It’s been a long time since I posted on here, and I hope I haven’t lost all of my readers. For those of you who have bared with me - well, I thank you. I really was on a roll for a while there, and I’ll do my best to get it back. For now this will be short and sweet.

In the three weeks since I’ve written I’ve accomplished many things: I’ve successfully shipped my first container of wine to the US (it’s on the water right now), built the solid foundations of a social life here in Mendoza, and bought myself a lovely guitar that I’m trying to make time to remember how to play.

I also spent this past weekend in Chile, and really that’s what this (brief) post is about. For three days I reveled in the sight of the ocean, the sound of the waves, the taste of seafood, and the novelty of light bodied white wine with maritime influences. Having returned early this morning, I have a belly full of shellfish and and a nose that is still smelling the Sauvignon Blanc which brought a smile to my lips, even though it was far too dry for the tastes of my lovely traveling companion.

I was reminded strongly about two things on this trip: one is simply how much I’ve been spoiled by variety in New York in terms of food and wine, and that even the best beef on the planet will eventually leave me yearning for seafood (and curry). More importantly for the sake of this post, however, what I realized was the strong impact of growing conditions on the wine in your glass. It’s really not just a myth, and as basic as this is for wine appreciation it’s something that can never be brought home deeply enough. While I can be honest and say that I don’t always notice a huge difference in malbecs from Lujan and Maipu (two parts of Mendoza), it is certain that a wine made from grapes grown by the sea will be vastly different from one made thousands of feet up in the shadow of the mountains. I don’t know if it’s the cool air, the altitude, or the simple fact of salts and minerals from the sea that make their way into the soil, but I know that the wines I drank this weekend barely resembled those I’ve been enjoying here in Argentina.

I’ve mentioned “brininess” many times in terms of Albarino (from Galicia in Northern Spain), and the same can sometimes be said for the better Sauvignon Blancs from New Zealand and Chile. Somehow the scent of the sea makes its way into the glass - I don’t know enough about oenology (or viticulture) to explain this, and perhaps I’m just being romantic. But it’s true! And it’s a novelty, for somebody who grew up on the water and is now living several thousand feet up. The grapes may get ripe up here and lead to some delicious, extracted wines, but somehow the word refreshing just doesn’t apply the same way.

I’ve certainly come back home refreshed. If only I’d thought to bring some wine with me - it’s 97 degrees here today.

February 4th, 2008 | vita, vino