Ketan Mody is a sort of modern-day Thoreau. He's 31 and lives in a one-room cabin on the top of Diamond Mountain that he built from the ground up. His sentences are coated in transcendentalist residue, made modern by his Midwestern-tinged California drawl and affection for the f-word. He's a representative of a new Napa Valley; that cabin sits on a piece of land that he will begin planting to Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc next year, to supply his Jasud Estate label.
On a recent trip to the Napa Valley, I ended up at a small gathering at Mody's cabin with a number of young people working in the wine industry in Napa, including Dan Ricciato, 34, the assistant winemaker at Outpost on Howell Mountain, and Christina Turley, 28, responsible for branding and marketing at her family's winery, Turley, and a new Turley Cabernet project called The Label.
Napa, in my eyes, hasn't always embodied the sort of raw enthusiasm and sense of possibility that's drawn me to other regions around the world. Part of that is my own prejudice, certainly. When I first got into wine, the thought of Napa Valley conjured images of middle-aged men and women wearing linen and sipping oaky Chardonnay on a veranda. It didn't carry with it the sort of edgy, counter-cultural allure of some of Europe's less-trodden regions. It was, to be frank, uncool.
But that's changed. I've changed. Napa has changed. I've never felt quite as inspired by this region as I am today. And it turns out I am not alone.
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