Tag Archive: vine woman


Days of Green and Gold

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December 5, 2012

Lemelson on a perfect fall day

Fall is winding down, heralded by the sloppy wet weather of the past couple of weeks. It can be easy to feel oppressed by the low dark clouds, to want to crawl back under the covers on cold and gray mornings, to believe that coffee is the only antidote for mid afternoons that feel like late evening. As we head into winter and the attendant fears and hopeful anticipation of snow or ice or other such dire weather, I find myself cherishing those singular days between storms.

The leaves have turned, and a goodly number (if my porch is any indication) have already fallen, but those that remain are gorgeous. This is when the evergreens are in their glory, when the grass is having a second birth from the rain we all curse, and when those trees still holding on to their golden glory seem to glow in the stolen sunshine.

Such was the Monday after Thanksgiving. It started as a cold and windy day, the last of the storm clouds gathering in conference over the distant Cascades to the east and thus a perfect day to head to Dundee. As much as I have loved the Wine Country Thanksgiving outings, this year I just couldn’t muster the energy to mingle with the enthusiastic crowds. Having a leisurely day in quiet tasting rooms seemed much more my speed, and I was not disappointed.

After our sojourn at the Republic of Jam, we headed back from Carlton, doing as we usually do – missing the turn off for the 99 and ending up taking highway 240 and then Worden Hill Road (a beautiful road, at least after you get past the gravel part, with the attendant potholes and such). But as we did, we passed a sign for Lemelson. And then we saw the place – a beautiful building in a gorgeous setting. We turned around and headed back.

It is a lovely tasting room, warm and welcoming, and we had the place to ourselves. Like so many in the area, this place is pretty much all Pinot Noir. On the menu this particular day was a very nice Chardonnay, one done in new and neutral oak that really took me by surprise. It was crisp and flavorful, with a nice mineral component and none of the cloying, buttery oak that has too often been the highlight of Chardonnay in this country. This was followed by three Pinot Noirs, all slightly different.

The Cuvee X was probably my favorite; we were told that this is the winemaker’s brainchild. I love these kind of wines, where the winemaker gets to play at being a mad-scientist of sorts, playing with the grapes to create a labor of love. This wine is a great example of just how well that can turn out. It is a fun wine, one with a peppery nose that is along the lines of a bigger red like a Syrah or a Merlot. It is a big wine; not the usual dainty and complex Pinot Noir I have come to know and love. This is Pinot Noir for the non-Pinot drinker. Yet as much as such wines usually bug me (if you are making Pinot Noir, make Pinot Noir…) I liked this one.  The flavor and complexity weren’t lost in the mix, they were just taken to a very different place.

I am, I fear, a bit spoiled now. I have my favorite wineries and my favorite wines. So it is good to get outside that comfort zone and try something new. This was a wonderful melding of new wines to experience in a gorgeous setting on a gorgeous day. It reminded me of my first wine tasting trip in this area, almost exactly six years ago to the day. The thrill of something new and interesting, the beginning of a new passion, all set in this golden glow of a stunning Northwest fall day. Maybe spoiled is the wrong word, perhaps complacent is better.

It becomes easy to take these days for granted, to whine about the weather, to whine about the distance, to whine about the wine. So for one day I was back in the glory of the green and gold, of the new adventure, of a perfect day with a good friend. No whining allowed.

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Jammin’

Filed Under: Food, Travel by Kathryne — Leave a comment
December 2, 2012

Small towns are charming. Or they can be. I think my Dad might argue with me as he grew up in a small town and had to deal with some of the attendant nonsense that goes along with having a history; and yet I have a love for them, for the quirkiness and the neighborliness that seems to come standard with them.

Monday, after the hustle and bustle of Thanksgiving, Beth and I headed for Carlton, OR. Small town extraordinaire  – population 1,800 (1,700 of which seem to be involved in something affiliated with wine if you look at the main drag). We had a mission in mind, and that was to make our way to the Republic of Jam. No, not one of those quirky Oregon regions, but a lovely little shop in Carlton that specializes in, yes, jams.

We had carefully timed our visit to make sure we were there on a day they were open, but we arrived to find the place dark and locked. After a bit of dithering (because everyone knows if you stand around long enough or try the door enough times, magically it will open), we went down the way to Carlton Coffee Company to drown our sorrows in caffeine – as you do. On a whim, I asked the very nice man who was making my mocha if he knew anything about RoJ; were they on vacation? were they going to open today? He smiled at me, then went over to the other folks in the place, a group of four huddled around a table enjoying their own caffeine fix.

One of the group was Lynette, the Prime Minister of the Republic. Not a problem! She was up and away from her coffee, her family and her quiet day after the holiday rush to open her shop for us. That in and of itself was pretty amazing. And while I was looking to see for myself some of her wonderful and somewhat wacky sounding combinations, I was not prepared to be blown away by her culinary talents.

This is another one of those passionate, talented, inventive people that we are rife with in the Northwest. Listening to her talk about her creations was half the fun of the day, that we got to do so in what amounted to a private audience with her was just a bonus.  We spent a happy hour exploring the shelves of her little shop, exclaiming over the wonderful and unusual combinations we found there and raving over the samples she generously doled out to us.

Now I am not much of a jam person. Give me a nice strawberry jam and I am happy, but that is about it. I was never fond of marmalades, chutneys, berry jams or jellies, they just didn’t appeal to me. Apparently I was trying the wrong stuff. I was amazed by the plum vanilla bay jam she started with. First off – bay? Plum and bay? Who puts those two together? Well, Lynette and with great success. All this wonderful plum flavor, complimented by the vanilla and then just a bit of that spicy bay. I could eat it by itself, but the thought of this on warm scones was mind melting.

We tried a couple of things that morning, but there was one that just blew me away; seriously amazed me. It was her apple juniper mostarda. Mostarda is a very old and traditional Northern Italian condiment and yes, it is often made with apples; but Lynette has put an interesting and tasty spin on hers. I just want to slather this on grilled pork loin, dip sausages in it, or just eat it with a spoon straight out of the jar. It is that good.

I had intended on picking up a jar or two of something interesting to add to my Christmas box of goodies because I am all about the consumable gifts; small jars of things that Dad might like. I ended up with a large jar of pickled cherries, another of the mostarda along with smaller jars of strawberry-basil, marionberry-cinnamon and peach-lemon-lime. I’ll be going back for the beautiful jars of preserved lemon and limes, for the cherries in pinot noir syrup, for the strawberry balsamic jam (I said I loved strawberry jam…) and to try any or all of the new creations she talked about.

As we were leaving with our bounty, Beth wondered what it would take to have her adopt us. Both because she was just so very nice and because, well, the jams.  So yeah, small towns and culinary geniuses; nice to live somewhere there is an abundance of both.

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Wine, Wind, Fall

Filed Under: Shiny Things, Travel, Wine by Kathryne — Leave a comment
October 25, 2012

Bins waiting on grapes at Thistle Wines

Ah yes, Fall. October is almost over, I can’t believe it; it has been a relatively busy month. There were Wine Club Sundays sponsored by the Dundee Hills Winegrowers Association. This was a brilliant idea where if you belong to one wine club, you get a card making you an honorary member of 22 different wineries in the area. I was proud and somewhat shocked to realize that I had been to 18 of the 22 wineries on the list. Most of them multiple times… This coincided with wine club fall pickups, which made the drive out to the area just that much more fun.

Harvest was well in process, one of the earliest in quite some time and in stark contrast to the last two years. The leaves on the vines were already starting to turn, and the combination of the gray October skies, the yellowing vines, and the propane cannons (to keep hungry birds from those delicious, delicious grapes) made for a very atmospheric day. I swear there are times when I am out in the Willamette Valley that I really feel like I have stepped into an entirely different country. The rolling hills, the expansive vineyards, the gravel roads – sigh.

The changing colors of the vineyard

It was also the 50th anniversary of the “Big Blow” this month. The huge Columbus Day storm that literally decimated orchards in the region and caused damage from Northern California to Southwest Canada. The result of an extra-tropical cyclone (Typhoon Freda), the storm registered wind gusts of 145 miles per hour at the Oregon Coast (before most of the anemometers stopped working, toppled by the winds) and upwards of 100 mph in the inland cities of Portland, Salem and even Renton, WA. This was a story I first heard in a visit to Winter’s Hill winery a few years ago. Looking at the orchards that share real estate in the Willamette Valley with the myriad of wineries, I learned that many of those vineyards stand on places where orchards were destroyed. Interesting how we adapt.

In any case, Halloween is fast approaching with Thanksgiving nipping at its heels. Days are growing ever shorter, but what should be sleepy time of year is actually quite busy. In a good way. How is your fall falling?

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Rain On Me

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October 12, 2012

Falling rain

Fall is finally here. Mark the date, October 12. I woke this morning to rain after weeks of 70 degree weather – an unusual occurrence for us in this corner of the world. The leaves started turning a couple of weeks ago, though not in the usual burst of red or gold that seems to happen overnight, but a leaf here and there. I suspect that will go faster now.

I like fall; I like the color palate, the rich golds, oranges, reds that stand out against brown and green. I like the crisp mornings and chilly nights (nothing is as wonderful for sleep as snuggling down under the weight of the comforter, feeling surrounded by softness, with just a bit of chill on your face), and pleasant afternoons. I’m even happy to see the rain return. Sure, I’ll  be whining about it in a couple of months, but I have had a generous helping of clear blue skies and sunny days; it seems greedy to complain about a cloudy day at this point.

It feels as though it is going to be a busy time for me. There are some truly amazing things in the works; a new project in the mix with the wonderful Cindy Morefield has me very excited. The chance to create and curate a project with such a talented artist is pretty awe inspiring. There is a lot of writing to be done on several projects, and tapping the word mines is always good for my soul. I have a nice band of collaborators to lean on, this virtual artists’ colony that is growing and evolving, that needs to be maintained.

It is still raining out; has been for most of the day. I think it is time to go open a bottle of wine, something red to go with the leaves outside. Maybe curl up with a book in my favorite chair by the window and listen to the patter outside. I’m going to enjoy it for this moment, while it is still new and special and somewhat magical.

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Lavendar and Babies

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August 23, 2012

Mt. Hood looking like a Sumi painting in the distance

Summer is beginning to wane, though I have high hopes for a wonderful Indian Summer. While fall is just around the corner as the days grow noticeably shorter, we are mollified by the wonderful variety of late summer harvest. So yes – tomatoes, summer squash, white corn (oh, the white corn!), peaches and pears are the trade off for school starting and vacations ending. And so it was that we made a quick trip to Hood River and the wonderfully named ‘fruit loop’ to see what there was to see.

We were in search of blackberries, which we didn’t find. We did however find Alpaca babies, sunflowers, and lots and lots of lavender. What else can you ask of a hot August day, unless, perhaps a potluck picnic under a tree. It was a lovely day, made all the better by good company, good weather, and a couple of squabbling hummingbirds.

Ready for my closeup…

This little one and friends were at Cascade Alpacas. Another large group was relaxing in the barn, the favored spot was an area right in front of a large fan. Inside the shop we all oohed and awed over the incredibly soft yarn that comes from Alpaca wool. So much so that, as usual, I contemplated trying to learn to knit again. I haven’t been successful in the past most likely due to a lack in concentration and my inherent impatience with things that need practice to perfect. There is something so wonderfully Northwest in the notion of carding and spinning my own yarn before knitting it into some stylish garment and yet – practice and attention. Oh well.

Lavender field (filled with wonderfully buzzy bees)

Hood River Lavender farm was fragrant. Lilac trees added a sweet floral note to the more astringent lavender. Big, fat, striped bees were hard at work here. I never mind the bees at these places. They are a lazier, mellower bee; you get the notion that stinging someone would be, well, bad karma in their multifaceted bee eyes. Besides, with so much food at hand, what would be the point in being all aggressive? I love the low hum of them, their soft and fuzzy look, and their very industriousness. We were also treated to some hummingbirds arguing over who’s turn it was at the feeder. I love how outraged a hummingbird can sound, sort of the antithesis of the bees in the field.

An echo of the day’s sun

Another stop was at the Gorge White House with it’s large U-Pick flower fields. Beth reveled in the huge stands of sunflowers while TK made her way up and down all the rows. I split my time between the two, taking my own pictures, loving the scent of the place, enjoying the sunshine.

It was a low-key day. Lots of laughter. Lots of pointing out the window at things. Some getting lost and found again.  It is becoming an end of summer trip. So many of these trips, these places seem to find a mark on the calendar – these places that we go back to again and again, the experience all fun but always a bit different.  It keeps me looking forward, and that is not a bad thing at all.

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Flowers for You

Filed Under: General, Shiny Things by Kathryne — 1 Comment
August 10, 2012

Life is a bit hectic at the moment, so here are some pictures of flowers…

 

 

 

 

Apparently I have a thing for pink lately!

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Pinot Geek

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July 10, 2012

Pinot Noir Grapes

About a week ago I found myself in the Dobbes tasting room. Always a good place to be. I ended up in a conversation with a group of people who were new to wine tasting. One asked me (why me?) what the difference was between Pinot Gris, Pinot Blanc and Pinot Noir. Specifically the question was – ‘what’s with all the Pinots?’ I tried to explain, but failed miserably. The truth was that I wasn’t exactly sure what was with all the Pinots myself. So I decided to find out.

First off, Pinot Noir: A temperamental little grape that is believed to be very, very old. Some folks use the word ancient when referring to the varietal and there are references to it going back to 1 A.D. so I think that word holds merit. The grapes are a deep purple, almost black – hence the name ‘noir.’ This is the varietal most closely associated with the Burgundy region of France, but is found in a number of places around the globe, and on many a hillside in the Willamette Valley. The grape produces a red wine and sometimes is used in rosè (by reducing the amount of time the wine spends in contact with the skins of the grape). It is also sometimes used as a component of Champagne and other sparkling wines. The color of the red wine is generally lighter than other reds, ranging from a dusky garnet to a plummy red.

And now for the white wines: Pinot Gris and Pinot Blanc. Ready? They are mutations of Pinot Noir.

And this, for me, is where it gets interesting. A red wine; a complex, fruity, temperamental wine that causes vintners heartache and headaches, is the genetic springboard of two very different white wines. Pinot Gris, as made in the Willamette Valley, generally, is dry with a lot of tart citrus notes. It has a really wonderful minerality to it, making it a great food wine as well as a perfect choice for sipping on a hot summer day. Pinot Blanc is all green apple and sometimes even a bit of honeydew. It is usually a fairly full bodied wine, one that is easily drinkable – one that I often refer to as a summer sipper. All three very different, all three related; a couple of changes in DNA making all the difference.

Maybe it is the science geek in me that gets excited over this. Maybe it is the science geek in me that drives my interest in wine. A few differences in base pairs making a huge difference in the outcome is pretty darn cool, from my point of view. Those of us who love to stand at a tasting bar and yak about wine talk about the terroir, the weather, the altitude, the type of cask and even the winemaker. All of that is important, no doubt. We don’t, however, often talk about the DNA level of it all. Sure, we talk about clones – the term ‘Dijon Clone’ is heard a lot in Oregon wine country – and root stock, and all the aspects of plant hybridization that can be traced way back to well before an Austrian friar working with peas tweaked to what the heck was going on.

It still amazes me. The science end of it amazes me. I am completely bowled over by the sheer idea that all these sub-species of vitus vinifera can create wildly different wines. That when it comes right down to it, the variation of one of those sub-species can also be so wildly different. A beautiful double helix made up of a limited and very specific group of base pairs can create such incredibly different outcomes. I suppose I shouldn’t be, because I have studied science – microbiology, genetics, chemistry. Wine, I think, is one of those wonderful places where art and science intersect. It is where this science geek becomes a Pinot nerd. I’m okay with that.

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Starting Line

Filed Under: Shiny Things, Uncategorized by Kathryne — 1 Comment
July 5, 2012

I recall someone telling me (Sharon?) many years ago that summer around here starts on July 4th. It has proved to be a pretty reliable adage, though it is probably more true to say that summer starts no later than July 4th. There are summers that begin cold and rainy and seem to stay that way forever, until that day. This year was one of those years; rain, wind, cold – it felt more like October than June. Until Wednesday.

I knew that the evening was going to bring a lot of noise. I find it amusing that we celebrate our independence by creating the ambiance of a war zone, but so it is. So to celebrate in my own way, I grabbed Beth and headed towards the water. The river, not the coast. Water is water. The place was buzzing with people on foot, on jet skis, on sail boats. The air was warm, the sun was out, flowers were in bloom. It was perfect.

We have sun in the forecast for the next seven days and the folks around here are as giddy as kids on the last day of school. Sure, by about day four there will be grumbling about the heat; after all the temperature tolerance for most folks in the region ranges from 68 to 72 degrees Fahrenheit. For now, however, we are celebrating the start of summer, reveling in the heat and sun needed to grow our favorite grapes (pinot noir, for those not familiar), and wondering where the heck we put the summer clothes all those months ago.

Sail Away

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Non-verbal

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July 1, 2012

I am at a loss for words today, I think I used most of my available inventory in other writing. So have a picture of one of my favorite places. This is the lavender field at Red Ridge Farms in Dundee, OR. A lovely place to shop for garden things, gifts and and culinary goodies such as olive oil and finishing salts.  Next door is the tasting room for Durant Vineyards, well worth the stroll across the parking lot.

I feel calmer just looking at it…

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Shipwrecked

Filed Under: Travel by Kathryne — 2 Comments
June 9, 2012

I love wild coastlines; I’m not much one for long stretches of sandy beach with wall to wall sunbathers. Even when I lived in Southern California the beaches that called to me were the ones with rocky shores and open expanses free of colorful towels, umbrellas, and the other accoutrements of beach holidays. For me it is the rough and tumble waves after a storm, diving seabirds, misty air and sea stacks. I don’t know why I prefer it, I just do.

Maybe there is a romance to it. I like to think of what it must have been like, a century or more ago, when sailing rather than container ships made their way up and down the West coast with their loads of lumber, cattle, other goods for trade. It could not have been an easy life, one that seems fraught with danger if you look at nothing more than some of the place names along the coast – Cape Foul Weather, Cape Disappointment – not to mention that the area around the Columbia River Bar is known as the Graveyard of the Pacific. Then you come upon a shipwreck, right out there on a beach, and the romance becomes reality.

Just last Friday we made our way out to the coast, ending up at Ft. Stevens State Park. It is one of those wild and wonderful stretches, made all the more atmospheric by the remains of the Peter Iredale. The iron bones of a four masted barque that ran aground in high seas way back in 1906. There is just an air about the thing, not menacing but perhaps intimidating. There is a beauty in the rusted iron skeleton that has sat on that beach for over 100 years, degrading to a point where it is now almost abstract sculpture; a testament to the awesome power of nature.

The Peter Iredale

I watched with amusement as Nephew Josh climbed all over the thing. This 23 year old who became, for a little while, a much younger boy as he scrambled and scrabbled about on the wreck. The structure does seem to beg to be climbed, its lattice like structure giving easy hand and foot holds. It was a perfect day to happen upon it, gray and misty with roiling seas and crashing waves. It was my first visit to that particular beach, and it was striking to see the wreck on what was otherwise a wide and empty stretch.

Finding a Perch

I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Friday. News mid-week told of a large dock swept away in last year’s Japanese tsunami coming to rest on Agate Beach, several miles to the south, kept me thinking about the bits and bobs of what appeared to be foam insulation we encountered. I wonder about what else will wash ashore and what it will mean for our beaches, for our shoreline, and for the safety of those who still plow the waves around these parts.

We spent most of the day joking about finding ‘debris.’ Stories of a motorcycle, a volleyball, a basketball, have been so far, novelties. Maybe a connection of sorts to the shore that lies opposite ours – out of sight but maybe not so out of mind, especially now. People are wandering down to Agate Beach to take a closer look at that dock, probably in much the same way news reports from the time tell of those who came out to marvel at the Peter Iredale. As dire as it all sounds I have to remember that ships, debris, disasters, have long been a part of the history of this coast. And that it is the wildness that I love that is most often the prime culprit behind those stories.

Racing the Tide

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