note— Charmé

img_1823I’ve always seen wine as a literary being, not so much a chemical or agricultural product.  The relationships we realize and develop with whatever wines we prefer and chase down are OURS.  Don’t just blindly follow some sommelier or critic.  Don’t let them tell you to like or dislike the character in the bottle.  Approach the story with an open mind, I suggest.  Last night’s Chardonnay still on my thoughts with its slow rolls over my senses, punctuating its prime shapeliness and subtleties.  For a while, right after opening the bottle, I just sipped—  Didn’t look at my phone, didn’t take a single note in the Composition Book, just listened to what it had to say.  I listened to it like my mother was talking, or sister, close friend or one of my children in their own unique tongue.  The communication was elevated, and yes because I enjoyed the wine.  But, even if I don’t like what I sip, I still listen.  I learn from the flavor construction and the tactile composition of the wine’s momentum.  In wine being literary, it’s alive, cognitive, evolutionary, complicated and self-contradicting, musical and unpredictable.  If I’ve ever followed a wine, and let it deliver its thesis before I react, it was last night.  Tellement amoureux.



Bottled Thought:  004

IMG_9886During yesterday’s tasting at Sunce, I realized what an interesting dynamic and existential morsel a tasting room is.  Why?  Well, it’s where people familiar with or curious about wine amalgamate to see what’s in the glass, what this winery has to say, and what they’ll see, learn, like, dislike in what wine’s poured.  How their palates and senses concerning wine develop at that bar, at the counter with the person or couple people pouring for them.  If they’d had Merlot before but not at this winery, you could say they’ve never had Merlot before, in that moment and context, in the pleasurable entrapment of that tasting room.


I’ve always seen the bar as not so much a filter, but a doorstep.  Or maybe IMG_9884a bit of a filter, for the consumer, the one who makes the business and our world (those in the business and writing/blogging about it) forward in creative deluges of varietal interpretation and exploration.  Yesterday I had three Pinots and several Bordeaux pours, among much else.  Steve behind the bar was gentle and convivial, and encouraging of my reaction to Sunce’s pours.  A moment of growth for me as a wine consumer, where I didn’t have to think too hard about what I was poured but just be receptive to the new takes on the grapes.

IMG_9875When I hear the word “tasting”, I think ‘trying’, with no pressure or coercion; no intimidation and no expectation.  It’s a travel to somewhere you’ve never seen.  And “Room”? I think ‘comfort’, I think ‘welcome’, I think ‘ease’.  So I have to again ask why some surround the subject of wine with unnecessary anointment, with self-indulgent hyperbole and unwanted totem talk?  It’s Life, this wine we sip, and the room is where we appreciate it, sip it and grow from, in, and with IT.  “So, then, how is a ‘morsel’, as you said?” Because, boldly, it’s a matter of taste, of preference and proclivity.  It’s personal.  So there is no right.  And aptly, no wrong.  So step to the bar with eagerness and no angst-angled chagrin.

Bottled Thought:  002


Wine is a travel, I’m starting to see at my age.  A growth and a story, a voice with my voice–  Traveling through life and moments as a wine chaser, teaching me; the bottles look at me intently, with urge to gently and effusively instruct.  Last night I sipped the rest of a Sonoma Coast Pinot while last week I was in Syrah’s sprawl.  One varietal then to the next type, vintage to vintage, teaching me more about me and my place with wine.  Where will I be tomorrow, though-wise and with my reflective skips, with wine?  I don’t know, and I love that.  Wine and I follow each other, it’s this metered tango that we both don’t want to stop.  And the synergy is infectious.