These days the Napa Valley is known for luxury. Rich, silky-smooth Cabernet Sauvignon made in state-of-the-art facilities, sampled in regal tasting rooms reminiscent of the Disneyland castle. But it wasn’t always like this for America’s most renowned wine region. In 1976, this then-backwater valley famously won the Judgement of Paris. Steven Spurrier pitted Napa Valley wines against the best from France for a panel of professional French tasters, and, as we all know, the upstart Californians won. 

Back then, the style was modeled on Bordeaux and Burgundy. Winemakers didn’t use much (or any) new oak, and wines tended toward acidic, tannic, and savory. But they did have the secret sauce of California sunshine, making them far more giving in their youth, more consistent vintage to vintage, and giving them the concentration to mature for decades. 

Those winning wines bear little resemblance to today’s most popular bottles, and that style has become a rarity. But that style never fully disappeared: you just have to know where to look. And there is more to look forward to as a new generation of winemakers take their cues from these wines and—potentially—chart a new path forward for Napa as California wine sales sink. 

These five wineries have much in common. They’re all firmly in the old-school Napa style; they all make at least two Cabernet Sauvignons; they all are family owned and their wines are priced fairly: even top wines cost less than $200. (That is, of course, not cheap, but space does not permit a discussion of the brutal economics of winemaking in Napa.) Their best wines can age for decades, or be enjoyed upon release. Most importantly, all are a true reflection of where they come from and the people who made them.

Smith-Madrone Vineyards

My first sip of a Smith-Madrone Cabernet Sauvignon—the 2014 vintage— had me so confused: how was this from California? It had exceptional purity, was lean and complex and oh-so-delicious: bright red and purple fruit, lavender, spice, violets, olives, and graphite, a finish that wouldn’t quit. I was doubly confused by the pricing: Napa Cab for $60?! (Its current release—2019—is $72, which is still a crazy deal.) 

Even more confounding: Smith-Madrone is primarily famous for its Riesling! Before Cabernet was king, many of the first European settlers in the valley were German (Krug, Schramsberg, Beringer, etc.) and planted Riesling. When Stuart Smith and his brother Charles founded Smith-Madrone in 1971 atop Spring Mountain, they kept that tradition alive.

Not much has changed up on that mountaintop since. Stuart has always been a farmer first, as well as an avid advocate of dry farming, no tilling, and protecting the surrounding forest. (There are even a few redwoods there.) Cellar work is minimal; the grapes do the hard work of resting in 55 percent new French oak for 18 months. Bottled wines are then held back another 2-3 years for release. While I certainly enjoy their steely, lime-tinged, ultra-dry Riesling, their Cabernet remains one of Napa’s best-kept secrets.

Dunn Vineyards

Dunn is not a “best-kept secret” sort of winery, since it’s sold out every vintage since their first release in 1979. But by refusing to kowtow to trends they’ve remained a stalwart classic. 

Randy Dunn was at UC Davis for an entomology degree, when he got sidetracked by the wine bug (sorry). In 1978 he and wife Lori purchased their Howell Mountain property, after he realized he could do something special within its unique viticultural conditions. The wines were a hit. He’d sell them on his lunch breaks at his day job—which was a problem, since his day job was head winemaker at Caymus. Soon enough he left, and Dunn Vineyards became his sole focus.  

In 1989 he and Lori dug into the hillside to create 6,000 square feet of caves for their barrels, which naturally keep temperatures at a steady 57 degrees amid eye-popping (or perhaps eye-watering) 98 percent humidity. Apparently this allows for a greater evaporation of alcohol, than water, from the wine. 

(I’d never heard of this before, but apparently these conditions actually allow for a little known phenomenon—check out this abstract from Harvard for a quick primer.) After 32 months in barrel, which is more than a year longer than Dunn’s peers in Napa, the ABV can be lowered by as much as a full percentage point. This keeps the wines below 14 percent, a standard that the estate adheres to ferociously.

When stepson Mike took over winemaking in 1999, he discovered the older barrels harbored a Brettanomyces bloom, which imparts a divisive flavor (to put it gently) and was partially responsible for the wines’ reputation of needing 20 to 30 years to come around. He cleaned up the cellar, transitioned to 100 percent new French oak, dialed back the toast, and invested in higher quality barrels, all of which added complexity and finesse.

Mike’s son Alex has taken over vineyard management. (Randy is now the family tinkerer.) While Dunn Vineyards eschews the USDA’s overpriced organic certification—which starts at $40,000—its methods under Alex go several steps further, encompassing cover cropping, crimping, no and low till, drastically reduced irrigation, sheep for weeding and fertilizing, and many other moves toward sustainability.

I’ve tasted and loved every release of Dunn’s Napa Valley and Howell Mountain wines since 2014, including the current release, which is 2019 and goes for $125 and $189 respectively. If you enjoy a younger Cabernet Sauvignon you can crack them open today, alongside a good steak to tame the tannins. If you prefer Cabernet with age, I’d give the former another 5 years and the latter 15 years, so that its complexity can shine.

Dunn’s prices have crept up in recent years. But they’ve long been underpriced for their quality—this is one of America’s greatest wineries— and the pricing also reflects the (pricey) commitment to increasingly environmentally conscious farming practices. The Howell Mountain is especially worth it: 100 percent estate fruit, with a taut structure, singing aromatics, and an unmatched purity. In terms of longevity: I was blinded on a 1986 last year and swore it couldn’t be more than 15 years old. It’s the best Napa Cabernet under $200. 

Ramey Cellars

Technically this is a Sonoma-based winery, but their $75 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon demands to be included on this list. The quality and old-world style shouldn't come as a surprise: David Ramey was the original head winemaker of Dominus and worked in Bordeaux twice, including a stint at Château Pétrus.

Ramey had a passion for Chardonnay, but Christian Moueix insisted on keeping Dominus as a red-only project. So Ramey Cellars was born. The Cabernet came later, but it's one of the lightest, most elegant versions in the valley. It spends 30 months in 55 percent new French oak and has a far more tannic structure, for a delightful texture, than most. 

They aren’t released until they are ready to be drunk. 2018 is the current vintage, and while it’s ready now, it has enough stuffing to continue to develop for another few decades. It's not a perfect replacement for Dominus, but at a quarter of the price it's one I can afford to enjoy.

David’s kids Claire and Alan are now running things, and I can’t help but think their influence is why these wines have risen to the next level. I’d be remiss not to mention the quality of their Sonoma Chardonnays (all are absolutely singing), North Coast Claret (an airy blend of Cabernet, Syrah, Malbec, Petit Verdot, Merlot, Cabernet Franc—and nearly the last of its kind in California), and Sonoma Coast Syrah (a real winemaker's wine; with typical Cornas aromatics—smoked bacon, olive, and violet—and a levity missing from some of the more recent French vintages). 

Matthiasson

Steve Matthiasson is the godfather of California sustainable viticulture—a vigneron, mentor, consultant, and the face of New California for the last 20 years. He and his wife Jill, a farmer and gardener in her own right, not only make some of the greatest wines Napa has ever known, they have perhaps the most diverse range of bottlings in the valley.

All three Cabernets are excellent, with a baseline of elegance. The 2020 Napa Valley (don’t worry about smoke taint, they harvested everything before the fires rolled in) is a Pauillac knockoff, with sweet cherry, mint, and graphite, clocking in at 13.5 percent abv and a reasonable $85. Dead Fred ($95) comes from vines grown on volcanic soil, with a mineral core atop black fruits. The Phoenix ($129) is sourced from grapes grown on a patch of shale—rare for Napa—which lends the wines a spicy red fruit profile and very high acidity. The 2021s are just about to hit the market: they needed more time in barrel, so they got them.

But what put Matthiasson on the map is his singular Napa Valley White ($45), a blend of Sauvignon Blanc, Ribolla Gialla, Semillon, and Tocai Friulano. It still slaps every vintage. 

My recent favorites are his Chardonnays, both Linda Vista ($35) and Michael Mara Sonoma Coast ($80), which I consider some of the best in their price range outside of Burgundy. And a very un-Napa like Pinot Meunier (think Bouland Morgon meets Burlotto Pelaverga), a Sauvignon Blanc and Semillon blend (better than 99 percent of Bordeaux versions), and a GSM blend (which is, sadly, only available to wine club members, but unsurprisingly those varieties do very well in California’s Mediterranean climate). 

Steve co-wrote a groundbreaking manual on sustainable vineyard practices, and his day job is consulting for the best vineyards up and down the valley. After meeting Mimi Casteel, a pioneer of the regenerative agriculture movement, he realized he wasn’t doing enough to combat climate change with his farming. So he’s made additional adjustments, despite the significant cost. 

His commitment to sustainability goes beyond the vines, too. All his staff are full-time, year-round employees, with benefits and insurance—a staggeringly expensive investment. But it consistently results in fruit farmed to perfection, a talented team in the cellar, and wines that are unlike any others in Napa. It's a miracle he’s been able to keep his prices where they are.

Di Costanzo

The new kids who are primed to be Napa’s next superstars. Massimo Di Costanzo garnered experience working around the world and at Napa’s most famous addresses, including Ovid and Screaming Eagle. Erin, his wife and a certified sommelier, was beverage director at Press, the St. Helena landmark that boasts the largest restaurant collection of Napa wines in the world. Their first release was in 2010, with 100 cases of Farella Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon.

Their ethos is pretty straightforward: they want to drink savory, structured, elegant, and balanced wines, and they only make wines they want to drink. That is a lot harder than it sounds, especially given that starting a winery in Napa these days is about as expensive a proposition as there is in wine.

The Di Costanzos have been incredibly particular, and more than a little lucky, when it comes to purchasing fruit from cooler vineyards. They don’t own any land but are able to farm rented plots themselves, giving them greater control over their finished product. The wines not only show a real sense of place, but also vintage. Harvest dates are decided by their palates and analytics, thanks to the chemistry set they keep on their kitchen table. 

If Matthiasson’s Napa Valley is Pauillac, cherry toned and tannic, then Di Costanzo’s Caldwell Vineyard is Margaux: blue-fruited, with super sensuous mouthfeel. The 2021 ($129) distills Cabernet’s strengths: velvety tannins, high acidity, and layers of plum, cassis, mineral, stone, and tobacco. I can’t wait to drink one a few decades from now. 

There are two more single vineyard wines: Montecillo (technically Sonoma, but on the ridge line dividing the two) and Charlie Smith, each with a unique mineral and structural signature.

DiCo is their only vineyard blend, from grippy fruit on Mount Veeder and silkier fruit from an Oak Knoll vineyard on the valley floor. This is what to drink while you wait for the single vineyards. Plush without being flat or sweet, it's got lots of juicy plum, spicy red fruit, and graphite.

The purity, complexity, and accessibility of these wines would be astounding from any estate, much less one this new. If this is the direction the valley is headed, we’ll all have much more interesting Napa wine to drink in the future. 

And if Erin and Massimo are the last of their kind? All the more reason to drink up.