On a Small Street in Spain

The city streets were hot all day and practically melted under his feet as he walked. For hours he wondered around Barcelona watching the tourists barter with the locals for produce, jewelry, trinkets, just about anything. All the while he was trying to figure out just exactly what it was that he wanted to figure out about himself and why he picked Spain to escape his life in the states.

Even after the sun had set, the city seemed to have a beautiful, rich color to it. Deep hues of red, purple, blue, yellow and green, everything around him took on a different feel and meaning now that he was alone.

His Spanish was very broken, and so he didn’t say much all day and this lead to a deep hunger. Smelling what he thought was fresh bread off in the distance, he allowed his sense of smell to be his guide. The sun had set and couples took to the streets for what looked like romance. Continuing on his walk, seats filled up quickly with duos sitting, holding hand,s sharing plates, drinking wine and beer. They were all laughing and gazing into each others eyes. He had to push his own confliction aside and push forward.

“Shit, I am totally lost now,” he said under his breath as he stopped at the corner of a crowded street.

There were people everywhere, sitting and enjoying the beautiful night and food being presented to them. He knew better than to impose on any of them, to get his Yankee ass back to the hotel.

Giggling to herself, she could hear his muffled expletive and see his confused look. "A lost American," she thought, and then said, "Would you like to have a seat?”

Her voice came from the left of him. He turned, confused to hear an American voice and not even sure if it was spoken to him.

“Yes, Yankee, I am asking you if you would like to sit down. It appears as though you have lost your way and, by the looks of things, you could use a glass of wine and, judging by the time, something to eat? But if I am wrong, the main street is four blocks to the right and six to the left. When you see the fountain with the three men playing cards you are back in the center of town."

“You’re American!” He exclaimed. “I mean, are you? And sure, I would love to have a seat, and a glass of wine, and I’m starving!” Sitting down at the little table, he could not help but take a closer look at her. Wondering…

“Ha ha, yes, I am American.” She had traveled for the past year and tonight, she didn’t expect to find him. This Yankee, he was tall, with root beer eyes and solid shoulders. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a good three days. She could tell he took good care of himself, even on a day in the streets of Spain, he was dressed appropriately, not like most men. She could pick them out easily, the kind that picked something out of a bag, smelled it and, judging on if the stench was 5 or 6, showered before leaving. He was handsome and his smile was intoxicating.

“You sure are a sight for sore eyes. I’ll tell ya what, I have been walking for hours and I don’t speak much Spanish. I have only been here three days, and I am getting by on what the hotel has to offer pretty much. Today I decided to venture out of my comfort zone and find something new. Guess I didn’t get too far, huh?” He found himself rambling on and in his head he knew it. He even told himself to slow down. But she was beautiful, she was wearing a black dress with little white polka dots and her skin was very tan, almost like she had been sitting on the beaches all summer long. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and a red ribbon held it in place. Her eyes were an entrancing hazel.

Before she could even ask him what he liked to drink, a bottle of 2008 Tapeńa Garnacha showed up at the table with two glasses and the waiter poured.

“Well, cheers to exploring outside of your comfort zone.” she said as they clinked glasses.

Both of their eyes lit up when the first sip hit their mouths. Full of sweet soft berries, the rich rosemary and lingering spice at the back of the mouth made them both quickly return for another sip. In unison, they both allowed their shoulders to fall.

He knew that Spain was respected for its Tempranillos hailing from the Rioja region; but this Granacha was alluring, seductive and down right delicious. He almost forgot he was hungry. The tannins were still lingering on the roof of his mouth, dancing around the sides of his tongue and he found his hand reaching for more.

“What were you working on when I sat down?” he asked her.

“Oh this? Just some notes, nothing really. Maybe we should order some Tapas? How do you feel about cheese?”

He let out a bellowing laugh. “I would eat cheese on my death bed.”

It was like she knew someone or something about this place, but before he could even change the subject there were plates and there were forks. And then, then came the food. First, the cheese plate. There were 3 different types of cheese, none of which he could pronounce; but he was ready to explore, and his eyes lit up just at the chance to. Manchego, which is a sheep cheese, was light but set off the flavor of the rosemary in the wine. Iberic, a blend of sheep and cow milk, was nice and creamy in bringing forth the sweet bright fruit flavor of the berries in the wine. And finally the Cabrales, a blend of sheep, cow and goat was creamy and rich almost like a dessert.

“Why are you here tonight?” Her question was quick and to the point and might have taken him off course, but he simply looked her in the eye and said, “I don’t want to miss out on opportunities in life.”

Evasive, she thought, but she knew she couldn’t offer much of an explanation herself.

“May I pour you another glass?” he offered as he was already pouring it. Emptying the last of the bottle into his glass, they both looked at each other and knew that another bottle was in their near future.

“Spain has more land devoted to vineyards than any other country, and ranks third for wine production in the world. Did you know that?” She was trying to distract the tension that was building between them.

His eyes were telling her a story of pain, a story of longing for someone to be near him and understand him for the years of hard work and struggle that he had been through. This was finally his escape into finding out what he wanted out of life and tonight he was finally relaxing, not needing to worry about anything but the moment and enjoying himself, the company and the wine.

Neither one of them had noticed the plates being removed and replaced with new ones. A beautiful salad of avocado, corn, black beans and tomatoes was placed in front of them. It was spiced and chilled to perfection. Fresh bread arrived and a new bottle of wine was uncorked. Cheers!

Suddenly a drunk man stood up and started singing, bumping into the Yankees chair, bumping him closer to her. It was then that he caught a smell of her, and touched her bare leg. Their mouths barely touching, he paused, looking down at her lips and then again at her eyes. He cleared his throat.

“There is a men’s room here, somewhere, around here, somewhere, right.” He was tripping all over his words.

She giggled again. “Um, yes," she cleared her throat, "it's up those steps and then off to the right of the patio.”

They both exhaled at the same time. She thought to herself, "Is it the wine, or this Mediterranean climate and the mountains that are making me feel this way?"

When he returned, he sat a little closer than when he had originally sat down. Maybe there was something to be said for these spicy hills and the juice they held.

With forks in hand another round of food appeared. Corn tortillas filled with a spicy meat, rice, beans, cheese, cabbage, cilantro and limes. As messy as it was, it was more delicious. Licking their fingers, he couldn’t help but reach out over the table, taking his thumb and running it over the side of her mouth. “A little something,” he said with a wink.

Her stomach flipped at the moment his hand touched her face and when his finger touched her lips you might as well of put that fork right into her.

“How long do you think you will be in Spain?” he asked her. He didn’t even know how long he was going to be there but he knew he wanted to see more of her.

“Until I am done with my work, maybe three more weeks. I have gone to most of the regions already, but I am going to spend about another week here in Barcelona and then play it by ear.” She never put time limits on her destinations or woke up to an alarm clock. Her days began when she woke and ended when her mind shut off, which was usually never.

Off in the distance someone was celebrating. A cake was brought out with sparklers and the waiters were singing. The golden crackle of candles bounced off her eyes. He couldn’t help himself as he placed one hand on each side of her face and pulled her close. She didn’t dare take a breath as his lips grew closer, slowly her eyes closed and her lips gave way to his.

There was an abundance of clapping and they pulled apart. Slighty laughing at the kiss and the applause, they sat there and looked at the table that had now been set for dessert. Two more forks and what was left of the Tapeńa. The waiter brought out a dark chocolate cake with raspberry sauce and two sugar cookie crisps.

The sidewalks were starting to clear out and so was the café. They both knew that when dinner was over, this encounter was going to be too. They were both trying to hold on to it as long as possible. But saying good bye was inevitable.

“Alright, so how do we end a night like tonight?” he questioned.

“The main street is four blocks to the right and six to the left. When you see the fountain with the three men playing cards you are back in the center of town,” she said. It was the same answer that started the evening. And in the back of his head he thought to himself, "Shit…I’m lost!"

“Let me at get the check and at least walk you back to your… where are you staying?” All these questions he was throwing at her was starting to make her feel dizzy.

“Let's just say it was my pleasure having wine in Spain with you tonight.” Her look was one he had never been given by a woman and it was sexy, confident, and alluring. It was killing him that he didn’t know anything about her.

“Okay, so now what?” He took her hand in his, pushed her loose strands of hair back and looked her in the eyes, very seriously and confused. It was now he realized they didn’t even know each others names. “Wait… How do I find you, I don’t even know your name?”

She took a deep breath. She knew this all along, feared it was going to come to this at some point in her journey, and pulling a pen from her book she pulled the linen off her lap and wrote something on it. Handing it over to him she said, “Don’t open this 'til I’m gone, please.”

It was then she leaned in one more time and kissed him, kissed him deeply. Their mouths parted and their tongues touched. Like the first sip, soft to the touch in the front, more intense in the back, and lingering for a long time. They sat there kissing, and when they were done kissing he could still feel her kiss in his mouth like the grape skin of the wine.

“I have to go. Now promise,you wont look at this till I’m gone.” She had to be sure he wouldn’t look.

“I promise,” was the last thing she heard him say.

The moment she turned the corner he opened the linen.

Inside was written... ~ A Journey Through Wine

Cheers!
<3 To MP

This is Where I Find My Happy

Happiness can come at the most unpredictable and unsusceptible moments. You may find joy and happiness in the face of your child or the way your spouse or partner looks at you with love or admiration. The way a pet jumps toward you as you open the door. Happiness can be defined in so many ways, too many for this simple glass tilter to count. But hen you find something that makes me happy, I like to share it. Now, let me start by saying, I can’t take credit for this one.
Although, I have been walking through life for the past month for what appears to be a smile that you can’t peal off my face, I refuse, to take the full credit for this night of pure happiness.
Last week a kind man on an extremely long lay over was discussing the different places we have traveled and he asked me, “what is your favorite wine?” My reply to him was simple, “its all relative.” He was actually a little surprised I think by my answer. “Here let me explain, you can be in the best of moods enjoying the best of wines and it will taste amazing. Or you can be drinking the same wine and just found out that your house was foreclosed on. The wine, its going to take on a different flavor. “
I went on explaining how I didn’t really care for white wines but how on a spring afternoon, I found great pleasure in them. Or when I am sitting on the deck with one of my best friends and her daughter, they are refreshing, it’s all relative.
He sat there with a look on his face of confusion yet clarity. He got it, he knew what I was talking about but something kept him from actually saying it aloud, and that, that was okay, because this man at this moment, he was happy. Despite the fact that he would be getting home later than he had anticipated, he had found a place that was quiet, he had found good conversation and he had found a good glass of wine.

Out of his wallet he pulled a small clipping from Wine Spectator, “This is one of my favorite wines.” He proclaimed and handed the tattered paper to me. Cantina Zaccagina Montepulciano. The picture was what caught my eye. The bottle was beautiful, a hand written label with straw wrapping and a small bit of stick deco. I knew for a fact that I would forget the name, but not the bottle. Nor the way the man had such admiration for this wine, happiness, for this wine.

That night we discussed my travels, my journey through wine, his family, the fact that he lived in North Carolina and how I want to die there (The Outer Banks that is). Thinking of him now, I have a smile on my face. Meeting that man, made me, well, happy and happy to know that he introduced me to the happy night I have set up for myself tonight.

Two hours in the gym and off the find a good bottle of wine, I knew I was in the mood for something spicy and Italian for dinner, and for some reason Montepulciano was on my brain for wine. I knew I had ground turkey defrosting, but I had no idea I was going to end up at the worst wine store in Philadelphia. When I say the worst, I mean, about three foreign wines, ten domestic, twenty jug wines and as I was trying to figure out what I was going to get I overheard the conversation of the security guard and the cashier discussing who had been in jail longer. Lord, give me the strength to find something, not get raped, shot or beat down in this store! Just as I was about to give up and walk out, out of the corner of my eye I saw it, this gem, this gift, this bottle of happiness! Cantina Zaccgnini and off to the register I went, ON SALE! OH THANK YOU LORD…you are good today! In Philly you can find it on sale for $12!

Do you all remember my blog about the first kiss? About how you never know if its going to be good or not? Well, let see how I can compare this, see, this is almost like being set up on a date. So, this man, had a friend (the wine) and he wanted to set us up on a date, but was not sure if we were going to hit it off or not. You see, he really likes his friend, reliable, dependable, stand-up all the way around good friend. Again, don’t forget we are talking about the wine.

And then there is me, I don’t know, I have no idea if I am going to like it, I am just going by what this man has to say, I am going by the label, because if you all don’t know by know, I do not, DO NOT read reviews on the wine before I drink it. And here I sit, making the most amazing spicy ground turkey meat sauce and spaghetti dinner, with nothing but happiness in my heart and happiness in my life right now, and I am about to go into the lions den, so…everyone wants to know….right? You all can’t wait!

Ahhhhhhh AMAZING! Its like the most amazing first kiss, you know the one ladies, where you lift your foot, and he pulls you in. The wine, at first sip, it filled my mouth, and it was dry, but not too dry, it took all of the other flavors out of my mouth and left me with nothing but the silk of its own juice. There was nothing felt on the flesh of my tongue but right at the tip, a slight prick and again at the back of my throat, just to let me know that it was there.

I honestly don’t know if I have tasted something as smooth and fruit forward yet provocative at the same time. Sometimes there are wines that will linger in your mouth long after you taste them, this one, only lingers with a smile and an urge for more.

So, for tonight, I am going to leave you with this, the same words, that man left me with that night, “you may never have a favorite wine, but you may find a favorite moment in there somewhere.”

Cheers!
<3 to MP

Seeing Red

There is a calmness that comes right before and right after a storm. Some sort of silence, an unspoken sense of awareness that it is either coming or that it has passed. You can slice the peace from it and hold it in the palm of your hand, lift it to your mouth, suck it in, hold it in your lungs, allow it to rattle around and breath it out, and there it is, the peace, the quiet, the clam.

Have you ever looked at a child about to throw a temper tantrum? Their face turns red, their eyes grow dark, their body becomes stiff and then hell hath no fury on them. Look out world! This child is screaming, yelling, throwing shit, flailing its body in all different directions, going into convulsions, snot is coming out of its nose, there is sound, no words, just sound and all you can do is sit back and watch. Watch and wait while this tantrum unravels and hope none of the shit ends up on you.

Then out of nowhere its over, the child is done, like it never happened, they sit down, calm quiet, almost as if none of this had taken place, there may be a few hiccups here or there, some residual from the storm if you may, but its over.

The day was long, it was so very long and there was not enough coffee to get me through. I could not get a 20% tip out people if I got down on my knees and begged them for it. What is going on with the way people tip these days? I have not been sleeping, I am working a lot and I am just tired. I am tired of trying, trying to try.

So, this afternoon, when I went into the office and looked at my manager with the only bit of energy I had left for I was at the tip of a tantrum and this is when it poured out, “I have to go to the gym tonight, but I don’t want to go to the gym tonight, but I can’t go tomorrow, so I have to go tonight, but I am so tired, I want to cry. I really want to cry. I have to go to Target, but I don’t want to go to Target. I just want to cry.” She looked at me and as calmly as anyone spoke to me, she said, “Amanda, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.” Here I was at 32 years of age, ready to have a full on temper tantrum. Yes, I was ready to throw shit, I was ready to convulse my body and have snot rush out of my face.

It was then, I gathered my things and hung my head and knew it was not worth crying over. It was not worth my tears. I walked out of the building; I got into my car, and took my shoes off. There is something to be said for flip flops on a hot spring day. Not only was it hot today, but it was thick… like Mother Nature was ready to throw her own little fit. It was on my way to Target that I talked myself out of going to the gym. ‘Well, if I have all of my food in the car, I simply can’t go to the gym, it will get too hot, so I have to just go home. Not to mention, I am going to the wine store, and I don’t want that to sit in the car while I am in there, so there, its settled, I am not going to night.’ WHIMP!

Behind me I could see the clouds go from a simple shade of white to a faint shade of grey, to a harsh bitter black. This storm was going to be quick, fierce and it was going to be amazing. It took me an hour and ten minutes of traffic to get home, but armed with everything I needed I was ready for tonight.

So, my readers, friend’s family and anyone who is willing to give me a moment of their time, I sit here, half in the bag, writing to you after the storm. It was beautiful, the lightning lit up the sky of Philadelphia, the thunder shook our very foundation and the rain washed away all of our heat! This storm cleansed us. There was a pressure that was building up all week, the hot, the cold the wind, and now tonight, the tantrum set forth and brought upon us a beautiful night.

My candles are lit on the staircase, dinner cooking on the stove, windows open and I poured a glass of Tempra Tantrum. I KNOW RIGHT?! How freaking fitting! Now be careful, I was sitting on the floor of the wine store looking three different verities of this wine. This is the 2006 Tempranillo/SHIRAZ. There was a Tempranillo/Merlot and a Tempranillo/Cabernet, and it was the Shiraz blend that I settled on.

This Spanish red at first sip is gigantic and fierce. It will bite you in the ass, and unleash its full body on your mouth with the first sip. It is not messing around. You have to let this wine sit, you have to let it have its “tantrum” and then enjoy it. As you may have learned this about me by now, I just dive right in, and drink, that first sip kicked the shit right out of me, it was like the wine said, “you want to cry, go ahead, I will give you something to cry about.” Whoa! After the first sip, and again the second, I had to exhale almost as though I were letting smoke out of my lungs.

This wine, reached me deep, deeper than the back of my mouth and my throat, but right to the depths of my chest. It puffed me up and consumed me. Nothing and I mean nothing existed at this very moment but me and these first two sips, and that was pretty freaking awesome. Picture for a moment, me standing in the kitchen, while the sky is reeking havoc on the city, the wind is blowing, lightening is blazing up the sky thunder is crashing against the walls, and these first two sips rocked my inner being. Now that is one hell of a temper tantrum!

Sitting here now, listening as the sky grumbles in the distance, and my day seems to fall to the past tense, I take another sip of this red bull if you may, and I taste the beauty of the juice, the spice on the front and the caramel on the back, my tongue is pricked with the bite of the plum and blackberries and I feel a sense of calm. I take a deep breath in, lets it back out, close my eyes and my shoulders fall, it is quiet, and the storm has passed. The tantrum has passed, and I am now left with peace.

Cheers!

And it was Goode!

I broke my first cork! Tonight I broke my first cork! I am now on my 37th bottle of wine, and tonight, well, I cracked the cork!

The weather has been, yet again, temperamental here in Philadelphia. Today we were pushing 90 degrees, and what better than an ice cold glass of wine to end a 2 hour long commute home? This 2008 Sauvignon Blanc is good. I mean really GOODE! Yes, it’s Murphy Goode Sauvignon Blanc Fume, and it’s light and fun, and refreshing. I think we all could use something like this from time to time.

When my friends found out I was drinking a white wine tonight, they were in shock, knowing how I love red wine, but dare I say there is something feminine and flirty about a glass of white wine in the evening? The citrus flavors of this wine are not overpowering, they are not acidic, they sit perfectly on the tip of my tongue and then wash away freely.

I feel that a good glass of wine should release you from the stresses and worries of your day, of your life and allow you to feel something unique. This Sauvignon Blanc out of Sonoma County allows me to reflect on the harshness of the day: the people, the work, the traffic, the noise, and… the broken cork. But, once I allow my shoulders to fall, my lips to relax and my breaths to steady, I realize life is Goode. It’s simple, it’s crisp and refreshing every single day.

Have you ever wanted to say “Who cares?” And really mean it? Honestly, really mean it? It’s fun, it’s freeing, it’s refreshing. And even if it was me talking to the bottle tonight as the cork sat sitting half in the bottle and half on the wine key, I thought, “who cares?” I knew I was going to get the cork out, and I knew I would enjoy the wine one way or another, and I am. Oh good lord, I am!

Ladies, think of that pretty dress you have been waiting all winter long to put on and wear with your favorite open toe shoes, as your fresh pedicure sparkles and your smooth skin welcomes the touch from another. The sun kisses your face and you glow with a sense of beauty. Yup, this is the wine.

Guys…uurgh, whoa, I got nothing for ya’ on this one, but think of how much fun that lady is going to be once you get her in your arms. The softness of her hands on your face, the way her hair feels as she brushes up against you, the sweet smell of her neck. When you kiss her, you taste the sweet fresh fruit on her lips.

Life gets crazy, it tries to break us, but take a moment and just be still, take a sip, take two, don’t worry about that cork that has broken because it’s what inside that really matters.

Cheers!
<3 to MP

Looking for Suggestions

Tonight I am drinking a 2008 Pinot Noir from the Private Selection of Robert Mondavi, and I so badly wanted to be in love with this wine. I so badly wanted to have a romantic interlude with this bottle, but instead I am simply satisfied. It's not a horrible experience that I am having, I am just not inspired.

At first sip, I could tell instantly that this was an American wine, grown in the hills of Central California. It is easy to taste the soil and the minerals that the earth brings to the grapes, that the land in which these grapes live still hold on to. The rugged country of Monterey is about 75 miles long and the climate provides an unusually long growing season.

Now, with the first sip, I thought to myself, "Come on, what are you tasting?" Coffee was the first thing that came to mind. I couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was because of the deep dark lush color of the wine, or the strong after-bite that I got at the end of the sip, but coffee lingered. I ended up going to http://www.robertmondavi.com/files/FlexibleFile/68/RMPS_TN_PN_2008.pdf , and it was here that I discovered WHY I tasted coffee - because there are scents of roasted nuts and toasty oak. Exactly, that was the coffee flavor I had originally tasted. However, I decided to let the wine open up a little longer. I have not eaten red meat in over a year and the only thing that I could think that would even be remotely delicious with this wine would be a medium rare filet or a pan seared lam chop. Hell, I don’t even remember what they taste like; but I promise you my friends, if that’s what you like, pour yourself a glass, fire up the grill, and I assure you, you will have yourself a great meal.

I, on the other hand, well, I am going in for more wine to see what I can pick up. I have made some egg noodles with a light marinara sauce and now the wine has taken on more of a cherry, mixed fruit flavor.

I don’t know why, I don’t understand it, I want to be enjoying this wine tonight, but I’m not. I don’t know if it’s the wine that I am not enjoying or if it's just the mood that I am in. I know that all can play a factor when drinking wine, so please keep that in mind. I know I am trying to.

I’m asking all of you out there. Help me, give me a wine that is going to relax me, something that is going to inspire me, something that is going to set me over my edge and bring me to a place of creative inspiration. Let's get interactive here. Am I hitting my wine wall tonight?

Cheers!
<3 to MP

Its Been Three Months

As soon as he struck the match the sulfur filled his lungs. The flame was low and he brought it close to the pile of brush he had gathered to make his fire. On nights like tonight he would usually drink whiskey but she had given him a bottle of wine for all of his hard work. With the slight chill in the air, this could possibly be a perfect night for a red wine buzz.

He had only been in Spain for two days when he had first seen her sitting by the fountain in the center of town. She looked friendly, sweet and for some reason, she looked alone. Alone in a way that she had come to Spain to escape something, something or someone, possibly both. She was sitting next to the fountain writing in a small notebook, he couldn’t help but notice she had a basket next to her feet, in it were multiple packages wrapped in newspaper, a few jars of jam, some fresh berries and sticking out from the top, a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

He could tell that she had long hair, but that first day she had it pulled up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and she had a small white flower behind her right ear. She glanced up at him and it was then he got to see how her green eyes matched her dress. Bright and full of life, she was beautiful.

He poured his glass of wine as the fire warmed the room, pulling his mind back to the present time. His back against the wall, he took in a deep breath, closed his eyes and took his first sip. His first thought was spice. Over the past three months he has come to appreciate how the Spanish use spice in all that they do and now in the wine he is has taken into his body, he tasted it on the roof of mouth with a sweetness that rolled over the front of his tongue.

He continued to watch the flames rise as he drank this gift she had given him. The smoky blackberries, the blueberries, with every sip, he could smell cherry and it smelled sweet like her hair. He poured another glass and continued to replay like a projector in his mind that first day with crisp detail.

“You’re new here in Calatayud, aren’t you?” She was looking right through him, but better yet, she was American.

“Yes, I’m originally from Boston, but I have been traveling for about a year now. And you?” He was shaking, not only at the fact that he was talking to such a beautiful woman, but at the fact that he had not spoken a full English conversation in almost a week.

“I grew up in Cleveland, traveled through most of college and about a year ago moved here. Life is simple here, beautiful. Wait till you try the wine.”

Three months he continued to tell himself, three months. He knew he was falling in love with her. But what was it that she was hiding? And at what point was he going to ask or would he just pack his canvass bag and a move on again. These old hills are perfect for the grapes, they are perfect for lovers, but he doesn’t hardly know her, but he wants so badly to touch and make her smile.

“If you’re looking for work, the Bodega Ateca Winery is always looking for help and they make one hell of a Grancha de Fuego.” Her smile was intoxicating.

For three months now he has been working at the winery and eating dinner with her. Occasionally they would go for hikes in the hills or lunches by the fountain and today he helped her clean out her shed. They laughed the whole day, sharing stories of their childhood and where they see their futures going. When everything was finished, she gave him a bottle of 2008 Grancha. “I know its not much, but you’re always drinking whiskey. Tonight you should be drinking red wine.” She placed one hand to his face as she handed him the bottle.

She wrapped a sweater around her shoulders as it was growing a little cool. She looked into his grey eyes and held his stare, and before he could say thank you, she turned and went into the house.

As he took the last sip of wine and the fire burnt low, he knew he was going to have to make a decision, he was going to have to pack his canvas sack and move on to the next region or he was going to have to let her know of his love for her. Tonight however, he was going to enjoy his red wine buzz.

Setting Some Roots

The wind was blowing so violently that the candles were dancing along to the sound of the rain beating upon my window panes. As I looked outside trying to find the moon all I could see was the distant glow from the lamp in the barn.

Evening storms were a novelty here in the coastal mountains. We never saw rain, day in and day out, dry sand and trees were an abundance, so tonight’s storm was a beautiful surprise. Cool and refreshing, romantic and exotic. Safely tucked away in the side of the hills I spent my days tending to the horses and the fields. Life here is a routine, but tonight, tonight feels a little different.

I watched as the rain slid down the glass of the window, the wood cracked in the fire and I stood and stared out the window, all I could see was purple and red glowing from that barn window. I wrapped myself in an old blanket and hugged my knees to my chest, the chill from storm and the warmth from the fire – confliction.

What is interesting about this part of Chile is that the hills are steep and rocky enough that the soil maintains the moisture for the vines to last the intense summers. That is what I love about living here. When we get storms like this, the land just knows, it knows that it is a special gift to hold on, that it needs to last long enough to last forever! An amazing bottle of wine can last forever. A night like tonight, can last forever.

With a red wine buzz, I felt the blanket fall below my arms and land at my feet. It was rare that I felt the rain on my face, I found myself moving toward the door, stepping outside I closed my eyes, the wind stood still and all I could feel was water as it fell against my face. My eyelids, cheeks, lips, I felt it run down my neck to my chest, my arms were beginning to soak it in. As my hair curled up I found myself swaying to the song in my head, ‘Where do you go when you’re lonely? Where do you go when you’re blue? Where do you go when you’re lonely, I’ll follow you? When the stars go blue.’

As my solid dance floor became a muddy mess, I looked down at my hands, they had puckered up from the moister. My clothes were soaked through and my hair was drenched. I tilted my head back one last time and allowed the sky to baptize me one last time. It almost felt as though it was happening in slow motion, plop, plop, plop, I heard every rain drop, they were beautiful. And then, then I caught a chill. Almost a bit of spice.

I caulked my head one last time to look to be sure the light in the barn was still lit, it was, so I quickly ran back into the house. I pulled the blanket up off the floor and wrapped it around my drenched body. I looked over at the fire I had made before my brief exit. It had reached its peak and sitting beautifully in its glow, rooted comfortably, my glass of 2008 Carmenere.

Root: 1 is a “lost grape of Bordeaux” from The Colchagua Valley, Chile. Carmenere is a deep red color with gentle tannins and rich flavors of plum, blackberry and spice.

I pulled off my wet tank top and jeans. I pulled on his old grey sweater and pants, pulled another blanket up close, Pressed myself back up against the wall, looking back over the hills of Chile’ I poured another glass of wine. I watched the purple and red glow from the barn and listened to the crackle from the fire and drank.


Cheers!

<3 to MP