How the days pass and the daze continues on...

Such is life: I allow weeks to slip by, and many many different wines ingested and savored gone without mention on this so-called wine blog...but not to fret, there will always be another day and another wine to sip.

Tonight, I am breaking open a bottle to mark the new chapter that is opening up in front of me: A new residence, a new outlook, a new commute (um, so much better and faster btw!) a new (but old) roommate (Ahea, I am not calling you old; I am, of course, just referring to the fact that we have passed days as roommates in our blissful childhood daze) and, so it happens, the start of a new wine ritual.

I find myself in wine transitions, stages, whatever you want to call them...like stages in life, I suppose you could say. Going from a stage of being an utter lush, banking in on every opportunity to drink another sip; then onto a stage of so-called detox, when I challenged myself to break the cycle of sipping every night; then slowly back into phase of letting go and allowing myself to take part in that pleasure...which is where I find myself tonight: with an open bottle of Raimat Albarino (2008) that was an incredibly welcome thirst quencher for the end of a long work day and a long anticipated move into a new phase...

It will no doubt go unfinished tonight, left to sit in the fridge until I can come back to it next week after the Turkey Day celebrations. I have learned that the crisp taste will dissipate after three days of sitting there, waiting to be poured and sipped. I should know better than to open a bottle knowing it won't be nearly as spectacular when I get back to it. But I am doing a sort of experiment, seeing if indeed I can tell the difference. 

Guaranteed, my palette will be interrupted by the wines that will be tasted and enjoyed with my adoptive Thanksgiving family the Rosses this weekend; yet, I suppose this is also a test of how well my pallet is developing.

I will keep you updated (and I promise I won't let weeks and several wines pass without at least a brief posting...)

Cheers to a Happy Thanksgiving!

Love, 

Kristin

Fresh citrus notes yield to a tang of honeysuckle that lingers on the palette. Slight aromas of vanilla are barely noticeable, but definitely present in the mouthfeel. Promising to be a superb accompaniment to a whole gamut of culinary pleasures, tonight it will be paired with classic thai dishes: mixed vegetables and tofu and "healthy ginger" with chicken - with a definite kick that may clash with the citrus notes of my wine. We shall see...as is the case with every wine experience, right?

Fucking Merlot for the Fucking Rain! (But finishing smooth...)

Okay, excuse the language, but how appropriate (and typical I might add) for my last laundry session (or outing you could even say since it is indeed quite a spectacle walking back and forth, back and forth, with a laundry bag that literally is the height of my bitty self.) Which is why I find myself for one last time at my neighborhood Greek bar Stiniyamas. I already proved to myself that I could get through laundry sessions without a glass of wine in between loads (which I found myself having to stop after the toll on the cash flow - even at $5 a glass,) so what the hell! Why not make all the last neighborhood stops for old time's sake! I am glad I did, because the rain is coming down harder...
Okay, so for this Merlot, which is "really good for the price" according to my hot, blonde bartender: K242 (Korta For Two) from Chile: Scent is reminiscent of ripe berries, of course, that lead to hints of toasty oak that waft through the nose, all ending in a smooth finish - a mirror to my (fairly) smooth finish here in the 'hood.
It is almost exactly a year to the day that I began the series of laundry outings from 20-52 - getting better and more efficient each time with practice, just as I am (hopefully) getting better at recognizing and describing aromas and flavors each time a wine hits first my nose, then the inside of my lips, eventually leading to a full palette of ripe berry - or cherry, melon, apple, honeysuckle, grassy, herbal or toasty goodness.
in front of me the red juice of the (Greek?) gods sits quietly in the almost goblet-sized glass, leaving me puzzled (and either impressed or embarassed, depending on the mindset) how on earth I finished three of those on another laundry outing...
Wine that is soft, smooth, and delightful - a mirror opposite to the 'bottles in da club' thumping music that bangs in the background, grating against the monotonal drone of Mr. Kyclades' vocal notes over there at the other end of the bar...Oh, Stiniyamas, you will never change (even if your wine selction has, to which I can rightfully say a loud STINIYAMAS! (In case you haven't figured it out: Cheers! in Greek)
My grizzly surroundings areassuaged by the $5 glass of Korta in front of me, allowing me to focus in on the mouthfeel of the wine.
When the ambiance is 'meh' - (I say this with a back-and-forth tilted gesture of my right hand) it allows the mind to focus inward on the wine - and consequently, on the self. So many external irritations you can't control - especially in this city, this borough, this bar - yet it has taught me patience; patience with myself, patience with my loved ones, and patience with the daze of life...
The things I can control are my reactions and my decisions...and of late, my wine...But after a period of strict "I-shouldn't-drink-wine-every-night" period in my wine daze, I am ready to move on to a stage of letting go and purely savoring every moment (and every wine) I can - without counting, without stressing, without obsessing.
So what if I have wine every night? Right? Right. It is, after all, a part of my life, my day, my daze...obviously, it does many things...but I think most of all , it soothes and smooths - and that is okay with me.
Oh! and look...the rain has ceased...


Kristin

Unexpected Splendor...

It was bound to be my night. After going back and forth about whether or not to make my last stop (for a while at least) at a quaint restaurant on 35th and Ditmars that has been on my list of places to savor in my remaining days of residence at 20-52, I took the plunge on my way home (though that description doesn't really fit anymore, but I will use it while I can.)  

Sometimes the nights you think are so planned out turn out in the most unexpected ways - and this night was no doubt one of those nights in my sequence of wine daze...

The place: 718  - sitting smack dab in the middle of the beautiful, cashmere-crimson hued semicircle bar, with the older Greek men getting their drink on before Game 6 of the Yankees' World Series impending victory on my right and a very Astorian-looking couple on my left going through the list of specialty cocktails. It's 2 for 1 at the bar, a perfect way to sample a few wines...

The wine: A soft, smooth and supple Sancerre, with barely-audible aromas of apple and melon, leading to the perfectly balanced mouthfeel that leaves the palate relaxed and content - the exact remedy for unwinding after a 9-hour intensive (American Association of Publishers-induced) publishing crash course.

It was a day that trailed a 4-hour night of sleep, preceded by a 14-hour work day. Next week begins the packing madness and I know I will not have the luxurious splendor that tonight is turning out to be. I relish being in the calm before the storm, tucked in between the intensity of the days behind me and the whirlwind days that await me.  Purely in the moment, soothed and smoothed by the 1/2 glass of Sancerre that remains, and fulfilled by the anticipation (though it is quiet in the back of my mind) of the red-white decision for my #2 on 2 for 1 evening at 718-on the countdown to the changes that await me...

(Just in case you're wondering, I went for the red - a 2006 Leo & Co Syrah, fruit forward and the perfect trail to the Sancerre,  perfect way to toast to my writing, my wine, and my life in Astoria.)

Kristin

Sometimes You Just Know What You Want...

Maybe it stems from making a poor choice the first time, or maybe, just maybe, you are beginning to recognize the cravings of your own palette.
Tonight, I know what I want. La Linda Tempranillo (Argentina) The wine that last week was the perfect transition from the hazy warmth of September/October to the chilled crisp air of November. Tonight may prove a 360-degree whirlwind, though - I am contemplating switching from red to white!? Such is life...
Perhaps this mirrors the daily back-and-forth of my mind...
But tonight I am letting go, savoring the November harvest moon that sits so effortlessly in the sky if night just outside the door.
Tonight I must rest this mind of mine and savor every sip...
The Tempranillo tastes completely different ce soir - a reflection of the the self that is changing, my life that has trasnformed - a reflection of going back to what you thought you knew about your life, your circumstances, your past, present, and future. I moved on to the Torrontes, which was heavier and a bit sweeter than I was expecting and hoping for, but turned out to be a lovely accompaniment to our asparagus/goat cheese quesadilla - and a smooth finish to this night of wine...
Even if we know nothing of ourselves in a moment, we know one thing: that anything can happen in the next moment. In this case, it is the arrival of a familiar and comforting face - my sister coming to join me for another Mojave date...

Kristin the wine ("not-so-vixen" tonight)

Wine Tasting Notes (without the notes?)

I am beginning to think that my forgetfulness is due more to an overwhelming realization that there is so much to take in and process in life. As many things life, this is mirrored by my recent experience with wine...like the bottles that line the wall of Astoria Wine & Spirits - my recent venture (and my own personal pot of gold.)
Even with a month of Friday night wine tastings under my belt (though some of you reading may scoff, given that my wine daze started a little over two years ago at the ripe age of 21 - in France, appropriately) I still look at this wall - not to mention the three wooden "racks" that so beautifully display the bottles (each unique in their own right) by region, by country, ordered from light to "lourd" as the elder Frenchman reminded me last Saturday as we marvelled at "les grands vins de France - in particular les Bordeaux (qui sont bien sur plus lourds) and am suddenly overwhelmed by how much I have yet to learn.
This sort of realization can, of course, release a sudden feeling of exhiliration - much like the aromas and flavors that release after a swift swirl of the glass. But if you're like me - easily intimidated by everything you don't know and highly forgetful of what I do know and what I have accomplished - then the very thought of trying to describe - let alone know - the hundreds of bottles that are in front of of my eyes , your thought processing immobilizes. If there is one thing I have learned in life, it's that in moments - or situations - like these, the only thing you can do is take it ine day at a time, one wine at a time...
Tonight, I return for another glass at my most favorite Mojave in hopes of giving a full report on the Friday night tasting at Astoria Wine & Spirits...only to realize that my tasting notebook is still sitting behind the counter where it all happened: a night of new wines introduced, new customers met, and many, many sips of wine "degustes."
My memoru is piqued by a theme for the evening - "blending." Blending grapes, blending nationalities, languages, walks of life; mixing it up with new customers and old, familiat wines and those so unique and remote they merit a name known only to those from the region - Passerina - the standout shining star of the evening, the soul white that helped us bid adieu to the warm days of fall, leading us into the chill of an approaching winter and the season of merriment.
Une Quebecoise, un Francais, une Americaine who listens intently to the French conversation happening behind tasting central, longing for the ability she once had to converse freely and fluently with the French. In tune with a night of risk-taking, I delve into the conversation and join the other risktakers of the evening: Red drinkers who are leary of white, white drinkers that thought they swore off the red; Brooklynites in Astoria, hard drinkers in a cultivated wine shop, tasting this so-called juice of the gods; you get the picture.

Kristin