Don’t let anyone tell you

“how” to taste wine. There is no HOW.

There’s YOU, WINE, and the communication between you two.

No wine “expert” or critic knows you like you, and knows your relationship with and curiosities in wine better than you.

You define the how, if there is such a thing.

You are the only one to decide.


IMG_1423Didn’t plan on writing this morning, while here in house, before heading out to errands, but I couldn’t resist the keys.  Taking day off from class, after barrel tasting.  I’m not complaining and no I’m not too exhausted to work, I just needed a day to self.  Thinking of my wine shop this morning, driving the kids to school and listening to music on the way home, seeing people sipping their wine or even having an espresso, writing or reading, or talking to each other.  Anything… the point of the shop is a positive place, a place for meditation, collection, to be healthy, alive, in their own place of peace.

10:01, and I don’t want today to get away from me.  I won’t let it.  First to bank, then to get haircut.. then…. Boring.  Could use a vineyard walk.  A run.  Need to run.  Rain’s to be on its way, I’m told, so I should head to gym.  The writer this morning doesn’t know what to do with himself.  No interest in wine tasting, or even being around a winery, which is to be expected after BT.  So… I write freely here in home, no music, just quiet, the slight hum of the fridge.  Didn’t wake when alarm sounds this morning, shamefully, but I can recover.  Or try.

Pictures…. Vineyards…. Bottles.  The Roth cave.  Everything on my phone, camera.  My wine life, or much of it placed in image form, in two devices.  More, if you count the old phones in the file box.  More images than I have time to sort through, but many place me in a vineyard, near wine, near wine’s story and voice.  The scene and imagery, poetry and education, its encouragement and existential echo and variables.

Now not even the fridge makes a sound.  I’m only here with my words, with my wine shop thoughts, and seeing my story compound and expand from one point on several maps to several other dimensions— several, severe love for wine and the people in its contemplative table.

a thousand wines project


This offering is everything that’s hoped for after a long day, with a gently pervasive douse of refinement and artful angle.  A blend that has a collective identity while all the contributing voices in the symphony are heard, punctuated and sung with such suave view that you can only sit bewitched.  The roundness of the Cabernet, Petit Verdot, Tannat taking a visual and sensory lead while not eclipsing the notes of the other instruments.  It’s own mobile mode of jazz, a decision of cosmic expression and dimensional echo.

This one, I sipped while in the kitchen, after a day at work and thought of my time in wine, why blends like this not only stay with me and haunt in thought, but contribute to my character blend, my moods and moments, intentions and dreams.  Pepper of the Syrah more visible with the room’s ambient into its molecules and being.  And me, standing there, against the island counter, more composed, reflective, grateful to my vino family at K&L Wines for plating this existential intersection for the writer…


My story is

here. Here. In this glass. In this room. In this breath and wink. Aware of all around me because of purple puddle, that reflection, how the tasted insinuations couple with the current track. She has me aware and into what I see, feel, sense, want to sing. Bring glass to just below my eyes and the notes appear, narrate their and my fate. Only coherence and collusion, no break.