June 5, 2013 § 2 Comments
This week in the Portland Press Herald, I write about La Spinetta, a winery that began in Piemonte but has expanded into Tuscany. Their wines from both regions are extraordinary, and somehow the spirit of the Rivetti family who make these wines possible suffuses both regions, and all their terroirs. Wine is about place, but not just place.
A line I originally wrote for the article got cut in the editing process: “The wines of La Spinetta open profound conversations about time.” I stand by that. These wines clue us into how clueless we are about true time.
Here’s something else I wrote for the article, but I cut it out myself due to space considerations:
In fact, you were supposed to have read this article last week, but I flat-out missed my deadline. I’d given the wines the usual few days it takes me to drink, observe, and compose my reactions, but then there was both too much to say and not enough. I had to send a sheepish email to my editor at the last minute confessing a sort of existential collapse, an anguished sense of my own limits. I thought I’d have been done with the wines as usual, but I wasn’t. And the wines certainly weren’t done with me.
True story. I mean, I really did miss my deadline for the column, because I was too taken with the wines to say anything about them. With La Spinetta, everything takes longer than usual. Please, drink these wines, and do the time warp again…