Mount Nelson 2010 Sauvignon Blanc
Marlborough, NZ

Let’s face it, moving sucks. It is, to the best of this admitted optimist’s knowledge, the one fundamental exception to the pie-sky notion that life is all “about the journey, and not the destination.” My experiences have proven that when moving, it’s better to blow right past the enjoying the ride part and concentrate fully on getting the hell to ones destination. Moving day is no time for lollygagging or sentimental gaping. Not with extorting landlords demanding spic-spanness, over-eager new tenants streaming in, asking to stash their ratty couches in the garage, the utility dogs gnawing at your heels, and the promise of a glorious fresh start awaiting on the other side.

It was in these keyed up circumstances that our mild-mannered mailman Enrico happened to arrive at the front door with box in hand. Typically, a late-arriving package is the last thing anyone wants to see at their stoop when defying the laws of spatial physics by way  of shoehorning their junk into a rental truck, but this package was not just some misremembered EBay prize that we’d have to ferry along. No, it was a perfectly timed gift of liquid lubrication from the Lords of Relocation themselves: a refreshing bottle of Mount Nelson 2010 Sauvignon Blanc, sent along for a review which, in our haste to relocate back to our home in the mountains of Colorado after three years in the fallow flats of California, I had forgotten that I’d been assigned.

My wife, the Redhead, was quite excited about our random score, and insisted on chilling the bottle. Since our refrigerator had already been de-thawed, she set the bottle carefully in a rocky nook in the creek out back, which flowed heavy with spring runoff.  A half hour later she returned excitedly. We were in business, albeit ingloriously, due to our having already packed away the wine glasses. Improvising on the fly, we each poured a glass into our last two remaining unpacked vessels – a pair of plastic “Carbondale Mountain Fair” beer cups that I’ve saved and reused.

I clutched the lip of the cup with my teeth, grabbed a box from the stacks in the kitchen, and wobbled off to the truck outside. The wine splashed up and wetted my whistle as I jostled along, giving me my first sweet, tart tastes of the Sav Blanc. Startled by it’s crisp hold on my mouth, I quickly chucked the box I was carrying into the maw of the Uhaul and sat down for a second to further study the interesting Mount Nelson flavor bouquet.

“Moving is so much better with wine!” the Redhead exclaimed, joining me on the tailgate. We compared tastes. I noticed a strong, lime or tangerine-like citrus note, heavy on tannins. The young wine was surprisingly, pleasing unbalanced, morphing from sweet to tart on its meandering journey across the landscape of my tongue. My wife thought that she caught the scent of strawberries in the bouquet, and strangely, the tang of freshly picked field greens.  

Feeling guilty about sitting down on the job under such duress, we ran back to the kitchen, filled our cups, and continued shuttling our earthly possessions out to our steel camel. Soon enough, we were down to the last two cups, and had moved everything but the couch, most recently a place of great comfort in our home, but now a piggish thing seemingly made of anvils and rail ties. The doorbell rang. It was the new people, wanting in. We clunked our plasticized cups together, downed the last of the Mount Nelson, capping what was an entirely undignified, but well-appreciated tasting, and hefted the couch out to the moving truck.

*Corby Anderson is a freelance writer based out of Emma, a small valley in Colorado’s Western Slope inhabited only by livestock, a few hearty skiers, and the occasional curious coyote.  His works have appeared in the Aspen Daily News, The Monterey County Weekly, Canyon Country Zephyr, and BEER Magazine. www.corbyanderson.wordpress.com

I’m one of those people who likes to believe that everything happens for a reason. Of course, life and experience offer a mixed bag in terms of support for the premise, but I figure that if I’m going to remain open and optimistic during my time on this planet, it’s probably worth it to look for ways to support the theory.

At 3:34am on February 27, a colossal 8.8 magnitude earthquake struck the South American country of Chile. When an earthquake strikes a poor country, killing almost 300 people and causing an estimated $15B-$30B in damages, it’s hard to read the headlines wearing rose-colored glasses.

But I’ve been trying to put a positive spin on the situation (if such a thing is actually possible). And the positive spin is this: Maybe the earthquake will bring more awareness of the country, and – with increased awareness - more people will discover their delicious wine.

According to a recent article in DiscoveryNews, “Chile is the primary worldwide exporter of grapes, with control over 24 percent of the global grape market…Chile is fourth in the world for wine exports.”

Fifth-generation winemaker Gaia Gaja eases into the wine business

Long before Gaia Gaja appreciated the taste of wine, she loved the smell. She is 30 years old now, and has been completely in love with wine for about a decade. For the past five years, she has been working full-time in her family's legendary wine business, Gaja.

“I think to understand wine you need to be more grown up,” she says.

The fabled Gaja, producer of Barbaresco and many other offerings—from sauvignon blanc and chardonnay to Brunello and Barolo—is as grown up as could be; this year the winery celebrates its 150th anniversary.

Gaia was raised in the tiny village of Barbaresco and remembers a time when it seemed like the worst place in the world to have to live. The picturesque town among the rolling hills of northwest Italy is a vacation paradise for some. But to a teenager who is forced to live there, it can be more than a little stifling, she says.

“Before, it was tight,” Gaia says of Barbaresco. “Now, it fits me well. There is a heavy silence there. You can hear your own footsteps.”

Gaia spends many of her days traveling, promoting Gaja wines around the world. Recently those travels took her to Japan, India and the United States. About 20 percent of the company’s exports go to the United States. Another 20 percent stays in Italy. The rest goes mainly to Germany, Switzerland, England, Russia, Canada and Japan.