The Heart and Soul of Wine

My relentless desire to really get to the heart and soul of wine has led me to a new job here in Boulder. I've started working for a Denver based company called Vigneron Wine Consulting as a Hand Seller/Wine Consultant. The company is pretty tiny. We work for three small importers and distributors in Colorado. All the wines I help to sell are small production, family operated estates across Europe. My job is to help consumers to understand why it is important to support these small wineries. I have to try to nicely explain why the wine that small estate vineyards produce is more genuine than the bland or over-ripened fruit that gets auctioned off the the highest bidder, manipulated in the winery, and then thrown into bottles with big brand labels on the front and sold in every liquor store in the United States.

The wine bug first bit me at the wine bar I used to work at in Fort Worth. I was introduced to a whole new world of history, flavors and food pairings. I didn't realize that I would miss it so much until I moved to Boulder and soon realized I could no longer afford to drink any of the wines I really wanted to anymore. This new job is a way to get my foot in the industry door here in Colorado. I've been training pretty hard. Which, believe it or not, does not just mean I've been sitting on the front porch with a wine glass in hand. I've been up to my ears in wine books explaining the geeky eccentricities of terrior, the details of wine making and aging methods, and indigenous grape varietals. I've watched documentaries (Mondovino) highlighting the harsh impact of globalization and mass-production on the wine world. I've read books bashing Robert Parker and flying winemaker, Michel Rolland for their dominating standardization of the way all wines should taste, and books that hash out the arguments for the traditionalists and for respect of terrior. For anyone who has never explored this category of literature before, there are dozens of books and they can be somewhat overwhelming and intimidating if you allow them to be---not unlike the endless aisles of wines at your local liquor store, actually.

Every country varies in their jargon, their wine laws, and their grapes and even if you master the most common varietals--which are mostly French in origin--Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Malbec, Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc--you are just barely scratching the surface. Italy alone has over 2,000 different varietals of grapes.  To be a credible wine professional you essentially must learn the language, geography, geology, history, and driving cultural philosophies of every major wine growing country in the world. The wine world is infinitely complex and can seem frustratingly unapproachable at times, which, I suppose, is part of why I find it so intriguing. It is also, sadly, why most people gravitate towards the brands of wine they have heard of before--which usually means something like Yellowtail, Cupcake, Barefoot, Kendall-Jackson, or Franzia.

But the thing is, big companies rarely make interesting wines. They produce bulk wine in such large volumes that all they really care to do is create a style to appeal to the lowest common denominator. The result is that widely commercially available wines are beginning to taste very boring, and, all the same. They lack soul and expression and as more and more people buy them, the wines that actually have character have a harder and harder time getting sold.

There is an absolutely beautiful book that I would recommend to ANY reader who has a heart, whether wine is your thing or not. It is Terry Theise's Reading Between the Wines.

Terry Theise, for those of you that don't know, is a guy who has a huge passion for geeky wines, mostly German. Back in the 80's, turned that passion into a successful wine importing business. He is a champion of small producers. He also happens to be one of the best writers I've ever come across. A poet really.

Among many other things, Theise advocates that,

"If you want to experience wine with your whole self-not just your basic senses- the wine has to be authentic. Authenticity is rooted in family, in soil, and in culture and the connectedness between them. You have to find a wine that is grounded to do this, wines that are more intimately scaled, humbler, and less likely to be blown about the ephemeral breezes of fashion." 

Theise puts into words what I love about wine. I love wine for the same reasons I love art. Real, true, authentic wine IS art. For the same reasons you should learn to appreciate art produced by different artists in different time periods in starkly different style because of their uniqueness, you should also appreciate wine from famous wine makers or small, not so famous wine makers from specific historic regions, with different soils and indigenous grapes for their own distinct styles. Artists and great wines should be appreciated for what they teach you about history and how they make you feel. You may decided you like Pablo Picasso, Claude Monet, Robert Raushenberg, or Andy Warhol best, but a cultured individual should be able to respect and understand each of these artists for what they contributed to history, just like a true wine drinker should be able to at least have an appreciation for different wine styles from different established wine regions. The world would be quite boring indeed if all wines end up tasting the same...which is essentially what big market brands are pushing us towards. In fact, the big brands can't even be compared to the artists I've just mentioned. No, the big brand wines that most people pick up and drink can only be equated to the mass-produced artwork you can pick up at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. We would never take that kind of junk seriously, and yet we do it with wine all the time. People think Kendall Jackson and La Crema and DaVinci are important wineries. How can I tactfully tell them they are basically buying a reproduction print, when, for a few dollars more, they could buy the real thing.

I feel very good about the work I do at my new job. I get to be an advocate for the little guys--for the real wines made by husband and wife teams, wines that have been in family hands for 500+ years in vineyards that don't look like oil refineries, wines that are true to their soil and not grapes that are overly manipulated after they are harvested.  Grapes have the unique ability to record EVERYTHING in their history if you let them. You should be able to taste the chalky-minerality in a Sauvignon Blanc from Sancerre in the Loire Valley; the barnyard, earthy quality unique to Burgundy Pinot Noir; and the finesse driven, mineral quality to wines from Italy's Northern Alto Adige region.

I love wine and the wonderful connections and communities that can be formed when wine drinking is a shared experience. True wines invite you to be a part of the conversation and they will meet you on whatever level you happen to be at. I hope that in doing what I do, I'll be able to help keep the little guys on the shelves. Branded wines are highly processed and lack any sort of character and connectedness to anything. Their growing dominance in the marketplace threatens the existence of genuine wine. If I can even convince just one person a day why it is important to seek out small, estate-vineyards, rather than buy a bottle that they can find in every liquor store in the USA, I'll feel like I am making a difference.

So that's my rant for the night. Cheers!

Loire Valley Vineyard, France

Clearing my Head

Freshly fallen snow blurs the path on the winding, mountainous trail I've chosen for my afternoon hike. I carefully plan my steps and do my best to keep to the trail of footprints of those who came before me. Even on this overcast day the sun still reflects sharply off of the snowy trail. The air is brisk and relatively still; it’s a simple, comforting calm of an afternoon.

I’ve let my furry hiking companion off her leash and I watch her cheerfully dash about a few yards ahead, a striking black bundle against a vast field of crisp white. She chases squirrels and curiously smells the air in-between mouthfuls of snow, glancing back at me from time-to-time to make sure I’m still following along.

As I climb upward, the burn in my legs from the steep hike and the syncopation of sound made by my footsteps in the crunchy snow begins to clear the whiskey-tinged fog of expectations, obligations, victories and disappointments that have accumulated and clouded my vision over the previous week.

Each step,

         each inhale,

                  each exhale,

                       takes me closer to acceptance.

Solo hiking always makes me philosophical. I remind myself that life is an ebb and flow and that sometimes circumstances shift in unexpected ways for unexplainable reasons and you can't beat yourself up about them. Seemingly insignificant events from yesterday may seem monumental years from now, while very large disappointments may not even warrant remembering years down the road. 

As I approach the top of the hill, I catch up to my furry friend who has stopped to smell something interesting. She wags her tail enthusiastically when she sees me and covers my hands in sweet dog kisses. I catch my breath, look back from where I’ve come, and sit down for a minute before together the two of us begin our steady trek back down to the car. Back down to the world that is waiting for me to begin afresh tomorrow. 

                       

Homebrewing

Texas may be the land of cowboys, country music, and fabulous Tex-Mex, but Colorado is the land of mountain men and great craft beer! While it is true that there are many places across the United States where drinking beer is popular, I’ve never lived anywhere where homebrewing and craft brews felt so deeply intertwined with the general culture of the State. Colorado is home to over 120 established craft brewers and a slew of homebrewing aficionados. Last year my family and I had a lot of fun touring the craft breweries up in Fort Collins. I have never cared for any of the traditional domestics (Miller, Coors, Budweiser) but in Colorado I found a land of delightfully hoppy India Pale Ales, robust Porters, and Imperial Stouts that made me re-evaluate my feelings on beer. As it turns out, I just like the fancy stuff.

mmm...the good stuff

  I recently discovered that Denver is home to The Great American Beer Festival. The first festival was held in 1982 in Boulder back when there were only 22 breweries, 40 beers, and 800 attendees. As the attendance and popularity of the festival has grown over the years it has moved to bigger and bigger venues. This year the festival will celebrate its 30^th anniversary and 49,000 attendants are expected. Last year 526 breweries representing 48 states and 3,930 beers were entered in the competition. There were 167 judges from nine different countries and tickets to the event sold out in three weeks. Suffice it to say, Beer is a serious business in Colorado.

So when my friend Jon, Colorado native and home brewer extraordinaire, told me he was going to be starting a fresh batch of brew, I jumped at the opportunity to participate in the process first hand. After all, what kind of newly declared Colorado girl would I be if I didn’t embrace the local cultural and traditions?

We started the afternoon by going to a store called Hop To It to pick up our ingredients. We were going to be recreating a medium-bodied amber ale similar to the one sold by Odell called 90 Shilling. First stop was the malted barley room where tubs of barley were stacked on shelves. We measured out what we needed from the plethora of selections and ran it all through a small mill to chop it up, we then moved on to the yeast and hop selections of the store. I had no idea there were so many different options available!! 

A small sample of the selection of Barley Malt

Measuring out our quantities

Our recipe called for two different types of hops to be added at different times during the boiling stage of the brewing process. Hops contain several characteristics that brewers desire in beer; They contribute a bitterness that balances the sweetness of the malt and contribute floral, citrus, and herbal aromas and flavors.  We also picked up about a pint of malt extract; it has a consistency and taste similar to molasses. Oh--I should mention that Jon talked me into tasting everything at various stages during the day. Most of the barley was pretty unimpressive and the hops tasted terrible. I have no idea how people first came up with the idea to cook it all together, let it sit for months on end, bottle it up, call it beer and drink it. 

Malt Extract and some finished product from a previous brew. I was impatient.

Keeping the mixture at exactly 155F. Easier said than done.

But alas, I digress. The first step in the process was to heat a 4-gallon cooking pot full of water to 155F, we would then add our malted barley, in a stocking like sack for easy removal later, and leave the mixture to stay at 155F in the oven for an hour.  

Once this part was done, we removed the barley from the mix and brought our brown brew to a boil on the stove. We added in the malted extract and measured out and added different quantities of hops in progressively quicker intervals during the next hour of boiling. The hops are bright green and cause the brew to turn green and foamy when they are first added. I felt a bit like I was in a potions class at Hogwarts. (If our beer turns out tasty, 100 points for Gryffindor!!)

Measuring out our first addition of hops

During our downtime, between brewing stages, Jon told me an interesting story about how India Pale Ales first came into being. In the 18th century Great Britain faced a vexing problem. They were of country full of fine men who liked to drink fine beer. The had also just established one of the greatest navel forces in the world and the navy sailors would be out on voyages in hot climates, sometimes for months at a time. The problem was that the beer the navy sailors were used to drinking did not keep well on these long excursions. The hot environments resulted in flat, sour, undrinkable beer. Not having beer for months on end was a HUGE problem so the crafty brewer's set about to find a solution. 

The only defenses against spoilage they could find were alcohol and hops. The alcohol provided an unfriendly environment for micro-bacterial growth and the hops inhibited the growth of Lactobacillus.  So the original pale ale recipe was modified to include a much higher concentration of hops and a higher alcohol concentration to keep the beer from going bad. This produced a beer that was very bitter and strong that had a shelf life that would last on the trips to India. And so the IPA was born.

Bathtub Brewing

Ok, now back to brewing. Once the hops were all added we needed to bring our mixture down to 80F as quickly as possible because it is at this stage in the process that the beer is most susceptible to contamination. Our solution was a bag of ice and a bathtub.  From there we just had to add the yeast, add a gallon more water, and siphon our brew into a large glass vessel with a fermentation lock on top which would allow the CO2 to escape but not allow oxygen in while the beer fermented over the next few weeks. 

I have to say our beer looked pretty gross at this point, much like really dirty brown water.  I sampled a bit and it sure didn’t taste like any beer I’ve ever had before, but there are still a few weeks to go of fermentation before we can bottle it or keg it and then a few more weeks or months after that before it will be ready to drink. I’ll be sure to let you guys know how it turns out!

 I love Colorado. 

Following my Intuition

A great many things have changed since my last post four months ago. As I type this, I'm happily sitting in my friend Matt's kitchen in Boulder, Colorado. I have a hot cup of coffee in my hands and I'm watching snow fall and accumulate into an ever-thickening, beautiful, white blanket over the backyard.  The house is quiet and Matt and Norah are snuggled up in a mid-morning nap on the couch. I have decided to move back to Colorado.  Being back in the mountains with some of my dearest friends this week has been almost too satisfying for words.

Backyard Snow

Matt and Norah napping

I arrived on Monday, January 2nd with my Mazda loaded down with all of the things that matter to me most in the world and I hit the ground running...and hiking and skiing and swing dancing. The wonderful thing about Boulder is that you live in the foothills of the Rockies and besides having a breathtaking view of the mountains out your front door, you have nearly immediate access to all the hiking trails your heart could possibly desire. It is going to take some time to recondition my body to the lifestyle of Colorado. I've been living in the land of sprawling DFW suburbs for too long, drinking too much wine, eating too much fried food, and partaking in embarrassingly too little physical activity. I'm out of shape but loving every second of being here.

So for those of you that don't know, let me rewind a little to how I got here. It was shortly after I wrote that last post in October that I decided there might be a reason that things weren't working out for me in my job hunt and effort to move to Austin and that I needed to re-evaluate where my heart really wanted to be. As much as I tried to be, I just wasn't excited about Austin. It's a vibrant, eccentric city that I should have been excited about but instead I just found myself dreading the heat and pining away for the mountains. Intuition is a tricky feeling. It's "knowing" something inside without being able to rationally explain how you came to that conclusion. It's a gut feeling that can easily be ignored if you aren't careful. It turns out when I slowed down and actually listened to my heart it was shouting, GET YOUR FREE SPIRITED, MOUNTAIN LOVING ASS BACK TO COLORADO YOU CRAZY GIRL!!

So I finally decided to listen and here I am.