Sometimes on a Tuesday - a wine and travel journal

The Beginning of All Things

Sitting here, I’m beginning to think that it is a fallacy that I don’t get inspired in airports. True, the stained grey and brown carpets, the weary, unshowered and preoccupied travellers, and the privacy-stripping joys of the TSA don’t exude much inspiration, but here I am again, motivated to tell another tale. Must be something in the Starbucks.

You see, I started this journal last year without much of a plan. I missed my life as a somm, I wanted to reconnect with that life, so I started writing about wine. It was therapy, a means to quell my unsettling in the yachting world, a way to tether myself back to who I think I am: a sommelier, a wine lover, and, little by little, more confidently, a writer. I don’t know where this journal will take me, and I don’t know what to make of my admittedly, very meagre internet presence. I just know that I want to keep writing.

So with these thoughts in my head, something serendipitous happened. I was googling for wine events in the USA, and what popped up was the yearly Wine Bloggers Conference (now renamed the Wine Media Conference). The 2018 conference was booked for Walla Walla, an AVA (American Viticultural Area) that straddles both Washington State and Oregon. There were even pre-conference excursions, one in Yakima Valley AVA, and another in Red Mountain AVA. My education in American wines didn’t start properly until I was in yachting - it was mostly about how to spot a Napa Chardonnay in a blind tasting (oak and bananas, basically), and whatever was required reading for my wine studies. In, fact before I clicked the registration button, all I knew about Washington State wines was that there’s a lot of Bordeaux varieties, and Riesling is a historical grape there. This was a perfect opportunity.

First Impressions

Arriving at Tri-Cities Airport in Pasco, about an hour or so drive to Yakima Valley, the excursion that I chose, I feel like I am on a first date. I have make up on, I even brushed my hair. I finally find my group outside the airport, with Gina from Wit Cellars holding up a placard for ‘Yakima Valley Flavour Camp’. Jazzy. I chuckle when they hand me a lanyard and baptize me as a ‘Hopster’ (must be a dig at my Melbourne roots!), one of four groups we were further divided into. We all shake hands and introduced ourselves as we climb into the van. Gina gives us a great run-down of the region, with nice tales and fast facts as I got to know the people surrounding me - there’s Luciana, a lovely woman from Brazil who has an amazingly refined palate and thoughtful wine notes; there’s also Stacy, the head honcho editor of GuildSomm who is superbly relatable and actually has a food blog instead of a wine blog. I also meet Pinny, whose interest in wine pairings resulted in her blog, while we find out on the last day of the conference that we actually both have roots in Hong Kong; and Mary, who’s pet peeve regarding the usage of the words variety and varietal has kept me entertained. Needless to say, I’ll never interchange those two words ever again!

Owen Roe Winery is beautifully perched atop a hill, its large warehouse and tasting room overlooking a lengthy lawn that slides right into stretches of vineyards. We are eager to start on the day’s program as we sip on Wiseguy Sauvignon Blanc, Wit Cellar’s Pinot Gris, and Owen Roe’s Sinister Hand Blended Red. The first session is a dissertation on hops. We become children in a science fair, intrigued by the anatomy of the hop vine and the hop flower, musing on its similarities to cannabis (although none of us admits to being experts…), and we get to see how different hops taste in beers, in an extensive beer tasting. There is even a hop called Lemon Drop!

Terroir

The next session is on apple cider by Tieton Cider Works. Apple history aside, I am already a couple of glasses of wine and a few sips of beer towards tipsy, so my concentration and attention span is seriously waning. However, the next and last session perks me right up. We take a military open back mini-truck, and drive up to the top of the vineyards, taking in the view as David, one of the winery owners, explains the macro- and micro- climates of Yakima. As we walk through the vineyards he speaks about the two different soil types that was the result of the geological machinations of the region. My eyes open, again and again, by the idea of terroir, as I taste his Cabernet Sauvignon with soft, fine loess seeping into my shoes. Grown on volcanic soil, a distinct florality shines through, giving finesse and a touch of elegance to the usually all-muscle American Cab Sauv. The Cabernet Franc however, grown on granitic soils, gives warmth, and plump fruitiness, rounding off the herbaceous tomato-leaf aroma typical to the grape.

Right at the top of the hill, like a crown on one’s head, are Grenache grown as bush vines. Almost like a flashback, I am atop a hill in Montsant, Catalunya with Jaume Roca of Ficaria Vins, admiring his hundred year old vines deep into the fissures of the harsh Tarragonian soil; or looking at pictures of the Rhone Valley in my WSET handbook, where galets roules were strewn across the page. I am surprised at the similarities to the soil types here at vineyards, and for the life of me I did not expect to see this in the USA.

Dinner Amongst Strangers

As the sun starts to set into an incredulous hot pink, we head back to the winery, where a long table has been set for dinner, along with bonfires and bottle after bottle of fine Yakima wine adorning the table. I sit next to Kathy, the owner of Cote Bonneville, whose Burgundy-esque Chardonnay tastes creamy, mineral and savoury, like an adult cream icicle, with wafts of white mushroom and touches of ripe citrus freshening the palate. Cultura Wine’s blended red, Chronos, sings a chorus with my red and golden beets salad, their mutual earthiness giving structure and complexity to the sweetness of the root vegetable and the lusciousness of the fruit.

From here onwards, all wines are just great wines, and conversation flows. It is my very first day to meet all these strangers, and yet we eat and drink like old friends. Later on, Kathy introduced me to her daughter, Kerry, the prodigious winemaker of Cote Bonneville. She recalls her time working a vintage at Tahbilk Winery in Nagambie Lakes, Victoria, while I exalt their beautiful Marsanne I used to pour as a wine match. As the night winds down, we all climb onto our trusty van. We are still so hyped that if we had broken into camp songs, you would have forgiven us (we didn’t). Tired and bloated with too much red wine and s’mores cooked over the bonfire, I fall to sleep in my hotel room exhausted but absolutely eager for the actual start of the conference tomorrow.

Pink skies, fine wines, great roast chicken!

**Blog posts are not necessarily in chronological order, and is based on travel notes and fond memories.