I'm working on my use of "y'all" as I accept the invitation to return to the Austin area as a judge at the Texas International Wine Competition in February! Airline tickets are purchased and details are coming together. Now to tweak for weeks over what to pack.
I'm excited to return to this competition, it is small (about 40 judges), but well run and they treat the judges like royalty. Small, doesn't mean unimpressive by-the-way, this is 3 days of tasting and rating some of the top wines from around the world. Another one of my favorite things about this comeptition is that they are set-up to donate proceeds to The Whole Planet Foundation: their mission is to empower the poorest people in the world with a micro-credit to set up a home based business to support their families. Many of these people are women that receive a small loan, I'm talking $100 or less, and buy a sewing machine or similar tool. They learn how to create some kind of commodity by sewing items or crafting something and selling these items. The stories are incredible and heartwarming and I love being a part of a competition that thinks about how to help the world become a better place.
What I love most about this competition is the people. This competition, crafted by an expert wine judge, has gathered some of the best professionals from around the world including a Count who was the 20th person in the world to receive the prestigious Master of Wine title...ever, as in he's a big deal. He has been living and teaching in Bordeaux for most of his life, but flies to Buda, Texas for this competition. There is also the editor-in-chief of Sommelier Magazine from the Czech Republic who became my 'Wine Godfather' last January when we met at this same competition and he deemed me worthy of his great kindness, generosity and professional sway with some of the best competitions in the world. And then there is a surgeon and wine educator who is responsible for the non-profit charity Intervol that collects unused medical supplies and sends them to countries in dire need via 'Raise a Glass Foundation' which is affiliated with The Great American International Wine Competition in NY that I also have had the honor of judging at. These are only three incredible people out of a room full of greats that I now proudly call my friends.
To fully appreciate just how cool this little competition is, imagine you are half way around the world and bump into one of your favorite people you met at the Texas International! In the mysterious hills of a small town in the Czech Republic at a small International Wine Competition called Vinnex (thank you Wine Godfather!), I found myself hugging one of my favorite judges. Talk about random right? In the wine judging world, not so much. My 1st year judging at Great American International, I was fresh and new and in a sea of unfamiliar faces at that very large competition. I met some lovely people and enjoyed my experience very much, but it wasn't until this past year when I made connections at Texas, that my experience at Great American really wowed, they seem to build on each other. In a beautiful stroke of luck, I was invited into the inner circle of wine judges and part of a private tasting at the Doctor's room. He brought some of his special wines he has collected in his private cellar to share with a small group including the Count. You might be picturing a stodgy group of wine geeks all trying to impress each other and be snooty about what the greatest wines of the world are, but I assure you, this is a group of exceptional people that are appreciative of what each of us bring to the table, LOVE wine and want to share that love, appreciate the hard work winemakers have put into their product and a group of hilariously funny people! The Doctor and the Count have a rapport after many years of friendship, that is so entertaining that it makes you want to pull up a chair and just watch them interact. The Doctor has a delightful Irish accent and sharp wit mixed with a youthful carriage that makes his age difficult to determine, The Count has an English accent and is a dapper, wisecracking older man with white hair and beard that looks very distinguished. Between them they have a heavy arsenal of wine knowledge and experience, but it is the jolly sing song of the dueling accents as they verbally jab at each other that is so fabulous. Needless to say, I was excited to spend an evening with them.
Now, most hardcore wine geeks have had a wine MOMENT, a special A-Ha experience where tasting a particular wine was so thrilling an experience that that became the beginning of the end for losing themselves to the world of wine. Remember that scene in the movie 'Sideways' where Miles has just met Maya and they chat in the Kitchen asking each other what their moment was? They then name wines and ooh and ahh over each others answers. Well, my wine I had that night with the Doctor and the Count sitting along side a handful of other lucky judges. Having been in the wine biz now for 17+ years, you would have expected that I would have already had that experience, and while I did have exciting moments of tasting spectacular wines, tasted wines that inspired me or meant a great deal to me, nothing compared to my MOMENT in NY. Clearly my love of wine runs deep, after all I didn't need an a-ha experience to dedicate my entire adult life to the industry.
Back to NY; a small group of us circled around the Doctor (the TX competition organizer was one of them) as he opened the 6 magnificent wines he'd set out. The Count and his stunningly elegant wife, sat stretched out on the bed, fittingly like the King and Queen of the room. It was somewhat like the excitement a child has waiting to be handed that first gift Christmas morning, the room was quiet, full of anticipation. Of the epic wines we tasted, each more amazing than the last, was a 1978 Saint-Julian (my birth year), a 1986 Margaux and a 1964 Spanna from Italy. I was in heaven, these wines showed why they are revered, still stunningly brilliant after decades. But it was the 1964 Spanna that was my MOMENT, the wine was still so epically beautiful! "Epically" is that a word? See? The wine was so amazing, the only way to describe it is to make up words! Seriously though, after 55 years, this wine managed to have intense character, layered complexity, depth, perfect elegance and delicate aromas. I was so struck by the capability of a winemaker to create a wine that could last this long and stand up so exquisitely that it blew my mind and seized my heart in a fist's grip. I sat, in my own little world, savoring each perfect sip, while silent tears streamed down my face. I was truly overwhelmed and in awe of this wine, a treasure held in my hand that in an instant reminded me of how breathtaking the world can be. The Count's wife touched my arm and broke me from the wine's spell, I looked up surprised and she asked if I was OK, my tear stained cheeks having caused her and the Count concern. I smiled a giant, wine stained smile and said "it is the most beautiful thing I have ever encountered. I'm brought to tears over the idea that someone created this 55 yrs ago". The room full of purple teeth smiled back at me, they knew they had witnessed my A-Ha wine moment and everyone was genuinely touched to be a part of it; all friends from Texas International Wine Competition.
Once again, across the world, this time at the prestigious Berliner Wein Trophy International Wine Competition in Germany this past summer, I met a wine judge that after talking a bit said "Oh wow, you are the judge the Count was talking about! He said he had seen a wine, when tasted was so beautiful, it made a Sommelier cry!", I've since heard other stories of how the Count and the Doctor share the story of my wine moment, little old me, at wine competitions, both touched by having been witness to a moment of true awe.
And so, with great excitement to see my wine judging family, meet new judges and tour Texas wineries, I ready myself for 3 days of intense wine competition analysis and beautiful new wine memories to be made. Wish me luck y'all!
Remember, no matter where the world takes you, Wine First!
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Sunday, December 29, 2019
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Time to Celebrate!
I wanted to write about our adventure in Santa Fe, a staycation mixed with work at the International Food, Wine and Travel Writers Association (IFWTWA). I wanted to tell you about the incredible contacts we made, but everything has been obliterated by my recent MRI.
Here is where the sappy me floods the page with how meaningful life is. I can feel my teenage daughter rolling her eyes even as I type, but it is true! My struggle with a pituitary tumor (that's located in your head people. Don't worry I didn't know that in the beginning either) started a little over 4 years ago when symptoms riddled my body and sent my doctor on a wild goose chase trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Most people would panic when the news came that they had a brain tumor, and believe me there were a lot of tears, but I was also so relieved that we found the cause, that I exclaimed "Great! When can we pluck that baby out?!?". I know, a surprising reaction, you should have seen my doctor's jaw hit the floor.
Cut to (hahaha that is unfortunate language to use there) months and months of specialists and brain surgeons and the 'We need to wait till it gets bigger to ensure a successful surgery' while my symptoms were getting worse and worse and worse until I was spending more time in bed than I was on my feet, managing the pain with medical marijuana card benefits, and preparing for the worst, and then a miracle happened. My doctor urged me to go see a specialist that doesn't take my insurance and pay out of pocket, a big ask with me hardly working. I stepped into her office and she instantly got it. She consoled me as I explained the agony I was in and that the surgeons weren't moving fast enough. She understood how dire this was and she suggested we try something extremely out of the ordinary, a drug that they administer to people for a horrible fungal infection, but that has the side effect of greatly lowering cortisol levels. Cortisol is the mega beast you know of as the "stress hormone" and while we usually ignore it, this tumor had my body creating insane amounts of it...and that created all my symptoms. She explained the risks, we would need to monitor my liver and other organ functions every couple of weeks and I wouldn't be able to drink even a drop of alcohol during the 4 months we'd attempt this wacky treatment.
I'll let that sink in for a moment. I, me, the wine obsessed woman writing this. The woman who's job it is, is to drink, would not have even a sip for 4 months. I said yes before she could finish her sentence. I needed help in a bad way and this was a life line.
Within only a few weeks, I was able to better manage my pain levels. I had nausea, but wasn't constantly on the verge of vomiting (that was with my CBD/ THC tincture, without it, I was on the bathroom floor), and within a couple months, I was even getting my life back! Another unfortunate side effect of having massive levels of cortisol saturating my body for so long was that it greatly compromised all the tendons and ligaments in my body. That meant that seemingly banal actions resulted in a catastrophic ankle sprain followed by a dislocated shoulder. Side note: why do they call any level of ankle sprain a 'sprain'? Doesn't it sound like something small, insignificant? Well this should have been called a sprake, cause it would have been easier if I'd broken my ankle than 'sprained' it. 2 ligaments blown completely out, 2 tendons badly torn and the muscle up my calf that attaches to the shin pulling away...evidently that is the true site of the 'sprain' and the rest was gravy. My husband actually managed to pop my shoulder back in himself, after watching YouTube videos, while I moaned in pain, but there was damage to the tendons and ligaments as well as muscle there too. Amazingly, I didn't complain, I happily limped my way to activities and soaked in the feeling that the rest of my body was on the mend. I outline those injuries in order to give you an idea of just how intense it was to be feeling better finally. I could cry right now just writing those words, but I will try not to create a scene in the coffee shop.
So where are we at now? Well, that drug, or maybe the continued use of cannabis (they have studied the positive effects of cannabis on brain tumors), caused the tumor to spontaneously shrink! Something they never see, these tumors become inactive and they grow, but they don't shrink. As of this newest MRI, it was gone. Getting that news was truly powerful. I didn't realize how much stress and worry I had been living with, the fear it would all come back. But now, I feel like I can relax, take a deep breath and pour a giant glass of wine. I'm grateful to everyone that road along with me on that crazy journey, I hope to have this be the last of the "brain" blogs I write.
Cheers and no matter what life brings you...Wine First!
Here is where the sappy me floods the page with how meaningful life is. I can feel my teenage daughter rolling her eyes even as I type, but it is true! My struggle with a pituitary tumor (that's located in your head people. Don't worry I didn't know that in the beginning either) started a little over 4 years ago when symptoms riddled my body and sent my doctor on a wild goose chase trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Most people would panic when the news came that they had a brain tumor, and believe me there were a lot of tears, but I was also so relieved that we found the cause, that I exclaimed "Great! When can we pluck that baby out?!?". I know, a surprising reaction, you should have seen my doctor's jaw hit the floor.
Cut to (hahaha that is unfortunate language to use there) months and months of specialists and brain surgeons and the 'We need to wait till it gets bigger to ensure a successful surgery' while my symptoms were getting worse and worse and worse until I was spending more time in bed than I was on my feet, managing the pain with medical marijuana card benefits, and preparing for the worst, and then a miracle happened. My doctor urged me to go see a specialist that doesn't take my insurance and pay out of pocket, a big ask with me hardly working. I stepped into her office and she instantly got it. She consoled me as I explained the agony I was in and that the surgeons weren't moving fast enough. She understood how dire this was and she suggested we try something extremely out of the ordinary, a drug that they administer to people for a horrible fungal infection, but that has the side effect of greatly lowering cortisol levels. Cortisol is the mega beast you know of as the "stress hormone" and while we usually ignore it, this tumor had my body creating insane amounts of it...and that created all my symptoms. She explained the risks, we would need to monitor my liver and other organ functions every couple of weeks and I wouldn't be able to drink even a drop of alcohol during the 4 months we'd attempt this wacky treatment.
I'll let that sink in for a moment. I, me, the wine obsessed woman writing this. The woman who's job it is, is to drink, would not have even a sip for 4 months. I said yes before she could finish her sentence. I needed help in a bad way and this was a life line.
Within only a few weeks, I was able to better manage my pain levels. I had nausea, but wasn't constantly on the verge of vomiting (that was with my CBD/ THC tincture, without it, I was on the bathroom floor), and within a couple months, I was even getting my life back! Another unfortunate side effect of having massive levels of cortisol saturating my body for so long was that it greatly compromised all the tendons and ligaments in my body. That meant that seemingly banal actions resulted in a catastrophic ankle sprain followed by a dislocated shoulder. Side note: why do they call any level of ankle sprain a 'sprain'? Doesn't it sound like something small, insignificant? Well this should have been called a sprake, cause it would have been easier if I'd broken my ankle than 'sprained' it. 2 ligaments blown completely out, 2 tendons badly torn and the muscle up my calf that attaches to the shin pulling away...evidently that is the true site of the 'sprain' and the rest was gravy. My husband actually managed to pop my shoulder back in himself, after watching YouTube videos, while I moaned in pain, but there was damage to the tendons and ligaments as well as muscle there too. Amazingly, I didn't complain, I happily limped my way to activities and soaked in the feeling that the rest of my body was on the mend. I outline those injuries in order to give you an idea of just how intense it was to be feeling better finally. I could cry right now just writing those words, but I will try not to create a scene in the coffee shop.
So where are we at now? Well, that drug, or maybe the continued use of cannabis (they have studied the positive effects of cannabis on brain tumors), caused the tumor to spontaneously shrink! Something they never see, these tumors become inactive and they grow, but they don't shrink. As of this newest MRI, it was gone. Getting that news was truly powerful. I didn't realize how much stress and worry I had been living with, the fear it would all come back. But now, I feel like I can relax, take a deep breath and pour a giant glass of wine. I'm grateful to everyone that road along with me on that crazy journey, I hope to have this be the last of the "brain" blogs I write.
Cheers and no matter what life brings you...Wine First!
Thursday, November 21, 2019
Ouch My Liver! A Story About Visiting NYC
It has been a literal whirlwind of travel and drinking lately! Shhhhh...don't tell my doctor, but I have NOT cut back like he told me to. I really do think one glass a day is a ridiculous number for anyone much less if your entire job is to be drinking. I also wonder if more people would be drinking more on a daily basis if they could afford to. In my business it is constantly at my fingertips and often given to me for free without my asking. This is starting to sound like the ravings of an alcoholic, and I don't want you to worry, there are plenty of times I go days without drinking at all and for health reasons while on a a mediation, I didn't drink even a drop for 4 months. Anyway, what I'm trying to say here, is there was a considerable amount of drinking that accompanied me on these work trips.
It started with flying to New York City alongside my adorable husband. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty exciting to get to have him all to myself, even if the reason was centered around work. I love NYC, always have. I have even attempted to live there a couple of times, but each time was thwarted and I ended up on another journey... one of those journeys being to help open Vivac Winery, clearly a wise decision. Each time I visit, the city shows change, this time the city has gotten more and more charming and discovering the Lower East Side was fantastic! We stayed at Hotel Indigo which I did book on Priceline (the winery may be getting a lot of press, but we are still tight on cash), I'm a total Priceline junky, I use it for all my travel needs and if you use the app, you actually get even better deals; you are welcome. This hotel was epic! The entry is not the lobby, but is still impressive with a cool, industrial, hip vibe ...and a doorman. I don't know why, but I love the idea of having a doorman. The lobby is on the 15th floor and has the most incredible view of the city, various inviting seating areas (also love clusters of seating areas. Am I weird?) and a bar. Did someone say bar? Our room wasn't quite ready so they apologized with free drink vouchers, nice move Hotel Indigo, nice move. We happily turned them in for a perfectly pink French Rose and nestled into a bistro table for two...with a view, not of the NYC skyline, but of the adorable clusters of seating areas that stretched the length of the lobby. Now I'm thinking I am weird.
Our focus was on a very important wine media presentation, but being that we love great food, every spare moment was spent eating. My clever husband, Jesse, had researched restaurants we should try to hit so we had a few targeted, and then we let happy finds fall in our laps. Being from New Mexico, we don't get a lot of Asian cuisine so that was a focus, but first thing is first, we needed a deli for a NYC sandwich! I have no idea why but my family is all about sandwiches, so much so that when Jesse and I were first dating, he asked "what is the deal with your family and sandwiches?" I was dumbstruck, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I started to notice, every meal could be turned into a sandwich and any quick stop by the parents' house was greeted with 'can I make you a sandwich?'. Needless to say, it became a on going joke. As luck would have it, our hotel was next door to Katz Deli, you'll know it as the place in When Harry Met Sally "I'll have what she's having" scene. It was outstanding! And I'm not just saying that because I am a sandwich fiend. As a side note, anyone that knows me, knows I detest Mayo. I believe mayonnaise has a purpose in some recipes, but is not supposed to be a condiment, it is a vile and disgusting addition to smear on bread and if you are one of those sickos that dips french fries in it, we can not be friends. This rant comes into play here in a sec. I also love pickles, some of you might be disowning me with that statement, I know, they aren't everyone's cup of ...vinegar? So imagine my delight when sitting down at this crowded deli, they immediately brought us a plate of house-made pickles! I knew I had found something amazing. Next was to order, of course we got Pastrami sandwiches, we aren't stupid. Also the waiter did yell at us to order Pastrami. Then Jesse tried to order mayo on his and was just about flung out of the restaurant onto the street for it. This made my day. The sandwich was insanely delicious and I almost recreated the When Harry Met Sally scene over it. Oh, and we had a local beer, you gotta know your drinkin places and that deli is a beer place, not a wine place. I'm sorry to say I was so obsessed with the sandwich that I can't tell you the name of the beer. Oops.
Next, directly after dinner, was to hit China Town to get steamed...weird dough balls. Tasty and strange, but interesting enough to have us share four different flavors, my personal fave was the egg custard. I figured we got to eat at multiple places in a row because we walked there and lets face it, that's more exercise than my fat butt is used to these days. We got back to the hotel room walking in the dark, passing so many people out, shops open and fitness centers packed, it was strange that so late at night, the city was so lively. We climbed into bed with our nightcap poured (a lovely Italian Nebbiolo) and realized it was only 6:30pm, OMG! We are getting old and lame, but we agreed we couldn't go to bed at 6:30, that would be just ridiculous even though we had been up since 3:00am to catch our flight that morning. Instead we rallied and started to watch a movie... and then passed out...at 8:00pm, clearly we didn't have our city stamina in check.
Peking duck, $1 pizza and fabulous NYC style Italian food were all devoured with glee over the next few days. I was starting to have flashbacks to our time in Central Europe this past spring where we ate our way through 4 countries. Now you know why my butt is so big. Also, they should have a slogan over there "cake, it's what's for dinner!" and NYC's could be 'Pizza its what you eat in between meals!'. Maybe I missed my calling as a slogan writer? Los Angeles could be "Kale, we think it is a food" and Napa could be 'Wine, it is the only food group'. Sorry, I got way off topic.
Now you are all wondering how the big event went (unless you also read the Fueled by Vivac blog I write, then you already know. LOL!), it was fantastic! Our ballsy move to show 4 vintages of Cabernet not only wowed with how beautiful they held up, but made us stand apart from the other 6 wineries showcased. We enjoyed getting to taste the wines from AZ, TX and our friends from NM, it was a beautiful intimate event with some of the most influential people in the wine world. I do have to admit that the 4 courses for the wine lunch were not what I was expecting. Course 1: beets, course 2: beans, course 3: pork fat, course 4: one slice of cheese. I'm pretty sure there have been tongue-in-cheek movies made about meals like this set in NYC and Paris, they've gotten so chic, they don't feed you. I mean did you miss the 'I'm fat and like to eat' sections here? Anyway, after a day of drinking, we all needed more drinking. The group of winemakers and a couple writers hit a bar around the corner for fresh oysters (see, it wasn't just me! Everyone was like where is the food?) and some oddly chosen French wines. Evidenally, NYC is embracing "natural wines" that often are riddled with VA (volatile acid). I had the displeasure of ordering 2 back to back. Then back to the hotel for a nap, and to wash out my mouth from the molesting it had just had. Later that night, somehow our old people bodies mustered enough energy to hit The Blue Note, an iconic jazz club that is one of my favorite places in the world. And of course there, we would have more drinks. Turns out a lemoncello, cardamom, prosecco and vodka drink pairs perfectly with jazz rap.
Our last day in the city we had to ourselves. It was so delicious to have this time with Jesse. We've been married for 15yrs, together for 18 and known each other for 26. I still just can't get enough of him and the city, packed with people, restaurants crammed tight with other foodies, somehow makes for the most romantic setting. Every street corner brings a photo op, and nestled in corners of top spots gave us the ability to be in our own little two person bubble.
We returned home invigorated and deeply exhausted. We rung out our livers and prepared for round two... a food and wine travel writers convention in the nearby city of Santa Fe. Stay tuned for how we drank our way through that event!
Cheers! And remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
It started with flying to New York City alongside my adorable husband. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty exciting to get to have him all to myself, even if the reason was centered around work. I love NYC, always have. I have even attempted to live there a couple of times, but each time was thwarted and I ended up on another journey... one of those journeys being to help open Vivac Winery, clearly a wise decision. Each time I visit, the city shows change, this time the city has gotten more and more charming and discovering the Lower East Side was fantastic! We stayed at Hotel Indigo which I did book on Priceline (the winery may be getting a lot of press, but we are still tight on cash), I'm a total Priceline junky, I use it for all my travel needs and if you use the app, you actually get even better deals; you are welcome. This hotel was epic! The entry is not the lobby, but is still impressive with a cool, industrial, hip vibe ...and a doorman. I don't know why, but I love the idea of having a doorman. The lobby is on the 15th floor and has the most incredible view of the city, various inviting seating areas (also love clusters of seating areas. Am I weird?) and a bar. Did someone say bar? Our room wasn't quite ready so they apologized with free drink vouchers, nice move Hotel Indigo, nice move. We happily turned them in for a perfectly pink French Rose and nestled into a bistro table for two...with a view, not of the NYC skyline, but of the adorable clusters of seating areas that stretched the length of the lobby. Now I'm thinking I am weird.
Our focus was on a very important wine media presentation, but being that we love great food, every spare moment was spent eating. My clever husband, Jesse, had researched restaurants we should try to hit so we had a few targeted, and then we let happy finds fall in our laps. Being from New Mexico, we don't get a lot of Asian cuisine so that was a focus, but first thing is first, we needed a deli for a NYC sandwich! I have no idea why but my family is all about sandwiches, so much so that when Jesse and I were first dating, he asked "what is the deal with your family and sandwiches?" I was dumbstruck, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I started to notice, every meal could be turned into a sandwich and any quick stop by the parents' house was greeted with 'can I make you a sandwich?'. Needless to say, it became a on going joke. As luck would have it, our hotel was next door to Katz Deli, you'll know it as the place in When Harry Met Sally "I'll have what she's having" scene. It was outstanding! And I'm not just saying that because I am a sandwich fiend. As a side note, anyone that knows me, knows I detest Mayo. I believe mayonnaise has a purpose in some recipes, but is not supposed to be a condiment, it is a vile and disgusting addition to smear on bread and if you are one of those sickos that dips french fries in it, we can not be friends. This rant comes into play here in a sec. I also love pickles, some of you might be disowning me with that statement, I know, they aren't everyone's cup of ...vinegar? So imagine my delight when sitting down at this crowded deli, they immediately brought us a plate of house-made pickles! I knew I had found something amazing. Next was to order, of course we got Pastrami sandwiches, we aren't stupid. Also the waiter did yell at us to order Pastrami. Then Jesse tried to order mayo on his and was just about flung out of the restaurant onto the street for it. This made my day. The sandwich was insanely delicious and I almost recreated the When Harry Met Sally scene over it. Oh, and we had a local beer, you gotta know your drinkin places and that deli is a beer place, not a wine place. I'm sorry to say I was so obsessed with the sandwich that I can't tell you the name of the beer. Oops.
Next, directly after dinner, was to hit China Town to get steamed...weird dough balls. Tasty and strange, but interesting enough to have us share four different flavors, my personal fave was the egg custard. I figured we got to eat at multiple places in a row because we walked there and lets face it, that's more exercise than my fat butt is used to these days. We got back to the hotel room walking in the dark, passing so many people out, shops open and fitness centers packed, it was strange that so late at night, the city was so lively. We climbed into bed with our nightcap poured (a lovely Italian Nebbiolo) and realized it was only 6:30pm, OMG! We are getting old and lame, but we agreed we couldn't go to bed at 6:30, that would be just ridiculous even though we had been up since 3:00am to catch our flight that morning. Instead we rallied and started to watch a movie... and then passed out...at 8:00pm, clearly we didn't have our city stamina in check.
Peking duck, $1 pizza and fabulous NYC style Italian food were all devoured with glee over the next few days. I was starting to have flashbacks to our time in Central Europe this past spring where we ate our way through 4 countries. Now you know why my butt is so big. Also, they should have a slogan over there "cake, it's what's for dinner!" and NYC's could be 'Pizza its what you eat in between meals!'. Maybe I missed my calling as a slogan writer? Los Angeles could be "Kale, we think it is a food" and Napa could be 'Wine, it is the only food group'. Sorry, I got way off topic.
Now you are all wondering how the big event went (unless you also read the Fueled by Vivac blog I write, then you already know. LOL!), it was fantastic! Our ballsy move to show 4 vintages of Cabernet not only wowed with how beautiful they held up, but made us stand apart from the other 6 wineries showcased. We enjoyed getting to taste the wines from AZ, TX and our friends from NM, it was a beautiful intimate event with some of the most influential people in the wine world. I do have to admit that the 4 courses for the wine lunch were not what I was expecting. Course 1: beets, course 2: beans, course 3: pork fat, course 4: one slice of cheese. I'm pretty sure there have been tongue-in-cheek movies made about meals like this set in NYC and Paris, they've gotten so chic, they don't feed you. I mean did you miss the 'I'm fat and like to eat' sections here? Anyway, after a day of drinking, we all needed more drinking. The group of winemakers and a couple writers hit a bar around the corner for fresh oysters (see, it wasn't just me! Everyone was like where is the food?) and some oddly chosen French wines. Evidenally, NYC is embracing "natural wines" that often are riddled with VA (volatile acid). I had the displeasure of ordering 2 back to back. Then back to the hotel for a nap, and to wash out my mouth from the molesting it had just had. Later that night, somehow our old people bodies mustered enough energy to hit The Blue Note, an iconic jazz club that is one of my favorite places in the world. And of course there, we would have more drinks. Turns out a lemoncello, cardamom, prosecco and vodka drink pairs perfectly with jazz rap.
Our last day in the city we had to ourselves. It was so delicious to have this time with Jesse. We've been married for 15yrs, together for 18 and known each other for 26. I still just can't get enough of him and the city, packed with people, restaurants crammed tight with other foodies, somehow makes for the most romantic setting. Every street corner brings a photo op, and nestled in corners of top spots gave us the ability to be in our own little two person bubble.
We returned home invigorated and deeply exhausted. We rung out our livers and prepared for round two... a food and wine travel writers convention in the nearby city of Santa Fe. Stay tuned for how we drank our way through that event!
Cheers! And remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
Thursday, August 22, 2019
To Berlin, With Love
WHOA where did the summer go?!? So much has happened and I just left you all with me stuck in the Paris Airport. How rude of me. Let's start from there, I was headed to Berlin.
Berlin was fantastic, other than flying with Delta Airlines who managed to screw up at every step including losing our luggage and submerging it in water in some sadistic hoax? OK it was probably left out in a hurricane and not done on purpose, but the end result was literally soaking wet clothing that had started to rot so when the luggage did arrive finally it also had to be laundered repeatedly; luckily I brought my mother on this trip. You think I'm joking, but she literally did my laundry while I went to work... it was AWESOME. We also had no other choice but to go shopping. I had the Wine Competition after all and my ripped jeans and cool band t-shirt would not work (I put that in there for my husband, I HAD TO SHOP). What was working (on overdrive) was my usual stress issues. But did I lose all sense of smell and make an ass out of myself as my panic attack would have had me believe prior to the competition? Nope, I managed to scare myself to death for nothing. Again.
The 1st day we woke up in Berlin, we pulled the heavy curtains to the sides of the large window in our lovely apartment and saw, across the square, draped drown the front of the building, was the biggest rainbow Pride flag I've ever seen. Instantly we knew we were going to like Berlin, it was the perfect welcome for my daughter's 1st, fully out as her beautiful self, experience. Oh and I might mention that I had thought I was bringing a son on the trip, but had recently found out that I have a daughter when she came out to me as transgender a month previous. Now she was out to the world and Berlin had its arms wide for a giant embrace.
We walked to the cute cafe just around the corner and tried to focus our jet lagged eyes on our new surroundings. Is she seriously going to drop the bomb about her kid and then go back to talking about coffee?!? I can't focus! This was a first for all of us (myself, my parents and my transgender daughter) to be in Germany. Oh my gawd she just did it again! Just throws it out there like it's nothing! And while Central Europe and Austria had shared much of the same history, it was fascinating to behold Berlin and how uniquely different it was.
I'm not sure what I expected to see, maybe more desolation? But the huge trees that shaded you in the immense heat all over the city were gorgeous and the mix of old historical buildings and modern swirling architecture was breathtaking. Each area we explored was charming in its own way and quickly we fell into step with the laid back, easy atmosphere. She really isn't going to give us the back story is she? Throw us a bone!
The delays we suffered getting to Berlin resulted in me having no time to play tourist before I had to shuttle over to my hotel in West Berlin for the competition and say goodbye to my family who stayed in East Berlin. Ya, her transgender daughter! There are so many questions, we need details! I settled into judging, being extremely well taken care of and the family hit the sites! At breaks I'd see excited texts of their adventures and hear how much they loved the city.
The competition was extraordinary! Judges from all parts of the world, and over 6,200 wines to sample as well. It was well run and they even gave us the afternoons off to go explore on their dime! I'd jaunt off to meet up with my family and see a museum or do a city tour, then return to my hotel for the evening. It afforded me the ability to focus on work and still play. As always the worry that I am a fraud was a waste of time and a topic to bookmark for my next therapy session. Oh good she's in therapy. I wonder if her daughter is? Probably since she is. Man it's weird that she isn't talking about this. I managed to pull a couple of my parlor tricks out of the bag and identify odd grapes or pinpoint a winemaking practice by smelling a wine, blind to any details, it's an awesome occurrence when it happens and makes some of the really influential people take note. That's how I got the Berlin gig in the first place! So note to self, stop freaking out!
The time in Berlin went far too fast. It's a city you want to spend hours absorbing, exploring each spot with no hurry. It reminded me of the West Coast of the USA, a casual, relaxed glide to the happenings of each day. The LGBTQ+ community filled the streets as Pride week unfolded and the sweet smell of happiness filled every atom of my body as I saw my daughter smile in a way I've never seen before. Berlin, thank you.
* The bravery and courage, the transformation from sullen and angry into happy and delightful have been what guide us through this journey. I'm not going into details here, because it isn't necessary. This is a beautiful young person that doesn't need to be poked and prodded for entertainment. We ask that you love and support our family, if it is uncomfortable for you, then please keep it to yourself. I am fiercely protective of her, so if you do have questions, educate yourself on what it means to be trans. Here are a couple good articles:
And as always, no matter what is happening in your world, Wine First! It'll make you feel better.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Fly Me Away
How do I keep finding myself in scheisse situations?!? Oh right, it sucks to fly anymore and that seems to be all I'm ever doing.
This post is brought to you by the Paris airport where I have been stuck for 10 hours after previously being stuck in Salt Lake City airport for 8 hours. With jet lag.
Do you remember that song Meg Ryan sang in "French Kiss" the movie? 'I hate Paris in the Spring time, I hate Paris in the Fall...' ya, that is me right now. Sweltering in their insanely hot waiting area, with a bird circling nearby getting ready to scheisse on my head. How the hell did the bird get in here anyway? Even the bird can't fly out of this stupid airport. Want to escape the heat? Sure, go shopping at Hermes or Burberry or spend $1000 on a glass of wine at the posh bar where they best the "Russian Face" with an exaggerated frown and annoyed eye roll. I mean at least Russian Face was accompanied with a hearty chuckle and friendly exchange. Can you tell I'm sour? I probably fit in.
Denim (my kiddo) and I opt for a French Cafe that is a bit more reasonable and a hell of a lot more comfortable in order to angerly type out our gripe on our computers; my kiddo is a writer and likes to channel any experience into novels. My 1st vent is to Delta Airlines who has jacked us out of a full day of our vacation by trapping us at the Salt Lake City Airport and then at Paris. They seriously do not care about this by-the-way, just in case you were thinking I was over reacting, each of the 20,000 employees I have now pleaded with has smiled that I've-been-trained-to-make-this-face-but-don't-care look. Nothing makes me crazier than poor customer care, that is probably why I try so hard with our business to right a situation. I mean I KNOW it isn't that specific person's fault that the plane needed a part or weather made them cancel a flight, but if you look me in the eye and swear you have us taken care of, seats are booked, and then they are not, we are screwed and you are nonchalant about it, well... I can't be held responsible for my combustion.
OK, I'm taking a deep breath and getting a grip. I've managed to get a hold of my husband who is camping in the Osarks for his large family reunion and not on our trip to hell. I cried my sad song out to him, probably sounding insane, but his calm understanding soothed my nerves and he assured me that this is just about past me and we are about to start the fun. I certainly hope so. After a glass of Rose and the start of a white wine (slight aside, it is wonderful how they have lovely wines at the airport in Paris) I wonder where my parents are, our co-travelers, who we left in the heat of the waiting area, I wonder if they were too scared to join us as my red eyes flared in exhaustion and furry. I hope they haven't died in their chairs having fallen asleep, unable to seek out water, too overwhelmed to save themselves. What? They are getting older... and I can be scary. I wonder if I should go look for them. I wonder if I leave this protected nook if I will break the spell and the hell of this scheisse situation will flood back around me. Ya, better to stay put and have more wine. They are probably fine. And at least if I'm "fuzzy" feeling I can laugh when they inevitably tell me the last flight of the day to Berlin is delayed...and then cancelled.
This post is brought to you by the Paris airport where I have been stuck for 10 hours after previously being stuck in Salt Lake City airport for 8 hours. With jet lag.
Do you remember that song Meg Ryan sang in "French Kiss" the movie? 'I hate Paris in the Spring time, I hate Paris in the Fall...' ya, that is me right now. Sweltering in their insanely hot waiting area, with a bird circling nearby getting ready to scheisse on my head. How the hell did the bird get in here anyway? Even the bird can't fly out of this stupid airport. Want to escape the heat? Sure, go shopping at Hermes or Burberry or spend $1000 on a glass of wine at the posh bar where they best the "Russian Face" with an exaggerated frown and annoyed eye roll. I mean at least Russian Face was accompanied with a hearty chuckle and friendly exchange. Can you tell I'm sour? I probably fit in.
Denim (my kiddo) and I opt for a French Cafe that is a bit more reasonable and a hell of a lot more comfortable in order to angerly type out our gripe on our computers; my kiddo is a writer and likes to channel any experience into novels. My 1st vent is to Delta Airlines who has jacked us out of a full day of our vacation by trapping us at the Salt Lake City Airport and then at Paris. They seriously do not care about this by-the-way, just in case you were thinking I was over reacting, each of the 20,000 employees I have now pleaded with has smiled that I've-been-trained-to-make-this-face-but-don't-care look. Nothing makes me crazier than poor customer care, that is probably why I try so hard with our business to right a situation. I mean I KNOW it isn't that specific person's fault that the plane needed a part or weather made them cancel a flight, but if you look me in the eye and swear you have us taken care of, seats are booked, and then they are not, we are screwed and you are nonchalant about it, well... I can't be held responsible for my combustion.
OK, I'm taking a deep breath and getting a grip. I've managed to get a hold of my husband who is camping in the Osarks for his large family reunion and not on our trip to hell. I cried my sad song out to him, probably sounding insane, but his calm understanding soothed my nerves and he assured me that this is just about past me and we are about to start the fun. I certainly hope so. After a glass of Rose and the start of a white wine (slight aside, it is wonderful how they have lovely wines at the airport in Paris) I wonder where my parents are, our co-travelers, who we left in the heat of the waiting area, I wonder if they were too scared to join us as my red eyes flared in exhaustion and furry. I hope they haven't died in their chairs having fallen asleep, unable to seek out water, too overwhelmed to save themselves. What? They are getting older... and I can be scary. I wonder if I should go look for them. I wonder if I leave this protected nook if I will break the spell and the hell of this scheisse situation will flood back around me. Ya, better to stay put and have more wine. They are probably fine. And at least if I'm "fuzzy" feeling I can laugh when they inevitably tell me the last flight of the day to Berlin is delayed...and then cancelled.
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
The Tempest
I think I am depressed. My stress load has launched into atmospheric levels and there is not enough wine on the planet to bring it back down. Each morning I watch as my husband slips out of bed, heading off to work earlier and earlier to battle the huge project list he has. And I lay there, having already been up for hours thinking about all the issues at hand; fighting with the rental car company that charged us $3000 extra, remembering that I haven't staffed a big event coming up, wondering what to pack for my upcoming trip to Berlin, worrying that my kiddo may be taking on too much as he enters high school with additional college classes... I could get up and start tackling said issues, but a melancholy malaise has drifted over me. Instead I lay in the dark room and try to stretch the debilitating cramp that has setup camp in my neck and shoulder.
I finally pull myself from the covers and try to motivate, the constant ding of my phone downloading emails and texts can no longer be ignored. I slunk to the bathroom and see my reflection in the mirror, it mimics my emotions. I'm trying to grow out my hair so at this stage it stands straight up in a wild Troll Doll of my youth style, having been too lazy to remove my makeup the night before, I now have black circles under my eyes... not that the bags under my eyes would look any better had I washed it off. I'm getting older and my face shows it. My favorite sleep shirt, a thin blue and white striped baggy thing has ripped down the sleeve in the night, clearly it could not sustain the tension as I heaved my lard ass over in bed. What a bummer.
My husband has made coffee and cleaned up the kitchen before he left for work, man I love that guy. I sit on the sofa and sip my lukewarm coffee, I'm too lazy to even heat it, and start looking over work messages. There is nothing that is an emergency so I allow myself a few moments to consider working out. Maybe a run? OK too out of shape for that, but I could walk? Too hot already, but I could work on the tap routine from the tap class I haven't managed to make it to in far too long, or at least stretch, I really need to stretch. None of that happens though. Instead my phone spastically dings, rings and chimes as it tries to notify me of all the ways people are needing to get a hold of me all at once. I guess you could say I was literally saved by the bell from working out.
The day slips into evening and my teenager emerges from his room, only the 3rd time I've glimpsed him today, and he clearly doesn't want to chat. I watch him disappear back into his lair, which looks more like a library than a bedroom at this point and I think how lovely it must be to simply read books and take naps all day, I love that he gets to indulge in this kind of luxury this summer. I can't help but wish I could keep him safe in a protected parallel universe where that's all he would ever have to think about.
My husband arrives home beat from the long day and I haven't even managed to shower yet, my hair still a crazed mess and my ripped shirt still on. He seems to understand where I'm at and pours us both a glass of wine. I reluctantly put away my computer, the never ending list of projects still beckoning, and stretch my legs over his lap. He asks about my day and I give updates on all the varied projects, the hold ups and the catastrophes. Then I ask about his day, he tells me funny stories from podcasts he heard while they continued building the new winery storage room or the gossip from around town as he and the guys swapped stories while bottling a new wine. It is soothing and the wine eases my shoulders to relax.
I finally shower and throw my shirt away. My husband has fallen asleep on the sofa as the golden setting sun slips behind the mountain. I feel a deep loneliness as I let the dark waters of my emotional tempest rise. It has been a very difficult 2 years, really 4, too many horrific challenges, changes and losses to name, but sitting in the now darkened room the sinister thoughts come in.
My husband startles awake and catches me by surprise, "what's wrong?" he asks, evidently my eyes told my thoughts. 'Nothing' I reply, how do you rehash all the details of the demons scratching at the door when we are both so exhausted? Instead I curl into the crook of his arm, he knows all my struggles. He kisses my head and gives me a understanding squeeze, pulling me closer. "Would you like some more wine?" yes, he knows me well.
*this blog is brought to you by yes-I-have-a-therapist and no-I'm-not-suicidal
I finally pull myself from the covers and try to motivate, the constant ding of my phone downloading emails and texts can no longer be ignored. I slunk to the bathroom and see my reflection in the mirror, it mimics my emotions. I'm trying to grow out my hair so at this stage it stands straight up in a wild Troll Doll of my youth style, having been too lazy to remove my makeup the night before, I now have black circles under my eyes... not that the bags under my eyes would look any better had I washed it off. I'm getting older and my face shows it. My favorite sleep shirt, a thin blue and white striped baggy thing has ripped down the sleeve in the night, clearly it could not sustain the tension as I heaved my lard ass over in bed. What a bummer.
My husband has made coffee and cleaned up the kitchen before he left for work, man I love that guy. I sit on the sofa and sip my lukewarm coffee, I'm too lazy to even heat it, and start looking over work messages. There is nothing that is an emergency so I allow myself a few moments to consider working out. Maybe a run? OK too out of shape for that, but I could walk? Too hot already, but I could work on the tap routine from the tap class I haven't managed to make it to in far too long, or at least stretch, I really need to stretch. None of that happens though. Instead my phone spastically dings, rings and chimes as it tries to notify me of all the ways people are needing to get a hold of me all at once. I guess you could say I was literally saved by the bell from working out.
The day slips into evening and my teenager emerges from his room, only the 3rd time I've glimpsed him today, and he clearly doesn't want to chat. I watch him disappear back into his lair, which looks more like a library than a bedroom at this point and I think how lovely it must be to simply read books and take naps all day, I love that he gets to indulge in this kind of luxury this summer. I can't help but wish I could keep him safe in a protected parallel universe where that's all he would ever have to think about.
My husband arrives home beat from the long day and I haven't even managed to shower yet, my hair still a crazed mess and my ripped shirt still on. He seems to understand where I'm at and pours us both a glass of wine. I reluctantly put away my computer, the never ending list of projects still beckoning, and stretch my legs over his lap. He asks about my day and I give updates on all the varied projects, the hold ups and the catastrophes. Then I ask about his day, he tells me funny stories from podcasts he heard while they continued building the new winery storage room or the gossip from around town as he and the guys swapped stories while bottling a new wine. It is soothing and the wine eases my shoulders to relax.
I finally shower and throw my shirt away. My husband has fallen asleep on the sofa as the golden setting sun slips behind the mountain. I feel a deep loneliness as I let the dark waters of my emotional tempest rise. It has been a very difficult 2 years, really 4, too many horrific challenges, changes and losses to name, but sitting in the now darkened room the sinister thoughts come in.
My husband startles awake and catches me by surprise, "what's wrong?" he asks, evidently my eyes told my thoughts. 'Nothing' I reply, how do you rehash all the details of the demons scratching at the door when we are both so exhausted? Instead I curl into the crook of his arm, he knows all my struggles. He kisses my head and gives me a understanding squeeze, pulling me closer. "Would you like some more wine?" yes, he knows me well.
*this blog is brought to you by yes-I-have-a-therapist and no-I'm-not-suicidal
Friday, June 21, 2019
Who's Crazy? I'm Crazy? You're Crazy!
I woke up this morning with the taste of Gin still on my lips. Who thought it would be a good idea after a couple glasses of wine to switch to a martini? That would be my winemaker husband and Gin enthusiast. He is clearly a wild and crazy man. Needless to say, at 4:00pm today I needed a crisp, cold, dry Riesling and a break from the amount of projects we are slammed with. Our busy season has me dizzy (or is that left over from the Gin?), but each day I try to tackle the ever growing list. I'm exhausted (also a possible result from the Gin).
After a couple weeks back from Central Europe, I'm starting to get my land legs back, so to speak. Well, kinda. Two months away has lead to a pile of projects that is daunting and having the willpower to clean the house, work and lose weight just doesn't seem to be in my grasp. Instead I am sipping wine and looking at the mess while I chat with you fine people.
OK, enough chit chat, lets get down to the update! Things around here just get crazier by they day. My amazing son (age 13) has finished writing his first fiction book (previously he published "How Relative is Relativity" a guide to Quantum Physics, available on Amazon) and we are now shopping for a publisher for this horror futuristic dystopia. I too am working on a book for wine pairing with a twist, juggling article requests and now running off to Berlin at the end of July. Oh yes and I'm managing staff, events and I'm married so the crazy train has definitely left the station.
Shoving Berlin in right before crush starts in August is absolutely insane, but when you are invited to one of the best, most prestigious International Wine Competitions in the world, one that people sit on the waiting list for years to be invited to judge at... you make it happen. I am absolutely honored and so excited! Even if it does drive me straight to crazy town, it will be an amazing experience.
The scary part is I'm going back to the land of amazing cakes and "when you are thirsty, drink beer" mentality that my larger than life physique seriously can not have any of. I've got to buckle down here and make a drastic change. I must loose weight NOW. Dare I say it? Should I venture to say the most terrifying word I know? Should I start RUNNING again? (insert horror movie screams here)
Those new to this blog may not know my history, but "Fueled by Vivac" used to be my blog where I voiced my hatred for running as I trained for various races. I know I am a sick sick person. Clearly if I am even thinking of running again, I have lost my mind.
Oh look, my hand is shaking just thinking about running. I better pour more wine to calm my nerves.
Cheers and remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
After a couple weeks back from Central Europe, I'm starting to get my land legs back, so to speak. Well, kinda. Two months away has lead to a pile of projects that is daunting and having the willpower to clean the house, work and lose weight just doesn't seem to be in my grasp. Instead I am sipping wine and looking at the mess while I chat with you fine people.
OK, enough chit chat, lets get down to the update! Things around here just get crazier by they day. My amazing son (age 13) has finished writing his first fiction book (previously he published "How Relative is Relativity" a guide to Quantum Physics, available on Amazon) and we are now shopping for a publisher for this horror futuristic dystopia. I too am working on a book for wine pairing with a twist, juggling article requests and now running off to Berlin at the end of July. Oh yes and I'm managing staff, events and I'm married so the crazy train has definitely left the station.
Shoving Berlin in right before crush starts in August is absolutely insane, but when you are invited to one of the best, most prestigious International Wine Competitions in the world, one that people sit on the waiting list for years to be invited to judge at... you make it happen. I am absolutely honored and so excited! Even if it does drive me straight to crazy town, it will be an amazing experience.
The scary part is I'm going back to the land of amazing cakes and "when you are thirsty, drink beer" mentality that my larger than life physique seriously can not have any of. I've got to buckle down here and make a drastic change. I must loose weight NOW. Dare I say it? Should I venture to say the most terrifying word I know? Should I start RUNNING again? (insert horror movie screams here)
Those new to this blog may not know my history, but "Fueled by Vivac" used to be my blog where I voiced my hatred for running as I trained for various races. I know I am a sick sick person. Clearly if I am even thinking of running again, I have lost my mind.
Oh look, my hand is shaking just thinking about running. I better pour more wine to calm my nerves.
Cheers and remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
The Storybook of Czech Republic
Where has the time gone?!? So much has happened, there are so many stories to tell and yet no time to get them typed up! Let's see, since my last post, I have literally eaten my weight in cake. It is like nothing I have ever seen before, cake everywhere and they are literal works of art begging you to try just one bite, like the wicked Queen tempting Snow White. I have discovered new wines, grapes and winemakers with incredible gifts for the craft that have us drinking from the time we wake till we fall into bed, perhaps a part of the ever growing waistline and that dreamy feeling I'm sporting. We have explored some of the best kept secrets of Central Europe and it only seems to become more elusive, more curious and more wonderful.
One thing that has happened is that I went to yet another International Wine Competition, this one tucked away in the suede brown and mossy green hills of Moravia, Czech Republic. Initially I got the feeling this would be a more reserved group, the way they eyed me strangely, wondering how an American had infiltrated their private clan. Then after a long day judging (where people in business suits spit into buckets for hours on end) the group blossomed under the dazzle of wine and beer into a frolicking group of merry folk shedding the formal attire and attitudes for loud, impassioned Czech folk songs and American Classic Country. Without a word in common, my husband and I bonded with these people, singing Johnny Cash hits, the lyrics in different languages, clashing together in triumphant drunken enthusiasm; it was glorious. The next day, back in formal wear, we started the judging with a perfect glass of sparkling wine and the emotional singing of a Czech favorite, it felt like I'd become a part of a tribe and the warmth made me love the Czech people deeply. It was as if I had found a secret passage to a world closed off to the typical traveler. Not that they don't welcome you normally, but I knew something special had taken place and my husband's epic hangover texts from bed proved he had felt it too.
Three days later I awoke cuddled in a comfy bed, I stretched and pulled the sleep mask from my eyes. No Competition judging or winery tour today meant I could sleep in, officially a day off. The room was filled with a bright light and birds chirped merrily outside. I could hear blue before my eyes could adjust to see it. Where was I? This trip has been so fast and furious as we were swept from place to place, winery to winery, wine competition to wine competition, that I felt like the entire thing was a foggy dream coming back to me only in pieces. Now I was waking up in the cheery Hamlet of Hrusice, Czech Republic, where my Fairy Godfather lives; the man responsible for all my "wine fortune".
This tiny tiny town outside of Prague, where the next stretch of lucid dreaming would take place, prides itself on the work of a children's book author who based his stories on the naughty escapades of a black cat called Mikesh. The author, Josef Lada (LOL here EVERYONE knows Josef!) included details of the townspeople and found popularity on a nationwide stage so much so that the town became a museum dedicated to him and now, decades later, people can journey there to find the streets their grandparents roamed, the pubs they gathered in or the bridge they met at...all described in these delightful tales. Monuments stand at each point of interest, a eternal black cat statue or image there to solidify that this is a authentic point of origin for the story...which makes this story perfect town almost too much to soak in. We found ourselves at one of these little pubs with my Fairy Godfather, his laugh like the rich incandescence of a Sauternes wine, who was outlining the next phase of our magical trip. Like magic, the beautiful young barmaid, almost a Disney Princess with her big bright eyes, long flowing blonde hair and porcelain skin, appeared with fists full of rich lager at the exact time I'd have sucked down the final sip in my giant mug. Somehow my Godfather orchestrated this, but how, I'm not sure. The beer, was of course, called Mikesh.
The day became evening and the air smelled of fragrant flowers. We lazily meandered the streets home and prepared ourselves for the journey to Prague the next day. And so days slipped by like this, falling into new towns and memories of past ones mingling together. Prague would intensify this feeling even more as its impeccably preserved ornate facades, tiny cobblestone streets and utter perfection would encircled us, pulling us into a world far far away... that is until a group of drunken bachelor or bachelorette parties would rudely pop the magic bubble we were in.
One thing that has happened is that I went to yet another International Wine Competition, this one tucked away in the suede brown and mossy green hills of Moravia, Czech Republic. Initially I got the feeling this would be a more reserved group, the way they eyed me strangely, wondering how an American had infiltrated their private clan. Then after a long day judging (where people in business suits spit into buckets for hours on end) the group blossomed under the dazzle of wine and beer into a frolicking group of merry folk shedding the formal attire and attitudes for loud, impassioned Czech folk songs and American Classic Country. Without a word in common, my husband and I bonded with these people, singing Johnny Cash hits, the lyrics in different languages, clashing together in triumphant drunken enthusiasm; it was glorious. The next day, back in formal wear, we started the judging with a perfect glass of sparkling wine and the emotional singing of a Czech favorite, it felt like I'd become a part of a tribe and the warmth made me love the Czech people deeply. It was as if I had found a secret passage to a world closed off to the typical traveler. Not that they don't welcome you normally, but I knew something special had taken place and my husband's epic hangover texts from bed proved he had felt it too.
Three days later I awoke cuddled in a comfy bed, I stretched and pulled the sleep mask from my eyes. No Competition judging or winery tour today meant I could sleep in, officially a day off. The room was filled with a bright light and birds chirped merrily outside. I could hear blue before my eyes could adjust to see it. Where was I? This trip has been so fast and furious as we were swept from place to place, winery to winery, wine competition to wine competition, that I felt like the entire thing was a foggy dream coming back to me only in pieces. Now I was waking up in the cheery Hamlet of Hrusice, Czech Republic, where my Fairy Godfather lives; the man responsible for all my "wine fortune".
This tiny tiny town outside of Prague, where the next stretch of lucid dreaming would take place, prides itself on the work of a children's book author who based his stories on the naughty escapades of a black cat called Mikesh. The author, Josef Lada (LOL here EVERYONE knows Josef!) included details of the townspeople and found popularity on a nationwide stage so much so that the town became a museum dedicated to him and now, decades later, people can journey there to find the streets their grandparents roamed, the pubs they gathered in or the bridge they met at...all described in these delightful tales. Monuments stand at each point of interest, a eternal black cat statue or image there to solidify that this is a authentic point of origin for the story...which makes this story perfect town almost too much to soak in. We found ourselves at one of these little pubs with my Fairy Godfather, his laugh like the rich incandescence of a Sauternes wine, who was outlining the next phase of our magical trip. Like magic, the beautiful young barmaid, almost a Disney Princess with her big bright eyes, long flowing blonde hair and porcelain skin, appeared with fists full of rich lager at the exact time I'd have sucked down the final sip in my giant mug. Somehow my Godfather orchestrated this, but how, I'm not sure. The beer, was of course, called Mikesh.
The day became evening and the air smelled of fragrant flowers. We lazily meandered the streets home and prepared ourselves for the journey to Prague the next day. And so days slipped by like this, falling into new towns and memories of past ones mingling together. Prague would intensify this feeling even more as its impeccably preserved ornate facades, tiny cobblestone streets and utter perfection would encircled us, pulling us into a world far far away... that is until a group of drunken bachelor or bachelorette parties would rudely pop the magic bubble we were in.
Saturday, May 11, 2019
Curiouser and Curiouser
It doesn't seem right to write a blog called "Wine First' without a glass of wine within my reach, but then it is all these glasses that have been within my reach that keeps delaying my ability to write the damn posts! #WinePeopleProblems
I am now in Slovakia. Most people don't even realize that Czech Republic and Slovakia are two separate and very different countries at this point, but they are and I am finding them intriguing to discover. Our trip started off with a stop in Slovakia at Chateau Bela and has circled around to find us back in this strange, magical, interesting place. I don't really know how to explain the feeling here, it is far more than just the things you see and so a photo doesn't do it justice. It's like the feeling of deja-vu, once you have that feeling, you know it, but how do you adequately describe it? As a tall, white, bleach blonde (shhh don't tell my hair, it thinks it was born that way), very tattooed lady ... I am used to standing out when we travel to far off lands, but here, in Central Europe, everyone looks like me. Well not EVERYONE, clearly some are men and some are children; the only difference is the language. For some reason this has a level to the experience that is new and complex while we weave our way around these deeply old and storied places. It is familiar and bizarrely foreign at the same time.
After my trip to NY for a wine competition, I rejoined my son, husband and my in-laws in Budapest (man I love that city!) and headed out for a stint in Bratislava, Slovakia. Perhaps it is the jet lag, but I feel immensely tired. Maybe it is the 6 bottles of wine a day I consume. Who can tell?!? But it suddenly felt like too much to move on to another new city, so when my in-laws left to head to Langmann Winery in Austria, this is where we spent 3 incredible days with Stefan Langmann and his wildly fantastic wines a few weeks back, we moved closer to the charming old city center. As a side note: honestly I have lost all sense of time and relativity so who knows when we were at Langmann, BUT it was 3 days and it was incredible. Also while judging the Great American International back in NY his wines had been entered (we judges get to see them after they have been judged and taste them openly) and I had a school girl moment of excitement shrieking as I poured wine in expectant glasses, it did not disappoint. Anyway, back to Bratislava... what was I saying? Oh my glass is empty, let me pour more of this (please start imagining a fabulous commercial voice) epic Frankovka Modra red wine from Matysak Winery located right outside the city.
Oh yes, I was explaining this strange out of body experience. Being 8 hours ahead of the time at home, makes for feeling disconnected, work projects and events I try to continue to oversee are coming back to me in fragments and the idea of being at home actually makes my skin crawl. I mean how weird is that?!!! I love my home and my job and my life in Northern NM, but somehow this part of the world has dazzled me with a spell I fall deeper into daily. From this delightfully strange city, we head to my final International Wine Competition in Czech Republic and start to wind down to our departure at the end of the month. I can't wait to explore another country (we spent only a short time dipping our toe in for a previous competition, Grand Prix Vinnex) and roam around Prague, but I also feel myself pulling back, like a child unwilling to go to bed, and I have to ask why I feel so attached to this part of the world. Like Alice, it is 'curiouser and curiouser!' and I do wonder who I will be at the end of this journey.
Whoa, that got serious didn't it? I clearly need more wine.
I am now in Slovakia. Most people don't even realize that Czech Republic and Slovakia are two separate and very different countries at this point, but they are and I am finding them intriguing to discover. Our trip started off with a stop in Slovakia at Chateau Bela and has circled around to find us back in this strange, magical, interesting place. I don't really know how to explain the feeling here, it is far more than just the things you see and so a photo doesn't do it justice. It's like the feeling of deja-vu, once you have that feeling, you know it, but how do you adequately describe it? As a tall, white, bleach blonde (shhh don't tell my hair, it thinks it was born that way), very tattooed lady ... I am used to standing out when we travel to far off lands, but here, in Central Europe, everyone looks like me. Well not EVERYONE, clearly some are men and some are children; the only difference is the language. For some reason this has a level to the experience that is new and complex while we weave our way around these deeply old and storied places. It is familiar and bizarrely foreign at the same time.
After my trip to NY for a wine competition, I rejoined my son, husband and my in-laws in Budapest (man I love that city!) and headed out for a stint in Bratislava, Slovakia. Perhaps it is the jet lag, but I feel immensely tired. Maybe it is the 6 bottles of wine a day I consume. Who can tell?!? But it suddenly felt like too much to move on to another new city, so when my in-laws left to head to Langmann Winery in Austria, this is where we spent 3 incredible days with Stefan Langmann and his wildly fantastic wines a few weeks back, we moved closer to the charming old city center. As a side note: honestly I have lost all sense of time and relativity so who knows when we were at Langmann, BUT it was 3 days and it was incredible. Also while judging the Great American International back in NY his wines had been entered (we judges get to see them after they have been judged and taste them openly) and I had a school girl moment of excitement shrieking as I poured wine in expectant glasses, it did not disappoint. Anyway, back to Bratislava... what was I saying? Oh my glass is empty, let me pour more of this (please start imagining a fabulous commercial voice) epic Frankovka Modra red wine from Matysak Winery located right outside the city.
Oh yes, I was explaining this strange out of body experience. Being 8 hours ahead of the time at home, makes for feeling disconnected, work projects and events I try to continue to oversee are coming back to me in fragments and the idea of being at home actually makes my skin crawl. I mean how weird is that?!!! I love my home and my job and my life in Northern NM, but somehow this part of the world has dazzled me with a spell I fall deeper into daily. From this delightfully strange city, we head to my final International Wine Competition in Czech Republic and start to wind down to our departure at the end of the month. I can't wait to explore another country (we spent only a short time dipping our toe in for a previous competition, Grand Prix Vinnex) and roam around Prague, but I also feel myself pulling back, like a child unwilling to go to bed, and I have to ask why I feel so attached to this part of the world. Like Alice, it is 'curiouser and curiouser!' and I do wonder who I will be at the end of this journey.
Whoa, that got serious didn't it? I clearly need more wine.
Fly Me Away
International Wine Competitions are an interesting gig. I am returning to Budapest after being flown to NY for a competition and am writing this from the Atlanta airport (wrote a blog from the NY airport for Vivac Winery this morning) with a crappy glass of Pinot Noir next to me. Those that have been reading both the Vivac blog "Fueled by Vivac Winery" and this one... wink wink. Also, who doesn't love the sound of 'I'm flying from NY to Budapest'?!? Feeling like I should see Tom Cruise jump out of a window and save someone with lots of flare and broken glass just typing that.
I have a long history of teaching wine classes and writing for various publications, but the wine judging is relatively new to this Sommelier. Cue some annoying pretentious music, even I had to gag with that last comment. My 1st International Competition I was down right scared. For some reason, even though I have been a wine buyer, a co-owner of Vivac Winery, an Executive Somm with several Master intensives completed, and know I have a damn good gift for this...I am also my own worst critic and have terrible self talk. Again, cue the shut-up-about-your-credentials music, I had visions of panic dance through my head where a wine flight would be laid out before me and as the discussion would begin to rate the wine, I'd spaz and wouldn't be able to identify anything in the glass. Anyone not in the industry will think this sounds like an absurd stress , but for an uber wine geek and in the presence of uber wine geek greatness, you really don't want an epic fail like that. Luckily that did not happen. In fact after my 1st day of that competition, I'd impressed the veteran judges so much that at the lunch the following day, they were bringing me wines to taste and talk about. It was pretty cool. And then flash forward to me sitting here drinking a terrible glass of wine with horrible combo jet lag...it isn't all fancy and awesome, believe me. OK, never mind, it is totally as cool as your think it is.
There is a strange unknown future of it however that does make it seem fragile. This society of judges seems to be somewhat a fraternity of networking and vetting. When my name is suggested for a competition, my resume is then submitted and then the vetting process begins and boy are they thorough! Only after completing my first two European International Competitions did I discovered just how intensely they vet you. Before hand I was somewhat blissfully unaware, now, as I look to other competitions in fun locales, I am nervous again. How do you get in when they have serious famous wine geeks participating? It was during a conversation with one of my fellow judges who has been invited to and then invited back to, these star competitions, that he pointed out that I have, in only one year, been to a top NY competition now twice, 3 excellent ones in Central Europe and 1 great one in Texas... as he put it "Michele, you are doing amazingly well, this is extremely impressive to have accomplished in only one year". I have to say, I did need the feedback. I tend to be a bit obsessive. I may have made my friends and family spit their wine with that last comment, I may be a bit more than a bit.
As I head back to Europe to complete yet another International Competition, I try to have perspective. The incredible, prestigious competitions I have had the incredible luck to be able to judge have led to amazing new friendships, a chance to visit strange and beautiful new destinations and a new world form around me. Of course with epic jet lag, this does still seem like a movie, a fantasy or dream liable to vanish with the flutter of my eyelids. I just hope I don't look down and realize I am naked sitting at this bar.
I have a long history of teaching wine classes and writing for various publications, but the wine judging is relatively new to this Sommelier. Cue some annoying pretentious music, even I had to gag with that last comment. My 1st International Competition I was down right scared. For some reason, even though I have been a wine buyer, a co-owner of Vivac Winery, an Executive Somm with several Master intensives completed, and know I have a damn good gift for this...I am also my own worst critic and have terrible self talk. Again, cue the shut-up-about-your-credentials music, I had visions of panic dance through my head where a wine flight would be laid out before me and as the discussion would begin to rate the wine, I'd spaz and wouldn't be able to identify anything in the glass. Anyone not in the industry will think this sounds like an absurd stress , but for an uber wine geek and in the presence of uber wine geek greatness, you really don't want an epic fail like that. Luckily that did not happen. In fact after my 1st day of that competition, I'd impressed the veteran judges so much that at the lunch the following day, they were bringing me wines to taste and talk about. It was pretty cool. And then flash forward to me sitting here drinking a terrible glass of wine with horrible combo jet lag...it isn't all fancy and awesome, believe me. OK, never mind, it is totally as cool as your think it is.
There is a strange unknown future of it however that does make it seem fragile. This society of judges seems to be somewhat a fraternity of networking and vetting. When my name is suggested for a competition, my resume is then submitted and then the vetting process begins and boy are they thorough! Only after completing my first two European International Competitions did I discovered just how intensely they vet you. Before hand I was somewhat blissfully unaware, now, as I look to other competitions in fun locales, I am nervous again. How do you get in when they have serious famous wine geeks participating? It was during a conversation with one of my fellow judges who has been invited to and then invited back to, these star competitions, that he pointed out that I have, in only one year, been to a top NY competition now twice, 3 excellent ones in Central Europe and 1 great one in Texas... as he put it "Michele, you are doing amazingly well, this is extremely impressive to have accomplished in only one year". I have to say, I did need the feedback. I tend to be a bit obsessive. I may have made my friends and family spit their wine with that last comment, I may be a bit more than a bit.
As I head back to Europe to complete yet another International Competition, I try to have perspective. The incredible, prestigious competitions I have had the incredible luck to be able to judge have led to amazing new friendships, a chance to visit strange and beautiful new destinations and a new world form around me. Of course with epic jet lag, this does still seem like a movie, a fantasy or dream liable to vanish with the flutter of my eyelids. I just hope I don't look down and realize I am naked sitting at this bar.
Thursday, April 25, 2019
You Have Arrived...But Have I?
We have been so busy with travelling and touring wineries that I haven't had a moment to finalize any of my blog post drafts. Almost a month into our trip, I feel like those adventures are a world away. Now, I sit in an adorable, tiny apartment in the Austrian Alps...listening to the annoying, incessant high pitched whir of a power washer. Austria is picture perfect with manicured lawns, meticulously cared for planters of flowers and clean driveways and roads. I can see why now, they power wash everything for many hours.
Other than the current annoyance, this trip has been incredible. I last left you at the Castle in Slovakia, from which we hit the magical town of Estergom, Hungary with its exquisite cathedral dome. I got to have another one of my epic dome freak outs (referencing the panic attack I had in the Duomo in Florence, Italy a couple of years ago), when I heard a large group of teenagers on a school trip beneath me as I wound upwards in an ever tighter, steep stairwell and pictured being wedged in, no way out, and BAM mom is losing her sh*t. I quickly peeled layers of cloths off, spontaneous sweat dripped into my eyes and I bolted. I was already part way back down when I heard my son and husband shouting that the exit was at the top and down a different stairwell. I needed a very large glass of wine after that. Luckily Hungary has fabulous wines.
Having judged at a large International Wine Competition in NY, I've had the opportunity to taste some of the dry wines of Hungary (correct, they have much more than just the famous sweet Tokaji), but the quality and price was shocking now actually being in Hungary. A great wine is about $1 per glass at a restaurant and a really amazing glass of aged, reserve wine is $2. In the store they are $5 for incredible wines. It is a good thing I am a professional drinker or I wouldn't have survived the massive injestion of wines I felt I needed to consume at those prices.
At the end of our 1st week of the trip, we were in Budapest where I was the only USA judge at VinAora International Wine Competition and one of only 11 women judges; it was an incredible honor.
Budapest has never called me. I've traveled to other parts of the world, been lured to far off destinations, but for some reason Budapest seemed like a part of the world reserved for backpackers that like to stay in hostels and go to raves. OK maybe I've seen too many movies, but you get my point. Boy was I wrong! Well, technically not about the backpackers, but about Budapest not being for me. Budapest is so much FOR me that I immediately started to fantasize about how to live there for a while. It is at once elegant and fragile with the pre-war majesty proudly presented on the facades of every building clashing with the evidence and wear of the wars chinking away at the plaster and stone; the new optimism after communism is apparent and the combination is electric. It is a place filled with opulence, yet comfortable and friendly.
From Budapest we headed out into the countryside of Hungary. I was sad to leave the gorgeous city, unsure what we would find as our wine tour extravaganza picked up steam, but we excitedly clicked 'Eger' into our GPS and headed into the unknown.
Eger, Hungary won all the awards for adorable in our book. The charm of the Hungarian countryside can not be denied and the town was perfection. Once we found it that is. GPS is an amazing tool...until it plays a practical joke on you.
Not understanding how to enter a Hungarian address into GPS, we blindly followed our talking car. As "you have arrived at your destination" was announced, we looked at each other questioningly. You see, most of our trip has been arranged by my friend and now Fairy God Father who also employed the help of his friends, so this section of the trip was arranged by someone I have never met, named Jozsef. Jozsef is an ex-diplomat and was the Hungarian Ambassador to several South American countries so I assumed we were in very capible hands, however, never having met the man, his idea of "you will stay with my friend" could very well mean at the location we were parked in-front of and not a quaint winery like we imagined.
An older man walked out of his modest home to greet us. Dressed in well used overalls and boots, he inquisitively looked at us. Chickens clucked behind me as I stood next to the car and asked, like a child, if by chance he spoke English... by simply saying "English???", he shook his head and stood on the steps of his porch staring at me. I looked around at the barn nearby and then at my husband and child in the car, the movie Texas Chainsaw Masacre popped into my head and I fumbled with the paper in my hand. "Uhhhhhhh...do you know Jozsef???" I lamely asked the man who had just told me he didn't speak English. His eyes lit up and he came closer, clearly he knew Jozsef! Success I thought and pulled my phone out and attempted to Google Translate that Jozsef said we would stay with him. He read the translated message on my phone and looked at me clearly confused and slowly, but deliberately shook his head no. I tried to rephrase the statement, maybe, hopefully, he was going to send us to another location and we wouldn't actually be sleeping in this strange farmer's home. "Jozsef sent us to you, we are from USA, did he tell you about us?" he read the message on my phone and again he shook his head no. I decided this could not be right and said 'Danke' (the only German word I knew hoping maybe he spoke a little German too), jumped in the car and told my family that even if that was the right place, we were not staying there.
Another awkward encounter, one spilled coffee and some WiFi later, we were in-front of a charming little winery asking to be let in... "because Jozsef said we would be staying with you". I was feeling like a complete ass at this point and made a mental note to stop telling people that, after all we'd only an hour ago almost moved in with some poor old farmer who was probably calling his friend 'Jozsef' and asking why he had sent a weird family of Americans to stay with him. Luckily the winery welcomed us in and we called it a day with a bottle of wine in their courtyard.
Staying in a winery, as we have now done several times on this trip, is super fun as they give you the keys to the tasting room to have at their selection of treats. I can't imagine doing this with our own winery, but man do I love it at someone else's! It was one of many little things that made Hungary feel very friendly. That and the bountiful meals with delicious food, nothing makes me as happy as wine and food... shown by the plump form I was sausaging into jeans. Needless to say, they serve far more than just Goulash. The people are warm and helpful (despite their stern looks that our Slovakian winemaker friend would call "Russian faces") and the atmosphere is nothing short of delightful. I was intrigued and enchanted.
After Edger, we hit Tokaj and then Villany then Lake Balaton then Heligenbrunn then to Langegg then finally to our escape from the wine tour intensive for a respite in Hallstatt, where I am currently writing this. I will follow this post up with individual ones about all the wineries we have been to, the incredible winemakers that took time to be with us and the once in a lifetime experiences we were able to have because they did, in-fact, know Jozsef. But for now, the dizzying view of the great Alps and a delicious glass of Gruner Veltliner await me.
Cheers and remember, before anything else, Wine First.
Other than the current annoyance, this trip has been incredible. I last left you at the Castle in Slovakia, from which we hit the magical town of Estergom, Hungary with its exquisite cathedral dome. I got to have another one of my epic dome freak outs (referencing the panic attack I had in the Duomo in Florence, Italy a couple of years ago), when I heard a large group of teenagers on a school trip beneath me as I wound upwards in an ever tighter, steep stairwell and pictured being wedged in, no way out, and BAM mom is losing her sh*t. I quickly peeled layers of cloths off, spontaneous sweat dripped into my eyes and I bolted. I was already part way back down when I heard my son and husband shouting that the exit was at the top and down a different stairwell. I needed a very large glass of wine after that. Luckily Hungary has fabulous wines.
Having judged at a large International Wine Competition in NY, I've had the opportunity to taste some of the dry wines of Hungary (correct, they have much more than just the famous sweet Tokaji), but the quality and price was shocking now actually being in Hungary. A great wine is about $1 per glass at a restaurant and a really amazing glass of aged, reserve wine is $2. In the store they are $5 for incredible wines. It is a good thing I am a professional drinker or I wouldn't have survived the massive injestion of wines I felt I needed to consume at those prices.
At the end of our 1st week of the trip, we were in Budapest where I was the only USA judge at VinAora International Wine Competition and one of only 11 women judges; it was an incredible honor.
Budapest has never called me. I've traveled to other parts of the world, been lured to far off destinations, but for some reason Budapest seemed like a part of the world reserved for backpackers that like to stay in hostels and go to raves. OK maybe I've seen too many movies, but you get my point. Boy was I wrong! Well, technically not about the backpackers, but about Budapest not being for me. Budapest is so much FOR me that I immediately started to fantasize about how to live there for a while. It is at once elegant and fragile with the pre-war majesty proudly presented on the facades of every building clashing with the evidence and wear of the wars chinking away at the plaster and stone; the new optimism after communism is apparent and the combination is electric. It is a place filled with opulence, yet comfortable and friendly.
From Budapest we headed out into the countryside of Hungary. I was sad to leave the gorgeous city, unsure what we would find as our wine tour extravaganza picked up steam, but we excitedly clicked 'Eger' into our GPS and headed into the unknown.
Eger, Hungary won all the awards for adorable in our book. The charm of the Hungarian countryside can not be denied and the town was perfection. Once we found it that is. GPS is an amazing tool...until it plays a practical joke on you.
Not understanding how to enter a Hungarian address into GPS, we blindly followed our talking car. As "you have arrived at your destination" was announced, we looked at each other questioningly. You see, most of our trip has been arranged by my friend and now Fairy God Father who also employed the help of his friends, so this section of the trip was arranged by someone I have never met, named Jozsef. Jozsef is an ex-diplomat and was the Hungarian Ambassador to several South American countries so I assumed we were in very capible hands, however, never having met the man, his idea of "you will stay with my friend" could very well mean at the location we were parked in-front of and not a quaint winery like we imagined.
An older man walked out of his modest home to greet us. Dressed in well used overalls and boots, he inquisitively looked at us. Chickens clucked behind me as I stood next to the car and asked, like a child, if by chance he spoke English... by simply saying "English???", he shook his head and stood on the steps of his porch staring at me. I looked around at the barn nearby and then at my husband and child in the car, the movie Texas Chainsaw Masacre popped into my head and I fumbled with the paper in my hand. "Uhhhhhhh...do you know Jozsef???" I lamely asked the man who had just told me he didn't speak English. His eyes lit up and he came closer, clearly he knew Jozsef! Success I thought and pulled my phone out and attempted to Google Translate that Jozsef said we would stay with him. He read the translated message on my phone and looked at me clearly confused and slowly, but deliberately shook his head no. I tried to rephrase the statement, maybe, hopefully, he was going to send us to another location and we wouldn't actually be sleeping in this strange farmer's home. "Jozsef sent us to you, we are from USA, did he tell you about us?" he read the message on my phone and again he shook his head no. I decided this could not be right and said 'Danke' (the only German word I knew hoping maybe he spoke a little German too), jumped in the car and told my family that even if that was the right place, we were not staying there.
Another awkward encounter, one spilled coffee and some WiFi later, we were in-front of a charming little winery asking to be let in... "because Jozsef said we would be staying with you". I was feeling like a complete ass at this point and made a mental note to stop telling people that, after all we'd only an hour ago almost moved in with some poor old farmer who was probably calling his friend 'Jozsef' and asking why he had sent a weird family of Americans to stay with him. Luckily the winery welcomed us in and we called it a day with a bottle of wine in their courtyard.
Staying in a winery, as we have now done several times on this trip, is super fun as they give you the keys to the tasting room to have at their selection of treats. I can't imagine doing this with our own winery, but man do I love it at someone else's! It was one of many little things that made Hungary feel very friendly. That and the bountiful meals with delicious food, nothing makes me as happy as wine and food... shown by the plump form I was sausaging into jeans. Needless to say, they serve far more than just Goulash. The people are warm and helpful (despite their stern looks that our Slovakian winemaker friend would call "Russian faces") and the atmosphere is nothing short of delightful. I was intrigued and enchanted.
After Edger, we hit Tokaj and then Villany then Lake Balaton then Heligenbrunn then to Langegg then finally to our escape from the wine tour intensive for a respite in Hallstatt, where I am currently writing this. I will follow this post up with individual ones about all the wineries we have been to, the incredible winemakers that took time to be with us and the once in a lifetime experiences we were able to have because they did, in-fact, know Jozsef. But for now, the dizzying view of the great Alps and a delicious glass of Gruner Veltliner await me.
Cheers and remember, before anything else, Wine First.
Thursday, April 11, 2019
Why YES, I Will Take a Castle
Our 2 days at Chateau Bela flew by. Walking the grounds, lounging in our full suite apartment, dining at the exceptional restaurant, being waited on by white gloved hands in perfectly appointed salons of art... you know, living like Royalty. In fact, we heard Prince Harry does stay there soooo...clearly the we are same. It was remarkable, every table was laden with fresh tulips, and we meandered the succession of rooms, each more elaborate and decadent, alone. Somehow, while near to impossible to book a room at the constantly full Castle, we never saw any other guests. In fact, as strange and ethereal the landscape of Slovakia was and how transcendent this place was, it seemed perfectly reasonable to wonder if we had quite literally died and gone to heaven; a version of the movie The Sixth Sense with us not knowing we have been dead the whole time. Sorry, but not sorry if that was a spoiler, you should have seen that movie a million years ago.
Reality, or as close as one can come to it in that strange fairy tale like land, was introduced when we finally met the famous Miro Petrech. Miro is the winemaker at Chateau Bela and business partners with the world renowned Egon Muller from Germany. Miro was not simply a large man, but a larger than life man with a personality big enough to fill the entire Castle. He greeted us as if old friends, just another gift from the man I've taken to calling my Fairy God Father (Lubos is the man that has lined up perks and treats throughout our entire trip), asked that Miro give us a special tour and tasting. Miro scoffed when I introduced myself via the Google Translate App. "Michele, speak Russian!" he demanded. We couldn't help but to laugh, his infectious personality instantly putting us at ease. A young woman had accompanied him and she translated the rest of the Slovak speech Miro had launched into. Seems he spoke Hungarian, Slovakian, German and Russian...English however, hardly a word. I immediately felt like a beast of an American coming to this part of the world not speaking any other language than English. He repeated the demand with shock that I didn't speak Russian, and it started to seem reasonable, I looked like everyone in Central Europe, why didn't I speak Russian?!?
The young, timid girl translated as quickly as possible while we were led down some well worn stone steps into a deep cellar, the brick vaulted ceiling clamped out all of the world as we knew it and we were submerged into the winery, a place that had hardly changed in 500 years. Miro danced around us pulling dusty bottles from hidden corners and draining luscious liquid from tanks, his huge hands sweeping through the air as he spoke about the vineyard and his wines with passion. His joy and warmth enveloped us and it seemed almost as if he could launch into a song as his laughter burst forth. Oddly it was like being in a Disney Cartoon where the peasant girl is swept into the special castle only to discover some magical entity that coyly transforms her into a... Russian??? Sorry, no way to finish that fantasy in real terms and since he really wanted me to speak Russian, that's all I got. Anyway, you get it, it was freaking magical.
Wine after wine was poured. We tasted these brilliant creations in awe, scratching notes as fast as I could before Miro would yank the glass from my hand, flip its contents out and fill it with a new sample. Our breath was white in the cold room, but we were warm with the dizzying array of wines. It was obvious why he is famous for his wines, they are mythical creations with white wines aging 30 to 50 years and fetching $20,000 for some. Over an hour had disappeared in the deep cave of the Castle when we broached the surface of the earth and the setting sun. It was disorienting, in a good way.
While Miro joked about the wines being as pure as 'Mother's Milk', he filled my arms with bottles of wines, cradled in love, my back ached with the same strain I remember from holding my heavy child when he was a plump baby. It seemed surreal as the light shifted into a deep glow and the magnanimous man ushered us off with happy "Cheers to us in America when you drink the wine!". Somehow, I had become the one being thanked for doing the tasting.
We lumbered up to our room to drop the wines and fetch our child for dinner, a pleasant buzz thrumming through our veins, and headed to a final dinner at the Castle. We settled in feeling thoroughly pampered and sad to say goodbye to Chateau Bela.
And then Breakfast happened.
Breakfast was held in a glorious room that was bright and light and somehow yellow? I can't say the wallpaper was yellow, but maybe it was? I can't say the furniture was yellow as I'm sure it was wood with white cushion seats, but the single yellow tulips on each table and the stunning view of the gardens, made for a delightfully elegant scene that impressed upon me...yellow. Anyhow, it was our second breakfast there and we figured we knew the scene well enough to know what to do and where we wanted to sit (with the best view, duh!). And then, sneaking up in a charming way only a man that is bigger than a doorway can do, Miro came over to 'surprise' us. This man simply makes people happy. His tan work worn skin was supple and soft and his demeanor was so easy that I couldn't help giggling like a little girl at the obvious, sweet, gentle giant as he played at sneaking up. He had come to say goodbye again, but as luck would have it, the Princess of the Castle was there and he wanted to introduce us.
OK, she wasn't an actual Princess. She was the daughter to the Countess...who owned the Castle and she now runs it and obviously will inherit it. And it is a Castle after all soooo...uhhhh, pretty much a Princess. Oh and she was lovely with long blonde hair that coiled just perfectly at the ends, and her skin was the kind of luminous feature that lets you know she has only ever had the best creams to use (maybe baby's blood? When you see skin like that, baby's blood seems like a reasonable way to get it right?) only she was also modern and spoke excellent English. Her super cool jacket eluded to the fact that she was raised around horses and the very traditional fox hunting of the area, and what the Castle is known for if you are among the elite that can go there for that. She was smart, confidant, friendly and professional, everything a modern Princess should be.
And only after THAT, did we finally leave and start our travels toward Budapest and my first judging overseas at an International Wine Competition. So far, seriously soooooo good.
* Please google Chateau Bela for wines that are imported to the USA. Their Rieslings are to die for and their Alibernet is incredible.
Reality, or as close as one can come to it in that strange fairy tale like land, was introduced when we finally met the famous Miro Petrech. Miro is the winemaker at Chateau Bela and business partners with the world renowned Egon Muller from Germany. Miro was not simply a large man, but a larger than life man with a personality big enough to fill the entire Castle. He greeted us as if old friends, just another gift from the man I've taken to calling my Fairy God Father (Lubos is the man that has lined up perks and treats throughout our entire trip), asked that Miro give us a special tour and tasting. Miro scoffed when I introduced myself via the Google Translate App. "Michele, speak Russian!" he demanded. We couldn't help but to laugh, his infectious personality instantly putting us at ease. A young woman had accompanied him and she translated the rest of the Slovak speech Miro had launched into. Seems he spoke Hungarian, Slovakian, German and Russian...English however, hardly a word. I immediately felt like a beast of an American coming to this part of the world not speaking any other language than English. He repeated the demand with shock that I didn't speak Russian, and it started to seem reasonable, I looked like everyone in Central Europe, why didn't I speak Russian?!?
The young, timid girl translated as quickly as possible while we were led down some well worn stone steps into a deep cellar, the brick vaulted ceiling clamped out all of the world as we knew it and we were submerged into the winery, a place that had hardly changed in 500 years. Miro danced around us pulling dusty bottles from hidden corners and draining luscious liquid from tanks, his huge hands sweeping through the air as he spoke about the vineyard and his wines with passion. His joy and warmth enveloped us and it seemed almost as if he could launch into a song as his laughter burst forth. Oddly it was like being in a Disney Cartoon where the peasant girl is swept into the special castle only to discover some magical entity that coyly transforms her into a... Russian??? Sorry, no way to finish that fantasy in real terms and since he really wanted me to speak Russian, that's all I got. Anyway, you get it, it was freaking magical.
Wine after wine was poured. We tasted these brilliant creations in awe, scratching notes as fast as I could before Miro would yank the glass from my hand, flip its contents out and fill it with a new sample. Our breath was white in the cold room, but we were warm with the dizzying array of wines. It was obvious why he is famous for his wines, they are mythical creations with white wines aging 30 to 50 years and fetching $20,000 for some. Over an hour had disappeared in the deep cave of the Castle when we broached the surface of the earth and the setting sun. It was disorienting, in a good way.
While Miro joked about the wines being as pure as 'Mother's Milk', he filled my arms with bottles of wines, cradled in love, my back ached with the same strain I remember from holding my heavy child when he was a plump baby. It seemed surreal as the light shifted into a deep glow and the magnanimous man ushered us off with happy "Cheers to us in America when you drink the wine!". Somehow, I had become the one being thanked for doing the tasting.
We lumbered up to our room to drop the wines and fetch our child for dinner, a pleasant buzz thrumming through our veins, and headed to a final dinner at the Castle. We settled in feeling thoroughly pampered and sad to say goodbye to Chateau Bela.
And then Breakfast happened.
Breakfast was held in a glorious room that was bright and light and somehow yellow? I can't say the wallpaper was yellow, but maybe it was? I can't say the furniture was yellow as I'm sure it was wood with white cushion seats, but the single yellow tulips on each table and the stunning view of the gardens, made for a delightfully elegant scene that impressed upon me...yellow. Anyhow, it was our second breakfast there and we figured we knew the scene well enough to know what to do and where we wanted to sit (with the best view, duh!). And then, sneaking up in a charming way only a man that is bigger than a doorway can do, Miro came over to 'surprise' us. This man simply makes people happy. His tan work worn skin was supple and soft and his demeanor was so easy that I couldn't help giggling like a little girl at the obvious, sweet, gentle giant as he played at sneaking up. He had come to say goodbye again, but as luck would have it, the Princess of the Castle was there and he wanted to introduce us.
OK, she wasn't an actual Princess. She was the daughter to the Countess...who owned the Castle and she now runs it and obviously will inherit it. And it is a Castle after all soooo...uhhhh, pretty much a Princess. Oh and she was lovely with long blonde hair that coiled just perfectly at the ends, and her skin was the kind of luminous feature that lets you know she has only ever had the best creams to use (maybe baby's blood? When you see skin like that, baby's blood seems like a reasonable way to get it right?) only she was also modern and spoke excellent English. Her super cool jacket eluded to the fact that she was raised around horses and the very traditional fox hunting of the area, and what the Castle is known for if you are among the elite that can go there for that. She was smart, confidant, friendly and professional, everything a modern Princess should be.
And only after THAT, did we finally leave and start our travels toward Budapest and my first judging overseas at an International Wine Competition. So far, seriously soooooo good.
* Please google Chateau Bela for wines that are imported to the USA. Their Rieslings are to die for and their Alibernet is incredible.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Am I dreaming?
From Vienna, we ventured into the unknown...also called Slovakia. Once a part of Czechoslovakia, this area became its own country in 1993. Now as we traveled the thin lane roads toward our destination, we marveled at what we saw. This area is definitely not like Austria, where we were coming from, or the rest of the Western part of Europe. It is hard to describe why it feels different, but it really does.
We arrived at the thermal pools in the countryside of Slovakia and the high security, small metal gates opened and closed around us in succession. The green grass and flowering tress gave an air of gentleness against the stern gates and it was difficult to assimilate what we were feeling with what we were seeing. The modern, comfortable apartment was perfection, yet no art on the walls made for an uncomfortable, yet indistinguishable element to the environment.
Our check in process was challenging to say the least. With my google translate app in overdrive, we tried to get through the important details at hand and when the receptionist finally had given up, she asked the gardener who spoke some English to come in and help. It was a first for my language gifted husband to feel at a loss in a situation, but Slovak simply does not come naturally to us. Everything about the place seemed at once easy and familiar while also being difficult and shrouded in a harsh history they haven't quite shaken.
Finally at the pools, we soaked for hours, melting the jet lag away for good. Light pink petals cascaded from the trees and the warm sun kissed our shoulders. We sat and ate ice cream and drank $1 glasses of decent Slovakian wine. It was a collision of realities that made for a very dreamlike state and we floated on it's surreal atmosphere into the night.
The next morning, we drove further into Slovakia toward a castle that would be our home for the next couple of days. The road twisted through bright green pastures that stretched as far as the eye could see, small and out of place, these roads seemed to take you on a journey that didn't quite make sense, yet unfolded into a series of little villages that made the mind gasp at the stories hidden there. Relative wealth seemed to be falling on these hamlets, yet they screamed of the past with dark and sinister meanings; their vacant cement walls and broken windows echoing the not so far off history.
As we neared the Castle, I was hit with the clarity that this is a land of fairy tales and the entire landscape suddenly made more sense. The delights and the masked horrors that may lay ahead were perfectly mirrored in odd sights such as a flock of long necked white swans sitting in a field next to the road or the cluster of delightfully manicured gardens in-front of tiny houses that sprouted out of nowhere. It made for a strange out of body feeling that wasn't bad, but more like a deja-vu disturbance.
When we arrived at the Castle, it was anything but the sketchy, dark building I had imagined, but instead was completely refurbished and painted a delightful yellow. This epic, historical site was also home to the most famous Slovakian Winery and it oozed charm like you would not believe. Immediately we knew, this would be a fairy tale come true and we pinched ourselves to make sure this wasn't, in fact, a dream.
We arrived at the thermal pools in the countryside of Slovakia and the high security, small metal gates opened and closed around us in succession. The green grass and flowering tress gave an air of gentleness against the stern gates and it was difficult to assimilate what we were feeling with what we were seeing. The modern, comfortable apartment was perfection, yet no art on the walls made for an uncomfortable, yet indistinguishable element to the environment.
Our check in process was challenging to say the least. With my google translate app in overdrive, we tried to get through the important details at hand and when the receptionist finally had given up, she asked the gardener who spoke some English to come in and help. It was a first for my language gifted husband to feel at a loss in a situation, but Slovak simply does not come naturally to us. Everything about the place seemed at once easy and familiar while also being difficult and shrouded in a harsh history they haven't quite shaken.
Finally at the pools, we soaked for hours, melting the jet lag away for good. Light pink petals cascaded from the trees and the warm sun kissed our shoulders. We sat and ate ice cream and drank $1 glasses of decent Slovakian wine. It was a collision of realities that made for a very dreamlike state and we floated on it's surreal atmosphere into the night.
The next morning, we drove further into Slovakia toward a castle that would be our home for the next couple of days. The road twisted through bright green pastures that stretched as far as the eye could see, small and out of place, these roads seemed to take you on a journey that didn't quite make sense, yet unfolded into a series of little villages that made the mind gasp at the stories hidden there. Relative wealth seemed to be falling on these hamlets, yet they screamed of the past with dark and sinister meanings; their vacant cement walls and broken windows echoing the not so far off history.
As we neared the Castle, I was hit with the clarity that this is a land of fairy tales and the entire landscape suddenly made more sense. The delights and the masked horrors that may lay ahead were perfectly mirrored in odd sights such as a flock of long necked white swans sitting in a field next to the road or the cluster of delightfully manicured gardens in-front of tiny houses that sprouted out of nowhere. It made for a strange out of body feeling that wasn't bad, but more like a deja-vu disturbance.
When we arrived at the Castle, it was anything but the sketchy, dark building I had imagined, but instead was completely refurbished and painted a delightful yellow. This epic, historical site was also home to the most famous Slovakian Winery and it oozed charm like you would not believe. Immediately we knew, this would be a fairy tale come true and we pinched ourselves to make sure this wasn't, in fact, a dream.
Sunday, March 31, 2019
Charmed I'm Sure
Vienna is a city hard to describe. In our jet lagged state of a day ago, it seemed strange, almost standoffish, like it wasn't sure if it liked us yet. But after a long nap, a hot shower and a glass of great local wine, it started to ease into a more friendly state. By today, after a solid night of sleep, the city welcomed us with open arms.
The morning was bright and sunny, not showing any sign of the rain we had planned for. Being a Sunday, the street our hotel was on, whispered instead of roared like the day previous and cafe staff cleaned outdoor tables with an unhurried demeanor. We found our way into a charming restaurant only a few feet from where we were staying with wide eyes.
The old wood floors creaked with each step, the high ceilings crowning the tall windows, and each adorable seating area beckoned us to cuddle up there. We curled into a small, leaf green colored, velvet covered booth that had an excellent view of the grand room with its crystal chandeliers. It was both opulent and worn in, comfortably antiqued and bursting with character. I wanted to move in. Bouquets of fresh spring flowers gracefully filled window ledges and small tables and the large pastry case flirted with my self-control.
An hour later, with tummies full, we leisurely strolled along the shops to the center of town. Grand architecture loomed over us, but instead of feeling stifling, these intricately built buildings stood bold and proud, clean with good repair. Each step grew in beauty and we found ourselves captivated by the soft allure Vienna was showing us. We fell in and out of shops, meandering without direction and found ourselves in a street-side cafe. Our legs were heavy from the walk and the delightfulness of the cafe was too tempting to pass by. With glasses full of crisp cold wine and the warm sun on our backs, we watched people pass by. A dream like state had fallen on all three of us, as if the city was casting a spell. Then, quietly at first, a man's voice sang opera in the distance. The voice grew as it rang off the stone buildings and rolled over us. It was a perfect moment in time.
It is clear that Vienna is unlike anywhere else, a seductive mistress to my dearly beloved Italy. It seems to lure you softly, like the first lilacs that bloom, their smell on the air before they are noticed, Vienna too slides into your senses with ease, as if you've always known each other.
It is our final day here for this portion of the trip. We arrived broken with exhaustion, but since cradled from the warm embrace of the city, we head out fresh and eager to explore. Cheers to Vienna, you have coyly won us over.
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Here We Go!
The epic trip to Eastern Europe is now only 3 days away and I have developed a stress tick in my right eye that causes it to twitch any time I start to talk about work or the trip. By 4:00pm today, it seemed like a good call to give myself a timeout (aka glass of wine) and complain to all you good people.
If you had followed my previous blog (www.VivacWinery.blogspot.com) while we traveled through Colombia last year, you may be picking up on a different feel for this trip. How very astute of you! Last year we prepared for that trip as we headed into the slower season for the winery and the entire trip was us meandering, at our leisure, across the country. This trip, on the other hand, is going to be jam packed and busy the entire time with added stress components of Judging International Wine Competitions over there and even flying from Budapest back to New York for an American competition...and then returning to Budapest. Then when we return from this trip, I will be hit with the full swing of event season. Pretty sure I will need a vacation from the vacation.
Having the Judging stuck in this trip is not only an incredible honor and exhilarating, but also a packing quandary. I considered divulging all the details of my packing struggle and then realized that could drive you all to drink out of boredom. Just know, the struggle is real. #WhitePeopleProblems
OK moving onto another stressor: my husband is my translator when we travel. I will, for the 1st time, have to do some major things on this trip without him by my side. He claims he is not gifted with the ability to learn languages, but I disagree. He is fluent in Spanish, knows a lot of Italian, some French, was just learning Romanian and now that we aren't going to Romania, is picking up German. Where as I can hardly pronounce English words with my short, fat, non-whistling tongue. So, I call bullshit on that. Anyway, that isn't the point, the point is that he won't be there to hold my hand (and ease my anxiety) while I work in these foreign countries and travel on my own. If ever I needed to buy some big girl pants, it's now. If you don't get that reference, as in "oh come on woman, put on your big girl pants and grow up", then you probably think I am talking about being over weight. And since I am currently not at my ideal weight...that is an equally true way to interpret 'needing big girl pants'. I should probably get on my Amazon Prime account and place an order.
And there goes my eye twitching again.
(This was written, but not posted due to all the prep for the trip and last minute work projects. Now the big day is TOMORROW...and my eye is still twitching. Must need even more wine)
If you had followed my previous blog (www.VivacWinery.blogspot.com) while we traveled through Colombia last year, you may be picking up on a different feel for this trip. How very astute of you! Last year we prepared for that trip as we headed into the slower season for the winery and the entire trip was us meandering, at our leisure, across the country. This trip, on the other hand, is going to be jam packed and busy the entire time with added stress components of Judging International Wine Competitions over there and even flying from Budapest back to New York for an American competition...and then returning to Budapest. Then when we return from this trip, I will be hit with the full swing of event season. Pretty sure I will need a vacation from the vacation.
Having the Judging stuck in this trip is not only an incredible honor and exhilarating, but also a packing quandary. I considered divulging all the details of my packing struggle and then realized that could drive you all to drink out of boredom. Just know, the struggle is real. #WhitePeopleProblems
OK moving onto another stressor: my husband is my translator when we travel. I will, for the 1st time, have to do some major things on this trip without him by my side. He claims he is not gifted with the ability to learn languages, but I disagree. He is fluent in Spanish, knows a lot of Italian, some French, was just learning Romanian and now that we aren't going to Romania, is picking up German. Where as I can hardly pronounce English words with my short, fat, non-whistling tongue. So, I call bullshit on that. Anyway, that isn't the point, the point is that he won't be there to hold my hand (and ease my anxiety) while I work in these foreign countries and travel on my own. If ever I needed to buy some big girl pants, it's now. If you don't get that reference, as in "oh come on woman, put on your big girl pants and grow up", then you probably think I am talking about being over weight. And since I am currently not at my ideal weight...that is an equally true way to interpret 'needing big girl pants'. I should probably get on my Amazon Prime account and place an order.
And there goes my eye twitching again.
(This was written, but not posted due to all the prep for the trip and last minute work projects. Now the big day is TOMORROW...and my eye is still twitching. Must need even more wine)
Monday, March 11, 2019
The Countdown Begins!
The rain is coming down outside my window almost as fast as the antibiotic drops slide slowly out of my left ear. I have an ear infection and a cough that just won't relent, but I have exactly 18 days until my husband, my son and I are headed to Eastern Europe for a 2 month trip...so there is literally zero time to waste. Well, except for a quick whine, I always have time for that.
Why Eastern Europe you ask? Those not familiar with my previous blog "Fueled by Vivac Winery", let me fill you in. During a harrowing passage on a small sailboat from Panama to Colombia, we became friends with some fantastic Romanians and the idea of visiting this far off, mysterious place started to plant its seed. If you are anything like us at the time, we thought of Romania and of course Transylvania, home of the Dracula stories. We did not think of incredible wine or a sophisticated film industry. Needless to say we were intrigued. Follow that up with judging my 1st International Wine Competition in Rochester NY (Great American International) and tasting amazing wines from Eastern Europe including being on the panel that selected the Best of Show Sparkling wine only to find out it was from Slovenia was the final straw, we HAD to go explore this area of the world.
In order to leave our fabulous, ever growing winery in New Mexico, in the very capable hands of our business partners and staff, requires we get our personal segments of the business in order and running as smoothly as possible with as much scheduled to take place before we leave and when we get back. This is incredibly stressful and I feel my cortisol levels rising...which makes me panic about my health. Jesus, I need a glass of wine just so I can finish writing this! And this is where the whining and wining gets going.
I digress, Romania, what will we be doing and seeing in Romania...nothing as it so happens. Are you feeling as confused as I am? After months of exploring maps and guide books and my husband even learning Romanian, I took on another International Wine Competition, in Texas this time (Texas International) and was honored to judge alongside a highly influential wine judge and Doctor of wine that became my fairy godmother... errrr fairy godfather? He began vouching for my skill to be selected for not 1, not 2, but 3 International Wine Competitions in Eastern Europe over the time we had planned to be in Romania. This phenomenal opportunity came with an itinerary hand crafted to visit remarkable spots of Hungary, Slovakia, Czech Republic and Austria as we travel from competition to competition. This too-good-to-be-true trip honestly put a great big shutdown on making it to Romania, despite all our previous enthralled energy. Oddly enough, I have been invited to judge an International Wine Competition in Bucharest, Romania next year, so maybe this exploration is simply delayed? Regardless, the current trip is a treasure trove of gorgeous hamlets brimming to the top with incredible wines and while our pocketbooks are already starting to sting with the inevitable pinch, we are beyond excited to explore these countries!
Now I just need to figure out how to breathe into a brown paper bag to stop hyperventilating at the same time as ingest enough wine to calm my nerves...oh wait, that must be why people put booze bottles INSIDE paper bags! Genius!
Why Eastern Europe you ask? Those not familiar with my previous blog "Fueled by Vivac Winery", let me fill you in. During a harrowing passage on a small sailboat from Panama to Colombia, we became friends with some fantastic Romanians and the idea of visiting this far off, mysterious place started to plant its seed. If you are anything like us at the time, we thought of Romania and of course Transylvania, home of the Dracula stories. We did not think of incredible wine or a sophisticated film industry. Needless to say we were intrigued. Follow that up with judging my 1st International Wine Competition in Rochester NY (Great American International) and tasting amazing wines from Eastern Europe including being on the panel that selected the Best of Show Sparkling wine only to find out it was from Slovenia was the final straw, we HAD to go explore this area of the world.
In order to leave our fabulous, ever growing winery in New Mexico, in the very capable hands of our business partners and staff, requires we get our personal segments of the business in order and running as smoothly as possible with as much scheduled to take place before we leave and when we get back. This is incredibly stressful and I feel my cortisol levels rising...which makes me panic about my health. Jesus, I need a glass of wine just so I can finish writing this! And this is where the whining and wining gets going.
I digress, Romania, what will we be doing and seeing in Romania...nothing as it so happens. Are you feeling as confused as I am? After months of exploring maps and guide books and my husband even learning Romanian, I took on another International Wine Competition, in Texas this time (Texas International) and was honored to judge alongside a highly influential wine judge and Doctor of wine that became my fairy godmother... errrr fairy godfather? He began vouching for my skill to be selected for not 1, not 2, but 3 International Wine Competitions in Eastern Europe over the time we had planned to be in Romania. This phenomenal opportunity came with an itinerary hand crafted to visit remarkable spots of Hungary, Slovakia, Czech Republic and Austria as we travel from competition to competition. This too-good-to-be-true trip honestly put a great big shutdown on making it to Romania, despite all our previous enthralled energy. Oddly enough, I have been invited to judge an International Wine Competition in Bucharest, Romania next year, so maybe this exploration is simply delayed? Regardless, the current trip is a treasure trove of gorgeous hamlets brimming to the top with incredible wines and while our pocketbooks are already starting to sting with the inevitable pinch, we are beyond excited to explore these countries!
Now I just need to figure out how to breathe into a brown paper bag to stop hyperventilating at the same time as ingest enough wine to calm my nerves...oh wait, that must be why people put booze bottles INSIDE paper bags! Genius!
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