Snakes by the Grapes

All know is that I love wine.  Delight in its many delights, plights, heights.  But I turn into a striking mamba when deceived.  And all alongside this scribe should as well.  Some will remind me, “it’s a business,” “this is an at-will state.” Convenient calculations, rationales don’t answer my questions, quell my qualms.  Why is it sometimes so hard for an “industry” that begs humanness, civility, honesty, to precipitate such?  I’m not sipping Newspeak.  I don’t care what’s thrown; threats, clefs.  Wine solicits feedback, reaction, genuine strides.  So why then some gifted ridicule for such?

This is the wine industry involving itself more in the “industry” than the wine.  Again, wine, the palpable puddle for occasions memorable.  Why so arduous to embrace such ingredients agreeable?  Snakes about.  Those fixated one-upping others, sabotage; penalty, policy.  The problems in the wine industry often lie in the obsession with it being an “industry.”  It’s known that the primary purpose, or one of, is to generate revenue.  Why does that have to continue in vocal?  We all, in this “industry,” consumers too, know.  It’s as though there’s a focus on an already instinctively focused focus.  Unnecessary repetition, assuring some petition.

And, communication.  What, snakes?  Why does so much in “the industry” necessitate entertainment behind doors closed?  Why not discuss openly?  What happened to community, civility, the genuine?  Is this INDUSTRY above such?  Some need to realize the wobbly state of their self-appointed throne.  They’re only there as they think their shake selves there.  My question, “Why?” Wine demands, invites, delight.  True peace.  Why do some have to complicate, speak with such authority, as though they know every con and pro in tow.  I wasn’t abreast of industry ills until I was in “THE industry.” And why do they have to say it like that, like wine’s the only industry forwarding?

Arrogance, not part of wine.  Snakes about the grapes.  Again, I see it stressing Humanness, civility.  Humility.  I guess I’m mad, rattling.  Because this hallow industry isn’t about the wine, at all, in senses enveloping.  Wine inspires, it doesn’t trample, depress.  And of course, I’ll be scolded for this entry, speaking my Self, my passion for wine.  I’m not a “serial capitalist,” proudly.  I was raised valuing principle, passion.  That’s what I see invited by grape, bottled.  No serpents needed.  Balance, just as aimed by winemakers.  The industry, infecting, molding, souring all senses of balance, at times.  And that’s saddening, maddening, especially for those of us truly in love with Wine.

All I pose, questions.  Why can’t some try different flights, approaches to “the industry?” And yes, I could be wrong.  Maybe the wine industry can only be one way.  It can only allow one thought scope.  If that’s the matter, I don’t want any share.  That’s snake-ish.  Yes, I want to make money, but not for Self barter.  I’m here for the wine.  Wine.  Passion.  Others passionate in wine’s actuality.  It’s not an industry, to me.  It’s me, us.  Those in love with wine, others in love with wine, in love with the contrast of palates.  Not for grape snakes.  Didn’t even address how some quarrel with that.  For next vent.  Now, I sip, sip.  Enjoy.  Love the current pour, wishing I could share it with others ...  

[6/7/11, Tuesday, NewMike]

After Work Entry

Nothing in me to write, type.  Only see myself scribbling notes tonight, but I don’t even think I have the energy, or eagerness, for that.  Nursing a beer.  No wine for the “wine blogger” tonight.  See the bike paths of Sunriver, suddenly.  The lodge, how it overlooks the river, golf course.  Do I prefer the vistas of winter, all those vast snow sheets, or summer’s kaleidoscopic situating of unseen shades?  I am, truly, depleted.  Need another, if I’m to send another sentence at blank space.

Thinking of a lecture I once gave on the significance of a journal, its place in history; how journals, diaries, various logs, lament the past, future.  I will return to teaching.  Wine will always be with me, but not with same gravity as elements Literary.  Not like the page.  Pages.

In re-acquainting Self with Literary modes of furthered consideration, deconstruction, appreciation, I think of all the characters that me encircle.  Starting tomorrow, listing all, cataloguing qualities.  Remember, I’m a spy.  From the Literary world.  Not wine’s angular.  Wish I had time to read a short or two from that anthology leaning against the wall by the door over there.  One character from today: the kid at the coffee shop; irritated, tired, but expertly swift in his concoction of mochas, frappuccinos, lattes, lost coffee oddities.  Nothing too incredible about this character’s motions, but I found it interesting how angry he appeared, yet moved with such astuteness, pride in his works.  Like it made him happy, but I could tell he felt like he wasn’t allowed to indicate elate.

Tonight, I’m thinking of Merlot.  Why, I don’t know.  Its character.  At times bold, others subtle, dark.  I used to drink only Merlots, when I first starting getting into wine, back in ’02, living in San Ramon.  That apartment complex, a character, I guess.  Slightly upscale, but unpredictable.  Still collecting characters, hoping I’ll be one, with one.

[6/6/11, Monday]

Cab’s Last Say

Wrapping up the session.  Waking up earlier, come morrow.  Not sure what my thoughts are.  Well, I do.  But I’ll RESERVE [overused wine moniker] such expression for the Comp book’s sheets.  This Cabernet throws a waffle-like note at nose, palate.  Deep, syrupy, rich, incrementally provocative.  Wine, beginning to lecture me as I used to my matriculants at the JC’s.  I’m not a Cabernet, tonight.  Weakened, by time’s indifference.  The grapes profit from advancing moments.  We, writers, parish, pain.  Not in pain, now.  This abnormally arranged SoCo Cab has me smitten, smothered in other druthers.  Need to be a serious scribe, though.  Sip slow.  

Yes, my sister and I will make our own wine.  One day.  She’s a busy lady.  So, if she can’t partner, I’ll figure it out.  She’ll consult, at least, I’m sure.  I’d like to be between 2 & 3 thousand cases.  Would love to have a tasting Room.  But, I’ve always seen the writer running a collective, having my winery as one of the wineries represented.  But where do I get the capital?  “Writing, of course,” the pen says.  Have to produce a wine before death, that’s all I know.  And Cab, my leading candidate.  Time passing fast, need to focus on the profile on palate.  Sip, sip ...

Raspberry.  Or is it blackberry?  Spicy plum?  Waffles, still?  Maple syrup?  Chocolate earthy leather silk?  Huh?  Inky subtle chalk walk?  What?  Coffee, for sure.  Am I sure?  Going to need coffee come advancing morrow.  This Cab’s final tilts, too tempting.  Love the glassed life.  Now I encounter...oil?  Hmmm ... No, more like dark cedar branches, leaves.  Am I doing this right?  Don’t care.  Love this Cab.  It’s making the night memorable.  At end, I enjoy it.  Analysis, exhaustive deconstruction, unnecessary.  Should start getting ready for bed, prepare for the morning mocha.  Now, I get waffle cone.  Okay, that’s clownish.  Goodnight, reader.  Thanks for reading.  If you still are.  

[6/5/2011, Sunday]

D’Argenzio Winery

A Tasting Room That Should Be On Everyone’s Vino Map,

Planned or Not

Not sure what I was doing in this part of Santa Rosa on Saturday’s afternoon yesterday.  Running boring errands, as I remember.  But, my day irreversibly blossomed, flavorably, as soon as I walked into D’Argenzio’s scene of a tasting Room.  A scene, truly.  Felt like I was on a street in the old country.  I was a tourist.  Curious, wondering, eager.  After being greeted by congenial hostesses Kelsea and Carmen, the pouring unfolded.  Kelsea started me off with the 2010 Tocai Friulano, Mendocino County.  Never tasted this grape type before.  Crisp citrus blanket complemented by tropical subtleties; Incredible palate presence, gravity, finish.  Next, SB.  2010, Russian River Valley.  Bright, playful, gently rich.  This is where owner/winemaker Mr. Raymond Anthony D’Argenzio himself joined me for some sipping.  He took me on a wild wine ride that other hosts will have more than a run in trumping.

  While tasting with Mr. D’Argenzio, he showed me around the complex, which stays coherently consistent in character, recreating a scene from Italy.  Bucolic, illustrative, encompassing.  He told me the story of his family, how the tasting Room had been there 16 years.  And, how the frequency of events has earned his label a distinguished eminence on Sonoma County’s wine stage.  Two you may want to check out: 1) Wine Down Thursday; every Thursday evening. 4-8p, and, the can’t-miss, 2) the Rootstock Festival on July 16.  I’m definitely there, 7/16.  Equipment, pen&paper, glass, all.

Back to wine.  Raymond poured me three Pinots, a Zin, a gorgeous Sangiovese (my favorite, SOLD OUT!), an ’05 Sonoma County Cab, ’06 Petite Sirah.  Took a bottle of the colossal cloud of a Cabernet, along with a gifted 375mL of 2007 D’Amorone; a dessert wine with 2% RS, blend of Cab, Zin, and Petite Sirah (THANKS!).  Afterwords, I just walked around, taking pictures, reassuming my tourist role.  Glad I was over in this part of town, on a boring errand mission.  Wasn’t anywhere near boredom’s state while in Mr. D’Argenzio’s tasting Room, with his animated and eclectic wine portfolio.

He also told me that he has a tasting Room down in Southern California, at 1204 West Burbank Boulevard, in Burbank as well as how he wishes this area, right off Cleveland Avenue, be deemed “Santa Rosa’s urban winery district.” And that’s quite the possibility with all that’s developing just within skipping distance from his front door.  It’s unexpected, refreshing, to be honest.  Go visit, and you’ll see what I mean. 

Another random discovery, one that’ll always be on my wine map, list of recommended spots.  I guess what resonated most forwardly, besides the wines, was the structure’s impression, visual tonality.  I wasn’t in Santa Rosa.  I was somewhere else.  I was someone else.  Visiting.  Naive.  Learning wine, again, for the first time.  No other tasting Room, SoCo, Napa, or elsewhere, has stamped such on my Self.  Thankful to Raymond, his two adorable counterparts Kelsea and Carmen, for a memorably remolded, melodic, afternoon.

[6/5/2011, Sunday]

Family Wineries, A Birthday Visit

Last week, stopped by Family Wineries, with Meliss, for my birthday.  Tasted through their sparkling wines, actually a squad of CHAMPAGNES, a Pinot, and a 100% Mourvedre, which had startling structure, palate presence.  The tasting Room, its generous and inviting hostesses, including my longtime friend Kay, new vino buddy Stephanie, and the backyard providing more than enough space and picnic tables: a hidden treasure chest in Kenwood.  More and more, I find mySelf looking for spots like this, and I’d always wanted to visit this particular vino nest.  Glad my wife insisted we did, to taste some great champagnes, as she caught view of their rather magnetizing sign, taunting CHAMPAGNE.

On a more personal note, I prefer tasting Rooms like this.  Those that see traffic, but not so much that it disrupts my tasting experience.  Wine, conceptually, invites a piece of peace, place, people.  Wine, musical.  Not meant to delivery noise, disruption.  We ate our lunch at one of those tables, on the vast green behind the Room.  Comfortable, scenic, memorable.  This winery made my birthday more than “special,” and I hate that word.  Kay, Stephanie, and crew made it deliciously antagonizing.  I’ll be going back, well before the next May 29th.  Wines with character, dimensional difference, surrounded by attractive atmospheric attributes.  Wine world wonderment, just down the street.  Sip, sip ... 

[6/4/11, Saturday]

Decanted Cinema

Finally in the wine writing bunker.  And what sips this wine writer?  Nothing.  He looks forward to sleep.  Rain falling on the drive back from Mom and Dad’s.  Tomorrow, and for the remainder of days mine, studio lockdown.  Last night, while enjoyable, careless, could have been spent in session.  What if last night was a vino shift when I was to write the short story destined for the New Yorker, or rivaling pages.  Someone could say, “You’ll just write it some other time.” Amusing, simple.  But, what if last night was a missed vessel?  Starting to think that “someone” could have the more flavorful, beneficial motion.  Tomorrow, some strategic wine for the later scenes.  Three thousand words, all wine motivated, motif’d.  Now, tired like I’ve never known.  Delighted I found a couple rain pats to entry.  Found a couple new wines, lately.  Ones I’ve never touched.  Hopefully another, come tomorrow.  Time for blended sleep.  Deep, continuous, renewing.

[6/3/11, Friday]

WineWritingLockDown

Sipping a Jurassic ’07.  Melodic, but assertive.  Unpredictable, like this weather.  Again waiting for the podcast to upload.  How is that Literary?  Staring at the first chapter of the novel, with the black clip at the top’s medium.  The pages, by this little digital monster.  Should be editing those sheets, even if one-legged.  Cold in the castle, tonight.  But, an unexpected, divine, nobly arranged; theatrically composed Cabernet changed my stray.  

This wine, an entity about this Room, turning me ghostly.  A palate gallop.  Sequestered here, in the studio.  Thinking of another chapter.  Do I really want to produce a whole novel, or an armada of more bottled blurbs?  Want not to write.  Just enjoy the wine.  That’s the most “wine blogger” act I could this eve execute.  Sip, sip ...

[6/1/11, Wednesday]