Savennieres

Having a blog can be the most ridiculous thing in the world, even writing these words makes me cringe a little. Yes, a truly selfish pursuit, or is it? I don't know at this point, but I think the argument for or against has pretty much played itself out. I have this tiny little cyber-place where I can scribble things down, where I can at some point connect to others with ideas. I guess I am admitting that it is selfish because writing things down helps me remember them.

I have a bizarrely visual memory (all the time I spent studying for spelling bees with my dad, damn flashcards), we begin to see the true dork at the center of the story (me), BUT my rambling point this morning is that a connective, cohesive narrative of my recent days (even if its sloppy and not perfect and doesn't even hint at my original idea), is a lifeline to me.

It organizes these experiences and thoughts I have every day into some sort of matrix or scaffold, and I can SEE it. This is also why I obsessively take photos of wine I drink, bottles I drink (and lately obsessively post to my facebook page, sorry everybody). Yes friends, there is an educational component to my compulsive wine photos, even an emotional one, a needed one.

I'm not sure if I am trying to expose myself as the dorkiest kid on the planet (I did win quite a few elementary regional spelling bees, but got trumped at the last minute by the word 'thief'......) I think I even won a three musketeers candy bar in third grade for spelling the world's longest word (duh....).

But now what do we have, well,, it seems I have an obsession with words. And that is an alright thing for a writer, a necessary thing. When I was a teenager, going through my most "artistic" phase, wearing dad's army coat, layers of thrift store slip dresses, I was still sitting hunched on my bed writing words I didn't know onto the pages of W magazine. I think the best list was over a Guess ad with Drew Barrymore's face on it. I wish I still had that list.

This past weekend I met some of the most beautiful and warm people on the planet. Yes, they were French (and Italian) winemakers (LDM). For someone who has her head in the clouds too much, nose in books, it was nice to be jostled around a little by happy, physical people that had their hands in the earth most of the year. I am not romanticizing farming, or the difficulties of working a vineyard by hand, but my God these were all truly happy (drinky) people. Warmth.

I wasn't expecting that Senore Vergano would pour me a glass of his own chinato, adding ice, fresh cut orange peel, and a splash of soda water to his 'Americano', or that the lamplight would fall on his face just so when he was laughing. I managed to remember my favorite Italian phrase 'Me piace da mourire',,,, and this made him laugh ALOT ('I love it to death'). Or me trying to speak to Jean Paul Brun about something entirely too serious and Damien Coquelet putting a piece of ice down the back of his shirt.

Right now I am realizing that the things I hoped for, the feel and textures of my life that I hoped for, just last year, are starting to take shape. Some of the most traumatic events in my life happened just over a year ago, and they razed me. They burned my life to the ground. This created a brand new, wholly new open space. And I began to think (very generally at first) about what I wanted my new, eventual life to be. Some of the words coming through my mind at the time were 'wine', 'France', and then just images,,, images of landscapes, maybe green, maybe grapevines.

What has astonished me is that my life has taken on this very shape. I returned to New York, worked my way back through wine, found an amazing wine shop (UVA), a job with a wine director (Levi), and now the French is coming back. I can think in it again, even if its a little bit of a rusty struggle.

I am really excited to see where I end up next year, hopefully speaking fluent and torrid French, hopefully some dirt under my nails, hopefully a trail of papers behind me, bound, and hopefully centered at the middle of a beautiful life I created from my own brain, but helped along the way by so many people. I also hope to have the world's most beautiful paperweight collection (like my heroine Colette),,, and maybe one or two pairs of shoes, a stack of well-thumbed books, and brightness in my eyes.

From Kermit Lynch's 'Adventures on the Wine Trail' (perfect book), in the Loire section: "If Vouvray has the chalk, Savennieres provides the blackboard, and the two wines are strikingly different. The change in the wines is first evidenced as one approaches Angers. In the blink of an eye, heavy black-rock-shingled roofs begin to predominate. The stony soil here contains schist, which splits into layers quite conveniently for home builders. It also accounts for the nerve and firmness at the heart of Savennieres wine, for its finesse and the attractive tinge of bitterness in its aftertaste." (48)

Last night I had a glass of wine at Terroir with my friend Allison, and damn if I didn't go for the Savennieres..... it was an entirely new experience tasting it after reading those words just earlier in the day. This is what I appreciate about writing, this is what I need from reading, this is how we change ourselves on a cellular level, on an atomic level......and understand things in-the-round, brain wires clicking away but bloody confirmation through senses, through enjoyment,,, yes a good Savennieres has a nose of "gunflint, that is subtle and fine"(50).....