Ah, to be on the road again, adventure hiding ‘round every twist and turn. What I wouldn’t give to hop across that small saline body of water, splashing down in Havana, Cuba, to nosh on beans and rice, deep fried sweet plantain, and slow cooked cumin seasoned pork, all while joyously tapping my feet to the rhythm of rumba and sipping a refreshing wild mint mojito. How could you not help but admire the shine and sparkle, the pierced ears and the gold leaf adorned bosoms of linen laden dancers, clad in bright robes of cherry, quince, lime, and boysenberry. Then, let us depart at once, in a single leap across the Atlantic, bound for the Mediterranean and Spain, where we will surreptitiously slurp spicy caracoles; in a sweaty close quartered bar of course, with off-cast servilletas and purposely plundered caparazóns collecting at our feet; as they mingle delightedly, for us that is, albeit less than comfortably for our unfortunate terrestrial gastropod friends, amongst longaniza, with its hints of cinnamon, nutmeg, aniseed and paprika. There, they shall meet their finest compliment, simmering in a succulent sauce of tomatoes, garlic, parsley, purple peppercorn, bull’s blood red wine and burnt orange brandy. And thus, if we may but mimic the enlightened ways of these satiating snails, by closing our eyes and continuing our journey through fecund fields, along strawberry strewn paths, down jacaranda halls, and up mysterious mountains in search of moqueca, we may yet have the pleasure of calling the breadth of terra firma our home.

notes by clay selkirk, winemaker & all around cowboy