Friday, July 17, 2009


I taste colors. I taste fragrances. I taste things that I touch. I taste the essences of place. Sometimes I even taste sounds. The rosy-gold of angel wings, the fragrance of freshly mown grass, the feel of old stone, the sound of cicadas whirring in the trees, the essence of Provence with its lush light and lovely langourous lifestyle....all there, lingering on my palate as I taste Jean-Marc's Dentelle, a young rose perfect on this summer's evening. How does one capture the terroir of the vineyard, the feelings and emotions of the vigneron and his family? How do the bright yellow sunflower and the scent of lavender find their way into the bottle? Why am I able to taste the laughter of the children and the tears of their mother in every sip? Does love linger in that sparkly finish as I swallow the wine? It doesn't matter what kind of food I pair this bright rose with; every sip evokes a warm dusk in Provence, listening to the wind rustle the leaves of the plane trees and knowing that life doesn't get any better than this.

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