Tasting the Rooms. 

Every Room

Ides of September telling me something, this morning.  But I don’t want to keep writing the same thing about wine, and the same approach of linking wine and poetry, but poetry has been all I’ve thought of since last night seeing one of my ever-favorite poets holding a large format bottle of Lafite Rothschild.  Sure I misspelled that, but I’m not caring too much this morning.  Just want to write, be with wine in more creative ways… the more creative the more I’ll see.  Should go for a walk on the crush pad… see what I see.  OR, taste though the wines early this morning, take some notes… The Sauvignon Blanc was especially vocal the other day, as was the ’14 Sonoma Coast Pinot.  Last night’s wine, the Meeker Cab Franc, still on thought plate.  My plan today is to work hard, and sell as much wine as I can, and not in some cheesy way— but never mind that.  Get into the story of working in a tasting room, the people coming here to taste wine and maybe make a purchase or two and —  Just heard a long and large rumble from the crush pad, sounding like a barrel or something dropped.  The crush pad is especially dangerous this time of year, harvest, which is acutely why we don’t bring people back there— there’s another.  Just what I need to go check out.  I’m in wine mode today, wine writer and blogger mode, not adjunct English Prof’ form.  I want to see and taste and feel everything about wine.  There’s more here than what you see immediately.  More to a tasting room than just “working” in it, trying desperately or not so desperately to make sales.  It’s the counter, that border that separates the guests and us.  But if there that much difference aside from one of is the pourer?

Near taking my walk.  Want to taste the large crush pad rooms and all the activity that evolves and sounds when there.  There’s another border, them and us, but we’re working at the same winery.  Production, Tasting Room (or “TR” as we more often utter).  So much to take in from each room, each specific detail.  Before my travels I’ll travel to every corner and cranny and nook and plot, morsel and niche of this building, of the vineyards.  Take everything in, as I urge students—  And I’m a student, too.  So, I need study the surroundings if I’m to truly taste them and understand their empirical truths.  Right now, two of the production guys, Dave the Cellar Master and one other tireless bloke, move around some hoses, large CO2 (I think) tanks.  Wonder what they’re doing.  I could of course go ask, which I eventually will, but right now I enjoy wondering, the curiosity of it all, pretending I’m one of those on the bar’s other side.  Poetic… all poetic.  Need a sip of something.  Get into character.  Get into role.  Get more into the room, this room and all of them.

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