Instagram page that is selecting one random winner each week for those who like and comment on their posts. All of the details are here. Felice anniversario! (I hope Google Translate got that one right.) From Our Table Here are some of our food & drink stories you may have missed from the past couple weeks: After 36 years of keeping Carpinteria sweet, Robitaille's Fine Candies announced that they'll be closing this December , reports Ryan Cruz. In the wake of the presidential election, Crushcakes pledged to remain a safe space for all people, which fired up the ire of those who apparently don't like all people. Stephanie Gerson has the story. I wrote my story about Kristin Harris Luis and Nick Luis from Cote of Paint wines. TLDR: Pours & Scores coming back again in December! This isn't about food, but it's about something else close to my heart: the Channel Islands. I interviewed photographer Justin Fantl about his new book Santa Rosae

Lama Dog Tap Room and Sama Sama Kitchen form San Roque supergroup.