On lunch, and I can’t get the thought of wine in other countries out of my head. So much out there, the terrestrial extensiveness. And I don’t fixate on the wine so much as I do the locations and the histories, the families, everything that’s out there. I’m in the office now, quiet today, a Saturday, snacking on the crackers and cheese I brought for myself and can’t wait to be in the vineyard, go for my daily saunter, tilt my head back in the quiet of the Rhône block, listen to the creek. Set my character on a dash of pleasurable scrutiny and surveying of wine, everywhere.  The world, total…  As a journalist and diarist of wine, I don’t want one set beat. I want everything. All AVA’s and sub-AVA’s… regions and highways, streets and hillsides. Today’s lunch feeds me with visions and promise, new pages and insights to my wined character. When home tonight, Bordeaux will be my research station. Being what some would call a ‘Merlot guy’, this is only sensible. Didn’t expect this degree of meditation paired with the mozzarella and Wheat Thins. Wine’s story again surprised me.

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