Patisserie du Soleil
It’s a bakery, a coffee shop, a fine breakfast-lunch-and-early dinner cafe and a great community meeting spot.

Imagine a world without addresses. Despite the somewhat-sizable proportion of the planet’s male inhabitants who embrace the notion of vague directions — as in, turn right past the big oak tree, or turn left three blocks north of town — most other clear-thinking people cannot fathom a world without street addresses, maps or the ever-precise GPS coordinates. How would we ever find anything?
Now, think wine.
Since almost every wine worth drinking comes from somewhere, it only makes sense its label accurately reflects that address. We mention this now because appellations, designated viticultural areas (DVAs) and place names have begun to become an issue in British Columbia’s Okanagan Valley.
It has been 30 years since the first estate wineries opened in the Okanagan, yet, for some reason, the 200-kilometre-long valley remains a single, undifferentiated region as far as wine-label terminology is concerned.
I’ve heard the arguments in favour of this, most of which begin with, “The consumer doesn’t need to be confused by such esoteric information as the origin of a wine.” But I’m not buying it, figuratively or literally, and neither should you, especially if the price is $50.
Ironically, the biggest-selling, most-sought-after import wine bargains are often in the $10-to-$12 range, and most if not all of them come from an approved appellation or sub-appellation that consumers can take note of, or not. The point is money and geography are not mutually exclusive.
That said, the chance of me spending $50 for such Okanagan Valley wines as Nota Bene, Oculus or any Le Vieux Pin label is slim when no other geographical information is provided.
In response to what I’m sure are many other same-thinking wine buyers, two Okanagan Valley “sub-regions” (my descriptor, not theirs), are frantically trying to pull together the necessary information to launch the valley’s first subdivisions.
Just east and north of the city of Penticton lies the geographically well-defined Naramata Bench, which is home to scores of vineyards and at least a couple of dozen wineries. The word “bench” is money in the bank in the wine business, so bet on this sub-region being one of the first to appear on British Columbia wine labels, perhaps as early as this year.
Similarly, south of Penticton, the Skaha Bench rises along the east side of Skaha Lake, offering yet another well-defined piece of dirt that has sub-appellation written all over it, should the handful of producers and growers there get their act in gear.
Much further along the accreditation process are the growers and wineries of Golden Mile Bench, a spectacular-looking hanging plateau that is made up of a series of well-defined alluvial fans just south and west of the town of Oliver. Here you can almost imagine a Burgundian patchwork quilt of vineyards, some dotted with wineries that could easily qualify as a sub-region based on site and soil.
Rumour has it producers in Naramata and along the Golden Mile are locked in a race to be the first to launch an Okanagan Valley sub-appellation.
My thought is, why compete over this? Why not release the subs together and enrich a story whose time is long overdue? As the valley continues to mature and growers come to know every square inch of their vineyards, it will not be long before our patchwork of sites are described with same reverence given the great clos (meaning “enclosed vineyard”) of Burgundy, thought to be already growing when the Romans arrived in 51 BC.
In the meantime, here’s a shopping list of some of the Okanagan’s best sub-appellation wines that do not yet appear on any labels.
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