By Peter Vetsch
[This bottle was provided as a sample for review purposes.]

A rare sighting.
The $25 California Cabernet Sauvignon is an endangered species nowadays; once a stalwart gateway drug for luring novice wine drinkers into a lifetime of vinous enlightenment, it has now been superseded in that endeavour by numerous other New World crowd-pleasers that are managing to offer similarly accessible and overt pleasure at wallet-friendlier prices. The combination of rising land costs, fire- and drought-inspired production difficulties and the utter shredding of the Canadian dollar as compared to the US greenback on world currency markets has more or less eliminated California as a source of solid value wine in our market. Buena Vista Winery is trying to change that, but with this series of factors arrayed against it, it’s fighting an uphill battle.
I have previously written about the remarkable, riotous, barely credible but actually true history of Buena Vista, the proud owner of the label “first commercial winery in California”. It is well worth refreshing your memory about, but the Coles Notes version must at least mention: (1) Agoston Haraszthy, who may have been the first Hungarian to emigrate to the United States, who founded the winery and who essentially crammed six lifetimes of zaniness and adventure into one shortened 19th century thrill ride; (2) 1857, the year Haraszthy founded Buena Vista, part of a major ambition to establish high-quality vitis vinifera grapes in hospitable California soils; (3) Nicaragua, where Haraszthy fled barely a decade after Buena Vista was first established, with angry and misled company investors potentially at his heels; and (4) alligators, which apparently ate him there. Never a dull moment at Buena Vista in the 1850s and 60s. Read the rest of this entry »





Sometimes you have to force seasonal drinking posts, and other times the season and the drinks just fall right into your lap. Stampede is here in Calgary, the thermometer has just recently clocked over 30C, and we’re well-ensconced into July, which turns my sample pile ponderings to thoughts of whatever I can chill for refreshment most effectively. After landing on an ideal trio of bottles that achieved that lofty goal, I noticed something odd that bound them together: they have all at one time or another previously graced the pages of Pop & Pour. Even though the blog is now 7½ years old and counting, that basically never happens. Sometimes summer is just meant to be. Game on.








Close-following Pop & Pour adherents (if such things exist) will have been waiting for this moment for a couple of months. In my last write-up about 


