My current day job has afforded me exposure to world-class wines I would have otherwise never experienced. I'm spoiled. There is no doubt about that. And yet these opportunities, this exposure, all come in small doses. Touring with a loud rock band isn't the most convenient way to see the world, let alone specific and usually remote wine regions, especially in today's political and economic climate. So it's taken me over a decade to make it out to a handful of the areas where my favorite wines are produced.
As I started creating this blog, my touring schedule had me bouncing through Europe. Therefore I will focus on the immediate. That which is sitting on my hotel night table, re-corked and awaiting me on the bus, and/or that which is too great in number to carry in my luggage and is therefore being shipped back to the States. Our first stop was Spain.
This is a letter to my partner Eric Glomski, Page Springs Cellars owner and vigneron:
I'm having an affair.
Her name is Tempranillo.
I love her, dude.
Please don't tell Syrah.
Our few days in Madrid were spent in a honeymoon haze. The gorgeous architecture looks even more brilliant through a glass of Pedrosa or L'Ermita or Vega Sicilia Unico. But hands-down the most memorable gem we unearthed on this visit was the Aalto PS. I'm useless when it comes to descriptions so I won't waste your time.
Suffice to say I haven't had that level of "tongasm" since my first date with a bottle of Bodegas Sastre Pesus. To quote my wine-drinking partner, Todd, "Tell me again why it is we don't live here?"