Sense of Place

Over the last week or so, a number of people have asked me why I write this blog. To be honest, when I first started, it was somewhat coincident with the "shelter-in-place" orders (I started on Monday, March 23. I needed some sort of self-therapy and I enjoy writing, so to some extent, blogging was a natural outlet for me.

There were other things missing in my life, though, just as lots of things have likely been missing in yours. In my case, I travel a lot on business. While I do occasionally get a business trip that allows me to extend in to a vacation to a place that I really want to visit, I have to tell you that there is nothing glamorous about flying to Minneapolis without the benefit of special clothing on a minus 20 degree day in February only to return home at midnight or to Phoenix in a business suit on a 120 degree day in August to have my red-eye flight home delayed for 9 hours by a dust storm. Regardless of anything else, however, each time I do travel, I go to a place, even if I don't get to experience that place.

So, while it's not why I started writing this blog, it has helped me realize part of why wine is so relaxing for me; it gives me a sense of place. And, as the blog has evolved, it is a way for me to try to communicate that sense of place in way that, at least on a good day, puts you there.

No, I've not been to most of the places I write about. And, I've not been anywhere near at least half of the wines that I write about. And, except for spelling and maps, and perhaps a few geographical tidbits that I throw in, I don't simply do on-the-spot research and put that in words for you. I get up in the morning and write off the top of my head. So, if my mind is on St Laurent, that's what I write about and if it's a day that I feel like being in Antarctica, that's what I write about.

If you're a regular reader, an occasional one, or a brand new reader, I hope that I am able to convey some of this to you.

What is this sense of place that I get when I drink wine? It's the difference between a Riesling from Australia and one from Oregon or between Chardonnay from Meursault and its sister from 10 miles away in Montrachet. It's why I want you to know about the summer breezes, the soil, the terrain, and the sunshine. On a good day, perhaps you can smell the sea salt while sipping wine in Malta or taste the legendary "Rutherford dust" in a world-class Bordeaux-style red blend. 

What makes a truly great wine? In my opinion, it's a wine that takes you somewhere that you really want to be whether it's because it pairs so perfectly with the food, it makes you think of your favorite vacation you've ever taken or one you've not taken yet, or it is transformative in a way that just makes you enjoy life.

Our journey is not coming to an end here, but as I wrestle with daily topics, we may see some twists in the road. Perhaps we'll interview a fictitious winemaker (based on a real one of course) or discuss the nuances of different vintages of  Sangiovese with a sommelier blessed with an astounding wine list.

But, in reality, I'm a numbers guy. I'm not a writer. So, I fear I will fail more often than not. But, on a good day, I will succeed in taking you someplace you really want to go. I think that's why I write here. And, I hope it keeps you coming back. And, if there is something in particular you'd really like to come back for whether it's exploring the Syrah of Hermitage or the Xynomavro of Greece, the only way I'll know is if you tell me ... so please do.