The Sta. Rita Hills: Wine & People of the Wild West

BY BRENNA RITCHEY | SEPTEMBER 16, 2020

“It’s been a great year for turkey vultures,” Michael Benedict told me as we carved our way through the rough, wind-beaten slopes of the southwestern edge of the Sta. Rita Hills appellation. Moments earlier, an enormous dark-feathered bird had silently glided past the car’s windshield, ducking so low I wondered if he’d dive right into us.

“Why is that?” I asked him.

“Because it’s been a great year for rodents.”

“Why is that?” I pressed.

“Because it’s been a beautiful year of rainfall.” One of the best years ever, he told me, with temperatures in Santa Barbara staying cool during the day, rains perfectly spaced apart, and too-hot days few and far between. He’d sounded giddy about this year’s harvest - still several months away, but already a promising one.

“You’re asking all the right questions,” he added. “That’s good. Keep asking.”

What I’d really wanted to ask him was, “Are you sure you can tell the difference between a pterodactyl and a bird?” But those were probably not what he meant by the right questions.

So far, I’d spent the day playing front-seat copilot to Benedict as we traversed our way through the Sta. Rita Hills, the westernmost wine-growing AVA (American Viticultural Area) of Santa Barbara. A Mecca for cool-climate Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, the area is one of the most interesting AVAs in California, impossibly diverse and richly storied. Benedict is a glimpse into it all. His knowledge is sweeping, the result of a love story with the Sta. Rita Hills that began nearly half a century ago, long before the appellation ever was.

My love story with the Sta. Rita Hills isn’t nearly as long (I’ve only been drinking its wines for a couple years now). But names like Brewer-Clifton, Sanford, Au Bon Climat - those were labels I grew up seeing my parents enjoy in the 1990s and early 2000s, my 9-year-old eyes level with the kitchen countertop as I peered across it at their untouchable bottles. And so the Sta. Rita Hills have marked bits and pieces of my childhood memory. Driving up from my home in downtown Santa Barbara to meet Michael Benedict there felt a bit like a pilgrimage.

Better understanding the Sta. Rita Hills appellation has been a project of mine for a while now (before a certain global pandemic threw a very heavy, very rusted wrench in those plans). My postgrad job working at a local tasting room in Santa Barbara had convinced me that I knew next to nothing about the wheres and whens and whos of the wines I was selling. The Sta. Rita Hills appellation - already significant to my 9-year-old understanding of wine, remember - seemed like a good place to start.

Historic vineyards at Sanford Winery. Mt. Carmel, one of the highest points in the appellation, rises in the distance, with Sea Smoke vineyards along the slopes beneath it.

Sanford & Benedict: the Birth of Sta. Rita Hills