The Joy of Wine
I really enjoy making wine. I've been a physician for nearly all of my adult life, and I've had many powerful, transformative, and very enjoyable moments as a physician. But being a maker of wine truly has its own rewards- and its own challenges as well.
Back in 1993 my first batch of wine was sitting in three five gallon glass jugs on the floor of my basement. I'd visit that wine every day, just looking at the beautiful color as they aged. I'd occasionally take a small sample of the wine out, just to experience the difference between a young wine and the wine I was used to drinking. From those early tastes with the wine in those glass jugs, I felt the stirrings of a passion that continues to grow today.
My son has told me that when he thinks of me working at the winery, he always remembers the time I was working with our Chardonnay. I had emptied some of the wine from the tank into a bucket in order to really inspect it. I swirled the wine around the bottom of the bucket and placed my whole face down close to the wine. Inhaling deeply, I looked up, as my son describes it, with such a peacefully satisfying look that he couldn't help but smile at my obvious enjoyment.
Then I casually scooped up a bit of the wine with my bare hands and liberally applied it to my face and lips, almost as if I were washing myself in the wine. I hardly remember doing this, but the retelling by my son has stuck with me more than the actual memory. It's funny the things you remember and the things you forget. But my son tells me he'll never forget this Chardonnay baptism.
There's definitely something about unlocking the door to the winery early in the morning. The tanks sit peacefully, full of potential, like a row of very pregnant mothers quietly sunning themselves on lounge chairs by the pool.
I do so love this job.
Enjoy that wine!
Back in 1993 my first batch of wine was sitting in three five gallon glass jugs on the floor of my basement. I'd visit that wine every day, just looking at the beautiful color as they aged. I'd occasionally take a small sample of the wine out, just to experience the difference between a young wine and the wine I was used to drinking. From those early tastes with the wine in those glass jugs, I felt the stirrings of a passion that continues to grow today.
My son has told me that when he thinks of me working at the winery, he always remembers the time I was working with our Chardonnay. I had emptied some of the wine from the tank into a bucket in order to really inspect it. I swirled the wine around the bottom of the bucket and placed my whole face down close to the wine. Inhaling deeply, I looked up, as my son describes it, with such a peacefully satisfying look that he couldn't help but smile at my obvious enjoyment.
Then I casually scooped up a bit of the wine with my bare hands and liberally applied it to my face and lips, almost as if I were washing myself in the wine. I hardly remember doing this, but the retelling by my son has stuck with me more than the actual memory. It's funny the things you remember and the things you forget. But my son tells me he'll never forget this Chardonnay baptism.
There's definitely something about unlocking the door to the winery early in the morning. The tanks sit peacefully, full of potential, like a row of very pregnant mothers quietly sunning themselves on lounge chairs by the pool.
I do so love this job.
Enjoy that wine!
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