Wine Outlook

Maybe it’s the mountain air. And the Advil I took before bed. Unlike my best friend, I woke up chipper and ready to go, on this, the morning of my birthday. She says it’s that she’s sick and not all the wine we (she) drank last night. Which I’d like to show you, readers and drinkers, pictures of, but they’re on her camera and she’s back in bed.

We have plans to go to a real, live Montana winery later today. I can only hope that happens…

I’d have to say, my first Open That Bottle Night was pretty successful. After a tiring day of fighting the crowds at the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition, without coming near intoxication (which we witnessed in so many others), we still had our taste buds in full order.

Four of us gathered at my apartment: myself, the cellar rat, The Winemaker’s Wife, and another winetasting group friend. Unfortunately, that last friend’s bottle was corked. He’d bought the 2002 Keller Estate Pinot Noir (on the advice of one well-dressed monkey) about a year ago, from a funky wine shop in Pacifica–where they’ll hopefully trade him another bottle.

The other two bottles were
just right. We had a 2000 Brochelle Zinfandel, which the cellar rat/ pretty good winemaker himself loves so much he A) would have as his last wine before dying and
B) purchased the same Paso Robles grapes to make his own Zinfandel. Still nice and jammy, the color was a little hazy and the mouthfeel a little spritzy, but it was quite a damn good glass of wine. (more…)

Wine, when we first met, I blew you off. On my trip to Europe in high school, I took tiny sips of you, not really giving you a chance. And then later, I drank watered-down versions of you that came in a box, some of which were pink. But when I finally came to my senses, you absolutely blew me away with your beauty and your strength. I wanted to read about you, to google you after our connection, the seduction. I wanted to try more of you.

In the beginning, I only liked you for your brawn–your Cabernets and Zinfandels, and soon Petite Sirahs. I realized how well-traveled you were, and we soon discovered Australia and Italy. Eventually, though, I would be able to see your lighter side, as I fell for your Rieslings and discovered how well Sauvignon Blanc went with the salads I adore. I would come to see how much a labor of love Pinot Noir was, before that movie, thank goodness.

Because I promise you this. I will never jump on any bandwagon when it comes to you. I will never pay attention to the parts of you that others find most attractive, unless that’s how I feel about you, too.

I say all this because we’re coming up on our ten-year anniversary. You’ve been there for the good times: birthdays, graduating from college and grad school, published poetry, this job. You’ve also been there for the bad: the break-ups, magazines’ rejection letters, nights when I didn’t know anyone here. I always had you. You drove across the country with me, waiting patiently as I got lost somewhere in Arizona, listening to me curse while driving through the windy passes of California, calming my nerves at the end of the trip.

You always seem to know exactly what I want. Bubbles to celebrate, something strong to numb when needed, the perfect match to my meal, and everything in between.

Wine, you’re the best Valentine a girl could have…

love letter, Valentine’s Day, wine

….Farley Walker

The sommelier sent me a link to Patricia Leigh Brown’s story in the New York Times, which we’ve been talking about in these parts since it happened.

The thieves who knew exactly which wines to take…

With my small collection in a studio apartment, I’m sure I have no need for major fears. But many people in this area do and should. I thought, however, the very end of the story was most important:

The case has lingering overtones for Sergeant Wade, who also was working on a case in nearby East Palo Alto, a city that has long wrestled with high crime rates.

“An 18-year-old girl was shot point-blank in the head and I received no calls about it,� he said. “The wine theft? A gazillion. It kind of shows you where people’s values lie.�

Atherton wine theft, priorities

Whenever it’s come up in conversation– as with tasting room customers or random people at parties–I’ve always answered no to the question, “Do do you want to make wine one day?” The answer usually comes quickly, sometimes accompanied by a laugh.

But why not? I mean, why ignore the possibilty or at least that urge, that need to create something beautiful… The thing is, I love to cook: to turn a stack of ingredients into a delicious meal. And I love to garden: to watch seeds slowly sprout and become tall, strong plants–preferrably herbs that I can use in my cooking. Everything, then, is connected, as it is with soil and wind and vines and barrels. I love to drink wine, to talk about it, to write about it. Why not make it?

Maybe I hesitate due to the scientific nature of winemaking, as I found when checking out the coursework at UC Davis. Or because every once in a while, I make a meal that’s rather mediocre. And this summer, despite past successes, I tried to grow basil in my kitchen five different times, with never any luck.

Yet the other night I was over at the cellar rat’s apartment, where there was wine in the bathroom and barrels under the carport (and at his friends’ houses, as well, they said). I had made a Bonfire Vineyards sign out of a barrel stave for his birthday. As I was making it and also as I was admiring the barrels stenciled with the same brand, tiny voices started to whisper in my head, what are you so scared of ?
(more…)

This entry does not fall under the category of food and wine pairing. Although when I went to upload the picture, I realized it was, oops, in the food and wine folder, and I do love duck and Pinot together…. No, these ducks are off limits as far as being put on anyone’s plate. Poor little guys already lost three of their friends to coyotes or hawks, and the pond was frozen for a week or so due to the cold front that ripped through California. But these 2 survivors are trying desperately to replace Morty the cat as the winery mascot. That’s them in the shipping room, after they walked through the parking lot and up the hill to come visit us.

Anyone up for some Duckhorn Merlot or Duck Pond Pinot Noir?

ducks, winery mascot

January 19, 2006: One year ago today, I pulled off the 101 and into Redwood City, California. I was ready to kiss the ground after driving a U-Haul for four days, car in tow, across deserts, over mountains, and through canyons. Though I only barely knew two people at the winery and sure didn’t know where I was going to live or even stay, I was willing to give it a go because I did know I wanted to be in the wine business. Therefore, things would work out, somehow.

But four days alone, driving, can make you feel a little crazy and think maybe you made a mistake. I wrote the following a couple months after I got here, looking back:

Road Signs and Other Blunders

Mississippi left behind to hover
on a state line of relief and regret.
U-Haul decals warned of overhead
damage too late and unleaded fuel.
Following their advice
meant repeated stops to pump and
watch the numbers climb. The side mirror
disclosed concern at going
over 45, but traveling the sometimes-
blood-stained highway
through George W’s home
state, miles passed slowly enough.

Halfway between what was home and what
would be, the Rio Grande was parched
as a tongue in need of wine. Further still,
the border patrol overlooked advisement
of dust that never settles. Some signs
indicated the proximity of state prisons
and counseled against collecting hitchhikers.
Not that there was room.

Pulling into California–
as high-windedness (to be
avoided in writing and speech)
prevailed–
proved more intro than climax .
—————
(more…)

Here I am working on a piece for the winery newsletter, and I realize why I love my blog so much. People read it. she laughs nervously You read it. By the way, I am not fooling myself into thinking many people read my newsletter articles because my telling them they should does not = their reading it. I know they mostly get tossed in the trash.

A blog is different. You can see results. Even if you’re rather new to the whole thing and don’t know what statisitcs really mean or what you can determine from them, you can track them. And for a girl who once made it her mission to be valedictorian, without being considered nerdy, it satisfies that thing inside that wants to be good at something measurable.

When that idea struck (see About Farley section), it was a whimsy, something I never thought would happen. Yet I am here in California, working at a winery and writing about it. While I might not have as many readers as other blogs, here’s what I love: people I don’t even know leave comments, good or bad. Telling me if I’m doing a good job or not making any sense. Conversation with strangers, that if I’m lucky, will build over time and develop a sense of no longer being strangers.

But here’s the thing. I wish I knew how they got here. My stats aren’t that specific, so it’s hard to tell. Was it from a link on another blog, by searching for a food pairing for Gruner Veltliner, or just a mistake? Do the people in the tasting room who say they’re going to read my blog ever check it out?

If you’re reading this now, and you don’t know me or I gave you the address at Thomas Fogarty, please tell me something, anything about who you are and how you got here. It will satisfy my curiosity and could win you some money, to boot.

Happy reading. she laughs nervously

blogs, blog reading, blog stats, loving blog readers

Added note: It was thanks, in part, to this lovely post by Dr.Debs that this idea crept into my head in the first place.

…..Farley Walker

I guess no wine was served at the inaugural reception for the CA governor. After several different searches and not finding anything, that’s what I’m going to go with anyway. Or maybe it’s an issue of avoiding the uncomfortable. Since we chose not to single out Zinfandel as State Grape or even Historic Wine, perhaps it would be best not to advertise one wine over another as the governor’s preference.

When the issue was fresh, I thought it a bit silly. Why name one grape as the epitome of California? Different varieties are made in different regions, and seem to shine more in some cases. For instance, Cabernet in Napa, Chardonnay in the Santa Cruz Mts, Barbera in Amador. But then again, naming the poppy the state flower does not mean anyone appreciates tulips or roses less. Right? Poppies wilt after they’re picked, which I don’t think you’re supposed to do anyway. (more…)

Silent prayers were present as I unpacked my suitcase. I was concerned about the condition of a few art pieces I bought from The Attic Gallery in Vicksburg, MS, including a painting that I had to take home because it’s plagued my thoughts since I first saw it. I wrapped and taped the pieces in bubble wrap and put them in a box, surrounded by clothes and other items.

Also inside the box was the bottle of 96 Ridge Monte Bello. The sommelier and I decided it probably wasn’t ready yet, even though splits age faster than 750 ml bottles. We figured the vision of drinking that highly-regarded concoction would be incentive for us to stay friends for a few more years. The thing is, though—it made perfect sense to pack the bottle among wood, ceramic, and stone. Because wine is art, too. Just as an artist chooses the canvas, the colors, the brushstrokes, a winemaker chooses style, oak or steel, how much Merlot and how much Petit Verdot.

You can collect both and spend on either a range from very little to insanely high. At least with the art, I don’t have to rely so much on my memory, as it will still be there. Maybe that’s why I started seeking it out more. But don’t worry. It’s in addition to wine, not in replacement. I can get over drinking some of my investments.

wine collecting, art, 96 Ridge Monte Bello

….Farley Walker

Well, I touched down in California earlier tonight. While it was sadness earlier today about the prospect of missing family, friends, and the way of life that is the south–it was a little relief/eagerness/determination getting off the plane. When people would ask me about the possibility of coming back, my answer had to be not any time soon.

I’ve gotten used to being in the vicinity of winemaking, tastings, releases, competitions, early-morning barrel samples, newsletter articles, whatever might be going on this week. This month will make one year living out here, which means I’ve seen the vines at all stages: dormant, bud break, growth, veraison, and nothing left but the leaves and a few missed grapes here and there.
All around me are Santa Cruz Mountains wineries and other regions within 2 or 3 hours, and now that I have a more reliable car, I plan to check out more.

Although I do need more experiences like this one, so I might try to join or start a tasting group to make my wine atmosphere more complete.

wine tasting, working in wine country

Growing up and then into my early adulthood, I never really talked about myself that much, or at least I don’t think I did. Over the past few years, though, something has happened to change that, and that something is wine. The effects are twofold. One, as many people may find to be true, is that when I drink it, I open up more and get chattier than normal. The other is that when people ask me about wine, I can talk and talk. Keep asking questions, I’ll keep answering them (or try to anyway).

Since I’ve been home, I’ve talked more than a few ears off. One evening my family (parents, grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousin, brother) sat through a practice for my food-and wine tv show, as I made dinner and discussed the perfect pairings while my brother, the aspiring director, filmed everything. Such good sports.

I did the same thing over at the sommelier’s the other night. Too bad for her partner, whose not nearly as into wine as we are. Then a good friend offered to drive me to Hattiesburg, in southeast MS, where I went to grad school. Not only did she endure the two-hour drive, but upon arrival, we went to see another friend who’s a sommelier. (more…)

While I want Le Nez du Vin, that delightful kit of essence oils that represent different aromas in wine, I doubt I’ll be getting one anytime soon. (Yes, my blatant one last attempt at a hint).

It was the most fun when I borrowed the 2 sets (for whites and reds) from the cellar rat at work and tried them out with a visiting artist friend and his Canadian pal. And it really does help you pick out the scents and flavors in the wine. I remember we had a Gewurztraminer from 1989 that night and were smelling the bottle marked honey as well as a jar of actual honey in order to compare both to the wine. By the way, I think he did a great job taking that picture; you’d almost think it was an advertisement.

Seeing as how I don’t have my own kit, the other night I was making dinner and taking spices from the cupboard,then began smelling each one, trying to expand my aroma associations. Smell has the strongest link to memory, but if you’ve never had contact with a lychee, how can you know how it smells? So there I was, sticking my nose in cinnamon, cumin, black pepper, etc. in the hope of committing each one more fully into my brain. One day I plan to make my own little set-up, putting different foods and spices into glasses, somewhat in the style of Kevin Kline in French Kiss.

I’ll keep smelling randomly– out of the fridge, in the grocery, the person’s plate at the next table. Unless of course, someone comes through.

Le Nez du Vin, smelling wine, gifts, Josh Hailey

photo credit: Josh Hailey

Once you’ve been single a while, you start to re-evaluate that list of qualities needed in a mate. The list could be in your head, written in a journal, on a cocktail napkin, stuffed into a hope chest or a drawer. Wherever it resides, it probably has gone through many alterations–changing as you change and as you learn from past mistakes.
There are two areas, though, on which I will stand firm.

1. I decided a while back that I want to be with someone passionate about art, whether it be music, writing, painting, theater, or some other creative medium. This is key to understanding my own obsessions.

2. Speaking of… I also decided I need someone who cares about wine or at least is willing to learn. Rather important and more so every day. (more…)

I’m a little obsessed with the ability (or lack of) to discern flavors in wine. Witness several previous posts including this previous post on palate.

That’s one reason I was so happy to stumble upon this article on tasting in The San Francisco Chronicle. (more…)