Home after work… Sauvignon Blanc, then a bit of the red blend I brought home last night. Wine has me imagining things, imaging me, me speaking about wine and not speaking to be some speaker but a sharer of ideas. But forget about that… this SB has me in a tropical drop, certainly imagining myself on some beach writing to the waves’ sounds and harmonies.. and I stop sipping, move to water, or some iced coffee and re-situate to shade so I can finish my article about wine and wine country, people visiting from everywhere, but I scrap the draft as it’s too trite, too expected. Why not write about wine and what it does to people, teaches them through odd and alchemical phenolic rhetoric that stays with them forever. Wine’s always been not so much a mystery to me but an invitation to keep learning, an if not ‘learning’ then certainly searching.
Poured self another glass here at the kitchen island/counter… olfactory—melon, honey, honeysuckle, peach, a little bubblegum, mint and thyme.. some terrestrial suggestion but not enough to shove any fruit one way or the other. Palate is clean, precise and serene. Beyond the initial contact of palate I just don’t want to analyze it too much. There was this one guy I used to pour with in a tasting room, nice older gent. But, he made it too educational, too studious, too lecture-y. One day, he pulls out a picture of a nose that displayed process with curving lines with arrows at the end, what happens in your brain when you smell. It was a large cardboard.. thing. Lesson plan.. I don’t know what you’d call it. I noticed the faces of the guests who came from quite a ways, and they didn’t come to be lectured, they came to taste. I think he, ’H’ I’ll him tag, noticed their reaction and I felt bad. But I learned. Wine is not meant to be work, or feel like work or study for a consumer. Taste, think as much as you want, and make it your own. If you overthink wine, as I tell my students with writing and reading and reacting to literature, then you’re robbing yourself.