T Moments

Tell me how this works??

2011-08-11T16:43:00.000-07:00

So it seems that every day we are open some asks me the question:

"How does this wine tasting work?"

The first time I heard this question, I stood there with a confused look on my face, very much like one those poor dogs dressed in a pink bow and tutu regardless of their gender. My first teresa-reaction was to say "Well you put some wine in a glass, smell it and decide whether you want to taste it or not. Then buy it if you like it." But I know that wasn't the managerial-response I needed so I stood there for a few seconds more trying to decide what the customer was asking me. By then, I am pretty sure they recognized the "Can anyone interpret?" question forming on my face, so they clarified their main concern: What can I taste and how much will it cost me?

Managing the tasting room and fruit stand, has become a lesson in human psychology and body language. Usually, sane people will give hints as to what they are asking or saying. But in Idaho, they seem to have their own language encoded into their DNA. In the south, we call it beating around the bush, but I have now rephrased this for Idaho into "Walking to Grandma's with a turtle as a guide." So I have had to learn what each phrase actually means and why they are asking it. "Is this local?" is one of the most repeated questions throughout the entire day about the wine and fruit. With Idaho's limited recognition in the wine industry, do you think we would announce that if it wasn't true?

So now when someone walks in and asks "How does this wine tasting work?", I smile and respond with: "You can taste everything we have open, which is all of these and there is no tasting fee. Oh and the pineapples are local."

Final Curtain Call

2009-06-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

After many discussions, and torturous sessions of meditations, I finally decided that moving to Idaho could be a wonderful adventure. I packed up all ten items I owned and came bounding excitedly to Idaho like a lab that spies freedom out the back door! Unfortunately I choose to move during the worst winter storm that Las Vegas has had in many years, which is the equivelant of that lab slamming into the screen and wondering what the hell is going on. Thankfully, I was able to glide by the cars as they slid off the side of the road and made it safely to my mom's house in Salt Lake City.
After I settled and intergrated myself into Martin's pad, I was given the opportunity to work my first tasting event at Berryhill & Co. Which, oddly enough, was a bridal show. Ummmm, yeah, talk about awkward moments. However, I was able to observe people in a different type of setting. And I realized that most people, like me, thought of wine as something for serious and formal events only. That only certain classes of society had the palates, and the training, cultured enough to handle the exquisite composition of the crushed grape.
As I explored this thought of only serious wine, Martin was beginning to include me in his endeavors of FFC. So I began my search for light-hearted and funny wine ads, commercials, artwork, etc. There are a rare few in this category. However, if you google funny beer ads, etc., you better plan on not sleeping for a few weeks as you view each one. So the question remaining is how to "lighten" up the wine industry and whether such movements would be well received with open arms by the industry itself.

In my own horizons, I had begun to delicately wade into the deep pool of red wines. I tasted Bitner Vineyards' Merlot/Petit Verdot blend and their port-style dessert wine, where I fell in love all over again. Luckily for Martin, all my stuff was unpacked already and I was loathed to move again so soon. But I wonder, how is the decision made on what amount of alcohol should be in a certain type of wine?

Second Chances

2009-06-13T08:58:00.000-07:00

In October 2009, I came down to visit Martin in Idaho. Originally, when we planned the trip, it was going to be a time when things would be winding down from harvest. But harvest was pushed back a few weeks and that made my visit very untimely. I didn't mind, it was a chance for me to see the animal in his natural habitat. And yes, I meant Martin. It also allowed me to observe the process that grapes go through to reach this thing we call wine. I, along with others, believed you squished the grapes with your feet and poof! You have wine.

I seen grapes in all stages, some that were still on the vine, others being stemmed and leafed, and others already in the fermentation process. I even helped the guys with some of harvesting work. It was fun, though I imagine doing it day after day might not be so much fun. So why aren't all the grapes harvested at once? Is there a difference in the way you harvest white grapes as opposed to red grapes?

One Saturday, Martin took me Wine Tasting, which is like a chicken farmer going out to eat at KFC. But being the gracious host that he is, he wanted to introduce me to more wines then just the ice wine I had previously tasted in August. One thing about Martin that is simply amazing, is is his skill to point you to wines similiar to whatever wine you like, even if they derive from different wineries. And he also knows, that wine newbs would probably like whites more then reds. So we made our way to Bitner Vineyards, where he handed me a glass of 2007 Riesling. It wasn't as sweet as ice wine, but it was truly delightful and became my favorite wine for the next 3 months. We tasted others from Bitner, Koenig, and Davis Creek and they were all good. But that Riesling stayed with me like a haunting dream. The hook that Martin had installed months earlier, just grew barbs and I went back to NC, intent on exposing some of my sister to the new and exciting world I had found.

The Wine Newb

2009-06-09T14:37:00.000-07:00

My first taste of wine did not inspire a drum roll or even a soft violin woven softly into the background. It began with a wrinkling of the nose and rat-tat-tat of machine gun judgments that begin with hoping that this liquid didn’t taste as bad as it smelled. At 14 years old, it totally did. The place was a very formal, expensive wedding, where everyone had to sit where they were told. And my training in which fork to use, had yet to even begin. So when my boyfriend told me he was a wine maker, my first thought was wondering how I was going to encourage him in this business if my first reaction was to gag at the smell of wine. Being a whiskey drinker, this was going to be hell. Let the war for my soul begin.
My next tasting was at a friends house, who was hosting her very own bachelorette party. Martin informed us that he had brought ice wine. Images of wine slushies filled my head, as groans reverberated through my mouth. He then produced this beautiful slender bottle of clear liquid, red wax covering the top and gold glinting off the label. “Ice wine,” he informed the room, “is a sweet dessert wine. Just try a little bit, and I bet you’ll like it.” So, cautious but willing to be daring, despite the resounding comments being made in my head of being an ass kisser, I brought the glass to my lips. The smell hit me first, and curiously, it didn’t smell like rotten grapes as I thought for sure was going to be the case. It smelled like flowers…Wait…How do you get a wine to smell like flowers? Do you crush them and sprinkle them on top of the wine as it’s cooking?
Then I tasted. The pleasant surprise of agreeableness came not like the gentleness of a summer breeze, but as a hurricane-driven wave crashing against that bold, weathered rock that dares to stand in its way. My whole view of wine just turned a 360. The journey to enlightenment had begun, without a scratch on my soul.