More musings on perception and context.

My favorite American novel ever since I was a kid has been “Winter of Our Discontent“, John Steinbeck’s riveting study of American morals and values. I love the main character’s (Ethan Hawley) attempt, not to avoid a quagmire, but to wallow in one and worry about the damage later. I’ve marveled and pondered on nearly every word of this book about whether innocence and good character, once lost, can ever be regained. Resurrected one might say. All against the back drop of Easter. If you haven’t read the book, I recommend you remedy the situation as soon as possible.

There is one little problem with the book, it’s a bit dated. It doesn’t much matter if the details of the story are obscure and old fashioned, half the fun of reading older books is finding our common ground with a long gone past. There is one point, however, that the major crux of the book turns on, one who’s importance has been somewhat lost in modern times. (If you need a spoiler alert for a sixty year old book then skip the rest of this paragraph.) It’s a question of plagiarism. A concept that becomes messy and ill defined in this age of social media; tweets, posts, reels, all these forms of instant communication attribute quotes and sayings to famous people, or take them for their own all the time. Are they accurate? It’s hard to say. In the early 1960’s that the book is set in, plagiarism was a high crime, considered by some to be nearly as bad as manslaughter, or worse, premeditated murder. Do I exaggerate? Possibly a bit, but you have to understand, plagiarism was bad. Really, really bad. To steal someone’s words and ideas was, to many people, unthinkable. The book can’t really be understood without accepting this fact as absolute. And that makes it a matter of context.

It’s the same with reading history, you have to inhabit the world of the people who lived those times. Reading Civil War history and fixating on the fact that Lincoln said some things about black Americans that don’t sit well with our modern mores, is to ignore the fact that this was a man at a crossroads of history, and he was remarkably well suited to the task. Someone who had the will to do terrible things to accomplish even greater things. This flawed, haunted, incredibly complicated, yet on some level, simplistic man carried us all into another era. He did it by suspending the writ of habeas corpus, sending hundreds of thousands of men to die, imprisoning government dissenters, and other, far greater perceived injustices, all in the name of war powers. He did these things and more, and he was the greatest president we’ll ever have. The American Christ, sacrificed for his people. It’s a complicated subject that individuals spend their lives studying. None of you have to spend your lives on this material, there are single volumes that will give you much of the context you need. Just don’t dumb it down to a couple of quotes and a sound bite.

Whoa, little digression there. So, context. I think it’s important in all aspects of life, at least for those of us who are still trying to figure things out. To see what fits where. Where we fit into the scheme of all things. You could study politics, or religion, or music, art, languages. Hey, languages is a good one to look a little closer at. Consider the function of a good translator. Is it someone who is really good at vocabulary, good at learning the words and how they translate exactly? Maybe not. I suppose the look on a non English speaker’s face when they hear it’s raining cats and dogs might be worth a chuckle, but it doesn’t get the point across. The trick is to translate meanings, not words. The nuance of the compliment, or the threat. The heart of the matter. Tough gig, wouldn’t want to start a war. Again, all about context.

I think I may have mentioned that I’m fond of trying to put wine in context. (Thank goodness, finally we’re talking wine.) In particular, Finger Lakes wines into their global and historical context. I do this through several means:

• I don’t want to get so-called cellar palate, where I drink so much FLX wine I begin to lose the ability to appreciate wines from other places. Amy and I have tried to keep our cellar at least 20% wines from the rest of the world. This strikes me as a sweet spot, one where our main concentration is the march of FLX vintages, but we drink enough village burgundies and Chinons to calibrate our senses and build perspective. I’ve mentioned this before, but if that sort of thing appeals to you, then check out the wine list at the Park Inn, in Hammondsport. Jason Ferris has built a monument to context that is simple in concept, but irresistibly presented. Full disclosure, he’s a friend, but he’s a friend because he does really cool shit like this.
• We pay attention to vintage and vineyard, and we do tastings that allow us to reflect on the interplay of the two. Is this 2012 Ravines Meritage a wine that shows more age or terroir? Impossible to say, but incredibly fun to discuss and ponder with friends. It’s a wine that was delicious when I first tasted it nearly a decade ago, it has become like an old friend, revisited every year or so, to marvel at the changes, the soft fading of fruit into tertiary notes, the development of nose and palate against the constancy of its structure. This particular game is changing somewhat, we only have one 750ml bottle left, after that a couple of magnums and a truly impressive larger format that I’m sure will show up at some Ravines event in the next decade or so. We’ll have to try to sort out the different aging arcs of a magnum vice standard bottle. Well, someone has to do it.
• There’s another march through time, changes in the region in regards to types of grapes grown, styles of wines made, and the market to which they’re sold. In case you didn’t know it, a hundred years ago the region was one of the largest wine producing areas in the country. (Read the book, Over a Barrel, which is a history of the Taylor Wine Company, and the town of Hammondsport.) The grapes that drove this industry were natives and hybrids, and they continue to be the majority of grapes grown today in the region. Given the recent trend of revisiting hybrids in the interest of more natural growing techniques, I don’t suppose vinifera will knock them out of the top spot anytime soon. What then of context, when the people doing the most talking are a small minority of vinifera drinkers? The majority doesn’t seem to feel the need to talk incessantly, they’re too busy drinking. I’m really out in the wind on this one, my heart and head can’t compute. It’ll be a fun, and I suspect cantankerous conversation for the foreseeable future.

So, context and perspective. They’re important if we’re to have an appreciation of the world around us, the people, religions, policies, and yes, the wines. I suppose this is just turning into a long winded tasting note, but as long as a couple of you seem to enjoy them, I guess I’ll proceed. Let’s talk of a remarkable hybrid wine:

2015 Anthony Road, Vignoles Berry Selection, Martini Becraft Selection.

Let me be clear, this wine should terrible. I’m thinking this bottle was opened at least six months, and possibly a year ago. We drank about half of it, and then it disappeared into the disarray of a house of constant comings and goings. I’m pretty sure it spent at least several months on the dining room table (yes, yes, months) and then I believe there was a spate of cleaning and a brief discussion of whether to save it. Amy opted to put it in the fridge and there it sat. Until tonight.

I seem to be pounding out more words than usual this week, a fact I attribute to managing to “get the groove”, “catch the wave”, “be the ball”, however you prefer to see it. One thing that gets me in the groove to write about wine, is to drink some wine. Duh. So, with Amy at work, I went searching for an open bottle, the only one I found was the Vignoles, hiding behind the half gallon of milk. Oh this, this is going to be horrible. But…. might as well give it a smell before pouring it out. Hmm. That’s not so bad. Maybe just a taste. And….

Honey. Orange Marmalade. Hazelnut. It’s as lush on the nose as it is on the palate. Development, yes, but remarkably fresh and vibrant. I’m sure there’s oxidation here, but whatever is there is lending itself to the array of aromas and tastes in a most satisfying way. The wine is young! Full bodied, almost to the point of unctuousness, but with a laser beam of acidity shooting through it all, cleansing the palate, holding cloying at bay. I felt the tingle of excitement that I always get when I’m ready to dive into a true late harvest wine. But just a sip until I figure out…

What to have with this newly discovered gem? A treasure that an hour ago I didn’t realize even existed. The same rules apply as to Sauternes, yet I had no stinky Roquefort, no foie gras, not even a simple pate. There was chocolate, both fancy and base, but I’ve always preferred a savory, fatty pairing with my dessert wines. What then, sir? I searched freezer, fridge and pantry, and the answer was before me the whole time. PB&J. Could this be it? A new classic? The bread was uninteresting, the peanut butter and strawberry jam mere brands. I slathered them on thick. Poured the wine. And? It worked. The fattiness of the peanut butter played off the sweetness and acidity of the jam, both intertwined with the wine and were lifted by it. Just about perfect actually. The bread? It just seemed to laze about, not really getting in the way, but not adding much. Perhaps as a textural element it had some use, but really, next time I might just eat spoonfuls of the PB&J. But that’s nitpicking, everything seemed right, right in terms of context and perception, my perception is that it was right for the moment, which is where I’m trying to spend more of my time lately. In the moment. This was a lovely one.

So, the moral? Don’t give up on the wine, dumbass. I had in my head all the knowledge I needed to know this wine might still be okay. It has high acidity and high sugar, both key components of a wine’s ability to age. It was under screwcap, which limited the oxygen to what was in the top half of the bottle. Hence the development, but not too much, still quite fresh. It was in the fridge for some of the time, which I’m sure helped but, damn, it was on the table for a long, long time. What I do know is that we have more of this wine, stored properly, and I am now convinced it’s one of those wines that might last for decades or longer, a nearly indestructable fine wine. Just saying, If there’s any left you can enjoy it with dessert at my wake.

Cheers, Jerry.