The flat of leeks that I started from seed sat on the patio for several weeks, guilting me into planting them. It's not that we don't like them, we love them, but they're a pain in the ass to plant. As I painstakingly teased the roots of each little plant from the other, I was transported back to another time. A summer afternoon, my grandmother sitting in the living room watching her "stories" while eating a tomato and lettuce sandwich with mayo. She always made one for me, despite my daily protestations that I didn't like them. I usually pulled off the iceberg and fed it to Roscoe, my big orange tabby, and ate the rest.
I grew up in humble surroundings but I never wanted for anything. I was an only child and took a lot of abuse for it. My mom would have given anything for me to have whatever it was that I wanted so when I wanted a horse, a horse I had. All I wanted was to spend every waking moment with Pokie, my Appaloosa pony that kicked big-horse ass in every show! My parents sacrificed a lot of time (and money) to make sure that I was able to do just that.
So, I guess it should have come as no surprise to anyone that I decided to go to an agricultural college. Yet, most of my friends and family didn't understand. "Animal husbandry?" "What? Are you going to marry a cow?" "You're going to go to school with.....farmers???" "You're a smart girl; we thought you'd make something of yourself." "What are you going to do with a degree in agriculture?" To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure. Maybe I chose the field because it was in my comfort zone but, whatever the reason, I knew it was where I wanted...no, needed to be.
Back to today and the bigger picture. When and how did we become a people so far removed from our environment? When did agriculture become something so foreign to us that our children have no idea where their food comes from? When did "farm" become a four-letter word?
My back is sore and my shoulders are sunburned; my hands are filthy and my nails are a mess; and I'd give anything to have one of my grandmother's sandwiches again.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
A Pleasant Surprise
It's drink-it or dump-it (or give-it-to Dad) time here on the ranch. We have been trying to reorganize the cellar and pull out bottles that, for whatever reason, we seem to have developed a bias against.
Today's gamble: Thirsty Owl 2005 Chancellor. This poor bottle has two strikes against it from the start - it's Chancellor and it's from Thirsty Owl.
As you may recall, we have a strange relationship with Thirsty Owl The Owl and the One-eyed Cat so it should come as no surprise that we would have some preconceived notion that this one was a dog. It sat on the "drink now" rack for several years with a sticky note on it that read "decant". We brought the bottle in on several occasions, saw the decant note, and quickly banished it back to the garage. Today was the day. I put my big girl pants on and it was time to open this puppy.
For those unfamiliar with Chancellor, it's a cold-hardy, highly productive, French hybrid, native to France, and once used to produce quality reds and rosés. It has virtually disappeared from its homeland after being the most planted hybrid. It is now being grown in the cooler regions of the eastern U.S. and in Canada. Some say yippee but we say usually say, "why"?
So, how was the Owl? It was dark and mysterious; medium bodied, and almost inky in color. The unapproachable acidity started to really mellow after about six hours of decanting. Initially, the nose was all Chancellor but with time, it became plum jam and cedar with a little bit of earth. The wine continued to evolve throughout the evening. As the tannins softened, a lot of nice dark fruit and hints of coffee came through on the palate. The finish was earth and mushroom, with menthol and a hint of sweet vanilla.
Today's gamble: Thirsty Owl 2005 Chancellor. This poor bottle has two strikes against it from the start - it's Chancellor and it's from Thirsty Owl.
As you may recall, we have a strange relationship with Thirsty Owl The Owl and the One-eyed Cat so it should come as no surprise that we would have some preconceived notion that this one was a dog. It sat on the "drink now" rack for several years with a sticky note on it that read "decant". We brought the bottle in on several occasions, saw the decant note, and quickly banished it back to the garage. Today was the day. I put my big girl pants on and it was time to open this puppy.
For those unfamiliar with Chancellor, it's a cold-hardy, highly productive, French hybrid, native to France, and once used to produce quality reds and rosés. It has virtually disappeared from its homeland after being the most planted hybrid. It is now being grown in the cooler regions of the eastern U.S. and in Canada. Some say yippee but we say usually say, "why"?
So, how was the Owl? It was dark and mysterious; medium bodied, and almost inky in color. The unapproachable acidity started to really mellow after about six hours of decanting. Initially, the nose was all Chancellor but with time, it became plum jam and cedar with a little bit of earth. The wine continued to evolve throughout the evening. As the tannins softened, a lot of nice dark fruit and hints of coffee came through on the palate. The finish was earth and mushroom, with menthol and a hint of sweet vanilla.
It was a very confusing wine but I now understand why we bought it. It's not a wine that I particularly loved but I also didn't hate it; it was fascinating. Could it have gone longer? The way it evolved over the tasting period tells me yes.
The take-away? If you can get it and you have 12 hours to decant, go for it. It will be nothing less than a really interesting tasting experience!