A lot of wine comes out of Oliver, but the major players take many forms.

These labels don’t have their own real estate, but people snap them up anyway

The post office building in Oliver, B.C.—“Canada’s wine capital”, according to the welcome sign on the outskirts of town—has to be one of the world’s major architectural marvels. Inside this unprepossessing structure, in the middle of town a couple blocks up from Highway 97, you can find at least 10 different wineries!

And yes, you can get inside them all—if you have the keys, which are your standard-issue postbox keys. Which are held by Sawmill Creek and Ganton & Larsen Prospect Winery, Sola-Nero and Copper Moon, and a bunch more, which in turn are held by Vincor and Peller and “Artisan Wine Company” and “Roundpetal Wines”.

These are “virtual wineries”, and you see their many products in all the B.C. LDB stores, but not in any winery tasting rooms. It was on one of those midday talk shows where people phone in with questions—on plants, food, booze, traffic, whatever—where I was guesting that the call came: “I’ve been drinking some Okanagan wine called Sawmill Creek that I like quite a bit,” said Bob from Burnaby. “I’d like to visit the winery. Can you tell me where it is?”

Sure, Bob. You drive to Oliver, find the post office, hang around Box 1650, and see if someone drops by to pick up the mail. Follow their car to wherever. And another thing—it isn’t actually Okanagan wine. Well yes, strictly speaking it is ’cause it’s made (or “cellared”) there, but it isn’t Okanagan grapes. Well, maybe some of it is. But that’s another story that this corner of your paper has been railing against for years.

You see, Bob, this is the phenom known as the virtual winery. Lots of label, plenty of bottle, no winery. Or as they say in Texas, all hat, no cattle.

Virtual wineries are particular labels under which the major players in the B.C. wine biz engage in keen competition. Now, I have never understood why a successful winery, or group of wineries, would want to compete with itself for market share, but that’s why I’m not doing any Ponzi schemes this year.

So here’s a tasting of some wines from wineries that really—aren’t.

Starting with the number two bestseller out of all wine brands, imported or domestic. (At least it was in 2008, according to the LDB’s annual report.) You guessed it, Bob—it’s one of the Sawmill Creek brands, Barrel Select Dry White n/v.

It’s always n/v (nonvintage) year after year, for consistency, and it’s cheap ($7.99). You can get it in a regular 750-millilitre bottle, or a one-, 1.5-, or three-litre container, plus the 16-litre whoopee pack.

During 2008, we guzzled nearly $4.5 million of it, causing paroxysms of corporate glee to ricochet off the walls. No, not by the stamp machine, but in the corporate boardroom in Ontario. But it isn’t the cheapest; that distinction belongs to Sola-Nero, whose Sola White Wine, also n/v, is 50 cents cheaper, at $7.50. Both are enterprises of the Vincor giant.

The Barrel Select allegedly has “herbal and fig characters”. It’s dry and appley, good with soy sauce, and all-around pleasant to virtually all palates. No wonder it’s on top of the heap. The Sola claims to be “delicate”¦round, fruit-forward, with tropical flavours and a hint of oak”. Oh yeah? Short fruit, indistinct, but not terrible; okay for when 60 people drop by unexpectedly. Art-gallery-opening planners, take note. Aw, you already have.

For $8.29, you can have a hit of Mission Ridge White Zinfandel n/v, but why anyone would want to replicate the wretched blush phenom here is beyond me. Mission Ridge is mostly box-wine territory; this is the only one I could find in a bottle. The under-10-percent alcohol is right, at least, but it’s a thoroughly boring wine, best for putting stuff into or pouring over stuff. From the one with at least 10 labels in its portfolio, Artisan Wine Company. (That’d be on the southern slope of Box 474.)

Forty cents more puts you into Copper Moon Moonlight Harvest Cabernet Sauvignon n/v, a label of Roundpetal Wines. (Don’t bother looking; the Web site is kinda cagey about where they are, but there is a cute bio of “Heidi the Winemaker”—no last names, please.) Regardless of what the back label says, I am not prepared to believe that these grapes were night-harvested. Of course, that’s not what it says—it says “harvested under the light of the moon”, which could mean the middle of any clear day. Mystery and individuality are other terms tossed around like salad ingredients to describe the taste, plus “black currants, blackberries and cherry”. Not in my glass, there weren’t. In the end, this is a mushy little Cabernet with a little fruit but lacking structure or style. I doubt it would handle some simple cheese. Might make a passable sangria. Or not.

And here’s a surprise: none of the virtuals came with a screw cap. Some are still perpetrating the folly of those wretched plastic corks, which should be outlawed—isn’t it about time?

Damn, I’m all out of room for this week, and we haven’t even broken the nine-buck barrier yet, or gotten into the high end: $12, $14, $16. There’s even a $23 model.

Never mind; we’ll taste some of the others another time. Like Wild Horse Canyon and White Bear and XOXO and Naked Grape and Rigamarole and Painted Turtle, and one that may one day actually move out of the Oliver post office—Ganton & Larsen Prospect Winery.

About Ganton & Larsen, John Schreiner—B.C.’s most studied person about wine—points out in his 2009 revision of the most useful B.C. wine book ever, The Wineries of British Columbia (Whitecap, $29.95; think Christmas gifts): “As this book went to press there were only preliminary architectural drawings for the actual winery, which will be built somewhere between Oliver and Osoyoos.”

Good for them. It’s getting a bit cramped inside that little federal building.