I think it was 2007 when I first decided I wanted to start a commercial winery. Well… I didn’t exactly decide—it was more of a foggy notion, the kind that comes after a couple glasses of something. What I did know for sure was that I wanted to learn everything I could about winemaking. So when the chance came up to attend the annual Washington Grape Growers Association conference in Richland, I didn’t hesitate. I packed a notebook, some enthusiasm, and tagged along with my friend and mentor, Joel McNelly—co-founder of Cowlitz County’s very first winery, Capstone Cellars.
It was a typical road trip to the Valley. One I enjoyed because it seems so different from the Westside. It was a special place rooted in agriculture where grapes grow like weeds and the sun always shines.
Joel had one thing on his mind: vendors. Cork reps, shiny new gadgets that promise to revolutionize fermentation, and that one guy peddling the “next big thing” in sulfite management. Joel wasn’t much for seminars or schmoozing. He liked to fly under the radar. But this time, someone handed him a ticket to a seminar titled: “What Makes a 100-Point Wine.”
He gave me a nod and disappeared into the crowd. I found a seat in the packed room because, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to know the secret sauce behind wine perfection?
Then came the dreaded break. “Say hello to the folks around you,” the moderator chirped.
Great.
Small talk with strangers is not my thing. I was a guest at an industry event, with no credentials, no vineyard, not even a laminated name badge. Just me, standing in a room full of sun-seasoned grape farmers from Walla Walla and Prosser, praying I wouldn’t be outed as a total imposter.
That’s when he walked up. A plainspoken, friendly guy in work jeans and a quiet presence—someone who looked more like a tractor salesman than a wine grower.
“Where you from?” he asked.
“Uh… Longview,” I said, bracing for the look that says “Where’s that?”
Instead, he lit up. “I know Longview! Our family takes Highway 30 to Westport every summer for vacation. Stop off there to grab gas and snacks.”
Phew. Crisis averted. Credability still intact.
Then he asked, “So, what brings you to the conference?”
I gave him my best humble shrug. “I’m an amateur winemaker. Just hoping to learn something.”
Apparently, that was the magic password.
His name was Mike Sauer.
Now, if you’re in the wine world, that name might make your heart skip a beat. At the time, I just thought, “Nice guy”.
Turns out Mike was the Mike Sauer of Red Willow Vineyard in Wapato. He along with the legendary David Lake of Columbia Winery was responsible for planting the first Syrah in Washington. And he didn’t stop there. He helped pioneer the planting of Italian varietals in Yakima long before it was cool.
But none of that came up in our chat. What did come up? Dolcetto. Mike casually mentioned he had some Dolcetto grapes available and wondered if I’d be interested.
I didn't even know what Dolcetto was. It sounded foreign like Spanish. But I looked him in the eye, smiled, and said, “Sure. Why not?”
We shook hands, and in that moment, I didn’t just feel like I’d made a grape purchase—I felt like I belonged.
After the seminar, I found Joel on the other side of the room and told him about the guy I sat next to. “Really nice guy. Said he had some grapes.”
Joel raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Mike Sauer.”
His jaw droped. “Do you know who that is?!”
I did not.
So Joel gave me the crash course on Red Willow, their near-mythic status, and Mike’s place in the pantheon of Washington wine. I shrugged , half-expecting the whole thing was a fluke and I’d never hear from Mike again.
But then, a few weeks later, the phone rang.
