The following dramatization came out of my brainstorming session for the Acequia Wine Club’s Autumn 2008 newsletter.

This September the earliest vines planted at The Vines’ of Mendoza’s Private Vineyard Estate project will celebrate their first birthday; in their honor I offer the following tale here on Vino e Vita. This is the story of ‘Everyvine’ - an international varietal born in the old world only to start life again in the new.

I begin my new life in the southern hemisphere in darkness.

It is humid in my incubator, and cold – unlike mammals, my kind thrives in low temperatures. If I get too dry, I’ll die.

Immediately after my birth in Italy I was grafted to a distant American relative who will help me resist disease and adapt to a long and healthy life in his native soil. Although I was almost a foot and a half long and my partner only 1 inch, we were joined by “Omega Graft” – a cut was made in my base to allow for the insertion of my new roots. Now one, we commence our journey to the new world.

The trip over the ocean takes more than a month. Upon arrival I rest for over 3 months in cold storage, then I am taken to my new home at the foot of the Andes.

What a view there is here! These mountains put even the Alps to shame.

Immediately before planting I am submerged in water where I sit for 24 hours and rehydrate while my new accommodations are prepared.

Buried at a depth of a foot and a half, covered with earth and compacted, the training stake is driven into the land beside me to ensure that I grow straight and true. A grow tube surrounds me to protect me from heat and the herbicides that will be sprayed to prevent weeds from encroaching on my turf. I don’t like competition – but I don’t much like chemicals, either!

My first major test comes in the first 20 days – and I pass. If I don’t adapt to my new home during this time I will surely die; instead I grow up and my leaves peak through the top of my grow tube after only a month in the ground. If I’m lucky I will reach the first of my 4 training wires – the fruit wire. I am constantly fertilized, irrigated, and treated with fungicide. My shoots are thinned so that I get as many nutrients as possible in my trunk.

In order to survive the first winter my roots must be deep and strong. Despite the cold and snow, I will persevere! While the land is frozen I am cut right above the fruit wire. When spring begins I have 4 or 5 new shoots; all but 2 are cut. They will become my arms and will soon be producing fruit to make the wine that you have come to know and love.

This was written with the help of Francisco Evangelista, Senior Agronomist and Vineyard Manager for The Vines of Mendoza.

July 7th, 2008 | vino | 1 comment

If you’ve checked back since my last post, you may have noticed some small changes to this blog. Most importantly, it now has a name! While I’m deeply proud of my name and heritage, “Aaron Epstein” doesn’t really give any hints as to the theme of my work, nor does it show up on any internet search not seeking me out specifically.

So, ladies and gentleman, welcome to “Vino e Vita!”

While I work hard to tackle the complex topic of my next article, I’ve elected to do something else new: I hereby present you with the first ever guest posting on my site.

I heard the following tale several weeks ago when I stopped to talk to a couple of friendly British visitors to The Vines of Mendoza’s tasting room. My brief conversation with Tim and Richard resulted in quite a few laughs, as well as my begging them for a written version of this story so that I could share it. Whether or not you are familiar with the specific parties involved, I hope you find it as amusing I did. It also provides some real insight into the Mendoza wine scene - it’s not for nothing that they’re calling this “The New Napa Valley…”

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One day, while I sat in the local pub with some friends, we were discussing what we might do with our four weeks annual leave, which was fast approaching. I aired the idea that Argentina might be an interesting adventure. Why, you ask? Was it the culture, the Tango, the nightlife? A little of all of these perhaps, but also the opportunity to sample wines from one of the worlds most innovative and exciting wine regions. After I arrived in Buenos Aires I booked the bus trip traversing the country to Mendoza – synonymous with Argentina’s national grape: Malbec. The journey was not an easy one due to Argentina’s current economic unease, and the farmers had set up a number of roadblocks along the way. After a bus ride that should have lasted 13 hours swiftly turned into 22, I reached Mendoza.

During the course of my first evening, while inquiring as to the best way to taste the local wine, I was introduced to Richard. A British expat who had been living in Mendoza for the past 18 months, he had recently started running tastings in local hostels, showcasing wines to travellers passing through the city.  Infected with my enthusiasm he offered to accompany me on a journey through some of the local wineries. With somewhat fuzzy memories of the previous evening and almost impossible-to-remove purple stains on our lips we hopped into his car and headed out along the long signpost-less roads to the Valley de Uco, in the shadow of the magnificent snow-covered Andes rising imposingly from Mendoza’s otherwise flat landscape. Our first stop was the Tapiz winery, where we sampled their wines straight out of their stainless steel tanks, guided by one of their very knowledgeable and passionate members of staff. Having shaken off our hangovers and now armed with a number of bottles of their reserve reds we headed towards our next appointment, at the Pulenta estate.

On the way we decided to stop for some lunch at La Barrica, a curious restaurant situated in an unassuming service station by the side of the road, but one with a reputation for good quality food for hungry wine travellers. As it was off-season the restaurant was virtually abandoned and the waiter seemed to have decided that we were both going to have the lunchtime special, refusing to allow us to order anything else. All for an easy life, we went along with him and ordered a bottle of Familia Gascon Reserva Cabernet 2004 to accompany our meal. When the wine arrived Richard tasted it, and a look of both confusion and disappointment came over his face. One of those awfully awkward restaurant moments ensued; something about the wine wasn’t right. The waiter, eager to get on with his job, plonked the bottle down and left us to decide what. We both have some wine experience in the wine industry, but when we smelled this bottle we couldn’t put our finger on what was wrong with it. It wasn’t obviously corked or oxidized; there was some fruit there, but it wasn’t as it should be.

Hearing American accents drift over from the table behind us, Richard concluded that two Americans in an empty restaurant in the middle of June, miles from everywhere except Argentine wine country, must be in the business. He walked up to their table, armed with our suspicious wine, apologized for disturbing them, and asked politely if they were in the wine trade. Unsurprisingly the answer was affirmative. Richard asked if they would mind just smelling our wine and seeing if they could determine what was wrong with it.

“You haven’t even introduced yourselves yet”, said one coolly. By this point I was standing next to Richard and we introduced ourselves, slightly sheepishly.

“Hi, I’m Paul Hobbs” he said as he shook our hands. There was a brief pause in our conversation as somewhere in the depths of both of our brains we felt something click into place. “I consult for various wineries, including this one.” Taking our dodgy wine he said, “It’s just old, passed its best.” Armed with this knowledge, we thanked them and returned to our table. We looked at each other with identical, vaguely confused expressions.

“Did he say Paul Hobbs? I’ve heard of him…” mused Richard, and I agreed that I had too. We realized that our somewhat cool reception may have resulted from the fact that as a very recognizable member of the wine industry he probably gets asked quite regularly for his opinion on wines, although our encounter was purely accidental! As we were talking an almost full bottle of wine landed on our table. “Here, try this”, he said, “It’s one of mine”.  Thanking him profusely, we enjoyed the rest of our meal accompanied by a 2005 La Garto Merlot, donated by Paul Hobbs himself.

Contributed by Tim Crocker-Buque and Richard Graham

Note: For those of you who are curious about LaGarto, as of the recent 2007 release it is called Felino and  is currently available in the United States with this new label. 

June 30th, 2008 | vita, vino | No comments