lunch & tasting

What delicious stuff the Duke is!

Here we are in the lab. Tim, Kevin Mitchell, and I tasted the new vintage of Duke Grenache to see what vineyards made the cut to make the bottling.

The guys measured out the blends in a number of ways, and we ended up with 99% of the Grenache blend and 1% Shiraz added in. It was delicious, considering it was a raw wine.

All of the tastings you do in a barrel room have to be taken into consideration differently than when you're trying a finished product. They're rougher, more masculine, and the oak jumps out at you. If you can get past the edginess, you have a chance to see what the wine is going to be about. And this wine is going to be GOOD.
You'll see the medicine bottle-looking collection behind the glasses, with the different selections of barrel samples we were trying.

Our break for lunch in Sevenhill included salt and pepper calamari, a beautiful chili plum dipping sauce, and salad. The Knappstein reserve lager was delicious!

Here are Nedd, proprietor, and Andrea, chef at the Sevenhill Hotel.

Nedd and I went down to check out the wine cellar and he showed off his Kilikanoon 3 liter. Diners at the Hotel can go downstairs and pick out their own bottles. Seems he's selling some Special K--he had to order a little of everything for the upcoming Gourmet festival.

Tomorrow we start getting the wines ready for the festival, but for now I'm going to have a glass of the Charles Melton Rose of Virginia I snagged at the hotel. It is delicious!

barrels and other glamorous undertakings

Today I got the start of my short internship here. Tim McNeil, head winemaker at Kilikanoon, apologized for giving me a "non-glamorous job"--I'm just so happy to be here!

My first task is to wash out barrels. I imagine that the 28 barrels we have out in the warehouse are from the new vintage of the Duke Grenache, as it is in the process of going into the bottle.

The contraption used has a long arm and then a nozzle that turns, shooting hot water out in every direction to get the entire barrel clean. It takes 3 minutes for each barrel, so I was equipped with a stopwatch so there was enough time to get the barrels clean but not waste precious water. Yep, that's really me--stopwatch, barrel gloves, and "gumboots".

You spin a barrel around so the hole for the stopper (or bung) goes from the top to the bottom, draining a little wine. Then turn a bit more so the nozzle can fit in, then straight down and turn on the water. After 3 minutes, angle up to get the nozzle out and then back down one more time for the rest of the water to drain out. Those gloves became important in a hurry!

It smelled rich and sweet as the first bit of wine came out of the barrel, and then the hot water took over--I had my very own steam facial going on!

Good news--after I finish washing 28 barrels, I get to TASTE some Duke--yes, I will work for wine!

airports and wine

Welcome to Australia!! Before I even boarded my connecting flight to get to the Clare Valley, lo and behold, there was a tasting in the Sydney airport. These forward-thinking wine sellers, from a company called Wine Selectors, let the locals taste a few wines and place an order--and then deliver it to their doorstep. Unfortunately, the shipping would be a bit much for those of us in Georgia, but I loved the concept! Oh, what the future could bring. . .

For right now, what the day is bringing is a little bit of sparkling Riesling from Knappstein winery right here in Clare. It's a bit chilly out but I'm really enjoying the farm life outside my window when we "knock off" of work. For anyone who hasn't heard, the Clare Valley is Riesling central--some of the best in the world are made within 15 minutes of where I'm sitting in this picture!

pictures from day one

Hi there and G'day!

I forgot my camera cord to show pictures of the early stages of the trip so here are a few:

First off, the cottages are lovely. We're thoroughly enjoying them. but here is our view in the morning of Mount Rufus.

And here's a shot of that fabulous first meal in the Clare Valley too. This is the seafood salad and the Trillian's sparkling red from Pauletts.

more to follow!

Kilikanoon: Week One of My Australian Adventure

The destination is, of course, the glorious Clare Valley, my particular favorite in Australian wine country. I am working at Kilikanoon, my dream job, for the week. Now, keep in mind, I say that it's my dream job, but so far the description is “pulling hoses around the cellar.” So we'll see how hard Kevin Mitchell has me working and how much dirt gets under my nails this week! I'll keep you in the loop.

So far, I've just gotten settled and am starting this morning at the winery. I'm about to take off for it from my beautiful bed and breakfast, Riesling Country Cottages. It is a lovely pocket of 2 cottages next to a farm house right here on the Riesling trail in Clare Valley. The view here is remarkable—the name of our place is Mount Rufus, named for the view of the mt. just outside our back porch on the other side of the hills full of sheep grazing. We've enjoyed a morning of watching scissortails flying all about the back, keeping guard over a nest on the back of the house. We're already at home here, and are grateful to the owners for a great dinner recommendation last night.

We ate at Clare Asian Cuisine in the small downtown of Clare. It was absolutely wonderful. My dinner of a Seafood salad (with scallops, prawns, squid, and giant mussels) with cabbage and chilies along with Tom Yum Goong, shrimp with chilies, lemongrass, and mushrooms, was fantastic, and husband Ian loved his lamb mansala curry—he couldn't resist getting lamb as soon as he could.

And my first wine I ordered here? Oh, you KNOW it was sparkling red! I am so predictable! Next on the list is sparkling Riesling. Pretend you're surprised. One of the things I love here is that the local restaurants are loaded with wines from the area on their lists. There are so many to choose from, you don't miss the lack of international selections. My sparkling last night was Cabernet, Merlot, and Shiraz from a vineyard I'd never been to. Well, off to work! Wish me luck as I bring a little Georgia style to a great Aussie operation.

Outside the Prado

I absolutely love being outside the Prado. When in Madrid, my favorite museum is actually the Reina Sofia, which is the modern art museum there, famous as the home for Picasso's Guernica. As a big Pablo fan, it's the obvious choice for my painting-hopping that I consider a necessity while traveling in Europe.

But it's the spirit AROUND the Prado that gets me. If the walls contain past accomplishments by the country's artists, then the land surrounding it is the living, breathing pulse of Madrid's art scene. I absorb more about this city by wandering through the sidewalks here than I did in hours walking through the hallways.

At first glance, it simply looks like hawkers trying to sell as many cheap trinkets to tourists as they can—but if you get past the enormous collection of Don Quixote and bull images, you can actually meet local artists as they guide you through their collections or paint new additions.

I was happy yesterday to meet Yonathan Haroch again, an Israeli who has adopted Spain as his home. Yonathan started by painting the more generic Madrid scenes and has branched out into more abstract, colorful expressions featuring Hebrew letters. I have bought from him before, and I am glad to say that I made additions to my collection of his art. Over a coke in the plaza, he introduced me to Carlos Alvarez, who does limited edition prints made with thin pieces of metal that he etches and then presses into the paper.

Walking around with my new acquisitions, I took some time to watch about a dozen other artists with their easels set up, deeply intent on creating their first (or next) masterpiece. Undisturbed by the onlookers, they spend all day soaking up the sun and the atmosphere. I told one woman I liked her work, and she jumped at the chance to tell me about several of her paintings, some with acrylic, others of watercolor, and some with both mediums intertwined.
One of the gentlemen on a bench got his current project and showed me how he used his black, grey, and cream paints and small pallette. A thick layer of paint was applied in a block, and then he would cut back through with the tool and the ridges added the contrast. It is the definitive Spanish spirit; they bend over backwards to be friendly to everyone.

I love to take a few extra minutes while there in the warm Spanish sun; see the artists; be in the midst of the lovers on picnics all around; watch the tourists waiting for the newest temporary exhibit. The atmosphere can't be beat.

Here Piggy Piggy

Okay, I don't eat a whole lot of meat on a regular basis, and I'm definitely not a huge fan of pork—but when you are in Spain you do as the Spaniards do. In this case, you eat jamon.

I have had ham every day. Almost every meal. And it is delicious! The thing to do here on a special occasion is buy a whole leg of air dried Iberian ham, prop it on a special serving piece, and cut paper-thin slices to eat as an appetizer. I am with a small group of folks from the U.S., and while we will visit a total of 14 wineries while we're here, each of the proprietors only has one impression to make. So they all bring on the bacon.

Iberian ham is delicious. The most famous kind is pata negra, or black-hoofed pig, and it's a couple hundred dollars for one of them (not one pig, mind you, one hoof). I wish I could cash in the total of what I've consumed and put it into my IRA account.

If I owned a bed and breakfast, we would serve something very similar to the spread I've seen in every Spanish Parador—there is always fresh fruit and fresh-squeezed juice, shirred eggs on toast, and cafe con leche; fresh local queso, aged manchego, and membrillo always starts the day off right.

But at each buffet, there is one more major component: you can have pork eight different ways before you even touch your first cup of coffee. Maybe you're in the mood for sausage; prosciutto; salame; with or without paprika? The list appears to be endless.

I'm not complaining—it is certainly worlds better than the baked beans and tomatoes I was served for breakfast in England. I simply find it hard to fathom that most of the Spaniards I have seen are skinny. Proof indeed that they're doing something right. And while I don't know exactly WHAT the secret is, I'm going to start by having a big plate of ham. Ole!