From the Vine to the Glass
Friday, July 24th, 2009[Wine is] a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it’s an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now. I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I’d opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it’s constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks, like your ‘61. And then it begins its steady, inevitable decline. – Sideways
There are two elements of wine that cause my imagination to run wild with romanticism (aside from the imbibing part): the barrels and the vines. Today, the vines became so very alive to me as I studied them from several vantage points. On our way to Sonoma/Santa Rosa for the Wine Bloggers’ Conference, Kathleen Rake and I feasted our eyes on the fields and fields of vines from our plane. They were neatly combed into perfect lines covering the countryside in patches and on the hills the vines wound in soothing patterns like a green zen garden. Each field was as unique as a fingerprint. As we drew closer to landing, I could see some fields were younger and the infant vines were spread further apart, reminding me of hair transplants.
Once we had landed and the rogue cab driver drove us along past the vineyards, Kathleen leaned over and asked me if I could hear them calling out to me. If they could call out, I would hope that they would shout directions to our driver who took us to two wrong hotels before we had to Google directions for him. But while he gave us the scenic route, my mind wandered some more as we passed by vines who stood like a chorus line, dressed in luscious green leaves with their arms wrapped around each other as if they were about to can-can. There were other vines pruned so neatly like soldiers with their crew cuts standing at attention, and some appeared more unkempt with their arms flailing expressively as though they had already indulged too much in their own juice.
California vines are so much like celebrities, and their wine is the music or performance. Over dinner, we discussed the art of wine and how some are like canned music that is easy enough for listening to that it appeals to many without actually being great music, and others are more experimental and crafted in their appeal to an experienced appreciative audience. Larry Chandler challenged my understanding of terroir to be more than just the earth in which the wine arose, to encompass the influence of all factors that make a wine unique (perhaps using ‘terroir’ for lack of a better word) but the conversations kept returning to the experience– the story and the relationship, to the wine.
The art of appreciating wine starts with understanding yourself and what you love and don’t love, and then adding a story. Consider the last time you had a wine experience that stirred your senses: Where were you? Of what did it remind you? How did the wine come alive? From the hands that tend the soil to the hand that raises the glass, we breathe life into and from every wine we encounter.
