Organic Inspiration

A few weeks ago, I used some friends here in Petersburg as guinea pigs for a wine and writing workshop I had in mind for the wine bar. You see, a lot of my motivation for my businesses revolve around what I would want to do, visit, attend, spend time at, and so forth. Since I'm a writer, I think workshops that involve getting into creative writing are super fun. When I owned my yoga studio, I had a series that involved yoga and journaling which inspired one gal to bring fun colored gel pens for the group and another suggested, of course, wine. Organic inspiration is the best kind, I've found. Start with an idea, give it a place to be that allows for room to grow, and just go with the flow. You can't force it to be what you want it to be. You can only nurture it to become what it wants to become. 

For the workshop, my partner and I went up to Richmond to Second Bottle, a wine shop that sells natural, low-intervention, biodynamic wines - which is exactly the kind of wine I'll offer at Burgundie's when she opens. Since I love stories, I asked the woman working there about the name of the place: Second Bottle. Well, when the second bottle is opened, that's when the party really gets started. The first bottle is the warm up. People are just getting to know one another. Perhaps you're still annoyed with the drive or parking or your day or your kids or your goats. By the second bottle, though, you've let all that shit go and  you're either in your groove or getting into it. I like that. Note: the interpretation of the concept is in my own words. That's the gist based on my personal experience with parties and wine.  The gal mentioned nothing at all about goats.

When I explained my workshop idea, the woman gave me some suggestions. You see, I wanted to write to the 5 senses - though, admittedly, sound is a hard one unless you're focusing on the pop of the cork or the effervescence of the bubbles. My plan was to take my victims volunteers from light to dark, white to red, ending with a dessert wine. Look at it, smell it, taste it, feel it in your mouth, write it all down. No wrong answers. Several wines were suggested primarily because they provided an interesting, different, or surprising sensory experience. One had a sulfur smell the moment it was popped. Another was intensely floral- like wildflowers in your face. But then of course, there's the difference in sweet, dry, fruity, floral, light, oaky, and so on. Her wines did not disappoint and there's a picture of them below.

Natural wines for the workshop: from Second Bottle, also note the jam jar

Part of my experiment was to try out my jam jars as wine glasses (shown in the picture above). You see, in my wine bar, I want to create the feeling that you're in my home having a glass of wine, and also that's what I prefer to drink out of. I offered some cheese, olives, and crackers, and my friends brought some other foods as well. A few hours earlier, I also decided to try a new bread from my Paul Hollywood bread book and it was a hit. I love an easy bread and this one was. Dark cherries, walnuts, chocolate chips, and you know, all the bread stuff. It was surprisingly light, super tasty, and came in handy with some of the wines that really needed food to be appreciated. 

A note about that. 

One of our friends, I'll call him Antonio because he's Italian, mentioned that he'd read an article that European wines and wines made for Europeans were intended to be enjoyed with food. Meaning: the flavor and enjoyability of the wine is intentionally impacted by the food one eats with the wine. Americans, on the other hand - the wines they produce and the wines they prefer - are higher in alcohol content and are expected to be enjoyed alone. In short, Europeans drink to enjoy the wine and food, Americans drink to get drunk.

An interesting fact about Antonio is that he doesn't drink wine because he doesn't like wine. It's a fact I knew going into this experiment and so part of the process was for everyone to pour their own wine for tasting. You could pour a splash or an entire glass. What I learned is that Antonio probably has the genes that intensify the bitterness or alcohol-ness of the wine, poor guy. The upside is that he probably doesn't know what he's missing since his genes have likely always been that way. 

If you're like this or know someone who experiences An Intense Dislike of Wine, know you aren't alone. Here are some articles about this if you need support: A more science based article and one from Wine Enthusiast. 

A note about that, too. 

My grandmother, a Siclian, didn't like tomatoes and therefore didn't like marinara sauce. The acidity caused canker sores and gave her acid reflux, which is also a genetic thing. Since strawberries are related to tomatoes, she couldn't eat them either. Some people even sweat when they eat tomatoes or strawberries, which is likely a sign they should just stop this silliness and admit they shouldn't eat the things. 

In case you're wondering, this article isn't about Italians that can't eat specifically Italian things. Though I'm sure there are some out there, I won't list any Italians with celiac or an allergy to olives and olive oil. It is a known thing that plenty of Italians are lactose intolerant, however. And many of their cheeses are lactose-free for that very reason. 

We had fun writing down notes about the wines we tasted, whether we liked the wine or not. 

To be clear, my goal is not at all to get someone to like wine or a particular wine. (Nor is it to get anyone drunk.) I like getting people together to do something collectively creative and to learn something. There's no wine in the world that Antonio will like because his genetics simply won't allow it. In addition to things we can't control are simply our personal preferences. I tried the jam jar on my friends and it so happened that one of them, let's call him John, let me know that this kind of drinking vessel is something he has strong opinions about. 

As a woman known for having strong opinions about just about anything, I'm open to and encourage others and their strong opinions, especially if they involve drinkware. 

John wasn't particularly turned off by the handfeel of the jam jar - which is small and has some texture (as well as markings for 2 oz, 4 oz, and 6 oz, which seem amazingly perfect for a wine pourer like me). Over trivia night two weeks later, John explaied that it was the lip of the glass, the part that allows the lid to screw on, that caused his consternation. After some discussion about what kind of non-fancy glass he'd more enjoy, he suggested that he could just keep his own preferred glass behind the bar for him to use when he came in for some wine. 

Not because I'm so set on my easy-going jam jars am I entertaining the idea of John having his own private wine glass. In fact, I've done some research to see if there are simple glasses out there that will satisfy both he and I, and I think some exist. But, John made my charcuterie boards. Like, carved them by hand. And I like the idea of the locals having their own favorite glass for when they come in. Or a favorite chair or table. Or spot near the window or farther back. Antonio can have his own favorite non-wine beverage and can work with my partner on choosing some beers that might please his palate. Having your own wine glass there creates the kind of feel of a place that I'm going for. 

Of course I realize that this ambiance is born, in part, from someone's discomfort. But, again, you can't force these things. You let them organically grow. 

The spouses of Antonio and John weren't silent, by the way. We'll call them Kate and Maggie because there's a sense of the Isles and boats and wind and ancient Celtic songs that might have been written about them if we were still in the Old Country (though Kate lost her sea legs a while back and needs a stable ground that doesn't kick up her vertigo). Between us gals we tasted and drank and wrote in earnest, finding words and foods that complemented the wines and wines that complemented the words and food. 

A suggestion was made for a wine and writing exercise that asks the question: If this wine was a person, who would they be and why?

Give an idea some space and sit back and see where it goes.

As we wrapped up the evening, half-full bottles went home with our friends - proof of the appreciation of the wine. The wines that stayed with my partner and I, however, the dessert wines, are languishing in our fridge, half-empty. I did learn to enjoy some white wines, and I am truly a fan of an orange/amber wine, but at the end of the day I'm a dry, red Bordeaux gal through and through. Sweet, dessert wines cause a facial expression of surprise mixed with sadness and disappointment. I don't know if it's a case of nature versus nurture, since I was raised by a hippie on fruit leather, tree bark, and sticks and twigs instead of candy and cereal, but my body rejects that level of sugar in a way that I can't pretend to be enjoyable. 

I suppose I'm inadvertently setting people up to expect some kind of weird adventure once I can  officially schedule a workshop at Burgundie's. And I can't deny that might be the case. But that's life, right? An inadvertent adventure. 

With my friends I learned more about wine and genetics, the somatic experience of it, and the importance of a variety of items on a charcuterie board. I'm going to risk speaking for everyone in saying that we learned something about the wines, to be sure, but the more interesting aspect of the night was what we learned about one another.