CALEDONIA, Minn. - Enormous stacks of white-oak strips cover the surrounding hills. In the cavernous building below, a cacophony of saws and other milling machinery seeps through even the sturdiest of ear protectors. Up the driveway inside a small office, a soft-spoken man talks on the phone, barely audible over the snoring of a dog.
The sights and sounds of your typical lumber mill? Well, yes and no. The work at Staggemeyer Stave is not out of the ordinary, but the end product most assuredly is: wood slats (staves) that will become barrels, imparting flavor and depth to some of the world's best wines and spirits.
"White oak is really good at holding liquid and not absorbing it," said Mike Staggemeyer, owner and president of the mill. "The wine extracts flavor from the wood, and the winemakers like the flavor it imparts."
Which is why there might well be a "Minnesota flavor" to that Murphy-Goode chardonnay or Jack Daniel's whiskey you'll be sipping this weekend.
French oak is the most renowned in the wine world, but its American counterpart has been gaining favor for years. French oak imparts more "woody" extract into a wine but little other flavor, while American oak has a very small amount of wood extract but a larger flavor impact (think vanilla and coconut). Along with this area, Missouri, Pennsylvania and Virginia are the prime sources of American oak.
Minnesota oak might be even more popular overseas than on these shores. Staggemeyer ships staves to Australia, France, Portugal, Spain and Hungary as well as to California. Some French winemakers prefer Minnesota oak to the native stuff for their pinot noirs, and the website for Algodon Wine Estates in Argentina has this to say: "Minnesota oak barrels ... give a roasted nut nose, with a long, warm, integrated finish in the palate."
And it all starts within 150 miles of this southeastern Minnesota town, in forests that are generally about 40 percent white oak. "Our cold winters slow the growing process, so the rings on the wood are tighter, and that's what they want," Staggemeyer said. "They get so tight you almost can't count 'em."
Not up to capacity