Thorevilos was one of David's favorite haunts as a child. There were no vines then. Just pine trees, redwoods, an old olive grove. And a rusted hog wire hanging from a tree—“Hook Man” in Abreu family lore. These days it's the dirt that engrosses him. White tufa that turns to fine powder when you grind it beneath your foot. Tannish soil peppered with orange-brown pebbles. Streaks of dry, red earth. Sitting 800 feet above the valley floor, wedged between the St. Helena and Howell Mountain AVAs, Thorevilos doesn't belong to any sub-appellation. “It's an outlier,” David says. When the AVA boundaries were being determined, he could have argued to have it included. “But it wouldn't have made any difference to the vineyard. Or the wine.”