OK ... I'm drinking albarino, reading Hemingway and jonesing for Le Sud. But here's a reprint from Bruce Weber at the NY Times:
A headline in The New York Sun on Sept. 4, 1940, captured accurately, albeit with amused condescension, the startling anomaly embodied by Conchita Cintrón: She’s a Timid Blue Eyed Girl But — She Kills Bulls Without Qualms.
In 1989 I met Steven McRedmond. He was fighting to refocus a family property which was once the 100,000 sf Neuhoff meat packing facility on the banks of the Cumberland River in downtown Nashville. Long shut down, his vision was to bring in architects and create an arts centered community. A little backstory ... Nashville is a huge US transportation hub, a major university center, the state capitol, the country music center, etc. In any other US city, this site (with a panoramic view of the downtown skyline 10 minutes away) would have been scooped up years ago for development. Some of us were excited.
A dear friend, David Hart, who owns Nashville Wine and Spirits in said Tennessee city, called out of the blue last week and put me on a plane to "the Athens of the South". They actually do have their own full size replica of the Acropolis with manditory Athena statue. When David calls, its bound to be challenging but I will always dive in because I don't want to miss out on something interesting. But I digress...
We have demented friends, John Keller and Leslie Harrison, who live on a pristine Sierra ridgeback. Leslie is a renown, pastel artist specializing in unique portraits of animals. John, on the other hand, is harder to describe. I first met John when he was a talented marketing professional in Monterey, CA; his side passions were music and sculpting. He created the first and still successfull Dixieland Festival, played country music on the side and loved horses and fine wine.
Are all of you still breathing after 2008? Take a bow. Even as weird as these economic times are, people are starting to appear more optimistic. I even had a Xmas party and puttered on my bathroom... hey, this is big news!
I've been thinking alot since my last post on Didier Dagueneau's death. I like the idea that, just before the vendage, he would be in an ultralight, high above the remote cliffs and deep gorges of France. That also seemed to be his philosophy with winemaking. The artists that I admire cut their own path through personal passion and commercial pressures.
I just heard of the tragic death today of Didier Dagueneau, the amazing French wine and mischief maker. I have enclosed a post from Joe Dressner's blog. Find a bottle of Didier's Pur Sang to experience in his honor:
We visited Didier Dagueneau this summer to taste the 2007s and the bottled 2006s.
Didier had recently renovated The Temple, an ancient chapel next to his home which had fallen into ruin. He had decided to turn the Temple into a cultural center and had mounted an exhibition of Jean-Marie Périer's photography for its inauguration this summer. Périer was the most famous French photographer of the 1960s and the Temple was filled with photos of celebrities from that epoch.
Didier took us on a tour and Denyse and I had to name each celebrity. Of course, even I know Claude François but only Denyse knew Dani, Sylvie Vartan and Sheila. I didn't recognize Françoise Hardy but I did recognize Jacques Dutronc. Dylan, the Rolling Stones and all the stars of the Anglophone world were easy enough for me.
You could see how proud and joyful Didier was of putting together such an art show. While we were in the Temple, Didier talked about how every year he organizes a lavish dinner called Les Anciens, where he invites all the older vignerons of the area for a great meal, old bottles and good times. Didier was a maverick and a rebel, but he had great respect and love for all these anciens, like Edmond Vatan and Claude Thomas, who had taught him his métier.
Didier Dagueneau died this morning, September 17th, in a small plane crash in the Cognac region. The wine world has lost a great vigneron and the world has lost one of the most original, charming and mischievous characters to ever grace a vineyard row.
Photo copyright Bertrand Celce
More on our CA fire... In 1967, I starting sneaking into the Tassajara Zen Center deep in Carmel Valley late at night (after driving the trecherous one hour, one lane dirt road in my funky '65 Buick Skylark). After much local wine and a lucious dip in the 120 degree hot springs, the monks would graciously come down and ask us to leave. Now, years later after being practioners and supporters of the SF Zen Center and putting in our time in the sesshin silence from here to France, Nancy and I watch as Tassajara burns once again.
A wonderful, writer cohort of mine, Alice Feiring, recently emailed and inquired about including us in a new Random House book on high end wine cellars. An odd six degrees thing is that another member of the book design team (who is related to one of my favorite Sonoma vineyards, Landmark Vineyards) had earlier contacted me about the same project. Whaz up?
Just got home as the full moon was rising over my quiet street after returning from the second annual gathering of the Santa Lucia Highlands appellation's wine growers. Held at the Paraiso Vineyards (and featuring the finest pinot, chard and syrah artists around) I am so glad this is still an intimate setting where we can enjoy cutting edge winemaking and conversation.
