LEGACY - Estate Syrah -Little Boy Terrace

These three labels are not artwork. They are witnesses. They are proof that time passed here—and that a man did too. One hillside. One tree. One wind that never learned how to quit. Larry Saarloos’ life is written into this ground the same way it’s written into our family—quietly, permanently, without asking permission or leaving instructions.
Larry planted these hills after failure, when starting over wasn’t romantic and the future didn’t owe him anything. Ballard Canyon didn’t have a reputation then. No brochures. No buzzwords. No one calling it “special.” These slopes didn’t have a voice yet. They were just steep, cold, windy, and honest. Most people would have walked away. Larry didn’t. He believed—maybe not in success, but in the work. In showing up. In doing the job right even if no one ever noticed. I watched him do it. I learned by following behind him, by carrying things, by listening to what he didn’t say. He never gave speeches. He gave mornings. He gave calloused hands. He gave decisions made when nobody was around to clap.
These wines come from the hardest hills to farm in the county. Steep enough to punish you if you get lazy. Windy enough to expose every lie you tell yourself. Thin soils that don’t care about your plans. But anything worth doing is hard. That’s where the best fruit comes from. The vine has to fight. Roots have to go deep or they don’t make it. Stress isn’t a flaw here—it’s the point. Nothing on these hills is given. Everything is earned. That’s not just farming. That’s a blueprint for a life.
In the first image, the tree stands. Alone. Exposed. Still upright. That’s Purpose. Purpose is the moment you decide to begin without knowing how expensive the decision will be. It’s choosing the hill before you know how steep it really is. Larry planted here not because it penciled out clean, but because something in him said this was the ground that mattered. Purpose doesn’t guarantee comfort. It doesn’t explain itself. It just stands there, takes the weather, and refuses to move.
Then comes the long middle.
In the second image, the tree is bent and scarred. Changed forever. That’s Resiliency. This is Fat Man Terrace—the most photographed vineyard in Santa Barbara County. The cover of books. The image on banners and emails. The symbol everyone points to when they want to show how beautiful this valley is. And that’s the irony. Because beneath the beauty is pressure. Relentless wind. Steep ground trying to pull everything downhill. A hillside that looks effortless from the road and punishes you the second you step onto it. That’s resiliency. The part people don’t post. The years where the work stops being poetic and starts being necessary. Where plans fall apart. Where you take the hit, lose something you don’t get back, adjust your footing, and keep moving—not because you’re brave, but because quitting would mean the beginning was a lie. That’s how my father lived. No complaints. No drama. Just forward motion.
And then, one day, the work is done.
In the final image, the tree is gone. Cleared. Finished. And in its place, a golden eagle moves through the exact space it once occupied. That’s Legacy. Legacy isn’t memory. It’s motion. It’s what keeps moving after you’re gone. When my father died, the work didn’t stop—it landed on my shoulders. And now I see him everywhere. In my kids. In my nieces and nephews. In the way they show up early. In the way they don’t cut corners. In the way they carry the family name like it means something. His lessons didn’t disappear with him. They hardened. They became expectation. They were cast into the foundation of who we are, whether we talk about it or not.
Purpose.
Resiliency.
Legacy.
That’s the arc of building something real. Purpose is choosing to begin. Resiliency is staying when it costs more than you thought it would. Legacy is the quiet reward that only comes after you’ve run the race all the way through—and run it clean.
These wines aren’t about nostalgia. They’re about responsibility. About choosing hard ground. About staying when it hurts. About leaving something solid enough that your children don’t have to start from scratch. A life like that doesn’t need monuments. It gets remembered in posture. In work ethic. In the way the next generation stands a little straighter because of it.
That’s Larry Saarloos.
That’s these hills.
That’s this wine.
No shortcuts.
No bullshit.
Just the work—
done right,
and carried forward.

LEGACY

Legacy is what remains when nothing else should.

Little Boy Terrace is the hardest place to grow on our vineyard. A small, hidden terrace tucked behind Fat Man Terrace, it is steep beyond comfort and unforgiving beyond reason. The hill is south-facing and as steep as it comes, with limestone at the surface hidden beneath a powder of adobe—a combination that offers no grip, no margin, and no forgiveness.

The geology here is deceptive. Limestone wants roots to go deep and stay honest. The thin adobe powder above it gives the illusion of soil while offering none of the security. Under weight, it moves. Under pressure, it gives way. We’ve learned that the hard way.

The slope is so severe we have to back tractors up the hill just to keep them from flipping backward. Equipment has rolled here—from top to bottom. Gravity has won more than once. We no longer bring machinery onto this terrace unless absolutely necessary. During harvest, we walk it. We carry fruit by hand. Because we’ve had a full ton of grapes behind the tractor cause the earth to release—and I’ve had to drive out a controlled free fall of dirt, relying on instinct and experience, because the traction of the tractor and the weight of the fruit simply overwhelmed the hill.

This is not metaphor.
This is the cost of farming this place.

And still, this hill gives us something singular.

The struggle here forces the vines to commit completely. Roots don’t search for comfort—they search for survival, driven through limestone, anchored by necessity. Every cluster harvested from Little Boy Terrace has already endured more than most vineyards will ever ask of their vines.

The tree on the Legacy label is gone. The land is cleared. That is when the eagle soars. A golden eagle moves through the exact space the tree once occupied. The body is gone. The work is done. What remains is motion.

This wine carries that understanding. It is the most patient of the three. The most grounded. Built for time, not attention. The tannins are resolved but resolute, the fruit deep and quiet, the structure formed by stone, sun, and survival rather than force. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t explain itself. It waits.

Legacy is not what you leave behind.
It is what can stand—and soar—without you.

YOU DO IT RIGHT.
IT SOARS.

Little Boy Terrace tests that truth every year.
This wine answers it.

Tasting Notes

From the steepest and most dangerous ground on the vineyard, Legacy reveals itself with depth rather than immediacy. The color is a dark, inky garnet with an opaque core, signaling concentration forged under extreme stress. The nose opens slowly and deliberately—crushed limestone, iron, graphite, and dry earth—followed by restrained notes of black plum, blackberry skin, and savory herbs that feel grounded and compact, never lifted or showy.

On the palate, Legacy is dense, compact, and load-bearing, built on gravity rather than lift. The south-facing exposure delivers ripeness, but the limestone surface hidden beneath a powder of adobe keeps the fruit firmly in check. Flavors move through dark fruit, black olive, cured meat, and stone dust, carried by firm, authoritative tannins that feel structural and resolute rather than aggressive. The acidity is steady and supportive, providing balance without softness.

Mid-palate texture tells the unmistakable story of the site. There is a chalky, tensile grip—a tactile sense of compacted earth and crushed rock—that reflects vines forced to anchor themselves deeply just to survive. Subtle layers of cocoa nib, leather, and dried wild herbs emerge with air, adding complexity without compromising the wine’s core strength.

The finish is long, grounded, and unwavering—marked by lingering iron, mineral, and savory earth that fade slowly and deliberately, with no rush and no release. This is Syrah shaped by steepness, exposure, and consequence, not by intervention.

Legacy is built for patience. It will continue to integrate, deepen, and refine through 2052, gaining nuance without losing its authority or weight.

FLAVOR & STRUCTURE AT A GLANCE

Color: Deep, inky garnet
Aromas: Crushed limestone, iron, graphite, dry earth, black plum
Palate: Compact dark fruit, black olive, cured meat, cocoa nib, stone dust
Structure: Full-bodied • firm, load-bearing tannins • steady natural acidity
Minerality: Limestone / crushed rock / chalky earth
Finish: Long, grounded, savory with persistent iron and mineral
Aging Potential: Built to evolve gracefully through 2052

WHY IT TASTES THIS WAY

Little Boy Terrace is a south-facing, extremely steep hillside with limestone at the surface masked by a powdery adobe layer that offers no stability under pressure. The slope is so severe that mechanized farming is unsafe, forcing minimal intervention and hand harvesting. This constant struggle drives roots deep into limestone and concentrates both fruit and structure. The result is a Syrah defined by density, mineral authority, and patience, reflecting the final stage of the journey—endurance proven, work completed, and strength built to stand on its own.

FOOD PAIRINGS

2023 Little Boy Terrace Estate Syrah

Legacy is a wine for real meals.
Nothing fancy. Nothing stressful.
Just good food that took a little time and care.

If it smells great while it’s cooking, you’re probably on the right track.

MEAT (EASY WINS)

• Pot roast
  The classic. Slow-cooked, comforting, and perfect with this wine.

• Short ribs
  Braised or slow-cooked. If they fall apart when you touch them, this wine will love them.

• Roast beef or tri-tip
  Simple seasoning. Cook it right. Let the wine do the heavy lifting.

• Lamb (shanks or leg of lamb)
  Especially with garlic and herbs. No fancy sauce needed.

• Pulled pork (not sweet BBQ)
  Savory and smoky works great here—just skip the sugary sauce.

NOT INTO MEAT? STILL GOOD.

• Mushroom pasta or mushroom pizza
  Earthy flavors = easy match.

• Chili or hearty stew
  Especially on a cold night.

• Roasted veggies
  Potatoes, carrots, squash—anything that gets crispy edges in the oven.

CHEESE (KEEP IT SIMPLE)

• Aged cheddar

• Manchego

• Gruyère

If it’s firm and a little salty, you’re good.

WHAT TO SKIP

• Sweet sauces

• Light fish

• Anything that feels “delicate”

This wine likes food with some weight to it.

THE SIMPLE RULE

If the food took time instead of tricks,
if you cooked it slow,
and if you’re ready to sit down and relax—

Legacy will feel right at home.

This is a wine for Sunday dinners,
for plates you don’t leave half full,
and for nights where nobody’s rushing anywhere.

That’s it.
You’ve already got this.