Diamond Creek: Ash, Gravel, Iron—Amen. How Al & Boots Brounstein bottled a mountain’s geology and taught Napa to speak in single vineyards.

1) “Picture this: a suitcase of cuttings and a mountain of conviction.”

Drive the switchbacks up Diamond Mountain and the air cools, the light slants, and the dirt changes color like a mood ring. In 1968, Al Brounstein and his partner in life and audacity, Boots, bought a wild, rocky property high above Calistoga. The plan wasn’t to make a Napa Cabernet. It was to bottle three distinct pieces of earth—no safety blend, no soft-focus filter. Al had hustled Bordeaux cuttings, studied exposures, and staked the ranch on a heresy for the time: terroir-first Cabernet in separate bottlings.

First release: 1972. The labels read like a field notebook, not a brand campaign. Napa hadn’t seen anything like it.

2) The Three Crus (and the Unicorn)

Diamond Creek isn’t one vineyard; it’s a mini parliament of soils carved by old eruptions and ancient streams. Each parcel sits within a few hundred yards of the others, yet the wines behave like cousins who grew up in different countries.

• Volcanic Hill — ~8 acres of pale, ashy tuff. The powerhouse. Dense black fruit, graphite, and a volcanic hum that takes years to find its inside voice.
• Red Rock Terrace — ~7 acres of iron-rich, brick-red soils on cascading terraces. The charmer. Dark cherry, warm spice, plush mid-palate; often shows first without ever losing its core.
• Gravelly Meadow — ~5 acres on an ancient riverbed. The minimalist poet. Fast-draining gravel forces tiny berries and fine, filigreed tannin; cool, minty edges and long, stony finishes.
• Lake — a ¾-acre sliver near a pond; bottled only in great years. The unicorn. Imagine the precision of Gravelly with a Volcanic Hill engine—then cut the production to a whisper.

Same hillside, four dialects. That’s the Diamond Creek trick.

3) Winemaking, the Diamond Creek way

From the start, the approach was site translation over cellar theatrics. Cabernet Sauvignon dominates (with trace Bordeaux varieties appearing now and then, depending on the year). Fermentation is small-lot and surgical; élevage leans French oak but never to the point of perfume. You’ll see 18–24 months in barrel, bottling without fining or filtration when texture says “now.” The goal is not gloss—it’s clarity.

Open a young bottle and you’ll swear the tannins lifted weights. Give it a decade and you learn what the Brounsteins were really aging: your patience.

4) People who kept the flame

• Al & Boots Brounstein — Founders, evangelists, terroir translators. Al passed in 2006; Boots carried the torch with grace and steel until 2019.
• Phil Steinschriber — Longtime winemaker from the early 1990s through the 2010s, known for steady hands and exacting picks.
• The modern era — In 2020, the estate joined the Roederer family, bringing resources for replanting, precision mapping, and fire-smart infrastructure—without changing the mountain’s accent.

5) What the bottles actually taste like (Liber’s crib sheet)

• Volcanic Hill: The baritone. Blackberry liqueur, espresso, hot stone, a graphite trail; architecture first, charm later. Best with time or rib-eye.
• Red Rock Terrace: The crooner. Dark cherry, cocoa, warm iron; tannins like suede—luxurious yet structured. Steak frites or roast duck and you’re done.
• Gravelly Meadow: The architect. Redcurrant, mint, tobacco leaf; razor-line acidity, gravel dust, a finish that drifts. Lamb chops, rosemary, silence.
• Lake: The encore. Imagine the precision of Gravelly with the depth of Volcanic. If you see it, don’t blink.

6) Why Diamond Creek matters (beyond the label)

In the early 1970s, Napa mostly spoke in broad strokes—“Napa Cab” as a singular idea. Diamond Creek insisted on micro-identity three decades before the valley fell in love with single-vineyard storytelling. They proved that exposure, soil grain, and drainage could change a wine more than clone choice or barrel recipe. That thesis rippled across the valley, reshaping how collectors buy, how sommeliers list, and how winemakers think.

7) Milestones, poured like a flight

• 1968 — Land acquired on Diamond Mountain; vineyard mapping begins.
• 1972 — Debut single-vineyard releases of Red Rock Terrace, Gravelly Meadow, and Volcanic Hill.
• 1978–1985 — Epoch vintages cement the estate’s reputation for longevity.
• 1991–2010s — Steinschriber era: meticulous farming, surgical picks, consistency through droughts and booms.
• 2006 — Al passes; Boots leads, safeguarding style and soul.
• 2019–2020 — Passing of Boots; estate enters a new chapter with Roederer stewardship, vineyard renewals, and resilience upgrades.

8) How to collect (without losing your mind)

1. Think verticals by site, not horizontal by vintage. The education lies in watching a single soil age across seasons.
2. Cellar windows are wide. Great years start singing at 10–12, hit stride at 15–25, and have the legs to go beyond.
3. Food is an instrument. Volcanic Hill loves fat and char; Gravelly Meadow thrives with herb and acid; Red Rock Terrace is the diplomat at most tables.

9) Final swirl

Diamond Creek is the rare Napa story where the brand is geology and the marketing is time. Al and Boots didn’t chase trends; they chased truth in place and let the mountain speak. Today the labels still read like a map, the wines still argue like siblings at a reunion, and the best bottles feel less like trophies and more like proof—that three soils on one slope can change everything you think you know about Cabernet.

Ash, gravel, iron—amen.