Espresso, nine minutes from three.

Walked around the wine section at store but didn’t buy a thing.  Just looked, imagined I was in the shop, looking for something new and weird to put on the flight for the day.  And just an excuse to taste something different, cool, more musical… searching for new voices in the wine on my shelves.

Kids behind me on stairs playing on some game thing and me with music in one ear shoving aside only a portion of their noise.  Stay in the shop I tell myself.  Imagine I have a trip coming up, that covid never happened.  Weird you have to do that now, imagine that you can go wine tasting, or eat at a fucking restaurant, that you can actually go to work normally and not be confined to your home.  On my trip, out to New York, Florida from there, talking to people about wine, my wine shop and experiences in the industry.  Not speaking to be a “speaker”, or keynote, or expert. I would never allow myself to be so booked, no matter how flattering.  I meet people who collect, or just enjoy.  Some who own restaurants and want ideas for new bottles.  And that’s all I do, offer ideas.

While leaving the store, I imagined going back in their and getting a case of bottles I’ve never tried, or never even heard of, or both.  Lining them up at the shop and tasting with industry friends of several years.  Jesse, Collyn, my sister, Lainy, whoever.

Bottle on this small desk.  The extra Zin Chris gave me.  Not much a Zin guy, certainly not a Zin lover, but I agree with how he works with Zinfandel’s innate personality and quirks.  I’ll have this be my NYE red.  Note in real time whatever I experience.  Already know I’d have it in the shop, even if I didn’t particularly enjoy it, which hasn’t happened to me yet with any of Chris’ wines.  Even if that were the case, it’d have an audience, and I could sell it.