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Munching Vidal Blanc on Keuka Lake, New York
Tag Archives: vines
It’s time. My backyard row of vines survived a week of smoke from Oregon’s fires and now face a deluge of rain. Rains last year waterlogged vines, berries split, fruit flies moved in, leading me to triage the harvest. Luckily, through obsessive sorting, SO2, and a year of lees aging, my few bottles of 2019 turned out pretty crisp, clean, if a bit low in alcohol (10% abv). Continue reading
Mourvedre Part 3: Wine Review of Kenneth Volk, Mourvèdre, Enz Vineyard, Lime Kiln Valley, California 2012
A new Mourvèdre makes it into our glasses. The rare grape of Bandol and Southern France has found a small niche in warm Central California. After trying the light Croad (here) and plump Terry Hoag (read here), it is time to turn to one of the smallest AVAs with the oldest Mourvèdre: Lime Kiln Valley. Continue reading
After many months of neglecting our backyard, I remembered I had planted Pinot Noir clones, Meunier, Chardonnay, Riesling, and Pinot Blanc last year (watch here). My wife was gone for the day. I got up early-ish, strapped on my boots … Continue reading
Wait… Where were we? Oh right! After packing a lifetime of museums, sacher torte, and gruner veltliner into three days in Vienna, we trundled onto a train and headed to Prague, Czechoslovakia (click here):
The trip’s pace has been manic. 149 straight days of travel demanded that we slow down. We even rented a hotel this time. Our first Czech wine purchase, Sovin Pinot Noir, was barely drinkable. So we head out for beer.
It is our last day in Bordeaux. We had visited Graves and St-Émilion. But we have yet to see Pessac-Léognan.
medoc-map-2010In 1855 Bordeaux merchants ranked the top houses. Of the Premier Grand Cru (best of the best), all were in the Médoc save one in Pessac-Léognan. Now we could debate the validity of an 164 year-old classification, but Pessac was just a bus ride from our apartment.
Famed wine-focused (and graffito-tagged) Bordeaux University passes us by.
We get off the bus and hike, expecting suburbia to turn into farmland. It doesn’t. Just past a gas station and apartment we find this: Continue reading