In search of the divine within an hour, we nailed it.
I happen to know that the last time I saw so many Botticelli paintings was at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence back in October 2012, going on five years ago. As far as I was concerned, I was overdue for some masterful early Renaissance artwork, so the love story was a bonus.
Our first destination was the Muscarelle Museum to see "Botticelli and the Search for the Divine," a show so important that it will leave Williamsburg in two weeks and move on to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. With no invitations to Boston currently pending, I thought I'd best get myself down there.
Walking into the dimly-lit exhibit with wine-colored walls, we encountered a mass of humanity clustered in front of a docent leading a tour of the exhibit in the most droning voice possible. Fortunately, they soon moved on to the next gallery so we could concentrate on the work of the man to whom Botticelli was apprenticed, Fra Filippo Lippi, and ascertain how the master's style influenced the younger's.
But where things really got good was in the second gallery, full of his exquisite mature works such as "The Madonna of the Loggia" and "Madonna and Child with the Young St. John the Baptist" (although I'm not going to lie, I'd have far preferred to be seeing them in the Uffizi) and the breathtaking "Venus," which has never been shown in the U.S. before.
Like ever. How fortunate was I that someone was willing to ensure I saw it during its brief visit?
No, no, not his "Birth of Venus," this was just "Venus," although both paintings are clearly of the same woman and today I learned her name: Simonetta Vespucci, a cousin-in-law to the explorer Amerigo Vespucci we've all heard of (I say "all" presuming schools still teach such things).
Was Botticelli in love with the great beauty who was already married to a nobleman? The very male docent said there's no proof of passion unless you count the painter's request to be buried at her feet, which he was after she died at 22.
Allow me to get on my estrogen soapbox here and say for the record that if a man wants to be buried at a woman's feet, there's about a 100% chance he's madly in love with her. Art historians, you may quote me on that.
Looking at "Adoration of the Magi" with my 20th century eyes, all I could think of when I saw the limited palette of reds and blues was Paramount Studio's mid-century Vista-Vision, where everything looked red or blue.
I ask you, how many people could look at a Botticelli and see a connection to "White Christmas?" You're welcome.
The final gallery held Botticelli's later works and I'm not going to lie, once church reformer Savonorola took over Florence, forcing artists to burn profane art in the bonfires of the vanities (and, no, I hadn't known what historical event that term referred to until today) and create instead religious paintings, Botticelli's work suffered.
No one should have made that man abandon his depictions of the beautiful Simonetta.
My art lover and I continued on to the Gabriel Archer Tavern for brunch because what could be better than a drive down a grape vine-lined road after our immersion in all things Italian? The view continued as we ate and drank in a dining room with windows for walls that also looked out on trellised vines.
A wooden box reading "William Byrd Brand Peaches" set on a ledge nearby, a reminder that we were solidly in colonial territory.
Toasting the lovely Simonetta and her talented admirer with Wedmore Place Cremant and Wessex Hundred Petit Verdot, we had a most un-Renaissance meal that began with fried chili chickpeas and concluded with double chocolate hazelnut mousse, with all manner of quiche, salads and heartfelt conversation in between.
By the time we finished talking and sipping, a front had moved through and the gray humidity had been replaced with a fierce wind and a serious drop in temperature, making it more appealing to get in the car than walk the vineyard.
Homeward bound, we were barely 20 minutes in when a sign warned us of a crash ahead and traffic all but stopped. A car with New York license plates sped by us on the shoulder, was soon followed by a police car with his lights on and by the time we caught up to them, the driver was out of the car and listening earnestly, hands in pockets, to what the cop was saying.
That guy's response to the inconvenience of stopped traffic had been a poor one while we were making the most of it, especially after I was handed the driver's phone and told to choose any playlist that appealed to me, an offer I never refuse.
It took us almost an extra hour and a detour through downtown Sandston to get back to Richmond, but when you're conversing pretty much non-stop and listening to a mix called "As Time Goes By," it's pretty divine and you really don't.
Notice that it's going by, that is.
Showing posts with label williamsburg winery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label williamsburg winery. Show all posts
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Following the Grape Trail
Two days, three wineries, one killer view.
Sunday was the South African Wine Festival at Grayhaven Winery, a celebration of all things South African. Since it's been 11 years since I've been to South Africa, the festival is like a booster shot to remind me of why - 21-hour flight aside - I fell in love with the place.
And while they can bring in the wines, food and music, there's no pretending that Gum Springs is Stellenbosch or Paarl, although Grayhaven is a charming property with the feel of a farmhouse winery, an inviting place to spend a day.
That is was such a gorgeous day only made it better to taste through wines by Man Vintner and Fairview, including the colorfully-named Goats Do Roam (and I can assure you that they really do at the winery), meeting a burly Burmese mountain dog and personable dachshund named Rigby and their people along the way.
And speaking of dogs, a lamb resembling a greyhound was turning on a spit nearby when we spread out a blanket and settled in with wine and fried oysters with Peri Peri sauce to watch the entertainment from near the crest of the hill. Down in front of the stage, loopy festival-goers were feeling the spirit and dancing, some more ably than others.
The people-watching was exceptional given that an all-day event devoted to wine is bound to produce all kinds of behavior. One drunk woman had to be led out by a muscular friend, her head hanging forward, her barely-there dress creeping higher than anyone needed to see. A woman came back from the marketplace with a bar of handcrafted soap, only to be derided by her friends for buying soap at a wine festival.
And somebody please tell me why on earth you'd bring a baby to a day devoted to drinking? As my Richmond grandmother was fond of saying, "Karen, that just don't make good sense."
Day two of wine adventuring took us to Williamsburg Winery, after a scenic drive down Route 5 - aka Plantation Row - which provided a stellar opportunity to assess the progress of the Capital Bike Trail from Richmond to Williamsburg.
With less than a week to go until the UCI Race madness hits town, it was clear that VDOT was hustling to get the last bits of the trail completed. We must have passed at least a half dozen work crews scattering grass seed, laying hay or working on fencing along the path, parts of which are still marked "closed" despite riders using other sections.
After a satisfying lunch on the patio under a wisteria-covered pergola at the winery's Gabrielle Archer Tavern and a walk around the vineyards, we opted out of a winery tour and headed straight to the tasting room, naturally outfitted to look like a colonial-era room.
Its most appealing feature was a series of woodblock print enlargements chronicling how to farm grapes for wine.
Highlights of the reserve tasting included the 2013 Wessex Hundred Petit Verdot and, naturally, the Governor's Cup-winning 2012 Adagio, their Bordeaux blend, but at $65 a bottle, not likely one I'll ever get more than a taste of.
What surprised me was how far afield some of the grapes they used came from and I don't just mean Culpeper and Charlottesville, but Washington state, too.
The winery tour group arrived in the tasting room with a verbal whip-cracking taster in charge who all but threatened to crack their knuckles with a ruler if they ruined the wine by rinsing out their glasses with water between tastings. She was not putting up with any nonsense, making us glad we'd been tasted through by a sparkling-eyed young woman with a near-constant smile and no rules.
We finished there with just enough time to get to Saude Creek Winery, a place I'd passed countless times on the way to Northern Neck destinations but never bothered to stop. The last thing I was expecting was a sleek tasting room on a hill, mainly because I thought New Kent County was flat as a board.
I guess with enough money, you can find a hill practically anywhere.
Since we got there half an hour before the winery closed, we were a bit of a surprise to the girl behind the tasting counter, but she affably welcomed us in as we marveled at the hilltop location.
"You should see the view from upstairs," she enthused. "You can see all the way to the paper mills in West Point."
For me, this was a dubious selling point since I can't abide the smell of those mills when you drive over the bridges there and although I habitually roll down my car window when I cross a bridge (no matter the season), that's the only one where the windows stay up. A native to West Point, she said she doesn't even smell it anymore. Get out while you can, honey.
But upstairs, she was right, there was a magnificent view all the way to the Pamunkey River, sparkling blue on this cloudless afternoon and far enough away that the mills' odor was a non-issue.
We tasted through the wines quickly and then scored glasses of the Pamunkey Falls white blend and the Merlot and took them to the lower deck that looked out over the treetops toward the river, but with the water view blocked by our lower elevation.
I have a t-shirt that says "Virginia is for wine lovers" and it gets comments from strangers every time I wear it. Say what you want about Virginia wine, but glasses enjoyed outside three wineries on two beautiful afternoons pretty much proves it.
But, please, leave the babies at home.
Sunday was the South African Wine Festival at Grayhaven Winery, a celebration of all things South African. Since it's been 11 years since I've been to South Africa, the festival is like a booster shot to remind me of why - 21-hour flight aside - I fell in love with the place.
And while they can bring in the wines, food and music, there's no pretending that Gum Springs is Stellenbosch or Paarl, although Grayhaven is a charming property with the feel of a farmhouse winery, an inviting place to spend a day.
That is was such a gorgeous day only made it better to taste through wines by Man Vintner and Fairview, including the colorfully-named Goats Do Roam (and I can assure you that they really do at the winery), meeting a burly Burmese mountain dog and personable dachshund named Rigby and their people along the way.
And speaking of dogs, a lamb resembling a greyhound was turning on a spit nearby when we spread out a blanket and settled in with wine and fried oysters with Peri Peri sauce to watch the entertainment from near the crest of the hill. Down in front of the stage, loopy festival-goers were feeling the spirit and dancing, some more ably than others.
The people-watching was exceptional given that an all-day event devoted to wine is bound to produce all kinds of behavior. One drunk woman had to be led out by a muscular friend, her head hanging forward, her barely-there dress creeping higher than anyone needed to see. A woman came back from the marketplace with a bar of handcrafted soap, only to be derided by her friends for buying soap at a wine festival.
And somebody please tell me why on earth you'd bring a baby to a day devoted to drinking? As my Richmond grandmother was fond of saying, "Karen, that just don't make good sense."
Day two of wine adventuring took us to Williamsburg Winery, after a scenic drive down Route 5 - aka Plantation Row - which provided a stellar opportunity to assess the progress of the Capital Bike Trail from Richmond to Williamsburg.
With less than a week to go until the UCI Race madness hits town, it was clear that VDOT was hustling to get the last bits of the trail completed. We must have passed at least a half dozen work crews scattering grass seed, laying hay or working on fencing along the path, parts of which are still marked "closed" despite riders using other sections.
After a satisfying lunch on the patio under a wisteria-covered pergola at the winery's Gabrielle Archer Tavern and a walk around the vineyards, we opted out of a winery tour and headed straight to the tasting room, naturally outfitted to look like a colonial-era room.
Its most appealing feature was a series of woodblock print enlargements chronicling how to farm grapes for wine.
Highlights of the reserve tasting included the 2013 Wessex Hundred Petit Verdot and, naturally, the Governor's Cup-winning 2012 Adagio, their Bordeaux blend, but at $65 a bottle, not likely one I'll ever get more than a taste of.
What surprised me was how far afield some of the grapes they used came from and I don't just mean Culpeper and Charlottesville, but Washington state, too.
The winery tour group arrived in the tasting room with a verbal whip-cracking taster in charge who all but threatened to crack their knuckles with a ruler if they ruined the wine by rinsing out their glasses with water between tastings. She was not putting up with any nonsense, making us glad we'd been tasted through by a sparkling-eyed young woman with a near-constant smile and no rules.
We finished there with just enough time to get to Saude Creek Winery, a place I'd passed countless times on the way to Northern Neck destinations but never bothered to stop. The last thing I was expecting was a sleek tasting room on a hill, mainly because I thought New Kent County was flat as a board.
I guess with enough money, you can find a hill practically anywhere.
Since we got there half an hour before the winery closed, we were a bit of a surprise to the girl behind the tasting counter, but she affably welcomed us in as we marveled at the hilltop location.
"You should see the view from upstairs," she enthused. "You can see all the way to the paper mills in West Point."
For me, this was a dubious selling point since I can't abide the smell of those mills when you drive over the bridges there and although I habitually roll down my car window when I cross a bridge (no matter the season), that's the only one where the windows stay up. A native to West Point, she said she doesn't even smell it anymore. Get out while you can, honey.
But upstairs, she was right, there was a magnificent view all the way to the Pamunkey River, sparkling blue on this cloudless afternoon and far enough away that the mills' odor was a non-issue.
We tasted through the wines quickly and then scored glasses of the Pamunkey Falls white blend and the Merlot and took them to the lower deck that looked out over the treetops toward the river, but with the water view blocked by our lower elevation.
I have a t-shirt that says "Virginia is for wine lovers" and it gets comments from strangers every time I wear it. Say what you want about Virginia wine, but glasses enjoyed outside three wineries on two beautiful afternoons pretty much proves it.
But, please, leave the babies at home.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Chocolate Cheese and Empty Tombs
Give me a reason for a road trip and a new CD and I'm in heaven.
Today I put the pedal to the floor and headed east to Hague, a place I hadn't heard of, but one which is home to three wineries.
Conveniently, I had an assignment to wrote about all three.
Given the sunny skies and open fields, it was an easy drive despite being unfamiliar territory.
Listening to Twin Shadow's "Confess" and passing rural statements like a church sign saying, "Easter surprise! The tomb is empty!" and a gas station marquee with "Come on, Spring!" made for a most pleasurable hour and a half cruise.
My first stop was the Hague Winery where the owner poured for me and told me about all the interesting places to eat and drink in the neighborhood.
I learned about chardonel, a hybrid varietal with which I was not familiar, tasted the 2009 Merlot along with some Old Church Creamery chocolate cheese (yep, that's what it was alright) and a luscious Meritage reserve I'd have bought a case of if I could have afforded it.
Other visitors came in and joined in the conversation about nearby wineries and what there is to do in the area.
One couple from upstate New York was staying at Westmoreland State Park and making a day of winery hopping.
Another came in and didn't bother with a tasting, cutting right to full glasses and a table with a view.
After chatting for a while, the owner offered to show me their guest house, a place they rent out for visitors.
The 19th century building had been converted to a charming space for a 2-4 and, as I pointed out, you can't go wrong with a winery on the premises.
As I was getting ready to leave, one of the couples asked for directions to General's Ridge Winery a few miles away, coincidentally just where I was heading.
I got delayed by the winery dog, a sweet, old thing who wanted nothing more than to walk beside me where ever I went.
Which was to my car to drive the few miles to my next vineyard.
Walking up to General's Ridge tasting room, I spotted one of the couples from The Hague and they waved hello.
"What took you so long?" they laughed.
Um, going the speed limit?
This winery had far more extensive plantings and two tasting rooms, the smaller of which used old doors from the manor house as the counter tops for the tasting bar.
After meeting the owner inside, we headed down to the smaller tasting room to talk, causing one of the women I'd seen at The Hague to say, "You just walk in a winery and grab a man wherever you go!"
Well, yes, when I can, I certainly do.
It was great fun talking to the owners about their decision to start a winery, with the Mrs. telling me, "I told him we'd only do it over my dead body. But I'm still here!"
They told me how they were originally going to build a boys' school there but when their benefactor died, they regrouped.
We lingered so long sharing stories that I didn't have time for a tasting, so I made sure to get some grape to go, scoring a bottle of their General's Nightcap, a petit manseng dessert wine that was delightfully tropical rather than cloying.
"Have some before bed," the owner suggested. "You'll sleep like a baby!"
I usually accomplish that by staying up until 2 or 3 a.m.
My last stop was Vault Fields, who may have had today's smallest tasting room but because they make their wine on the estate, smelled most like a winery.
I had time for a tasting with the friendly pourer, especially enjoying the 2009 Conundrum, a blend of Chardonnay and Vidal Blanc and the 2008 Meritage Reserve, which would be a thing of beauty with lamb or veal.
After chatting up the owner, I had to hit the road toute suite to make it back in time for my evening's plans.
Keeping with today's theme, I came home, cleaned up and immediately headed to the Library of Virginia for a night of Virginia wine.
"Straight from the Vine: The History of Virginia Wine" was part talk and part tasting.
Arriving after the talk starts means standing in the back of the auditorium since it's pretty packed.
Wine guru Richard Leahy, author of "Beyond Jefferson's Vines: The Evolution of Quality Wine in Virginia" is trying to cover a fraction of what is in his book in this brief talk.
Asking if any of us have heard of RdV Winery, I am one of a dozen or so who raise my hand.
"They're so exclusive you have to make an appointment to go and pay to taste and maybe they'll let you buy some," he says, which gets a big laugh.
What's funny is that The Roosevelt carries RdV wines, so it's much easier to head to Church Hill than make a road trip to Fauquier County and pay forty bucks for a tasting.
Leahy talked about how well represented Virginia wines are in London, while few California wines are available there.
I like to think that Londoners remember the Virginia Company of 1606 and have a soft spot for us.
He got another laugh when he said, "More people would rather own wineries than grow grapes," meaning the actual farming aspect of viticulture is far less glamorous.
"It takes $12,00 per acre to develop a wine crop, without the cost of the land. And that's before machinery and supplies."
Well, no wonder people only want the fun, meeting people and drinking part of being an owner.
Who's got that kind of disposable income these days?
But, honestly, after having spoken to three Virginia winery owners today, I know that plenty of people are willing to do both, own and grow, for the sake of producing the best possible grapes.
After the talk, the large group moved to the lobby for the tasting and reception.
While Leahy signed books, people moved from table to table sampling Virginia wines.
I began with James River Cellars' Petit Verdot since they usually only sell that to wine club members.
Over at the Horton table, I was surprised to see they had a pinotage, a favorite South African grape of mine.
I was surprised to learn that Horton had put in pinotage grapes ten years ago and was working on finessing the flavor profile with each harvest.
Keep up the good work, boys.
Moving around the room, I ran into the Frenchman (who, leaving the talk, had whispered, "Let's go drink!"), saw a familiar wine geek and tried more wines.
There was Jefferson Vineyards' Cabernet Franc and, surprisingly, Barboursville's stellar "Octagon."
I overheard a woman tell her husband, "I just had the Williamsburg winery's red and it's so good I would actually buy it!"
With praise like that, how could I not go taste their Claret and inform the pourer of the compliment?
As I moved around the room tasting and nibbling hors d'oeuvres, it was obvious from the conversations I overheard that many people were unfamiliar with Virginia wines.
If they were smart, they'd do like me: get a new CD and head in almost any direction to check out some Virginia wineries.
After a nice drive with new music blaring, they might find a wine so good they actually want to buy it.
It's a lot easier than they think.
Today I put the pedal to the floor and headed east to Hague, a place I hadn't heard of, but one which is home to three wineries.
Conveniently, I had an assignment to wrote about all three.
Given the sunny skies and open fields, it was an easy drive despite being unfamiliar territory.
Listening to Twin Shadow's "Confess" and passing rural statements like a church sign saying, "Easter surprise! The tomb is empty!" and a gas station marquee with "Come on, Spring!" made for a most pleasurable hour and a half cruise.
My first stop was the Hague Winery where the owner poured for me and told me about all the interesting places to eat and drink in the neighborhood.
I learned about chardonel, a hybrid varietal with which I was not familiar, tasted the 2009 Merlot along with some Old Church Creamery chocolate cheese (yep, that's what it was alright) and a luscious Meritage reserve I'd have bought a case of if I could have afforded it.
Other visitors came in and joined in the conversation about nearby wineries and what there is to do in the area.
One couple from upstate New York was staying at Westmoreland State Park and making a day of winery hopping.
Another came in and didn't bother with a tasting, cutting right to full glasses and a table with a view.
After chatting for a while, the owner offered to show me their guest house, a place they rent out for visitors.
The 19th century building had been converted to a charming space for a 2-4 and, as I pointed out, you can't go wrong with a winery on the premises.
As I was getting ready to leave, one of the couples asked for directions to General's Ridge Winery a few miles away, coincidentally just where I was heading.
I got delayed by the winery dog, a sweet, old thing who wanted nothing more than to walk beside me where ever I went.
Which was to my car to drive the few miles to my next vineyard.
Walking up to General's Ridge tasting room, I spotted one of the couples from The Hague and they waved hello.
"What took you so long?" they laughed.
Um, going the speed limit?
This winery had far more extensive plantings and two tasting rooms, the smaller of which used old doors from the manor house as the counter tops for the tasting bar.
After meeting the owner inside, we headed down to the smaller tasting room to talk, causing one of the women I'd seen at The Hague to say, "You just walk in a winery and grab a man wherever you go!"
Well, yes, when I can, I certainly do.
It was great fun talking to the owners about their decision to start a winery, with the Mrs. telling me, "I told him we'd only do it over my dead body. But I'm still here!"
They told me how they were originally going to build a boys' school there but when their benefactor died, they regrouped.
We lingered so long sharing stories that I didn't have time for a tasting, so I made sure to get some grape to go, scoring a bottle of their General's Nightcap, a petit manseng dessert wine that was delightfully tropical rather than cloying.
"Have some before bed," the owner suggested. "You'll sleep like a baby!"
I usually accomplish that by staying up until 2 or 3 a.m.
My last stop was Vault Fields, who may have had today's smallest tasting room but because they make their wine on the estate, smelled most like a winery.
I had time for a tasting with the friendly pourer, especially enjoying the 2009 Conundrum, a blend of Chardonnay and Vidal Blanc and the 2008 Meritage Reserve, which would be a thing of beauty with lamb or veal.
After chatting up the owner, I had to hit the road toute suite to make it back in time for my evening's plans.
Keeping with today's theme, I came home, cleaned up and immediately headed to the Library of Virginia for a night of Virginia wine.
"Straight from the Vine: The History of Virginia Wine" was part talk and part tasting.
Arriving after the talk starts means standing in the back of the auditorium since it's pretty packed.
Wine guru Richard Leahy, author of "Beyond Jefferson's Vines: The Evolution of Quality Wine in Virginia" is trying to cover a fraction of what is in his book in this brief talk.
Asking if any of us have heard of RdV Winery, I am one of a dozen or so who raise my hand.
"They're so exclusive you have to make an appointment to go and pay to taste and maybe they'll let you buy some," he says, which gets a big laugh.
What's funny is that The Roosevelt carries RdV wines, so it's much easier to head to Church Hill than make a road trip to Fauquier County and pay forty bucks for a tasting.
Leahy talked about how well represented Virginia wines are in London, while few California wines are available there.
I like to think that Londoners remember the Virginia Company of 1606 and have a soft spot for us.
He got another laugh when he said, "More people would rather own wineries than grow grapes," meaning the actual farming aspect of viticulture is far less glamorous.
"It takes $12,00 per acre to develop a wine crop, without the cost of the land. And that's before machinery and supplies."
Well, no wonder people only want the fun, meeting people and drinking part of being an owner.
Who's got that kind of disposable income these days?
But, honestly, after having spoken to three Virginia winery owners today, I know that plenty of people are willing to do both, own and grow, for the sake of producing the best possible grapes.
After the talk, the large group moved to the lobby for the tasting and reception.
While Leahy signed books, people moved from table to table sampling Virginia wines.
I began with James River Cellars' Petit Verdot since they usually only sell that to wine club members.
Over at the Horton table, I was surprised to see they had a pinotage, a favorite South African grape of mine.
I was surprised to learn that Horton had put in pinotage grapes ten years ago and was working on finessing the flavor profile with each harvest.
Keep up the good work, boys.
Moving around the room, I ran into the Frenchman (who, leaving the talk, had whispered, "Let's go drink!"), saw a familiar wine geek and tried more wines.
There was Jefferson Vineyards' Cabernet Franc and, surprisingly, Barboursville's stellar "Octagon."
I overheard a woman tell her husband, "I just had the Williamsburg winery's red and it's so good I would actually buy it!"
With praise like that, how could I not go taste their Claret and inform the pourer of the compliment?
As I moved around the room tasting and nibbling hors d'oeuvres, it was obvious from the conversations I overheard that many people were unfamiliar with Virginia wines.
If they were smart, they'd do like me: get a new CD and head in almost any direction to check out some Virginia wineries.
After a nice drive with new music blaring, they might find a wine so good they actually want to buy it.
It's a lot easier than they think.
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