I just had to share the magic...

It’s been a while since I’ve done this: sat down to write about a wine experience.

When I lived in Bordeaux, I wrote a wine blog, Cuvee Appeal, one that got a lot of attention and one that I was really proud of. But 10 years ago this month, I moved to Napa. I got a job, a fancy one. But one that also came with conditions, and I was encouraged to focus my writing elsewhere. And despite job changes and other roles, I’ve found it awkward to pick up my pen again. The digital landscape has changed. My role within the wine business has changed. My relationship with wine has changed. But there’s also something about coming full circle 10 years later.

Don’t get me wrong. I still LOVE wine. And the more I learn about wine, the more I realize I don’t really know anything about it. And it’s easy to just have a glass at night without even considering what you are drinking. But I firmly believe every glass is an adventure. Wine lives and breathes. It changes over time. It is a reflection of a specific place and time. An encapsulation of a winemaker’s artistry. But I’ve also come to realize it is a reflection of who you are in that specific moment. Your mood, who you are with, what you are eating, and even the music you are listening to can have an impact on how you experience wine. But wine still has that X factor. It can enhance a moment. It can bring people together. It can bring magic.

And yet sometimes even I need my own reminder. To be slapped upside the head with my own truth. And yesterday, I got just such a reminder. I haven’t felt magic like this in a while, and so I just had to share.

So here it goes:

Driving through the wilds of Western Sonoma County, I quipped: I could never live out here. Where does one even go to the grocery store? It’s so far away from anything.

And then I drove right past the unmarked driveway I was looking for.

The afternoon began at an unmarked gate with its small, unassuming code box. I parked and got out of the car, expecting another generic tour and tasting. In some ways, it was. But today I can’t stop thinking about it and how excited about it I am. I’ve mentioned it in a couple of conversations this morning, and I finally just decided to put pen to paper (yes, you’re reading this in a digital format, but I actually pulled a fresh notebook from the shelf and put pen to paper first).

I don’t know that I can articulate what made this particular experience so magical. Yes, the property was beautiful in its unassuming buildings and raw beauty. Yes, our host was hospitable, knowledgeable, and personable. Yes, the wine was absolutely stunning. But I’ve had hundreds of equally amazing tasting experiences. I could tell you about my pure awe of walking through the crayères in Champagne. I could tell you about a HOT afternoon with a giddy winemaker in Priorat. I could tell you about the amazing family that runs the only wine club I belong to in Napa Valley. But still, there was something about yesterday’s experience that lingers.

Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the steady song of the frogs on the property. Maybe it was the wild mustard as tall as I was that promised of spring and a new vintage. Maybe it was the rich, herbal aromas of the drying botanicals in the bar. Or maybe it was the juxtaposition of raw forest and open space against the neighboring property with its vast array of perfectly manicured vineyards. Maybe it was the poignant experience of sipping Pinot in a cozy corner while listening to the rain. But for the first time in a while, I’m reminded of WHY the wine industry.

I was inspired by the wine but also the craft. A property with only 10% of the land planted to vine. The biodynamic principles. The biodiversity and livestock. The garden and the dedication to crafting compost. A commitment to not producing more wine for the sake of producing more, but only producing what the winemaker can personally oversee. To his continued experimentation with different varietals and different sites - some that will never see the light of day - just to continue to define California terroir. In many ways, it reminded me of being back in France, but it was also uniquely Californian.

Of course, I bought a bottle. Not because I always try to when I’m tasting somewhere new, but because I wanted to. Like a dragon adding another gem to my hoard. And like a dragon, I’ll sit on this particular bottle. It will go into my cellar to be laid down and forgotten about until years down the road. And one day, I’ll be rummaging through the boxes and bins, and I’ll pull it out. Hopefully, only to be reminded of the magic coursing through my veins today.

And in the meantime, I’ll go back to focusing on growing my business, with a new spring in my step. To visiting other properties with a sense of hope and wonder. To trying new bottles and finding lightning. And to sharing my own magic.

Cheers!