members only | log in to see price
To Mother Earth, her dark loam crumbling between my fingers, releasing pungent aromas of humus, decomposing durmast oak leaf mulch, blackberry venison marinade, fermenting Damascene plum, Béarnaise of estragon and celery seed spiced with a delicate dusting of dried pequin chiles. Ah, but we are bound to her, aren’t we? Drawn ever back to her comforting embrace, her energy, her wisdom. For the merest of moments, to her just the blink of an eye, nay, a nanosecond in her infinite existence, I entreat you to linger, to admire her youthful garnet and the blossoming of her redolent multi-hued tea rose. Now, swirl her about counterclockwise in your glass, yes, that is what she likes, and immerse all your sensory faculties in her aromatic incense, her beguiling bergamot, her powerful pitch and pine. Stick your tongue down deep and tickle a taste of her rich Aztec chocolate, her paprika, her mango and blood orange zest before the offerings of her jungle run out. Grab hold of her and don’t let go. Enjoy her pleasures while you may, for, like discarded almond husks tossed thoughtlessly to the wind, or leather left exposed to the elements for far too long, we are destined to return, to complete that inevitable and unending cycle, resting quietly in her earthly embrace once more.
notes by clay selkirk, winemaker & all-around cowboy