wine | Wing's World

Approaching the Winter Solstice this year feels a lot like turning on the news…with this exception: history tells me that the northern hemisphere WILL, despite appearances, soon begin gifting us with more light. But history makes no such promises when it comes to politics, poverty, or the poverty of politics. (And of course history is completely gobsmacked when it comes to climate chaos.)

So I went looking through the Interwebs for a Solstice poem to make myself feel better. Some light to look forward to, even as we declare “the first day of winter” and shiver on the sidewalk, or at the headlines.

Winter is beautiful. Winter is beautiful. Winter is beautiful…

I found several–some cheesy, some classical, some downright weird. (But write on, ye weird poets!) None said exactly what I was looking for. Then I checked my email inbox and found a jewel, from, of all places, our beloved local wine bar/deli, Vita’s Wildly Delicious. Well of course, the Vita’s newsletter! Who else but proprietor/chef/wine guy Bruce Botts to put his quirky finger on exactly what I needed?

Vita’s in a sunnier season. (Sorry, not sure whom to credit photo to–it’s from their Facebook page.)

Here’s the poem, by Raphael Kosek (who is, despite the name, a woman–here’s her website)

Young Man Lighting Up
The young man paused
       just long enough
to cup his hand lovingly
   around the cigarette
lighting it before stepping out
into the clench of four-lane traffic
   weaving his way
among us as I watched him
   slim and confident, bent
on reaching the store across
the street, careless with the surety
of youth, and I can only assume
   he reached his destination
as I didn’t hear the screech of brakes
or bray of horns as the light
   turned.
       The following
day I recalled him
   with longing,
      something connate,
and he grew
   in significance because
it was so insignificant—precisely why
I kept seeing him
   doing what we all do
       cupping our hands
around the thin flame of something

   we nurture for good or ill
as we step into the world’s
   thrash—confident, fully believing
      we will reach
the other side.

YES. Yes please. Can we hear that again? “…cupping our hands around the thin flame of something we nurture for good or ill as we step into the world’s thrash–confident, fully believing we will reach the other side.”

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful…

Thank you, Bruce, for passing on that thin flame. And to anyone reading this: may you find your own version of this poem when you feel the darkness deepen.

Happy Winter Solstice! Bring on the light!

As thirsty human beings go, I’m pretty basic. I drink Earl Grey tea all day, every day. When I eat pizza or tacos, I like a beer. If someone offers me wine, I’ll usually accept, but I don’t tend to buy it. And I NEVER go wine-tasting.

Enter The Niece (an appropriate verb, because The Niece is an actor). Last year, as her college graduation gift, I offered her an all-expenses-paid Auntie Weekend Package. She got some choices. To name a few: The Big Apple (go to NYC! see a show! eat Reubens!); the REI (stay in a National Park inn! go hiking! see moose!); the Spa (have our toenails painted in matching colors! ummm…what else do they do at spas? thank goodness she didn’t pick that one).

Obviously the National Park one would’ve been right up my alley, the NYC one right up hers–though actually a little too close to work for funsies. But I was pleasantly surprised when she picked The Sonoma: a weekend of wine-tasting in California’s sunny autumn. (Since I wanted to visit my cousins there anyway, I got to combine the trips in a two-fer.)

Of course Fate intervened last weekend, in the form of Sonoma’s terrifying Kincade Fire. Thank all those firefighting gods, at this posting, that fire is now over 80% contained–though other fires rage in SoCal. (Hang in there, SoCal!) So we pointed ourselves south instead, and off to the coast we went.

By my count, in 48 hours, we visited a vineyard, a tasting room, a wine bar, and a tap room. Also three restaurants. Not a bad alcohol: food ratio by my lights. And I definitely enjoyed each one, especially the part where you try to summon adjectives to describe what you’re tasting–I mean, I AM a writer!–and then compare your take with the official blurb.

But the whole time, I was aware that the activity of wine-tasting felt very alien, very Not Me.

The fact that I was more enamored of the labels than the actual wine should have been a clue.

In 48 hours, with only a minimum of driving,The Niece and I managed to absorb a whole bunch of non-tasting-related experiences. We thrilled to the unexpected opportunity to stroke some “ambassador owls” which were visiting the vineyard just then. (The vineyard’s been having some gopher issues, so they’re teaming up with a raptor center to welcome some hawks and owls there–win/win!) Being able to put fingers into the soft fluff of such fearsome birds was a dream come true.

C’mon, pet me!

Beneath the wharf, sea lions created a free aquarium display, all day.And what’s not to love about the California coastline?

Even better at sunrise!

Because it was El Día de los Muertos, we got to enjoy some extra festivities.

While in town (and yes, slightly buzzed), we allowed ourselves to be seduced by a consignment shop featuring glitzy gowns for $40 apiece. We did not buy anything, but man–I’d forgotten how fun it is to play dress-up!

Soooo tempted! Too bad I’m such a sensible person.

Thinking about it later, that dress-up activity offered itself as a fitting (pun intended) metaphor for the entire weekend. A wine person I am not. A taster I am not. But I sure had fun trying those roles on with a dear companion!

I won’t go wine-tasting again any time soon, any more than I’ll buy a silver-sequined gown. Even for $40. But every now and then, I might “taste” something equally out of character…and I might like the hell out of it.

But then I’m going back to my Earl Grey.