(picture courtesy of Amy Lillard)
Terroir Natural Wine Merchant
1116 Folsom Street (at 7th)
San Francisco, CA 94103
Im used to some of the rough and tumble wine bars in Paris, and this was familiar. I never met this Alder of Vinography but his sharp, snarky review made me realize why I feel so alienated on this planet. But if his review keeps the wrong people away from this gem, terrific. Gosh, I loved that place.
Its comfort strips away some of the alienation. The feel for me,was familiar like the mossy green leather shoes I bought in the Florence's main piazza eight years ago that I should have bought five of. The kind of old shoes an old beau used to threaten to pitch out the window, comfortable and special, the kind of shoes that are the most form and function you could possibly stick your toes into. They have a certain charge of electricity about them. A buzz. Those kind of old shoes, the ones that strike the harmonic seventh.
I digress.
Unlike the other events, Terroir turned into a book party.
Hi, Im Alice Feiring. So, last night I was at Book Passage at the Ferry Building and I was reading the part of the book about starting off with Manishewitz when I was in diapers but by the time my father left for the neighbors wife I was drinking Mateus? Pretty accessible. No one laughs. In fact they look as if theyre at a funeral. Except one lovely woman in the back who I later met--Ceri Smith of the wine boutique, Biondivino Who owns a great Italian wine shop in town? But everyone else is taking poison. So after three minutes and I still couldnt get them to laugh I stopped and said, Hey, just trying to get the feel about whats going on. Did you guys happen to see the LA Times editorial when I said I cant drink Californian wine?
No answer.
Because if thats the problem, we can talk about it.
No laughter.
Some guy with a good spray of hoary eyebrow told me to shut up and read. And after he wanted Burgundy recommendations. He three books, so we love him. Right?
At Terroir, though they got it. They got me. They laughed. This is why people become actors. I get it.
They reacted. They had questions. There was dialogue.
A woman with searing blue eyes sat at the bar, who was there because she perceived me as a strong woman doing strong things and that she wanted to support me. She likes no sulfur wines. Shes a pagan and likes no sulfur wines. Interesting. She knew about Morris Dancing. A miracle.
Now those growers from Sonoma. Why did they drive down Highway 101? Good question. Turns out they were curious. Curious. Curious is good. Curious about what? I heard that some people expected me to be quite the assertive kerala melon kind of woman and was surprised that turned out to be, me.
Short.
For once in my life I was glad to be a shrimp.
I was curious too. I was extremely intrigued to hear that one farmer was ripping out his Sauvignon Blanc and grafting on a mess of Rhone varietals. The thought stunned me. Im sure that was a great idea but why sauvignon blanc in the first place. In the old world would anyone who grew grenache decide to plant sauvignon? Who could possibly think that those two grapes with very different needs at different speeds could share the plot of earth? Theres a New World belief that it matters not where they lay down their roots. Mobile society? Sure but mobile roots? No. Place matters, even if as was raised in Healdsburg, that whether or not terroir in California is debatable.
I lived in Boston for ten years. Not far from Harvard Square. After six years I was desperate to get out. It took four years to find the door back to New York City. One of the reasons Cambridte became so was the influx of youth that always needed to reinvent the same idea. Time changed but they didn't. They were forever repeating the same four years but wore different clothing. Youth needs to assert independence and often negates the wisdom that came before it. I needed to the same thing. But even looking back, I cant say that my parents had any wisdom for me. I wanted those parents and I guess it was a good thing I didn't have them because I'd have never had any material to write about. On the other hand, maybe that would have been an interesting way to live a life, without being a slave to expression.
I am writing the kind of post I like the least. Im getting on the horse, on the soapbox, rambling and ambling because Im getting anxious about not having written, so it goes with the blog. Sometimes you're on, sometimes you're off.
On Thursday night I'm on a panel at Bryant Park. Secrets of Publishing. I promise to reveal all. Check previous post for the details.
« May 2008 | Main | July 2008 »
June 2008
06/26/2008
Terroir Wine Bar Part Two
(picture courtesy of Amy Lillard)
Terroir Natural Wine Merchant
1116 Folsom Street (at 7th)
San Francisco, CA 94103
Im used to some of the rough and tumble wine bars in Paris, and this was familiar. I never met this Alder of Vinography but his sharp, snarky review made me realize why I feel so alienated on this planet. But if his review keeps the wrong people away from this gem, terrific. Gosh, I loved that place.
Its comfort strips away some of the alienation. The feel for me,was familiar like the mossy green leather shoes I bought in the Florence's main piazza eight years ago that I should have bought five of. The kind of old shoes an old beau used to threaten to pitch out the window, comfortable and special, the kind of shoes that are the most form and function you could possibly stick your toes into. They have a certain charge of electricity about them. A buzz. Those kind of old shoes, the ones that strike the harmonic seventh.
I digress.
Unlike the other events, Terroir turned into a book party.
Hi, Im Alice Feiring. So, last night I was at Book Passage at the Ferry Building and I was reading the part of the book about starting off with Manishewitz when I was in diapers but by the time my father left for the neighbors wife I was drinking Mateus? Pretty accessible. No one laughs. In fact they look as if theyre at a funeral. Except one lovely woman in the back who I later met--Ceri Smith of the wine boutique, Biondivino Who owns a great Italian wine shop in town? But everyone else is taking poison. So after three minutes and I still couldnt get them to laugh I stopped and said, Hey, just trying to get the feel about whats going on. Did you guys happen to see the LA Times editorial when I said I cant drink Californian wine?
No answer.
Because if thats the problem, we can talk about it.
No laughter.
Some guy with a good spray of hoary eyebrow told me to shut up and read. And after he wanted Burgundy recommendations. He three books, so we love him. Right?
At Terroir, though they got it. They got me. They laughed. This is why people become actors. I get it.
They reacted. They had questions. There was dialogue.
A woman with searing blue eyes sat at the bar, who was there because she perceived me as a strong woman doing strong things and that she wanted to support me. She likes no sulfur wines. Shes a pagan and likes no sulfur wines. Interesting. She knew about Morris Dancing. A miracle.
Now those growers from Sonoma. Why did they drive down Highway 101? Good question. Turns out they were curious. Curious. Curious is good. Curious about what? I heard that some people expected me to be quite the assertive kerala melon kind of woman and was surprised that turned out to be, me.
Short.
For once in my life I was glad to be a shrimp.
I was curious too. I was extremely intrigued to hear that one farmer was ripping out his Sauvignon Blanc and grafting on a mess of Rhone varietals. The thought stunned me. Im sure that was a great idea but why sauvignon blanc in the first place. In the old world would anyone who grew grenache decide to plant sauvignon? Who could possibly think that those two grapes with very different needs at different speeds could share the plot of earth? Theres a New World belief that it matters not where they lay down their roots. Mobile society? Sure but mobile roots? No. Place matters, even if as was raised in Healdsburg, that whether or not terroir in California is debatable.
I lived in Boston for ten years. Not far from Harvard Square. After six years I was desperate to get out. It took four years to find the door back to New York City. One of the reasons Cambridte became so was the influx of youth that always needed to reinvent the same idea. Time changed but they didn't. They were forever repeating the same four years but wore different clothing. Youth needs to assert independence and often negates the wisdom that came before it. I needed to the same thing. But even looking back, I cant say that my parents had any wisdom for me. I wanted those parents and I guess it was a good thing I didn't have them because I'd have never had any material to write about. On the other hand, maybe that would have been an interesting way to live a life, without being a slave to expression.
I am writing the kind of post I like the least. Im getting on the horse, on the soapbox, rambling and ambling because Im getting anxious about not having written, so it goes with the blog. Sometimes you're on, sometimes you're off.
On Thursday night I'm on a panel at Bryant Park. Secrets of Publishing. I promise to reveal all. Check previous post for the details.
Terroir Wine Bar Part Two
(picture courtesy of Amy Lillard)
Terroir Natural Wine Merchant
1116 Folsom Street (at 7th)
San Francisco, CA 94103
Im used to some of the rough and tumble wine bars in Paris, and this was familiar. I never met this Alder of Vinography but his sharp, snarky review made me realize why I feel so alienated on this planet. But if his review keeps the wrong people away from this gem, terrific. Gosh, I loved that place.
Its comfort strips away some of the alienation. The feel for me,was familiar like the mossy green leather shoes I bought in the Florence's main piazza eight years ago that I should have bought five of. The kind of old shoes an old beau used to threaten to pitch out the window, comfortable and special, the kind of shoes that are the most form and function you could possibly stick your toes into. They have a certain charge of electricity about them. A buzz. Those kind of old shoes, the ones that strike the harmonic seventh.
I digress.
Unlike the other events, Terroir turned into a book party.
Hi, Im Alice Feiring. So, last night I was at Book Passage at the Ferry Building and I was reading the part of the book about starting off with Manishewitz when I was in diapers but by the time my father left for the neighbors wife I was drinking Mateus? Pretty accessible. No one laughs. In fact they look as if theyre at a funeral. Except one lovely woman in the back who I later met--Ceri Smith of the wine boutique, Biondivino Who owns a great Italian wine shop in town? But everyone else is taking poison. So after three minutes and I still couldnt get them to laugh I stopped and said, Hey, just trying to get the feel about whats going on. Did you guys happen to see the LA Times editorial when I said I cant drink Californian wine?
No answer.
Because if thats the problem, we can talk about it.
No laughter.
Some guy with a good spray of hoary eyebrow told me to shut up and read. And after he wanted Burgundy recommendations. He three books, so we love him. Right?
At Terroir, though they got it. They got me. They laughed. This is why people become actors. I get it.
They reacted. They had questions. There was dialogue.
A woman with searing blue eyes sat at the bar, who was there because she perceived me as a strong woman doing strong things and that she wanted to support me. She likes no sulfur wines. Shes a pagan and likes no sulfur wines. Interesting. She knew about Morris Dancing. A miracle.
Now those growers from Sonoma. Why did they drive down Highway 101? Good question. Turns out they were curious. Curious. Curious is good. Curious about what? I heard that some people expected me to be quite the assertive kerala melon kind of woman and was surprised that turned out to be, me.
Short.
For once in my life I was glad to be a shrimp.
I was curious too. I was extremely intrigued to hear that one farmer was ripping out his Sauvignon Blanc and grafting on a mess of Rhone varietals. The thought stunned me. Im sure that was a great idea but why sauvignon blanc in the first place. In the old world would anyone who grew grenache decide to plant sauvignon? Who could possibly think that those two grapes with very different needs at different speeds could share the plot of earth? Theres a New World belief that it matters not where they lay down their roots. Mobile society? Sure but mobile roots? No. Place matters, even if as was raised in Healdsburg, that whether or not terroir in California is debatable.
I lived in Boston for ten years. Not far from Harvard Square. After six years I was desperate to get out. It took four years to find the door back to New York City. One of the reasons Cambridte became so was the influx of youth that always needed to reinvent the same idea. Time changed but they didn't. They were forever repeating the same four years but wore different clothing. Youth needs to assert independence and often negates the wisdom that came before it. I needed to the same thing. But even looking back, I cant say that my parents had any wisdom for me. I wanted those parents and I guess it was a good thing I didn't have them because I'd have never had any material to write about. On the other hand, maybe that would have been an interesting way to live a life, without being a slave to expression.
I am writing the kind of post I like the least. Im getting on the horse, on the soapbox, rambling and ambling because Im getting anxious about not having written, so it goes with the blog. Sometimes you're on, sometimes you're off.
On Thursday night I'm on a panel at Bryant Park. Secrets of Publishing. I promise to reveal all. Check previous post for the details.
06/23/2008
06/22/2008
Terroir Wine Bar & Merchant; the safe zone
On Wednesday night in San Francisco I was finally in the safe zone.
I could feel myself relax. I was with my people. Other outcasts of society. Other people with strange palates who like their wines to change in the glass at any moment. Those who like to be surprised. Here were merry terroir jihadists in all stages of development and we were grouping at the Terroir Wine Bar and Merchant on seedy Folsom Street. The purpose: reading, talking, signing, Q&A.
I walked in and saw Mr. Bow Tie's parents. What a surprise. Elvia sat on a crate looking cute. And Ben swaggered over and gave me a hug. Everyone wanted to meet them but they left after the quick goodbye.
There were other surprises, some people had braved the Bay Bridge. Jonathan from Chez Panisse, my friend Val, a few bloggers, some folk from K&L, a salesperson from Chadderon, the wine editor from UC books and Kevin Clancy who brings in a bunch of Louis/Dressner wines. Steve Edmunds! I was too shy to remind him that I was in town and I was really happy to see him sitting at the bar having a bite. Can you believe someone called this place cold? asked me. Steve was sipping some Peyra 2005. (Pretty. Gorgeous in fact. One of those walks through the woods in the fall while you can feel the heat of the summer.)
Terroir? Cold? What was the offended blogger thinking? What a lovely non-nonsense, were all about the wine and doing our own rough-hewn woodwork because we have to do this. Sorry. No zinc and stainless here. The vibe is, if youre here, youre one of us. There is immediate inclusion when drinking here. I felt at home. Off my guard. Time to have fun.
If only the Terroir in NYC -- getting such adoration --would learn a thing or two from the Terroir in San Fran or as I was prompted to say 'Frisco.' The closest thing we have to a wine bar like this in New York is not Paul Griecos place but 10 Bells (but best to drink by the bottle and not by the glass). And of course theres Bette, a great place to go too, especially if I want to stand on toilet line with Uma Thurman. But the list at Guillaume. Luc and Degans place holds no inconsistencies, no faux wines. no twists, excuses of confabulations, these are the real wines and they are happy in their bunker. Pacalet and Perya by the glass? I rest my case.
(photo of Guillaume and Luc courtesy of Amy Lillard)
(photo of Guillaume and Luc courtesy of Amy Lillard)
Terroir Wine Bar & Merchant; the safe zone
On Wednesday night in San Francisco I was finally in the safe zone.
I could feel myself relax. I was with my people. Other outcasts of society. Other people with strange palates who like their wines to change in the glass at any moment. Those who like to be surprised. Here were merry terroir jihadists in all stages of development and we were grouping at the Terroir Wine Bar and Merchant on seedy Folsom Street. The purpose: reading, talking, signing, Q&A.
I walked in and saw Mr. Bow Tie's parents. What a surprise. Elvia sat on a crate looking cute. And Ben swaggered over and gave me a hug. Everyone wanted to meet them but they left after the quick goodbye.
There were other surprises, some people had braved the Bay Bridge. Jonathan from Chez Panisse, my friend Val, a few bloggers, some folk from K&L, a salesperson from Chadderon, the wine editor from UC books and Kevin Clancy who brings in a bunch of Louis/Dressner wines. Steve Edmunds! I was too shy to remind him that I was in town and I was really happy to see him sitting at the bar having a bite. Can you believe someone called this place cold? asked me. Steve was sipping some Peyra 2005. (Pretty. Gorgeous in fact. One of those walks through the woods in the fall while you can feel the heat of the summer.)
Terroir? Cold? What was the offended blogger thinking? What a lovely non-nonsense, were all about the wine and doing our own rough-hewn woodwork because we have to do this. Sorry. No zinc and stainless here. The vibe is, if youre here, youre one of us. There is immediate inclusion when drinking here. I felt at home. Off my guard. Time to have fun.
If only the Terroir in NYC -- getting such adoration --would learn a thing or two from the Terroir in San Fran or as I was prompted to say 'Frisco.' The closest thing we have to a wine bar like this in New York is not Paul Griecos place but 10 Bells (but best to drink by the bottle and not by the glass). And of course theres Bette, a great place to go too, especially if I want to stand on toilet line with Uma Thurman. But the list at Guillaume. Luc and Degans place holds no inconsistencies, no faux wines. no twists, excuses of confabulations, these are the real wines and they are happy in their bunker. Pacalet and Perya by the glass? I rest my case.
(photo of Guillaume and Luc courtesy of Amy Lillard)
(photo of Guillaume and Luc courtesy of Amy Lillard)
06/21/2008
My Night in Healdsburg
Besides the me, me, me, of all of this I came away touched by those out there who love books and paper.
On Monday I traveled to Healdsburg for the reading sponsored by Copperfield's. I was doing my thing at the local library, Bo Simmons the librarian, gave me a brief tour of the wine books. Now, that's a place I could see losing several weeks over to blissful research. He pulled out a few 15c books written in Latin. The pages were in perfect condition. �Parchment,� he said, �the real stuff holds up forever.
He then pulled out a new book, modern, crappy paper, yellowed long before his time with disdain.
When I told him of my interest in fermentation, he showed me a book from the late 1880�s written by Pasteur. The illustrations of saccharomyces cerevisiae were like etchings. I had never seen yeasts illustrated so tenderly.
I went in to the room, which made me remember the painful days of high school, assembly and all of that. A few locals looking for thrills were waiting. The story my friend, Jeff Garigliano told me flashed through my eyes. His novel, is a fine one, Dogface, (story of a boy's experience in a hucksters bootcamp for difficult children--includes loving a tough-minded vegan girl and a lot of pain with great flashes of humor). In February, Jeff showed up to a reading. There was one lone person waiting for him. At another reading the publicist had forgotten to get the books there on time. Maybe, I thought, this would be a like-disaster.
But by the time I got started 20 or so had gathered. Not bad. Not bad. The only thing is that I couldn�t get the feel of who they were, except for one, Patrick & Genevieve Llerena of Iridesse wines whom I met in Oregon. Friendly faces made me happy.
The best part was the Q&A. It was then I realized that most of the attendees were either winemakers or growers. I was expecting more reactions like the Napa sneer. I got a little of it from Josh (pinotblogger) asked me if I regretted writing the op ed piece in the LA Times.
Answer: Hell no. I got your attention with it, didn�t I? It got people talking, didn�t it?
But that answer didn't seem good enough. Somehow cracking open a dialogue was just a bad thing. Not in my training. In Yeshiva raising the question was just as important as having the answer, even more important.
And then I was accused of shameless marketing. How, I wondered. By reading from my book and taking Q&A? Am I a brand? (according to Josh, it seems that I am.) Am I accused of wanting people know about my book and read it. True. Guilty as charged.
It occurred to me there are those like Josh who only want one answer from me; I deeply regret writing my piece.
Which I don�t.
They seem to want me to say my piece was nothing except crass marketing instead of my unlady-likeopinion. No John Proctor, I just can�t make false confessions.
Now, I don't want to play the sex card, but is it avoidable? if I were a man, would some vent this level of hostility towards me? The question must be asked. I am coming to think, no. There are far fewer rules of decorum for outspoken men then women.
Villains are needed just as much as heroes. I really never thought I'd be either but here I am, wearing both hats. Some eager to make me whipping girl don't seem to notice that I mention winemakers I do like, and I say that just not too long ago, California made more honest wines I really did enjoy. But, people like war. Oddly enough, I really do like peace. Anyway, it's all a little silly. I like a good argument but it would be great if more people were into argument and debate and ideas instead of, extracting confessions.
Genevieve of Iridesse bemoaned that when she makes a wine more suited to her own palate it is difficult to sell. This is a problem. This is a problem that I would like to help solve. This is something I really can help with. I just need to raise the $ because I have the venue.
Off to stage left, a tall, lanky man with thoughtful oval glasses and a slightly mirthful smile wondered if the modern taste for sweet wine was linked to love of soda. Even more interesting was to hear him, a California winemaker wonder in front of his peers�without getting lynched---that whether or not California had any terroir to express, has yet to be determined.
�Better you say it than me,� I thought.
I was touched by his bravery.
One woman, who I thought was against me at first turned out to be for me. She talked about her father's wine. Some years it�s transcendent and others less so, but because of her feelings about her father it is always her favorite wine. She talked with such passion, I wanted to know more about her, but she didn�t stay. I did love the story, and now I too want to taste the wine her father makes.
At the book signing there was a weathered looking man who earned his weathering by working as a winemaker at Gallo. He had me sign his book. I didn't know what to write. Here's to the wine revolution?
As I was signing he said, �You know, the Gallo�s really care about the environment.�
Patrick and I were going in search for a nibble and wine post event. We were joined by the lanky man with the kind face, opinions and oval glasses. Monday night presents challenges in that town. Everything locked up. We went to Cyrus. Sat at the bar. Ordered their last bottle of 1999 Leroy Bourgogne. Gorgeous. Made me very happy. Leaving the restaurant at 1am, Jupiter was chasing the moon into the solstice.
In the morning, Flying Goat coffee, bumped into a cheery looking Wells Guthrie of Copain. I hear the wines lately are great as Wells pulled back on concentration for elegance, took more risks and supposedly went back to the kind of wine he set out to make in the first place. Can't wait to taste.
On Monday I traveled to Healdsburg for the reading sponsored by Copperfield's. I was doing my thing at the local library, Bo Simmons the librarian, gave me a brief tour of the wine books. Now, that's a place I could see losing several weeks over to blissful research. He pulled out a few 15c books written in Latin. The pages were in perfect condition. �Parchment,� he said, �the real stuff holds up forever.
He then pulled out a new book, modern, crappy paper, yellowed long before his time with disdain.
When I told him of my interest in fermentation, he showed me a book from the late 1880�s written by Pasteur. The illustrations of saccharomyces cerevisiae were like etchings. I had never seen yeasts illustrated so tenderly.
I went in to the room, which made me remember the painful days of high school, assembly and all of that. A few locals looking for thrills were waiting. The story my friend, Jeff Garigliano told me flashed through my eyes. His novel, is a fine one, Dogface, (story of a boy's experience in a hucksters bootcamp for difficult children--includes loving a tough-minded vegan girl and a lot of pain with great flashes of humor). In February, Jeff showed up to a reading. There was one lone person waiting for him. At another reading the publicist had forgotten to get the books there on time. Maybe, I thought, this would be a like-disaster.
But by the time I got started 20 or so had gathered. Not bad. Not bad. The only thing is that I couldn�t get the feel of who they were, except for one, Patrick & Genevieve Llerena of Iridesse wines whom I met in Oregon. Friendly faces made me happy.
The best part was the Q&A. It was then I realized that most of the attendees were either winemakers or growers. I was expecting more reactions like the Napa sneer. I got a little of it from Josh (pinotblogger) asked me if I regretted writing the op ed piece in the LA Times.
Answer: Hell no. I got your attention with it, didn�t I? It got people talking, didn�t it?
But that answer didn't seem good enough. Somehow cracking open a dialogue was just a bad thing. Not in my training. In Yeshiva raising the question was just as important as having the answer, even more important.
And then I was accused of shameless marketing. How, I wondered. By reading from my book and taking Q&A? Am I a brand? (according to Josh, it seems that I am.) Am I accused of wanting people know about my book and read it. True. Guilty as charged.
It occurred to me there are those like Josh who only want one answer from me; I deeply regret writing my piece.
Which I don�t.
They seem to want me to say my piece was nothing except crass marketing instead of my unlady-likeopinion. No John Proctor, I just can�t make false confessions.
Now, I don't want to play the sex card, but is it avoidable? if I were a man, would some vent this level of hostility towards me? The question must be asked. I am coming to think, no. There are far fewer rules of decorum for outspoken men then women.
Villains are needed just as much as heroes. I really never thought I'd be either but here I am, wearing both hats. Some eager to make me whipping girl don't seem to notice that I mention winemakers I do like, and I say that just not too long ago, California made more honest wines I really did enjoy. But, people like war. Oddly enough, I really do like peace. Anyway, it's all a little silly. I like a good argument but it would be great if more people were into argument and debate and ideas instead of, extracting confessions.
Genevieve of Iridesse bemoaned that when she makes a wine more suited to her own palate it is difficult to sell. This is a problem. This is a problem that I would like to help solve. This is something I really can help with. I just need to raise the $ because I have the venue.
Off to stage left, a tall, lanky man with thoughtful oval glasses and a slightly mirthful smile wondered if the modern taste for sweet wine was linked to love of soda. Even more interesting was to hear him, a California winemaker wonder in front of his peers�without getting lynched---that whether or not California had any terroir to express, has yet to be determined.
�Better you say it than me,� I thought.
I was touched by his bravery.
One woman, who I thought was against me at first turned out to be for me. She talked about her father's wine. Some years it�s transcendent and others less so, but because of her feelings about her father it is always her favorite wine. She talked with such passion, I wanted to know more about her, but she didn�t stay. I did love the story, and now I too want to taste the wine her father makes.
At the book signing there was a weathered looking man who earned his weathering by working as a winemaker at Gallo. He had me sign his book. I didn't know what to write. Here's to the wine revolution?
As I was signing he said, �You know, the Gallo�s really care about the environment.�
Patrick and I were going in search for a nibble and wine post event. We were joined by the lanky man with the kind face, opinions and oval glasses. Monday night presents challenges in that town. Everything locked up. We went to Cyrus. Sat at the bar. Ordered their last bottle of 1999 Leroy Bourgogne. Gorgeous. Made me very happy. Leaving the restaurant at 1am, Jupiter was chasing the moon into the solstice.
In the morning, Flying Goat coffee, bumped into a cheery looking Wells Guthrie of Copain. I hear the wines lately are great as Wells pulled back on concentration for elegance, took more risks and supposedly went back to the kind of wine he set out to make in the first place. Can't wait to taste.
My Night in Healdsburg
Besides the me, me, me, of all of this I came away touched by those out there who love books and paper.
On Monday I traveled to Healdsburg for the reading sponsored by Copperfield's. I was doing my thing at the local library, Bo Simmons the librarian, gave me a brief tour of the wine books. Now, that's a place I could see losing several weeks over to blissful research. He pulled out a few 15c books written in Latin. The pages were in perfect condition. �Parchment,� he said, �the real stuff holds up forever.
He then pulled out a new book, modern, crappy paper, yellowed long before his time with disdain.
When I told him of my interest in fermentation, he showed me a book from the late 1880�s written by Pasteur. The illustrations of saccharomyces cerevisiae were like etchings. I had never seen yeasts illustrated so tenderly.
I went in to the room, which made me remember the painful days of high school, assembly and all of that. A few locals looking for thrills were waiting. The story my friend, Jeff Garigliano told me flashed through my eyes. His novel, is a fine one, Dogface, (story of a boy's experience in a hucksters bootcamp for difficult children--includes loving a tough-minded vegan girl and a lot of pain with great flashes of humor). In February, Jeff showed up to a reading. There was one lone person waiting for him. At another reading the publicist had forgotten to get the books there on time. Maybe, I thought, this would be a like-disaster.
But by the time I got started 20 or so had gathered. Not bad. Not bad. The only thing is that I couldn�t get the feel of who they were, except for one, Patrick & Genevieve Llerena of Iridesse wines whom I met in Oregon. Friendly faces made me happy.
The best part was the Q&A. It was then I realized that most of the attendees were either winemakers or growers. I was expecting more reactions like the Napa sneer. I got a little of it from Josh (pinotblogger) asked me if I regretted writing the op ed piece in the LA Times.
Answer: Hell no. I got your attention with it, didn�t I? It got people talking, didn�t it?
But that answer didn't seem good enough. Somehow cracking open a dialogue was just a bad thing. Not in my training. In Yeshiva raising the question was just as important as having the answer, even more important.
And then I was accused of shameless marketing. How, I wondered. By reading from my book and taking Q&A? Am I a brand? (according to Josh, it seems that I am.) Am I accused of wanting people know about my book and read it. True. Guilty as charged.
It occurred to me there are those like Josh who only want one answer from me; I deeply regret writing my piece.
Which I don�t.
They seem to want me to say my piece was nothing except crass marketing instead of my unlady-likeopinion. No John Proctor, I just can�t make false confessions.
Now, I don't want to play the sex card, but is it avoidable? if I were a man, would some vent this level of hostility towards me? The question must be asked. I am coming to think, no. There are far fewer rules of decorum for outspoken men then women.
Villains are needed just as much as heroes. I really never thought I'd be either but here I am, wearing both hats. Some eager to make me whipping girl don't seem to notice that I mention winemakers I do like, and I say that just not too long ago, California made more honest wines I really did enjoy. But, people like war. Oddly enough, I really do like peace. Anyway, it's all a little silly. I like a good argument but it would be great if more people were into argument and debate and ideas instead of, extracting confessions.
Genevieve of Iridesse bemoaned that when she makes a wine more suited to her own palate it is difficult to sell. This is a problem. This is a problem that I would like to help solve. This is something I really can help with. I just need to raise the $ because I have the venue.
Off to stage left, a tall, lanky man with thoughtful oval glasses and a slightly mirthful smile wondered if the modern taste for sweet wine was linked to love of soda. Even more interesting was to hear him, a California winemaker wonder in front of his peers�without getting lynched---that whether or not California had any terroir to express, has yet to be determined.
�Better you say it than me,� I thought.
I was touched by his bravery.
One woman, who I thought was against me at first turned out to be for me. She talked about her father's wine. Some years it�s transcendent and others less so, but because of her feelings about her father it is always her favorite wine. She talked with such passion, I wanted to know more about her, but she didn�t stay. I did love the story, and now I too want to taste the wine her father makes.
At the book signing there was a weathered looking man who earned his weathering by working as a winemaker at Gallo. He had me sign his book. I didn't know what to write. Here's to the wine revolution?
As I was signing he said, �You know, the Gallo�s really care about the environment.�
Patrick and I were going in search for a nibble and wine post event. We were joined by the lanky man with the kind face, opinions and oval glasses. Monday night presents challenges in that town. Everything locked up. We went to Cyrus. Sat at the bar. Ordered their last bottle of 1999 Leroy Bourgogne. Gorgeous. Made me very happy. Leaving the restaurant at 1am, Jupiter was chasing the moon into the solstice.
In the morning, Flying Goat coffee, bumped into a cheery looking Wells Guthrie of Copain. I hear the wines lately are great as Wells pulled back on concentration for elegance, took more risks and supposedly went back to the kind of wine he set out to make in the first place. Can't wait to taste.
On Monday I traveled to Healdsburg for the reading sponsored by Copperfield's. I was doing my thing at the local library, Bo Simmons the librarian, gave me a brief tour of the wine books. Now, that's a place I could see losing several weeks over to blissful research. He pulled out a few 15c books written in Latin. The pages were in perfect condition. �Parchment,� he said, �the real stuff holds up forever.
He then pulled out a new book, modern, crappy paper, yellowed long before his time with disdain.
When I told him of my interest in fermentation, he showed me a book from the late 1880�s written by Pasteur. The illustrations of saccharomyces cerevisiae were like etchings. I had never seen yeasts illustrated so tenderly.
I went in to the room, which made me remember the painful days of high school, assembly and all of that. A few locals looking for thrills were waiting. The story my friend, Jeff Garigliano told me flashed through my eyes. His novel, is a fine one, Dogface, (story of a boy's experience in a hucksters bootcamp for difficult children--includes loving a tough-minded vegan girl and a lot of pain with great flashes of humor). In February, Jeff showed up to a reading. There was one lone person waiting for him. At another reading the publicist had forgotten to get the books there on time. Maybe, I thought, this would be a like-disaster.
But by the time I got started 20 or so had gathered. Not bad. Not bad. The only thing is that I couldn�t get the feel of who they were, except for one, Patrick & Genevieve Llerena of Iridesse wines whom I met in Oregon. Friendly faces made me happy.
The best part was the Q&A. It was then I realized that most of the attendees were either winemakers or growers. I was expecting more reactions like the Napa sneer. I got a little of it from Josh (pinotblogger) asked me if I regretted writing the op ed piece in the LA Times.
Answer: Hell no. I got your attention with it, didn�t I? It got people talking, didn�t it?
But that answer didn't seem good enough. Somehow cracking open a dialogue was just a bad thing. Not in my training. In Yeshiva raising the question was just as important as having the answer, even more important.
And then I was accused of shameless marketing. How, I wondered. By reading from my book and taking Q&A? Am I a brand? (according to Josh, it seems that I am.) Am I accused of wanting people know about my book and read it. True. Guilty as charged.
It occurred to me there are those like Josh who only want one answer from me; I deeply regret writing my piece.
Which I don�t.
They seem to want me to say my piece was nothing except crass marketing instead of my unlady-likeopinion. No John Proctor, I just can�t make false confessions.
Now, I don't want to play the sex card, but is it avoidable? if I were a man, would some vent this level of hostility towards me? The question must be asked. I am coming to think, no. There are far fewer rules of decorum for outspoken men then women.
Villains are needed just as much as heroes. I really never thought I'd be either but here I am, wearing both hats. Some eager to make me whipping girl don't seem to notice that I mention winemakers I do like, and I say that just not too long ago, California made more honest wines I really did enjoy. But, people like war. Oddly enough, I really do like peace. Anyway, it's all a little silly. I like a good argument but it would be great if more people were into argument and debate and ideas instead of, extracting confessions.
Genevieve of Iridesse bemoaned that when she makes a wine more suited to her own palate it is difficult to sell. This is a problem. This is a problem that I would like to help solve. This is something I really can help with. I just need to raise the $ because I have the venue.
Off to stage left, a tall, lanky man with thoughtful oval glasses and a slightly mirthful smile wondered if the modern taste for sweet wine was linked to love of soda. Even more interesting was to hear him, a California winemaker wonder in front of his peers�without getting lynched---that whether or not California had any terroir to express, has yet to be determined.
�Better you say it than me,� I thought.
I was touched by his bravery.
One woman, who I thought was against me at first turned out to be for me. She talked about her father's wine. Some years it�s transcendent and others less so, but because of her feelings about her father it is always her favorite wine. She talked with such passion, I wanted to know more about her, but she didn�t stay. I did love the story, and now I too want to taste the wine her father makes.
At the book signing there was a weathered looking man who earned his weathering by working as a winemaker at Gallo. He had me sign his book. I didn't know what to write. Here's to the wine revolution?
As I was signing he said, �You know, the Gallo�s really care about the environment.�
Patrick and I were going in search for a nibble and wine post event. We were joined by the lanky man with the kind face, opinions and oval glasses. Monday night presents challenges in that town. Everything locked up. We went to Cyrus. Sat at the bar. Ordered their last bottle of 1999 Leroy Bourgogne. Gorgeous. Made me very happy. Leaving the restaurant at 1am, Jupiter was chasing the moon into the solstice.
In the morning, Flying Goat coffee, bumped into a cheery looking Wells Guthrie of Copain. I hear the wines lately are great as Wells pulled back on concentration for elegance, took more risks and supposedly went back to the kind of wine he set out to make in the first place. Can't wait to taste.
Search
I'm hunting the Leon Trotskys, the Philip Roths, the Chaucers and the Edith Whartons of the wine world. I want them natural and most of all, I want them to speak the truth even if we argue. With this messiah thing going on, I'm trying to swell the ranks of those who crave the differences in each vintage, celebrate nuance and desire wines that make them think, laugh, and feel. Welcome.
And, if you'd like a signed copy, feel free to contact me directly.
May 2013
Links I like
Isabelle's wine blog; the first MW to champion natural
Elizabeth's Great Italian Blog
Jamie Goode
Tom Wark's fermentations and the big picture
Eric Asimov's NYT blog: THE POUR
Amy making wine in France LA Gramiere
Jeremy Parzen on Italy
Becky Wasserman needs to write more
Jon Bonne's blog
Peter gets trashed on Champagne
Jimbo's Loire Blog
Joe's Cancer Chronicles
Bert's Vineyard Visits
Wit from White, Down Under
Alfonso's poetic blog
DefinititiveInk (from Josh who pushed me to blog)
Good stuff from the west from Ken
Bert's Terroir Travels en France
Great stuff about Rioja from Tom Perry
Dr. Vino's site
Brooklyn Guy's Food and Wine Blog
Henry's Take on Booze
Fiona Beckett's take on Nat from London
Andreas Keller Olfaction
Levi's Brain
Kermit!
Melissa Clark's blog and feedbag
Not a blog, more of a site, but Pierre's has a great overview of vin nature
Walter Speller's take on (mostly) Italy
Olif's
Hardy's!
Bruno's insider food buzz for Fes
a lovely assortment of simpatico wine &food
Joseph D in Krakow
Sylvie & Friends
the great Berthomeau, one of the top French blogs
Chambers Street Wines has some great articles, too
Wine Fairy
Truly swell caviste in the 14th, Les Papilles
Recent Comments