At La Rochelle Winery, what ends up in your glass is no accident. For Chuck, the winemaker behind the label, it begins with the vineyard—its soil, climate, clones, and the skill of those who tend it. “The vineyard defines what’s possible,” he says. “My job is to reveal that potential.” This idea—accentuating the flavor of place—guides every decision at La Rochelle. And while the philosophy may sound simple, the execution is anything but. Chuck is quick to strip away marketing fluff in favor of real talk: there are wines made for instant pleasure, and then there are wines that reward patience. La Rochelle’s focus is firmly on the latter—age-worthy, complex wines sourced from some of California’s most exceptional sites. In this conversation with Delivery Rank, Chuck shares what it means to make wine with intention, and why honoring a vineyard’s voice is both an art and a responsibility.
When I first purchased the winery, I felt we might’ve gone overboard with single-vineyard Pinot Noirs—we were making sixteen at the time. I considered narrowing the portfolio, and one of the first vineyards I thought about cutting was the Lester Family Vineyard in the Santa Cruz Mountains. If you asked 100 devoted Pinot lovers where California’s best Pinot comes from, very few would mention the Santa Cruz Mountains—not because the region lacks quality, but because it’s so diverse that it’s not known for any one varietal. Other areas like Russian River, Carneros, and Anderson Valley are much more focused and well known for Pinot.
Still, I drove down to Corralitos to visit the vineyard. That’s where I met Prudy Foxx—one of the most respected vineyard managers in California, if not North America. We walked the rows together. She showed me the different clones, vine orientations, and explained her farming philosophy. And honestly, I was floored. The vineyard sits just four miles from the ocean, nestled into a hillside with an almost spiritual presence. Prudy’s knowledge and ability to read the site, then fine-tune it with the right rootstock, clones, and farming practices, was masterful.
People forget… terroir isn’t just dirt and location. That’s the foundation. It also takes a kind of vineyard whisperer—someone with both science and intuition—to coax and capture the full personality of a place.
I came home after that visit still unsure. I didn’t know if our members really understood the significance of the place. That night, I opened a bottle of our Lester Family Vineyard Pinot from an earlier vintage. As soon as I pulled the cork, the scent took me right back there—I could smell the damp soil, the pine and bay trees from the hillside and a distinct ocean breeze, a . It was all in the glass. That moment changed everything for me.
People throw around the word “terroir,” but to me, it’s not just a romantic concept. It’s real. A vineyard can produce flavors and textures that exist nowhere else. But capturing that takes a true partnership—between nature, the vineyard team, and the winemaker. I don’t think of it as "minimal intervention." Without intervention, you’d end up with raisins on the ground. It’s more like stewardship—working with what nature gives you each year, and making decisions that help the vineyard speak in its clearest voice.
That night, after tasting the wine, a friend told me I sounded like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams. “We’re not selling the farm,” he said. And he was right. I had never tasted a wine that so powerfully expressed a place. Lester Vineyard taught me that personality and soul can come through—if you listen carefully and work with people like Prudy, and Steve and Lori Johnson, the stewards of the Lester Family Vineyard, who love and protect the land.
You’re right—La Rochelle, and really all wine, is about connection and enhancing people’s lives.
I believe that when people develop their skills of appreciation and combine that with a desire to contribute and share with others, wine finds its most noble and highest purpose.
When that lightbulb goes on—when folks discover how much the ability to appreciate can change their lives and the lives around them—that’s why we do what we do.
One of my favorite stories involves a couple from Oklahoma who won a trip to wine country through a charity auction. They arrived with almost no background in wine—they weren’t sure if Pinot Noir and Chardonnay were grape varieties, let alone how to open the bottle. But they were curious, and they came with open hearts.
They had signed up for our most in-depth experience—the Polyphony Tasting. It’s technical, layered, and typically designed for serious enthusiasts. We start by tasting three wines made from the same fruit but fermented with different yeasts. Then three more wines—all different clones from a single vineyard. After that, we blend and taste our reserve wines, and finish with our flagship Pinot called “Polyphony.”
It was like sending two first-graders into a graduate-level physics class—and they were all in. They asked a million questions, stayed engaged, and by the end, something had shifted. They weren’t just sipping wine—they were starting a relationship with it.
About a year later, I got an email from a wine blogger in Oklahoma. It was the husband. They’d fallen head over heels into the world of wine. They were exploring wines from all over the world, writing pairing notes, debating decanting times, and sharing their enthusiasm with others.
Disciples is what they had become. Not critics—that’s different. Disciples can’t hold back their enthusiasm. It’s just—“Oh my goodness… this is amazing… you’ve got to check this out!” To me, that’s what appreciation looks like.
That’s what this is about. It’s not about memorizing clones or oak percentages. It’s about falling in love with the experience—like a kid tasting ice cream for the first time and wanting to tell everyone they know. That couple reminded me that our greatest job in this industry isn’t to impress people—it’s to make them feel comfortable enough to dive in and discover their own joy.
Today’s challenges are our biggest opportunity. Why wine? Why now?
The first major issue that wine can help solve today is creating space for personal connection—a time to stop, step away from the noise, to gather with loved ones, and engage those powers of appreciation. If those skills aren’t developed yet, there’s no better place to start than around a table—sharing wine, food, and direct human conversation. Wine puts a bow on the entire experience and just adds more depth to the appreciation factor.
The second half of this answer is just as important: the industry—wineries, marketers, sommeliers, everyone who promotes or sells wine—should start talking more about how wine enhances our lives. We need to step back from the obsession with scores and descriptors like “cherries” or “forest floor,” and lean into how wine can be used and shared to spread joy and connection.
We’re in a tough reset right now as an industry. But I believe this could be our finest hour—if we choose to focus on the deeper meaning behind wine. If we help people remember that wine isn’t just a product. It’s a moment. It’s a practice. Wine has the power to bring us back to what matters most.
Wine marketing has trained people to think of winemaking as something that happens in the cellar. But the truth is, no one can “make” wine in the way that word suggests. All the potential for greatness—true emotional connection, depth, and longevity—is born in the vineyard.
At the winery, we don’t follow a recipe. You can’t predict a wine’s soul by reading numbers on a spec sheet—23 brix, malolactic fermentation, 20% new oak. That tells you almost nothing about whether the wine will move you.
What we do is nurture. It’s a partnership—with nature, with the vineyard crew, with the season. And perhaps the most overlooked player in all of this is time. Time is the greatest winemaker of all.
In the U.S., we often prioritize bold flavors and instant gratification. But subtlety, grace, and evolution—that comes with age. Some of the most profound wines I’ve tasted didn’t shout. They whispered. They took years to find their voice.
I think there’s an incredible opportunity for wine lovers to rethink their cellars—not just by varietal, but by age and by the journey a wine is capable of taking. Because time… time changes everything. Wine is the ultimate slow food.
At La Rochelle, we don’t do fast. The winery traces its roots to the Mirassou family in 1854. Our wine club began in 1963. We make Chardonnays that age 10 to 15 years, and Pinots that can age 20, 30, sometimes 40 years.
In a world obsessed with shortcuts, we are the slowest food of all.
Take extended maceration, for example. Because we work with very cool-climate sites, our grapes reach full physiological ripeness—mature skins, ripe seeds, fully developed flavors—while maintaining beautiful acidity. That balance allows us to keep the wine on the skins long after fermentation is complete—sometimes for 4, 6, even up to 12 weeks.
It’s not easy. Each day, the wine extracts more tannin from the skins and seeds, and it becomes incredibly tannic—it reaches a point that’s almost uncomfortable. But then, like a tide turning, the aggressive tannins fall away. When the wine becomes supersaturated with tannin—too much to stay in solution—the most reactive tannins combine and settle out. Or, they remain in solution and add body. What’s left is a wine that’s mouthfilling but soft, elegant, complete—and incredibly age-worthy.
That transformation is only possible when you start with great fruit and give it time. The acidity from those cool sites holds everything together, creating a structure built for longevity.
This is the holy trinity for wines that age: physical ripeness, mature tannins, and bright acidity. There’s no trend or shortcut that can replicate that. You can’t rush a wine that’s meant to last decades.
To read more about La Rochelle Winery, please visit https://www.lrwine.com/