She lifted her glass to her nose, closed her eyes, and there she was...
Hand-in-hand with her lover, running through long sweet grass, bare feet licked with grey clay, down to the lake...to watch her swallow the sun and release the day’s heat into soft mist and the silence of dusk.”
Pinot Grigio
 
 

I fell in love with wine when…

I was working at a restaurant called The Good Son. Our bar manager, Moses, used to lead weekly wine and spirit education hours. We were seated at the long harvest table nosing and tasting reds one frigid February afternoon...

old worn leather, salty black liquorice, purple wild flowers...

tickled my nose, kissed my lips, slipped down the back of my throat.

I was enamoured by the familiarities in my glass. It was like tongue travel—catching glimpses of sea, soil and altitude.

It was then that I realized wine’s capacity to express something far beyond itself—to hint at stories of Place. Time. People. To be both mesmerizing and fleeting simultaneously. Like art history slides flipping at shutter speed.

Wine is a gift of fermentation...a gift of breath. For me, a good wine is like a delicious yoga practice...sipping life force, travelling to geographies within, and releasing into new yet somehow familiar territory.

 
 

Photo by Daniel Vogel on Unsplash