The Foley offerings offer not just an encompassing appreciation of wine and wine life, the collective wine narrative, but a kaleidoscopic count of wine characters. From newer additions to the beatific colony like Banshee, and Foley Sonoma (former Stryker property), as wine pursuer you have a distinguished bottle diction, across varietals and growing regions. Foley’s palate geography is inexhaustible, and inviting to put it mildly. What brought me to the portfolio is not just the seemingly innumerable choices I have as a consumer, but how each varietal translation and vintage conditions delivery through that interpretation makes its thesis known, felt. Beyond mere delicious wine, each producer, but wines that influence your perspective on wine.
As a wild freewriter of wine, I’m in an unusual Xanadu. Sometimes not sure what to do, where I start with my selection and if in my cellar and see a bottle of Roth, or Lancaster, or Four Graces, ask self “What do I do?” But Foley offers the opportunity to explore and pull from the shelf according to…. well, whatever. The Foley portfolio encourages that expedition. Your level of “wine knowledge” is immediately and distantly irrelevant. What matters is you, the wine, what you enjoy sipping. This is more than choice, offered here. It’s a wine door never opened before.
As one from the literary world, I read a new story with each bottle, each winery. This is my paradise, my always-hoped-for cannon. I read and read into what I sip and learn more, become more whole and assembled, learnt as a vino bloke. Looking out at one of the vineyards here on Chalk Hill, feeling found and grounded, my oeno-fervor compounded. This. Home. Across these bottles on the counter. Last night opening one of the Roth Pinots, and wondering what I’d open in night next. I don’t know, but I’m with opening to select, explore and sip, scribble.