Wine is Bottled Poetry ….. a cliché perhaps. And sometimes, wine can be anything but bottled poetry, more like a bad nursery rhyme, a twisted limerick or even blank verse. But at its best, it is indeed just that – pure poetry. In this blog, I will attempt to avoid sounding like a bad nursery rhyme, but hope that any poetry I find in the bottle will find some expression on this blog.

A little about me.  I had my first memorable wine experience at the age of 9, when I was camping with my family right on the beach at Lido di Jeselo, just across the way from Venice.  The Adriatic Sea lapped that beach and its abundant salt allowed me to take my very first unaided swim.  My parents took good advantage of the plethora of local wines, buying what at the time looked like huge ‘wickered’ bottles of red wine, presumably Chianti, which they would mete out to the kids (it was Italy, after all!) with a generous whoosh of seltzer water… red wine spritzers (mostly spritz!), a little sandy, a little salty, a little fruity, a lot acidic and delicious.

Fast forward, and love and romance sent me up to Paso Robles for many a visit … the romance ended, but the love of those rolling hills dotted with oaks and vines…. and their big juicy fermented crops remained … and so, I became involved with creating a local wine festival which grew and grew. Inspired by the people I met, especially the passionate, artisan winemakers, and wanting to expand my palate and wine horizons, I began the rigors of a wine education, first getting my WSET Level Two and Three Certifications and now, into the breach of level Four …. and this is where we meet.