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!
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Friday, June 21, 2019
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.
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