What A Difference A Year Makes

I got into work the other morning and began my ritual of checking my email box, (the work one) my actual mail box, walking my departments and seeing what has sold or needs to be merchandised after being off for three days. Went through the special orders, checked the signups for the upcoming classes and started to settle in to being back at work. I have a somewhat revolving schedule that goes something like; five days on, one off and back in for five then off for three…kind of drives me nutty and that third day really makes me edgy. I trust my staff completely but I just feel like there is shit I could be and should be doing besides sitting on my couch watching Law & Order or movies. Okay a little side note, I did watch It’s Complicated Tuesday…dude, awesome. That movie was one of the best I have seen in a long time….great dialog and chemistry, cooking, sex, falling in and out of love. The very real connection between people that have loved, shared a life, raised kids…life, real life. Like I said, awesome.

I was just getting into my groove when Randy came in and started talking to me about how we can generate new business. I always get a knot in my gut with these conversations, I so want the store to thrive and I literally lose sleep trying to think of ways to make that happen. Fuck I even stated this silly blog hoping that I would be able to reach people, touch them and inspire them to come see us at The Wine Country. I’ve put my whole life, the good and the bad…my whole heart into sharing myself here in this space in the hope that people would feel my passion for wine, my whole hearted love for it…how it was able to change me. Exposed myself in order to create a connection, I have not that much to give, just me, my stories and my connection to wine. What I’ve learned, how wine has found a way to touch every inch of my flesh, how it speaks to me, whispers to me….purrs at me and pushes me. The way it seduces me, is always in my head and my heart…




My late night rants and ramblings are my cricket’s song….me rubbing my legs together, stringing my words together trying to weave a tapestry intriguing enough for people to begin rubbing their own legs together…start chirping and paint their own story with wine. My biggest hope is that they let our store be a part of it, think of us when they think about wine and all its glorious pleasures.

“You always have something creative to say on your blog, I just wish we could figure out a way to channel some of that to strum up some excitement here in the shop” Randy said as we were tossing ideas back and forth…I was momentarily speechless. Randy and I have had our disagreements about this blog, he is not a blog guy and for the most part sees them as a giant waste of time. Matter of fact a year ago even saying the word blog induced and almost gag-looking face for him…like he was trying to say it but the sheer ridiculousness of it all caused his face to screw all up. He started coming around a bit a few months ago and seems to read, (from what I can tell) fairly regularly now. We used to kind of bicker about it, me proclaiming it an important tool while secretly being crushed that he didn’t see that I spent my nights writing and spilling my guts, trying to be funny or at the very least interesting…for him, for the store. He concerned that I was spending all this time and energy for nothing. “Aside from giving us more exposure”….don’t even need to finish the rest of his sentence, he was acknowledging the fact that my hours of work and nakedness had in fact done something. What a difference a year makes.

We hashed out some ideas and I started an email blast about 2007 Burgundy. A vintage I went weak in the knees for the second I tasted my first little Bourgogne and one that has the press now taking a second look at. I harvested information from the “pros” and we put together a rather exciting lineup of wines to blast our customers with. I was feeling kind of driven and focused and that is when I saw him.




We have quite a few handicapped customers at The Wine Country, people that come in and need our help filling their glass, taking their credit cards from their wallets and even one customer that requires a bendy straw in order to sip his wine. These things touch me, to have a person that has been through whatever trauma that is courageous enough to have us bendy their straw, carry their case out or dig into their personal belongings to retrieve their credit card…well I admire that kind of openness and fearlessness. I envy it in a way.

I watched as he limped in rather uncomfortably, legs wobbly, leaning heavily on the cane at his left side. I was going about my business, pricing wines, calling reps, ringing up other customers but I kept my eye on him. Baggy Dockers, cane, sweater, awkward lean. I did my thing, working as always but this cane using, sweater clad figure with the tall man assisting him were in my peripheral. He seemed to be having his needs met, staff running to retrieve wines he wanted and him taking his time navigating the sales floor with a shopping cart.

I found myself watching him, the way he slowly shifted the hearty bar on the cart. The way he seemed to will his legs to power that cart. I was admiring him from afar, proud if his strength, his drive and just when I thought I could not be more moved he swung his cart around. Cane dangling on the side, tall assistant at the ready but not interfering, a face looking back at me. Eyes I had seen many times before but encased in a body that was not the one I had last seen him in.

“Credit or Debit?” I asked in my lightest most friendly voice. “Um, it’s been so long since I have answered that question I’m not sure what to say” he responded. I felt my throat get thick and I felt my eyes locked on his. “I came for some Rose. I love coming here for Rose” he said as he watched me grip the neck of his gathered bottles and drop them in a box. I laid the credit card receipt on the counter and pushed a pen closer to his fragile frame. I watched as he used his left arm to lift his right hand…the one with the curled under fingers and unnatural arch and marveled in the way he was able to rest that unwilling limb atop the receipt and sign his name with his left hand.



A stroke, one year ago this maybe fifty year old violin repairman had a massive stroke that has had him in physical therapy every single day for a year. This man spent a year re-learning how to talk, walk, brush his teeth and stand and here he was, visiting The Wine Country and buying Rose. A connection. His body may not be as able as it once was but his memory of shopping at our store for Rose was vivid and powerful enough to bring him back. “It is so nice to see you again” I said as I handed over his receipts and pushed his box of wine in the direction of his helper. “Nice to be seen” he said with a smile and slowly made his way out the door. I watched as Randy chatted with him out by his car and before I knew it I was crying. Not sad for such a strong and courageous soul, no I was touched that coming to see us was something that he wanted to do.

Vintage, watching this whole thing made me think about vintage and what it really means. One year. So much can happen in the span of a year, the good the bad, the heartfelt and the humbling and all of that becomes part of who we are. How one year can change us, add layers to the already complex creatures that we are. Each vintage leaving it little “I was here” mark on each of us. It’s the same with wine really and I for one happen to find comfort in the connection to a wine through its expression of a vintage. When tasting a 2003 Burgundy, the somewhat forced ripeness, the super soft acidity, the clumsy chunkiness of it, I am reminded of record breaking heat waves and watching footage of Europeans dipping into historic fountains to relieve themselves from the oppressive heat….tasting a wine from that vintage paints a picture on my palate of what the vines had to endure and what a winemaker was able to make from that. Smoke taint from fires, overripe or under ripe fruit, hard tannin, soft acidity, plump or thin each vintage leaving its mark, its history and it is there for us to taste. I want wine to speak to me like that, share its story, its struggles or windfalls with me. Much like the way I wish to make people understand my passion for wine by retelling the story of the evening, the people or the lust that surrounded it. That’s why I have never gotten too caught up in the whole which vintage is better deal, why I don’t measure one against the other. Was year 34 better for me than year 38? Dunno, without that 34 I wouldn’t be this 38 and any attempt to place value on one above the other seems not only silly but really missing the beauty of discovery and expression.



Now I’m not saying I want to drink, (or want other people to drink for that matter) jacked up wines and when you follow producers rather than vintages the chances of that happening are slim. A great winemaker would sooner scrap a vintage, sell it off in bulk than dump a bunch of crap wine on the market with their name on it which is why I have always been much more producer driven than vintage driven. I like that I can taste subtle differences from vintage to vintage…even dramatic difference are thrilling for me. It’s all history, it’s all a story and for me it is a very real connection to a place, a winemaker and that one year. The next vintage will just be one more for me to read, feel, taste and connect with and I find myself grateful for that.

Grateful to the Francois Chidaines, Dominique Lafons, the Alix de Montilles…winemakers that aren’t trying to crank out some soulless, timeless, placeless “juice” they are pouring me a story, inviting me to taste what each year has given them, reaching me and adding my experience, each new experience as one more chapter in their history book…weather they know it or not.



One year ago I could not know that Randy would be proud of the work I have put into this blog and even start gathering bits of my stoopid ramblings to include in our newsletter…
One year ago I could not know that a loyal customer would suffer as traumatic a life changing event as I could imagine and still find the will and want to come shop for Rose with us.
One year ago I could not imagine that the founder of Connoisseurs’ Guide to California Wine would be reading my French leaning drivel
One year ago I could not have known that my best friend would move out of state
One year ago I could not know that a brilliant comedic writer would enter my life and forever change me
One year ago I could not know that I would be travelling to Memphis to meet a couple of my readers
One year ago I could not know that a sweet American living in France would find me
One year ago I could not know that the wine writer for the New York Times would read me, understand me, find something in my buzzy late night musings worth visiting time and time again




This blog
My words
The Wine Country
Our mission
My voice
The wines that send shivers down my spine
Wines that seem to wrap their fingers around my throat and gently stroke the words out of me
The winemakers
The vintages
That make that all possible
Make this all possible
Our connection
To each other
Beautiful discovery of exploration…..

Sometimes The Young'ns Need A Spanking

Kind of a funky day for me
Too sensitive, that means me...I was being too sensitive
Just out of sorts and feeling kinda poopie until....



Older and slightly broken but...





111 to 87, freaking sweet



Is it Friday yet?

Rolling Uphill

Tasting Notes From The Last Week:

Wine #1) Fairly ripe on the nose, some peach and honey. Medium weight on the palate, getting some acidity but I wish there were just a bit more fruit.

Wine #2) Lemon rind and a faint bit of butter. Plump on the palate but the fruit is rather lifeless. Good acidity, maybe too much as there is nothing but prickle on my palate.

Wine #3) Smells zippy almost like it has been acidified, green apple tartness but super soft and missing brightness.

Wine #4) Damn, wish the fruit was cleaner, getting lots of cream and not much else. Tastes tanky, like it has been sitting around too long. Muddy finish, clumsy.

Wine #5) Simple aromatics of cream and red apples. I would finish the glass but never go back for a second.

One appointment and five wines I would never even consider taking home to drink but do they have a place in the shop? The wines…

#1 Schlumberger Pinot Blanc
#2 Marc Bradif Vouvray
#3 Schlumberger Pinot Gris
#4 Louis Roederer Carte Blanche
#5 Louis Roederer Brut Premier

Randy had been talking to me not fifteen minutes before this appointment about the idea of bringing in some brands that might make people more comfortable. Now he had been talking more about the liquor department for the most part, but had mentioned that maybe we should consider a few wines with established names and reputations, well shit howdy how’s that for timing? So I ran through the wines, my boss’s words still bouncing around in my dome but my mind, my heart and my drive where so not on board. Sure I could put these “medium” wines on the shelf and hope that someone gets a warm fuzzy by seeing them and loads up their cart but….history has taught me something very different.

Our store is a destination, a place people have to make a special trip to come to. We are not in a mini mall and the nearest grocery store is blocks away. We are located in a somewhat industrial area across the street from a post office, no one is popping in for a bottle after enjoying a leisurely lunch at the restaurant down the street…dude aside from the post office and the bakery next door, (think cakes not crunchy baguettes) there is a gym and a gasoline refinery so not a lot of window shopping or unintentional foot traffic happening at The Wine Country.




So now what would make people walk past the wine department of their supermarket, get in their car and drive past the Cost Plus or BevMo that is located in the same center and drive all the way to our store to get that bottle of Roederer? Um, I tasted it and I wouldn’t walk to the other side of the room for it, it’s boring, flat, (not as in no bubbles as in no vibrancy) and inspired little more than a burp from me….and I LOVE Champagne. Tasting things like that, these big brand, well known, made in the millions of bottles, wines like those I tasted that afternoon left me passionless and kinda of wanting a cocktail.

I got home that night thinking about my conversation with Randy and how it coincided with a appointment where I tasted “comfort” wines and I found myself getting a little riled up…shocking I know. Now it wasn’t Randy that had me all prickly, he is a very smart man and he feels the same way I do about stuffing our shelves with bulk wines. Hell it was not too long ago, when the economy was just starting to take a dive that we listened to our suppliers…the bulk wine pushing suppliers…when they told us that people were going to be a lot more careful with their money. They were going to be looking for brands they knew, things they had seen before, brands they could trust. So we took a leap in the shallow end and brought in piles of big brand, inexpensive wines for our customer’s comfort. Yeah, they were comfortable alright, comfortable walking right past those stacks in search of something else. It was an amazing thing to watch and a very valuable and important lesson learned for us. We brought in a bunch of McWines, slashed our profit margin and the wines didn’t move. We ended up having to red tag the already cheap wines just to get them the hell out there. Randy took it in the shorts on that little lesson so he was in no way advocating that we do that again. He was talking about booze for the most part and maybe having a couple of offerings in each department for the brand conscience customer and he was right of course. And I know that he will do the same as I do when and if someone asks us what we think about them….offer another more exciting suggestion. Know why? We want them to come back.



When I taste wines like the ones I did that afternoon I am left feeling like Sisyphus, rolling my passion filled boulder uphill just to have some marketing department, restaurant wine list or glossy publication roll it right back down. When a consumer tastes a wine like that Bradif Vouvray or that Roederer, which are solid wines…not exciting but good, it isn’t going to inspire or ignite any kind of fire or passion for wine. Sure it will give them a buzz and I am all for that…not going to pretend to be one of those wine people that acts like the buzz in not part of the pleasure, bullshit, that is utter bullshit but you can just as easily get a buzz from a couple of shots of Vodka. I ache to have people taste things like H. Billiot Brut and Francois Chidaine Les Argiles Vouvray, wines that are not only brilliant but inspire people to explore, want to learn more and have the power to elevate a wine drinker to a truly passionate wine lover. That, that is why our customers drive past BevMo and Cost Plus, why they make the drive to The Wine Country and why they ignored our pile of McWines…it’s because of our Sisyphean efforts that they have been inspired to do so.



Proud, it makes me feel so proud each and every time a customer walks through that front door. I let that feeling of pride smooth my ruffled feathers, poured myself a glass of 2008 Chanteleuserie Cuvee Beauvais Bourgueil, marveled in its purity and expression…let the dark fruit and minerals remind me why I do this. So today is a new day and it is with great pleasure that I dig my feet (and palate) in, press my body against that boulder and begin my trek uphill again….

Can You Keep Me Floating....Just For Awile?

You aren’t him…
You could never be him…
But right this moment
In this second
When I can smell you
Feel you taught and firm in my hands
Ready to please me
Trying to please me

Your body aching to swim in my mouth
My lips wet and wondering…
Are you, can you be enough
For now?

Is it wrong that I let myself be momentarily thrilled by you
Let my tongue plunge and flick
Feel this shock of energy
My lungs beginning to expand….
Every muscle in my body cinching
Tightening, flexing
To be with you
Feel you
Taste
Only
You….tonight



Can you do this
Can you be okay with this
Where you born to do this

Born to give me pleasure
Drive me wild
Make my skin go bumply
My nostrils flare…
My heart race
For tonight?

Do you understand?
Will you know?
Do you already know?
Your place….

I can beg you
Urge you
Open myself to you
For you

My skin yours to constrict
My reaction to you yours to own
My head spun and lost in want for just you…
Tonight.

Just for tonight
Can you keep me floating…..
Just for awhile?



Hold me
Touch me
Stroke me
Whisper your sweet breath
Stoke my fire….

Please me
Please me long enough
Slip those tender fingers just under my waistband
Just up my shirt….
Press the tight spot at the base of my neck
Use and admire my body in the way I use and admire yours….
Enough…
Just for tonight?

I feel that you were created to satiate me…
Just
For
Tonight…..

I am Yours
Tonight, but just until….
I can have
Him



I so love my little wines
The wines that keep me floating

Wines that please me just enough
Just for awhile……

Hiatus

This is all just too demanding
Too much work
Exhausting


So many posts
So many hours
So many wines
So much of myself shared....





I'm just spent
I'm just tired
I'm just kidding

Crazy week; newsletter deadline, anniversary, hubby's birthday, friends in town.....I just have not had the time or energy to post and clearly it is weighing heavy on me. I am still here, not going by way of the Dodo or the HoseMaster...just caught up in like life and junk. I was feeling all guilty so I thought just in case someone out there is waiting, wanting or worried that I've grown tired of writing about wines, the business or every bloggers favorite subject, myself....wanted to assure you that I have not. Just one of those weeks.

Dreaming

It was 5:00 am and I found myself once again sitting before the ever comforting glow on my humming little laptop. My little couch perch, my very own space in my humble and chilly home. I confess to having a terrible habit of falling asleep on the couch, not sure what my deal is but ever since I was a kid the idea of going to bed has always felt like some kind of surrender. I fought to stay awake, would even give myself a little pinch on the arm to keep myself up….not much has changed really. I don’t pinch myself anymore but I will pour myself one more glass of wine and try and nurse it through my nodding off to sleep. More often than not I wake on the couch, glass of wine still on the table at like three in the morning and hobble off to bed. It’s my silly routine and my hubby has grown accustomed being single until he feels my icy feet slip next to his at whatever in the morning.

Last night was a tad different; I did not fall asleep on the couch. I was however still awake at 12:30, wrestling with a fierce case of heartburn. It was wretched, the kind that starts like a bubble in your chest, grows and ends with that gurgling burn at the top of your throat. Now if any of you ever suffer with this you will know that laying down only makes this whole burning, gurgling business worse….and of course we were out of anything that may have helped soothe me, awesome. I teetered off to bed hoping that sleep would be a strong enough medicine, yeah not so much. Gurgle, burn, sit up, curse and repeat…..it was fantastic I assure you.

Around three I curled up on my right side, my eyes burning nearly as bad as my chest, tired…so painfully tired and finally drifted off to sleep. Forty minutes later I was awoken by a very loud, “Mom!!!!” my own voice screaming, shaking me from my much needed slumber. I stayed in bed trying to shake it all but I lost and found my way to my little space. Now I’ve never been one of those dream analyzers, I don’t try and figure out what they mean, what my mind is trying to tell me or feel that there are lessons to be learned by studying what my crazy ass head does while I sleep. Just never been one of those people and truthfully I rarely remember my dreams most of the time but this one, this one I have had so many freaking times that if it weren’t so terrifying it would be like a visit from an old friend.




Sometimes the setting or situation changes, me walking in to find or waking on the couch to find that the front door….the one I had locked before falling asleep, is open. I walk to the door to shut it and, SLAM….a foot blocks me from closing the door and then the shoving starts. Me against the door and “Him” pushing from the other side, always the same struggle and the most terrifying part, I open my mouth to scream and nothing ever comes out. I’ve been having this same dream since I was like seven or eight, it follows me each year and each dream I am my current age but it always ends the same way, me trying to scream for help and not having a voice. That was until last night, last night in my dream I was able to scream for my mother and woke to find I was actually screaming. So funny thing, turns out my hubby is going to be worthless in this situation, there I was screaming for my mother at like 3:40 in the morning and the hubby didn’t even flinch….very reassuring that. I stumbled out to my little perch and gently humming laptop heart burning and pounding thinking about dreams for the first time.

“So what do you want to do when you grow up Sam?” a question that followed this scholastically challenged, street running, authority fingering, pregnant at seventeen girl around like this stupid bubble of are-you-kidding-me. What did I want to do? What the hell could I do, survive, try not to be a massive fuck up and try and raise a person that was better than I was. Lofty right? I was never a dreamer, not sure if it just wasn’t in me or if the reality of my situations didn’t give me the time to even think about it. I knew I didn’t want to be a stereotype; hood rat turned breeder. I knew I didn’t want to live off the system or take a dime from anyone to raise my son. I let my mother help me, she let me live with her but I started working as soon as my tiny son was healthy enough to be with a sitter. I would not take a dime from the man that helped me create my lovely son, a decision that would have my ear bent over and over again…to take one penny would give him access, he didn’t deserve access and I would have sooner worked three jobs, give up sleep for good and sell my blood than let that kind of evil near MY son. Well, so I guess I did have one dream…be a good mother, give my son all that I had, show him what was possible if he was willing to work for it. He did…a junior at U of L, still cannot believe my son is a junior in college.




Sitting here this morning I let myself think or dream a little bit. Dream of what is next for Jeremy, dream of my Amy finding new friends and exploring her passion in culinary school out there in Dallas. Dream about my adorable neighbors, a one and four year old….their journey just beginning. Dream about The Wine Country, how I so long for that store to get the business and recognition I so feel it deserves. Dream of a friend up North being healthy and watching his children grow. Dream of a beloved man that is starting a new chapter in his life, hoping he knows how honored I am to be a part of it. As I sat here running through it all I heard those words again, “What do you want to do when you grow up?”…..

Guess the only thing I have ever really wanted for myself is summed up by the nightmare that has followed me all these years…I want a voice. I want to be heard. This shy woman that would rather swallow her own tongue than speak in public, this self deprecating woman that finds it difficult to walk past a mirror, this woman that is proud of her actions but has not as of yet learned how to be proud of herself…I want to be heard. I want to have my fingers stroke my keys, share my words, thoughts and opinions and have someone give a shit. So at least on a small scale, my dreams have come true.



So please indulge me when I extend a full hearted, overwhelmingly touched thank you to Ron Washam, Alfonso Cevola, Charlie Olken and Nancy Deprez. All four of these people nominated me for a Best Writing on a Wine Blog award, fuck seriously? These are some of the finest writers I have ever had the pleasure to read and they heard something in me worth tossing my name in the ring…unreal, a dream come true for me. I also loved the email the boys sent shortly after the nomination, the “don’t be shocked or upset if you don’t win” email….matter of fact I think those emails touched me even more than the nominations. The owning of their praise and concern, the knowing that they heard me….dreams coming true.

Okay so I would also like to take a moment to confess that I bit Ron’s head off when he nominated me, just felt like when my Mom would tell me I was pretty….Ron, thank you My Love. I am honored by your adoration and praise. I love that you hear me and your warm hug is in every post I write. Your acceptance and guidance, your support and admiration make me proud, proud of myself My Dear Sweet Man. Thank you. Thank you for paving the way and opening doors that let me feel and really hear that people like Eric, Alice, Charlie, Alfonso, John, Michael, Marcia, Benito, Jeremy, Jimmie, Eric, Jess, Vicki, Heather, Thomas, Anon 1 (although he remains silent I know when he’s here) Sara, Kevin and all the others have heard me and for showing me that I do have a voice.



It came to me in a dream this morning, I opened my mouth and heard my voice….thank you all.

NOT Your Cougar's Chardonnay

An unplanned upon stop had me rushing through the doors at work almost exactly an hour late. I was sweating up a storm, (freaking hot here is SoCal yesterday and as always….I wore the absolute wrong thing) and looking at a tasting room full of suppliers. I dumped off my bags, punched in, grabbed my binder full of wide rule paper and hurriedly made my way into the tasting room gesturing wildly and announcing to anyone that may have been waiting for my late ass that I was very sorry I was late. Said hello to my Kermit rep who only had two wines for me to taste, asked her if she wouldn’t mind just pouring me a little of each and plunked my ass down next to a rep that was wearing a slightly clinched face and had about ten open bottles of French wine…clearly the guy I had kept waiting.

That blasted hour had set me so far behind, I had to meet with reps and then prepare for our 4:30 commuter tasting in which I was featuring the Champagnes from Paul Bara. I quickly began tasting through the grumpy faced guys wine; a bunch of 2009 Roses and some red and white from the south of France. Swirl, sniff, scribble notes, taste…more notes, dump and move on. Not the way I like to taste but watching two more reps walk in, (both to see me) seeing my cheese order which needs to be counted and merchandised, be dropped off and with Paul Bara breathing down my neck it simply had to go that way. “Thank you for waiting and yes I can see you again tomorrow” and grumpy guy was on his way, bounced to the next rep in line and powered through his Alsatian, Burgundian and Rhone offerings with the same sniff-scribble-taste-scribble-dump efficiency. Time I simply did not have enough time to gush over each wine and honestly, nothing really warranted any extra attention. That was until….




“You’re in for a treat” Randy beamed as he got up from the seat where he had been tasting with and keeping company my final appointment of the day, Adam. I simply love Adam, he’s very sweet, a young hipster/rocker guy with a serious passion and palate for wine, if my “Crush Card” were not already full I would have one on him for sure. All that being said other than the brilliant Champagnes he reps, (Terry Theise portfolio; Jean Milan, Billiot, Pierre Peters….) I buy very little from Adam. He sells cool wines, funky wines and wines that are interesting but they tend to be a little too, “Interesting” and a bit too pricy for me to invest much of my French wine buying budget in. When I saw the oddly shaped bottles that were awaiting me I knew it was going to be another one of those tastings, wines I dig, geek out on but just don’t know how to or who to sell them to. The squatty bottles with the raised letters that spell out where they came from, J-U-R-A across their chest….or what I think of us the chest on a bottle of wines body, just a bit bellow the neck….are just those kind of wines.

“Stinky” I said after quickly spinning and sticking my nose in the first of the Tissot wines I would be tasting. Adam took a sniff and concurred; the 2007 Tissot Traminer (in screw cap which I love) was indeed off so we moved on to the 2008 Tissot Chardonnay Classique. Still trying to keep the quick pace with which I had handled my earlier appointments I gave the glass a quick little spin and brought it to my nose. Deep sniff and my time sensitive shoulders softened a bit, “Meursault dude, it smells like Mersault” I took in the deep aromas of roasted nuts and minerals, felt the expansive pear and spice across my palate and scribbled something in my notes about this wine being a serious value, (would be around $30.00) and could even appeal to new world drinkers. Time still ticking away and causing my pulse to speed up I asked that we move on to the next wine.




Twenty minutes, it was twenty minutes later and I had still not tasted the 2007 Tissot Chardonnay Les Bruyeres that was spinning around in my glass. You know those moments when you just say “Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyway”…..yeah I was not about to end the full on, heart pounding, mind bending, groan inducing spell this wine had me under. I was being seduced, my mind and body reacting, flashes of sweaty skin, raw bread dough and salt spinning around me. Paul Ba-who Champagne? This sexy, raw…earthy, intriguing wine had me pinned up against a wall in some seedy restaurant bathroom while everyone else was waiting for me to return to the table. Something familiar in that Blanc de Blancs or Chablis kind of way but…even drier, earthier and way goddamn sexier. Pretty, elegant, polished? Hell no, this wine is naughty in that “Damn that’s sexy in that unconventional or almost ugly” way. Not an ugly wine but a wine that I know only has a limited audience….an audience like myself, those people that get turned on by sweaty….earthy, weighty and wild. Oh yeah, I’m pulling the trigger on this $37.99 bottle of Cougar repellant even if I have to buy each bottle for my own self indulgent pleasure…..