Back in the Kaz lab. Another charging wine day. Guests, pours, reactions. Today, I found Kazzy had the 2009 Lenoir delivering it prominence straight from barrel. What a progression with this wine. Deep, silky, dark, flavor sparks, from nose to finish. Before this ’09 Lenoir, the ’05 Dilly Dally, 100% Petite Verdot, was my favorite on the bar. But, I have to note in this entry, and I anticipate in ones further, my sexy PV will persist in its tempting palate sways, bursting varietal vocals. I truly don’t know how my brother did this, with a blending grape, no less.
|Dan, and Sherrie Perkovich from The Washington Times|
|Anne from Pittsburg, PA with her daughter Virginia, from Berkeley|
Guests. Mostly the reason why I come to work, on Sundays, which is fundamentally a “day off” for the writer. Even still, wine education, exposure, never hindered. Anyone. As wine continues to be in and of itself THE occasion, in my world, I met a fellow writer, along with a fellow academic. The tasting Room, our Oz, us wine moieties. Enjoyed scenes with my new friends on the bar’s other side.
Fall tints, ever more entrapping. During lulls, this 3rd frame following Thanksgiving, I like an obsessed fan snapped photo after photo of all encasing my Kazified stage. Love my Sundays, continuously in discommoded staunchness I write. For wine, the tasting Room, our guests, vined evolution. Getting tired, now in my office, 9:59p, trying to get mySelf to prepare for work tomorrow. Commute return. I’ll have these still at which to stare, while in the office. Reasonable distraction. I’ll Dilly Dally my way through day, scribbling in my Composition Book, about something having pertInence to today, its ingredients. Like the Lenoir, I feel new, revived, alive, elementally imbibed.
|Kaz Winery, at day's end ...|
In this lab, I just blend my thoughts, following my steps in the Room, hoping they ferment with coherently reflective chants. “Like what?” a reader could ask. “No clue,” I answer. I don’t write for others, so they can “like” my pages, as Kaz doesn’t make wines to ingratiate himSelf to independently-anointed wine critics, or “experts.” That’s artistry. That’s Autonomy. That’s wine. Writing. Be it through ink or varietal. sipNscribble ... That’s what today taught me, reminded me.