In which I reveal my own peak wine experiences at last. See continuation.
In response to the previous post, you have written some amazing things.
Gabrio gave us an ancient, eternally new tale of youth, wine, a summer's night and a beautiful girl.
Fredric gave us a coup de foudre, a taste of the eternal that only Burgundy can give.
Alfonso has been on a quest ever since his eureka moment -- a Proust of wine, our lad in Tejas.
Another fellow, who wishes to remain anonymous, wrote in Italian about a superb Barolo last night -- and a hypotethical perfect wine to toast joy and commemorate loss in the future.
All so poetic and beautiful. You are a hard act to follow, my dear friends.
So now, what of my own "perfect conjunction"? Was there one? Will there ever be one?
At my age it's getting hard to remember the details of feelings and sensory impressions very far back. The sad truth is that so much of my life seems like an outline, a sketch, and the sharp impressions and the deep emotions are merely summaries now. And yet...
My eureka moment came in the summer of 1972. I was working in a little wine shop in the Bon Air section of Richmond, Virginia. I liked wine and I got to supplement my wretched income as a teacher in a community college at the shop. When I closed up at night I got to take the leftover loaves of bread that we made during the day, and a whole lot of Havarti cheese -- I had a little girl who was about to have her first birthday, and we couldn't afford much meat. Havarti was protein.
I digress.
Another reason I appreciated the job was the fact that I got to buy wine at cost. In those days, truly wonderful wines could be had for a song -- high-quality Burgundies were a special bargain.
But as much as I loved the Burgundies and the second growth Bordeaux that I was able to take home, nothing gave me quite the shock that a bottle of Riojan wine gave me. A 1949 Reserva from Bodegas Bilbainas of Haro, in Rioja. I still remember the pale-brick glow of the wine at the edge of the glass and the earthy perfume that transmuted the fire of the sun. And the earthy brilliance of the wine, like a Bordeaux (post-phylloxera, French emigres and all that), but with a vitality that was not at all Bordelais. Whenever I think of the word "vinous," the scent and taste of that wine comes to mind even today.
And as to the "congiuntura perfetta" of time, place, mood and wine -- I'm still thinking...it probably has to do with Hawaii...
HAWAII...AND ABRUZZO
Two perfect conjunctions come to mind now.
The first is at New Year's Eve 2004, sitting on the lanai at Kapalua on Maui, watching the sun go down beyond the palms and the reefs, sipping a 2001 Huet Le Mont demi-sec. Nothing was wrong, everything was right. A moment of joy that tasted of eternity.
And the second? Oh' I've written about it a couple of times already. That unexpected, wonderful two hours at the Pietrantonj winery in Abruzzo. The wine, the food, the people, the communion of their pride in their work and our deep appreciation of its results. Unforgettable.
l'unica cosa da fare...prendere una cassa di vini d'abruzzo ed un po' di cucina di territorio e portarla in riva all'oceano hawaiano!.....
simply sillyboy.....
:-O)
ciao ....ti spediro' foto delle serate punitive che sto organizzando.
Posted by: liloni adriano | January 23, 2007 at 07:53 PM
Perfetto, old chap. Spediscimi foto e vino del gardese ... ! ;))))
Posted by: Terry Hughes | January 23, 2007 at 07:55 PM
Is "simply sillyboy" Italian?
Posted by: Fredric Koeppel | January 24, 2007 at 03:46 PM
I think it's English...eh, Adriano?
Posted by: Terry Hughes | January 24, 2007 at 07:05 PM