Andrew Mariani, the 30-year-old founder of the artisanal winery Scribe, in Sonoma, Calif., is paving his way into wine culture via a dusty, palm-tree-lined path that winds up to a shabby chic hacienda, two farmhouses and a 200-acre vineyard estate, all of which he and his younger brother, Adam, acquired, renovated and unveiled to the public in 2007. Feeling connected to the property's roots (founded by similarly adventuresome winemaking brothers back in 1858) and emboldened by their own agrarian lineage as fourth-generation Northern California farmers, the duo set out to cultivate sustainable versions of the land's best varietals - chardonnays, pinot noirs, and rare vintage sylvaners. These days, the young vintners (who have parlayed their American-made charm into event partnerships with local brands like Levi's and Gap) are also experimenting with an ancient Greek method of fermentation in terracotta amphorae, of which a glass or two might be up for tasting at their upcoming Spring Release Dinner Series. If history bears repeating, these promise to be felicitous all-night affairs and all the more reason for the Bay Area cool kids come to the hinterlands. And, here's another: hacienda renovations will begin this summer, turning the century-old space into what Andrew calls "a tasting house and crash pad" for the like-minded. T recently broke bread with the Brothers Mariani and spoke about everything from keeping it in the family to drinking on the job. What is your first memory with wine? ANDREW: Where we come from, people drank more Coors Light than wine, so it wasn't until I visited wineries in Italy and Croatia during my college years that I fell in love with it. ADAM: But whether people were drinking Coors Light or orahovica at the family meal, an affinity was created for what we consume and share with others. Would you consider yourselves first and foremost farmers or vintners? ADAM: Well, we farm with the purpose to make wine. Which would make us vintners... (Laughs.) So, we're eating this awesome Spanish frittata right now. The eggs are from your chickens; this salad has rainbow chard and fava beans from your farm - what do you think about the "farm-to-table" concept? ANDREW: The term gets overused. It's like anything: "natural wine" is the same thing. I mean, what's the definition of a hipster now? ADAM: People call us hipsters all the time. Would you agree? ANDREW: What do these terms mean, though? We're farm-to-table, we're hipster, we own a natural winery. ... It doesn't mean anything to us. Occupational hazards, I suppose. Speaking of, how does it feel to drink every day on the job, for your job? ANDREW: We drink for work, not for pleasure. Laughs. On Wednesday morning, we woke up after Adam's birthday party - which went late the night before at the very classy El Dorado Inn - for a 10 a.m. meeting to blend pinot noir. What's your earliest memory of growing up on the farm? ADAM: Orange trees and go-carts. Also, Andrew selling tortillas on the side of the road to truckers as they drove by. ANDREW: I was selling drawings. ADAM: I thought that they were tortillas. ANDREW: No, I was selling posters that I made for my tortilla club for 10 cents each. I was a young entrepreneur! Did you two know that you wanted to work together? We never talked about it, but when it started to happen, it felt natural. When you look back at our family, as far as you go, you can see farmers and you can see brothers working together. I have to ask: is it true that the two of you play host to some wild parties up here? I've heard that they last straight through the weekend. ANDREW: A lot of what we do is that we celebrate the beautiful things that Northern California has to offer: food, wine and a good community. Does it get wild? I don't know. What is the most striking thing about working with a sibling? ADAM: A lot of the professional protocol goes right out the window. ANDREW: It's an intimate, complicated, wonderful relationship. You might even call it wild. ... So what happens when you two disagree? ANDREW: We wrestle.