
Today, start with the ’15 Pinot Gris, in its apparent simplicity there’s an atmosphere, a travel, a flight and a love song that you don’t find in other PG interpretations. The Chardonnay, even for Chard’ opponents there’s engagement and charm. She continues to change and lecture me on Burgundy’s resplendent integrity, always inviting me to see more about her and her home on the other side of the Atlantic— she tells me to come back, visit more, buy a home or condo, or some writing studio close-by. I might, I might…
The reds…. Where do I start. Pinot, Cab, blend, having me recite verse I didn’t even know I was apt to do. The reds of my winery continue to not only evolve but educate me and show me that I’m doing the right thing in my story, writing about wine from my literary holdings and roots, from my studies in poetry and nonfiction, essay and even short story from high school to under grad then grad. I’m a literary bloke in the wine put. Here I am, and in this freely written writ or manifest, I’m going to keep writing about wine as freely and tireless, poetically and fearlessly as I’m able to self-shove.
Nine minutes till I have to pack up from the Windsor Starbucks and head to Roth with my music and notebook, readiness to taste through each offering, and maybe see what else I have in those cages that I can play with, sell. I want to learn more, see more, write more. I want to find more in wine’s stage and collectivity. Then, I think again of the Pinot Gris, remembering that we have a ’16 as well. More to write, more to excavate…. I’ll be an oeno-archeologist, this day.
(3/6/18)