…at the top, parents took care of their business, tasted a bit I think, and I looked around. I can only remember how quiet it was up there, how fresh and sedating the air was, how the clouds looked different. Everything was different up there. “So this is what a winery is….this is what they look like,” I thought. Meaning all of them. Well, we moved from the Peninsula to Santa Rosa, upper Rincon Valley, I saw that they didn’t all look like that. And they weren’t so removed. They were everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Mom, retired by now (late-2000), got an on-call gig pouring at St. Francis Winery & Vineyards. This, and this decision alone coupled with the Sonoma County relocation, changed everything. For all of us. I know, sounds ominous and creepy and scary…. Your knuckles are white, right? Well, this is a yay-saying story, one positive, relax. You’ll like this…
The first bottle that I actually paid attention to was a 2000 Blackstone Merlot that Mom recommended I get for company I was having over, kind of a date and kind of not, when living in San Ramon for a brief time. Moved there for graduate school, and a job I had at the time at an insurance office (one of the shittiest jobs I’ve ever had, I mean there was no view of vineyards and no clean Monte Bello of Kenwood air, so why would I be happy?). Anyway, Mom in my eyes, and still is a bit, the wine boss of the family. Just how I see her. So I called her since she worked at a winery and asked her what kind of bottle I should have for my date— I mean, friend. “You should get a Blackstone Merlot. I’m sure it’s at the grocery store down the street from you, I’m sure.” I went down there. There it was. I bought it. Opened it for friend and myself. Merlot was the first, my first varietal connection and love.