On Friday I was hankering after some hefty Euro fare so I grilled up some kielbasa, with pirogis, and green peas. I hopped in the car and headed down the way to this giant castle carved with ornate stone work. TRIMBACH is emblazoned over the ramparts. There's a small prefabricated steel outer building just prior to the castle with a yellow banner stating "2008 Rielsing". There appears to be a rather high fence separating the two structures. I figure I should go into the first building with my fare. The lone attendant at the door asks for $20, which I duly hand over. A bored nod toward a door at the back. Very quiet in here. I as I get to the door I catch the faint whiff of petrol, I look around to make sure the building is not about to go up in flames. Everything is still quiet. Still a whiff of petrol. I go through the door. There's a long new table, looks like something one would buy at Ikea. There are a number of seats at the table, each with a placard in front of it. There's only one person at the table sitting in front of the card that reads "Zinging Acidity". He starts berating me about something and yelling things at the empty spots at the table. I bend over to look at the card next to him which I think states "Generic Fruit", but he jumps and my faces and starts screaming am I talking to him, am I talking to him, I must be talking to him because there's nobody else here. I look around. There is indeed no one else there.
I leave.
I come back the next day to see if anything has changed. It hasn't. I try to go see the other place settings to see who is supposed to be there but the cards are gone. Mr. Blazing Acidity, gives me a bored look. This all seems somehow familiar. When I read back through my travel diary I see that I came to this same spot a year ago, though the outer building said "2006". Same result. Those who don't learn from the past, etc.
Now I was a bit down so I had to read through my notes about a trip I took a week ago. I was feeling a bit daffy so I headed south. Some comrades had been berating me for not visiting this nice little spot in Catalunya called Mas Martinet. I hop on over in my beat up old Pontiac. Once again there is a rather large imposing Castle type building with an outer receiving structure, though this seems to lead right into the larger house. There are some pretty dark violet flowers a garden box by the door. I head in. A cheerful attendant asks for $16, which I hand over. She gives me a sly wink. I am gently escorted to an large open area with a rustic wooden table, a mysterious cedar box is opened, filling the room with a heavenly scent. I am sat at the table and some dust is blown off it. I comment that the table seems ancient though my host says it's really not all that old. Turning around I discover that the room is suddenly filled with all sort of people and a pleasant din. Dark haired women in dark purple dresses with garnet trim are offering me silk pillows, some bearded gentlemen in vests with rolled up sleeves are offering me herbs and meat. I hadn't noticed the band but suddenly some vaguely medieval sounding tunes are played on pipes and hand drums, a maniacal fiddler is lurching over the table knocking plates and glasses on to the floor with a might crash. The room seems on the absolute edge of chaos, though it never fully losing control. Well except I think I catch a glimpse of naked flesh under one of the overturned chairs. The party goes on for quite a while.
I wake up the next morning. Many of celebrants, though still there, are lying on the floor. The vested men seem to be snoring, though one is trying to rouse the now passed out band. The mood is still convivial.
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The distillers art:
Trimbach Riesling 2008 - 100% Rielsing. 100% boring. This wine makes me angry. $20 of angry.
Mas Martinet Menut 2006 - 50% Garnaxta (Grenache), 30% Merlot, 20% Syrah. 100% Back the Damn Truck Up Now! $16? Per the QPR discussion if you told me this was one of the $70+ offering from the same producer I would believe it. And I would buy it.
