Posts Tagged ‘Wine & Poetry’

Building The 2012 Monte Bello: Part II

May 10, 2013

We’ve just completed the second round of the Monte Bello Assemblage Tasting, and the blend is in!

It was quite a remarkable tasting; somewhat unique in its architecture, as compared to some past editions, in that it was essentially divided into three distinct phases: Audition, Assemblage, and Vertical.

For those of you not familiar with the process by which the Monte Bello is created, I humbly direct you to the following posts:

Beauty Is A Rare Thing: Building The 2012 Monte Bello

Building Monte Bello: The 2011 Assemblage

A Seat At The Table: A Day In Which I Am Invited To Participate In The 2010 Assemblage Tasting!

The Second Assemblage Tasting was held in The Old Torre Winery Barn, and in attendance were the following:

Paul Draper
Eric Baugher
John Olney
Shun Ishikubo
David Gates
Kyle Theriot
Shinji Kurokawa
Amy Monroe
Christopher Watkins (me)

~

As the warm spring sun began to wend its subtle tides through the warming window panes, Eric inaugurated his singular oeno-alchemy…

Eric_Preparing

… as, one by one, we sought our seats and prepared our palates.

Thebeginning

We began with an auditioning of sorts; a blind tasting, 5 glasses …

5glasses_I 5glasses_II

… no explanation, no context, only the instructions: taste, assess, write, vote; 2 plusses, 2 minuses, 1 neutral.

MoleskineNotes

When the veils were lifted, we were found to have been auditioning 4 blocks’ worth of possible inclusion candidates (three different cab lots, and a merlot option); snuck into the line-up was the First Assemblage, crafted back in April. Two of the lots received majority votes. Then it was on to Round II.

Five glasses again, blind tasted again. And again, the directive: taste, assess, write, vote; 2 plusses, 2 minuses, 1 neutral. 4 of the 5 lots fared very well; one block fell by the wayside for showing a bit too ripe.

With Round III came the “proper” assemblage process: two glasses; one with the “control” (in this case, the First Assemblage), one with an “addition.” A and B. Taste, assess, write, vote. Plus or Minus.

Eric&Shun_Pouring

Eric Baugher & Shun Ishikubo

“A” took it by a nose, 5 to 4. A 7% addition of South Slope South Cabernet (S3).

Round IV. Two glasses again. A and B. Control (now including S3) and Addition.  “B” essentially sweeps; a 7-2 majority. A blend of Camp and Back Hills falls by the side of the vineyard road.

Paul_Tasting

Paul Draper

Round V, an override! I am on the right side of history for this one; I alone voted with Paul and Eric in favor of a 10% addition of 10-acre cab, and as is his right, Paul opted for the addition. None complained, it had been a tough vote.

David Gates

David Gates

Round VI, we would find out later, found us debating the future of a block I’d loved on its own; my colleague Amy as well, joined by David Gates; however, David, a veteran of the assemblages, predicted it would not, in the end, be “assembled.” He was right, it lost out to a 6-3 majority in favor of the control. But I am holding out for a solo bottling; on its own, the block is beautiful.

Paul&John_Talking

Paul Draper & John Olney

Round VII, the final round of the Assemblage. “A” took the majority, which was the control, but Paul and John came out swinging in favor of the addition; a small block of stressed Merlot. To be continued …

And then came the final round. A 6-wine blind vertical of Monte Bello; the preceding 5 vintages, plus the “new” 2012.

MonteBelloVertical

I wrote “proper” tasting notes on each, and was able to spot almost all of them as what they were, though much to my surprise, I confused the 2009 and the 2007 (which, I would say, says a great deal for how the 2007 is currently showing, given the overwhelmingly positive critical response we’ve received for the 2009 of late –Wine Advocate: 98 points, International Wine Report: 97 points, International Wine Cellar: 96 points, Wine Spectator: 95 points–given that we’re currently offering the 2007 in our tasting rooms, perhaps a good time to visit!)

But anyhow, in addition to my “proper” notes, I also wrote a spontaneous Haiku in response to each:

2009 Monte Bello
A walk through the trees;
wet, the path, twilit, the leaves.
Into the green mist.

2008 Monte Bello
The red blushes of
beauty; luxuriant youth,
serene  age; timeless.

2007 Monte Bello
As a great trunk’s broad
shoulders grow, ask yourself: Which
is stronger? Roots? Limbs?

2011 Monte Bello
Sweet soul perfection
of campground wisdom; as with
smoke, so with memories.

2012 Monte Bello (2nd Assemblage)
There is strength to fear
and strength to love; run from one,
run to the other.

2010 Monte Bello
Elegance within
a corset; beauty of denial,
of promise: a dream

~

When all was said and done, a new Assemblage had been born: The 2nd Assemblage. The new details are as follows:

62% Cabernet Sauvignon, 22% Merlot, 9% Cabernet Franc 7% Petit Verdot, 13.6% ABV

Welcome.

~

As we do every year, we continue to invite our Monte Bello Collector Members to experience firsthand the burgeoning development of the vintage that will one day be theirs; they have now seen the 2012 Monte Bello in its Component state (for more, please click here), in its 1st Assemblage incarnation (for more, please click here), and next weekend, they’ll sample that which we have just created, the 2nd Assemblage. And if history repeats itself, it’s quite likely this will be the Final Assemblage, meaning this will be the last opportunity to taste this wine before it goes into bottle for its long hibernation; not to awaken again until its release in 2015. For more information about this very special event, please see below:

Final Monte Bello Tasting
Saturday & Sunday, May 18th & 19th
11-5pm each day
Cupertino, CA

This event is for Monte Bello Collector members only (a total of 4 attendees per membership), there is no fee to attend, and an RSVP is required. We look forward to seeing you!

Eventbrite - Monte Bello Final Assemblage Tasting - May 18th & 19th, 11am-5pm

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Posted in Bordeaux varietals, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Events & Photographs, History, Merlot, Monte Bello, Paul Draper, Petit Verdot, RIDGE Staff, Tasting Events/Opportunities, Tasting Flights, Tasting Notes, Varietals & Blends, Vineyards and Oenology, Vintage Wine Labels, Virtual Verticals, Viticultural Salmagundi, Wine & Poetry, Wine Clubs, Wine Tales | 2 Comments »

Vineyard Sonnet

June 18, 2012

It was with great pleasure that I read the recent announcement regarding who would be judging the 2012 Wine Blog Awards. It is a great roster of talent, and the presence and commitment of such a litany of luminaries seems certain to guarantee a rigorous, informed, and passionate judging process.

On a personal level, it was particularly nice to see a few good friends on the list; individuals who I admire greatly, and who are great contributors to the worlds of wine, and wine writing. Among them are Amy Cleary, Jo Diaz, and Richard Jennings. And of course, my old friend Lenn Thompson, who actually technically gave me my first wine writing job.

Back in the mid-oughts, I was working as the Operations Manager for a vineyard on the North Shore of Long Island, and as such, I was of course very familiar with what was then known as Lenndevours.com. It was essentially THE New York wine blog. The site is now known as The New York Cork Report, and it is one of the most influential, groundbreaking, paradigm-shifting, and important wine sites out there. It was quite successful back then as well, though I think it is safe to say its greatest successes were certainly still to come.

Anyhow, I met Lenn at a time when, in addition to my Operations Manager duties in the wine industry, I was also working on what would become my first published collection of poetry, and in a wonderful gesture of support and synergy, Lenn offered me the position of Poet Laureate of Lenndevours.com. I accepted with delight, humility, and excitement, and immediately began working on trying to produce wine-themed poetry for his site.

I ended up contributing a fair amount of work by the end of it all, and I was quite pleased with a great many of the pieces, as, I hope, was Lenn.

In the aftermath of seeing Lenn’s name on the judges list, I’ve been reflecting a bit on my time as “Wine Blog Poet Laureate” in New York, and it is in that spirit that I wish to offer the following …

Old-Vine Zinfandel at the Ponzo Vineyards in Russian River Valley

(photo courtesy of Lytton Springs Viticulturist Will Thomas)

–

Vineyard Sonnet

As the warm yolk of mid-morning sky gently beats back

the cool pewter of dawn, one can feel a dry tickle in the air

like the onset of an allergy that announces, with a breath,

that the season is a-changin’.

 

With the unexpected rains of the past disappearing

into the echoed annals of memory, the summer now looms before us

in all its hot and arid intensity. We wonder, will the hundreds hit

the thermometer this July, and do any more surprises yet remain?

 

Emerging from two years of challenge,

we can’t help but be nervous now

about the abnormal normality of the times.

We wait, we watch, and we hope.

 

This, the partnership with Mother Nature;

one of the stranger business models.

–

I wish the judges all the luck in the world as they delve into the rich contemporary canon of wine writing available in bloglandia; there is a tremendous amount of quality writing to be found out there, and amidst all the analysis, the tasting notes, the points and ratings, there is also, dare I say it, a good bit of poetry as well.

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Posted in RIDGE Staff, Varietals & Blends, Vineyards and Oenology, Wine & Poetry, Zinfandel | Leave a Comment »

A Leap Year Anniversary for California’s Very First Poet Laureate!

February 29, 2012

On this date in history, February 29, in the year 1928, Ina Coolbrith passed on.

Ina Coolbrith

This is a passing we can note only in years such as these.

Leap years.

Ina Coolbrith was the very first poet laureate of California, a fine and talented a poet, a poet of place, a poet who once memorably asked in her epic poem simply titled “California”:

Are not the fruit and vine
Fair on my hills?

To which we answer “Yes!”

Her poem concluded thusly, and beautifully:

Was in the wind, or the soft sigh of leaves,
Or sound of singing waters? Lo, I looked,
And saw the silvery ripples of the brook,
The fruit upon the hills, the waving trees,
And mellow fields of harvest; saw the Gate
Burn in the sunset; the thin thread of mist
Creep white across the Sausalito hills;
Till the day darkened down the ocean rim,
The sunset purple slipped from Tamalpais,
And bay and sky were bright with sudden stars.

A poet of place, a poet to honor. A poet to honor with a wine.

A wine of place.

To you, poet of our state, a toast!

Monte Bello.

1984.

A leap year.

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From Grape to Glass: The Journey

February 23, 2012

That a grape undergoes a transformative journey en route to its incarnation as a bottle of wine is reasonably self-evident; wine could of course not be possible without said journey taking place.

But in fact, there is more than meets the eye afoot, and more than one journey underway.

The original magic of the vine-to-wine transubstantiation resides in the overlapping concentrics of history. A vineyard is a journey unto itself; soil to seed, plant to fruit; year in and year out, the ever-deepening Samsaric encirculation of life, the poetry of the perennial:

The vineyards crews
don’t dare mention drought.
The rain is going to come this weekend.

Already I have seen
three snowflakes prancing lightly
like young reindeer in the air.

Back from holidays, they start in
on the pruning of the slopes, repeating
mantras to their dogs, laughing in Spanish.

From the gun club by the quarry
comes the shots
that we all hear on a delay.

We amaze ourselves, reminded
that the stars we beg to weep
have died already.

There is nowhere
for the last year to go,
but to the ground.

Already
every day
is growing larger.

Spindling out from this ever-in-rotation  inner agrarian hub, like spokes of some great metaphysical wheel, are the revelations of vintage; each season a season of imagination, impossibility, and faith.; new journeys all; from the grape, to the glass.

This is what we taste when we taste honest and authentic wine; the history of the vineyard, the history of the harvest, the histories of the living and the dead, the biology of sweet human endeavor, in forever soulful congress with the earth, with the sky, with the gods.

The  Old World. The New World.

The Journey.

(The following film short is a pictorial chronicle of a grape’s journey from vineyard to bottle, featuring Ridge Vineyards Geyserville, set to the music of Antonín Dvořák’s ”From The New World” symphony; a work composed back in the era when Geyserville’s “Old Patch” was just being planted.)

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Posted in Geyserville, History, Varietals & Blends, Video, Vineyards and Oenology, Wine & Poetry, Wine Tales, Winemaking, Zinfandel | Leave a Comment »

Monte Bello Rain Poem: The Movie

January 20, 2012

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Posted in Events & Photographs, Monte Bello, Wine & Music, Wine & Poetry | 2 Comments »

A Broom & A Bottle of Wine

December 11, 2011

If you were listening to NPR this morning, and happened to catch The Writer’s Almanac (hosted by Lake Wobegon’s own Garrison Keillor), you would have heard Mr. Keillor reading a stark and stunning poem by the evisceratingly poignant poet Jim Harrison, whose birthday it is today, the 11th of December.

Wine plays an emotionally significant role in the poem, and does so in such a way as to support once again the theorem that in wine, we have our liquid of ritual. Enjoy.

Broom

To remember you’re alive
visit the cemetery of your father
at noon after you’ve made love
and are still wrapped in a mammalian
odor that you are forced to cherish.
Under each stone is someone’s inevitable
surprise, the unexpected death
of their biology that struggled hard, as it must.
Now to home without looking back,
enough is enough.
En route buy the best wine
you can afford and a dozen stiff brooms.
Have a few swallows then throw the furniture
out the window and begin sweeping.
Sweep until the walls are
bare of paint and at your feet sweep
until the floor disappears. Finish the wine
in this field of air, return to the cemetery
in evening and wind through the stones
a slow dance of your name visible only to birds.

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Posted in Wine & Poetry | 3 Comments »

The Moon & Monte Bello …

November 12, 2011

The arrival of cold weather moons on our mountain always moves me; there is a timelessness to the experience that connects me to time itself; by the simple act of raising a toast to the moon, one is at once at one with the past, with the elders, with a wisdom that skates upon the shimmering surface of mortality as a child does with the first icing down of the park.

The Moon & Monte Bello ...

 
I am reminded of a wondrous and beautiful poem by the great Chinese poet T’ao Ch’ien (written sometime around the year 400 C.E.), here translated by David Hinton (by far and away, in my humble estimation at least, the very best contemporary translator of ancient Chinese poetry):
 
After Kuo Chu-pu’s Poems

We had warm, wet weather all spring. Now,
white autumn is clear and cold. Dew frozen,

drifting mists gone, bottomless heavens
open over this vast landscape of clarity,

and mountains stretch away, their towering
peaks an unearthly treasure of distance.

These fragrant woodland chrysanthemums
ablaze, green pines lining the clifftops:

isn’t this the immaculate heart of beauty,
this frost-deepened austerity? Sipping wine,

I think of recluse masters. A century away,
I nurture your secrets. Your true nature

eludes me here, but taken by quiet, I can
linger this exquisite moon out to the end.

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Wine

May 26, 2010

In the wine business, we definitely spend a lot of time talking up the wonders of wine; we’re a passionate bunch by and large, with enthusiasms to spare. That said, it’s of course a tricky line to walk, because while we’re all believers, there is a dark side if one goes too far, and I think it’s extremely important we remember just exactly what it is we’re talking about when we talk, which, is, basically, the consumption of alcohol. Enjoy it too much, and there lies ruination.

Fortunately, I find that wine brings out, more often than not, the very best in us; we revel in good company, we delight in good food, we share wonderful stories, talk great art, listen to beautiful music. We ponder, we extol, we regale. A wine night is a peaceful night, a giving night, a sharing night. It’s a calm, sleepy night, full of long pauses, deep sighs, aphoristic witticisms and devotional pledges.

Odd though, that for all the poetry of viticultural exaltation, there is little in the way of cautionary tales to match said visionary fervor. We need them, of course, cautionary tales, for above all else wine asks for balance; in itself, and in us, and without caution, passion becomes recklessness.

Which makes it a rather wonderful calendrical confluence that Raymond Carver’s birthday was yesterday.

Indisputably one of our greatest modern American writers, Mr. Carver’s many legacies can be felt across a myriad of realms; literary, critical, cultural. A master of the short story form, an austerely guttural poet, a giving critic and teacher, Raymond Carver casts a long shadow over our literary traditions and aspirations.

He was also a drunk, a bad one, and for a very long time. Fortunately, he managed to pull himself out, and he enjoyed the remainder of his years in a much clearer-eyed manner; I think his many years of torment and struggle with his addiction give him a power to discuss the dangers of over-indulgence in a way that goes beyond the dogmatic “just say no” approach, to approach a poetry of warning, a cautionary poetry, a poetry of prophecy, wisdom, and restraint.

I have often singled out poems for their wondrous depictions of wine, rarely have I noted one for depicting the underside, but in honor of Mr. Carver’s birthday, his triumph over addiction, and as an affirmation of the responsibility all of us in this business take on as regards looking after ourselves and those we share our passion for wine with, I would like to share the following poem with you, “Wine” by Raymond Carver.

Reading a life of Alexander the Great, Alexander

whose rough father, Philip, hired Aristotle to tutor

the young scion and warrior, to put some polish

on his smooth shoulders. Alexander who, later

on the campaign trail into Persia, carried a copy of

The Iliad in a velvet-lined box, he loved that book so

much. He loved to fight and drink, too.

I came to that place in the life where Alexander, after

a long night of carousing, a wine-drunk (the worst kind of drunk–

hangovers you don’t forget), threw the first brand

to start a fire that burned Persepolis, capital of the Persian Empire

(ancient even in Alexander’s day).

Razed it right to ground. Later, of course,

next morning–maybe even while the fire roared–he was

remorseful. But nothing like the remorse felt

the next evening when, during a disagreement that turned ugly

and, on Alexander’s part, overbearing, his face flushed

from too many bowls of uncut wine, Alexander rose drunkenly to his feet,

grabbed a spear and drove it through the breast

of his friend Cletus, who’d saved his life at Granicus.

 

For three days Alexander mourned. Wept. Refused food. “Refused

to see to his bodily needs.” He even promised

to give up wine forever.

(I’ve heard such promises and the lamentations that go with them.)

Needless to say, life for the army came to a full stop

as Alexander gave himself over to his grief.

But at the end of those three days, the fearsome heat

beginning to take its toll on the body of his dead friend,

Alexander was persuaded to take action. Pulling himself together

and leaving his tent, he took out his copy of Homer, untied it,

began to turn the pages. Finally he gave orders that the funeral

rites described for Patroklos be followed to the letter:

he wanted Cletus to have the biggest possible send-off.

And when the pyre was burning and the bowls of wine were

passed his way during the ceremony? Of course, what do you

think? Alexander drank his fill and passed

out. He had to be carried to his tent. He had to be lifted, to be put

into his bed.

 

Thank you Mr. Carver, for your writing, and for your life. And thank you for this poem, for reminding us that the only cure for regret is to avoid mistakes before they happen.

Drink your wine softly, drink it in peace, with those you love, surrounded by the awareness symbols that center you to the magic hoodoo splendidness of life, and then stop. Stop to be grateful, stop to be safe, stop to be alive. Tomorrow is another day, and with it comes more wine, more art, more music, more passion, more magic. Inch by inch, row by row, the future blossoms.

Cheers!

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More Ancient Chinese Wine Poetry

July 1, 2009

As you may have noticed from a previous post (to be found here), I very much enjoy reading ancient Chinese and Japanese poetry, and I’m especially fond of the role wine often plays in these works. Accordingly, I’ve got a few more oeno-poetic items to peruse …

The first poem I want to look at is by the great Sung Dynasty poet Su Tung p’o, who lived from 1037 to 1101.

SuTungPo

Not only is this a stunningly beautiful poem, with a stunning wine image in its volta, it is also an excellent occasion to showcase just how much translation can affect our experience of a poem. Accordingly, I’ll excerpt from two different translations, one by Kenneth Rexroth and one by David Hinton. First, the Rexroth translation (in whose hands the poem in entitled “The Red Cliff”), with the excerpt below being the closing few lines of the poem:

Let people
Laugh at my prematurely
Grey hair. My answer is
A wine cup, full of the
Moon drowned in the River.

And now, the David Hinton translation, who titles the poem “At Red Cliffs, Thinking Of Ancient Times.” And again, the closing lines:

Surely spirits of that ancient time
roam here, smiling at all these feelings
and my hair already turning white.
Our life’s like dream,
so pour out the whole cup, offering to a river and its moon.

Wow! What a difference, eh? Both renditions are stunning to me, but so, so very different. For my purposes here though, what’s most important is the image of the wine cup; it’s utterly indispensable to the potency of the volta in both translations.

Here is another beautiful poem, with wine a little more incidental, but still vital. (The poet is Lu Yu, a late Sung Dynasty poet).

LuYu

I will admit that, despite the comparatively limited role wine plays here, I really wanted to include this poem because it has such a fantastic, and fantastically long, title:

“7th Moon, 29th Sun, Yi Year of the Ox: I had a Dream Last Night in Which I Met a Stately Man, and at First Sight We Were Like Old Friends. He Had Written Pages of Lovely Poems Long Ago, All Perfectly Pure and Simple. I Started Reading Through Them, but Woke Before I Could Finish. To Record What Happened, I’ve Written This in Long Lines”

Whew! Anyhow, the poem (in a Hinton translation):

This traveler is an instant friend, utterly clear and true:
even before we dip out wine, we share kindred thoughts.

The pillow is cold, but I don’t understand it’s all a dream
in the clear night. I just savor that vision of an old sage.

Star River tipped, Dipper sunk, ancient histories empty,
mist scatters and clouds leave. Our two bodies are mirage,

and mind is perfectly clarity. It sees through this illusion.
Awake, you can’t avoid it: all things the same bittersweet.

 

Will someone please remind me to “dip out wine” the next time I have wine? I think we need to incorporate more ladels into the tasting experience …

 

Anyhow, one last poem, one I consider to be just an absolutely quintessential expression of the metaphysical, naturalistic, cosmologically integrated  joys of drinking wine. It’s a Rexroth translation of another work by Su Tung P’o, titled “Moon, Flowers, Man”:

I raise my cup and invite
The moon to come down from the
Sky. I hope she will accept
Me. I raise my cup and ask
The branches, heavy with flowers,
To drink with me. I wish them
Long life and promise never
To pick them. In company
With the moon and the flowers,
I get drunk, and none of us
Ever worries about good
Or bad. How many people
Can comprehend our joy? I
Have wine and moon and flowers.
Who else do I want for drinking companions?

 

Just lovely.

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Posted in Viticultural Salmagundi, Wine & Poetry | 3 Comments »

The Line And The Vine: Wine And The Poetry of William Matthews

May 9, 2009

William Matthews might not be a household name, but to people who read, write, and otherwise appreciate modern and contemporary American poetry, he was an intensely loved wordsmith, and a tremendous influence on so many writers. He mastered a conversational approach to narrative poetry that was deceptive in its approachability; he was neither deliberately obscure nor self-indulgently clever; he was meticulous without being off-putting, and his poetry walks the delicate balance of both entreating and challenging his readers. I could go on and on, but for my purposes here, Matthews was also, indisputably, a “foodie.” One could probably mount an argument that, in addition to jazz (perhaps his ultimate love and favored subject), food and all its attendant pleasures and mysteries was his other great subject. And not just food, but wine specifically. Matthews had a way of writing about wine that made one not only very, very thirsty for wine, but for life, love, romance, travel, sex, food, and yes, more wine. And even if he wasn’t writing specifically about wine, the way wine would figure in his poems made you yearn for a good glass and a good adventure all the more, even as your soul is aching from the poignancy and pathos of his visions.

Consider Matthews’ great poem, “La Tâche, 1962,” originally published in his second collection, Sleek For The Long Flight. The opening of the poem is, “Pulling the long cork, I shiver with a greed so pure it is curiosity./I feel like the long muscles in a sprinter’s thighs when he’s in the/block, like a Monarch butterfly the second before it begins migrating to Venezuela for the winter — I feel as if I were about to seduce somebody famous.” And later, he delivers the following; ” …the wine holds and lives by/whatever it has learned from 3 1/2 acres of earth. What I taste isn’t the/wine itself, but its secrets. I taste the secret of thirst, the longing of matter to be energy, the sloth of energy to lie down in the trenches of/sleep, in the canals and fibres of the grape.” And in one of the final lines, he writes (in reference to the wine of the title) that, “It is the emblem of what we never really taste or know, the silence/all poems are unfaithful to.”

Unbelievable! Not only does he work this poem into a stunning evocation of wine and life’s true cojoined magic, he even turns it into an Ars Poetica by poem’s end; a treatise on poetry itself! I am just stunned every time I read this work.

Sometimes wine is not the subject of the work at all, nor even a secondary focus; in some poems, wine appears only as fleeting metaphor, but somehow, the intensity of deployment is still chilling in its power. Consider a stanza from Matthews’ poem “Living Among The Dead,” from his collection Rising And Falling. In an affectingly existential rumination on fathers, sons, the living, and the dead, Matthews writes the following:

My sons and I are like some wine
the dead have already bottled.
They wish us well, but there is nothing
they can do for us.

More on Mr. Matthews later, but I encourage you to seek out his poems. They’re wondrous.

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