Bearing Good Fruit

I hate to become a cliche, but moving to California has certainly fueled my wine-tasting desire. It annoys me to no end when I see something with such a long history turn into a media-fed trend. The art of wine seems to be one of Hollywood's latest victims which will inevitably be an attempt to dilute even the richest of cultures. I guess those of us with real appreciation will still be sipping long after the bandwagon passes. I was interested in wine long before we moved here, but being surrounded by vineyards has totally enthralled me in viticulture. The science, passion, and history of grapes (and wine) is very inspiring. I've gone wine tasting many times in various places and each time I always find myself interviewing the bartenders and listening attentively as they go in to detail about their art. One interesting fact I learned on my last wine-stained outing was how long it takes to mature a vineyard until it is suitable to produce wine. That particular vineyard needed to age for ten years before it produced adequate grapes for wine. Ten years! I can just imagine feeling so anxious to start this amazing new adventure, being filled with passion, and finally committing to this new way of life. Then have to toil for ten years completely unsure of what the outcome may be. This must take so much faith in what you are dedicating yourself to. I can consider all that I've been through in the last decade, the commitments I've made, and how many times my faith has wavered. I wonder how many vineyards fail in that time, unable to see it through all the rough patches like droughts and storms, or how many people realize that their dreams of becoming a winemaker was not to be and that they must regrettably reap their young vines and start anew. Maybe they were too hasty in their endeavors and failed because they started out the wrong way. Perhaps some winemakers might make it through those rough years, so anxious to taste the literal fruits of their labor, but still be forced to wait patiently as the delicate juices ferment in their barrels. By this point, the winemaker may be physically exhausted, mentally drained, and desperate. Should he just crack open a barrel to taste at the risk of ruining what would have been a truly fine wine? Should he rush off and sell it because he is struggling and needs to support himself? Or should he continue to wait patiently, faithful in his hard work, his commitment, his passion; wait to see what miracle is being created within and what the future holds for his beloved vineyard? Occasionally after time and effort has been exhausted, some vineyards just don't make it and that's ok if it were never meant to be, but as I sipped the ten year old prize-winning sample the bartender graciously shared at the last winery I visited, I was grateful for their patience. There is nothing wrong with younger wines, but the complexity of an aged wine is incomparable. Unlike newer wines, this wine had no bite, no bitter aftertaste. The flavors were distinguished, I would even say confident. It tasted rich and balanced, not tannic. Wines that are aged properly, absorb the delicate flavors of their surroundings and become better with time. Ten years for a quality red wine is still relatively short in the aging process, but still the taste of time made an amazing difference. Although I was a cynic to aged wines truly being all they are made out to be, I've learned that some things are definitely worth the wait. So, here's a toast to patience, a toast to faith, and for some, even a toast to looking up your old address (whatever that means).

Chocolate or Vanilla

"Look to the cookie, Elaine. Look to the cookie." This is a bit of advice from Jerry while eating a black and white cookie on The Dinner Party episode. While I recognize that this was about race relations, I can't help but think about the Black and White cookie when I consider 2009. The biggest reason for this is moving. We literally spent half of the year in one state and the other half in the other. I can't help but compare the differences sometimes. Since I'm not discriminatory to vanilla or chocolate, in fact I'm quite fond of both, I'm not comparing this year in terms of pros and cons; it's simply a comparison of differences. Like the cookie, my foundation is the same: my values, my personality, and my nature, but it really amazes me how contrasting things are with opposing surroundings. Some may say Wyoming is simple and boring and while I can see why, I learned to appreciate the simplicity of it. When we left for California we had the highest of expectations. We were leaving plain vanilla for the Wild West. California is known to be exotic at times and beautiful. There are so many different ways to experience California and we couldn't wait to try it all. Since my first visit, I loved California so I was anxious. It's been six months since we moved and it hasn't been a let down, but it has been curious. Sometimes things can look so much different then they actually are and like many things in life, sometimes it's just better in smaller doses. Now that we've moved on to a new year, I'm excited for what this year has in store. In the end, Jerry's black and white cookie caused him quite a bit of angst, and there were certainly times when I was in the middle of conflicted sides during the past year and I questioned the outcome. I'm thankful that it ended well and I can't wait to savor another.