Recollecting This Weekends Wine Tasting

Lord I have been busy for the past few days, catching up on work accumulated in my Labor Day absence.  That is likely the true meaning of Labor Day; taking that break makes a lot of fucking labor for me.

I will take a minute, however, to share my enjoyable weekend with you; not because it is inherently insightful or contains any life lessons that you may find useful, but rather because now and again it is nice to take a break from research.

As some of you figured out a time ago, I am a Michigan resident; from the motor city metropolis, no less.  I only reside there half the year, however, and spend the rest of my time in a summer home, in the north.  Then this year, I took a nice weekend to go to the one, Traverse City.  If you are unfamiliar with our geography, Traverse City is in the northwest corner of the lower peninsula.  It is a decent sized city of roughly 40,000 located at the furthest inlet of a large bay.  The area is a lush habitat of rolling hills hiding many lakes and rivers, and home to a large agricultural industry.  It is best known for its cherry orchards around which the Cherry Festival is held each year.

We went up with the intention of tasting the local wines at the many vineyards which have sprung up over the last decade.  The journey to the vineyards tends to take you along the length of the bay, a deep blue of soft waves on which white sails of ships contrast tranquily.  Each of the vineyards themselves is a beautiful location built around old, stone buildings, and great wooden architectures well worth investigating in and of themselves; looking on the great landscape below the hills they were cultivated on.  Fresh, cool breeze from off the Great Lakes as a warm sun beats down on the back of your neck; resting in the shade, sipping on a glass of wine, while eating crackers with goat cheese and gazing at the grapes, still growing on the vines.

As to the wine itself, the area ferments some of the best; Riesling, Pinot Grigio, Pinot Noir, Gamay Noir, and Rose, to name a few.  Champagne is also plenty to be found, with each vineyard hosting their own specialty.  This year, the Late Harvest Riesling was easily the most popular; an exceptionally sweet wine with a full flavor, and a price to match.  Each location had especially reserved this delicious harvest.

If you should happen to go there, remember the words I’m about to tell you.  Many vineyards have sprung up since the 90’s, when wine making became increasingly popular to the area.  But of all the vineyards, Boskydel is the best.  They were there before any others, and will hopefully be around long after.  So cultural is their wine making that there really isn’t any marketing for them; the location being something of a local secret.

You can find the way by asking people at the other vineyards; the employees will know.  There isn’t much of a marker at the farm itself, with only a crudely painted sign and a mailbox with the name printed on it.  Should you happen upon it when they are supposed to open, or right before they should close, don’t bother.  The owner will likely have already shut down for the day.

As you pass through the gate towards the lone barn that makes up the grounds, you go by a sign pardoning the patron of transgression made through limited service.  As you park your car and enter the lobby, scarcely more than a poor clerks office cluttered with memoirs collected over at least one mans lifetime, you are greeted only by the silent observation of a lone onlooker; an old man by the name of Bernie.

Bernie, with his family, brought winemaking to the Traverse City area and he is, without doubt, the best.  Don’t be alarmed by his unsociable ways.  He won’t greet you are ask about where you’re from.  He won’t care where you’re going.  And he won’t offer many words other than an occasional murmur of understanding, when you inquire about tasting his wine.

One of my companions, who had been there many times before, attempted to grant him praise as the best winemaker around.

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

As he reaches outward with the bottle, an old hand unsteadily holding grip, his opposite hand extends a single, thoughtful finger outward, pressing gentle beneath the bottleneck and enabling him to pour exactly the right amount.

You look, now quite silently, at his prices, hung up on the wall behind him, all under $15 a bottle and exorbitantly cheap.  He chuckles to himself if you ask about his discount for a case of wine.

“15% off.  That’s our stimulus.  Ours works, Obama’s doesn’t.”

While we’re trying his wines, all contained in glass bottles that seem lackluster, perhaps even bordering on amateur in appearance, a large group of people come in behind us.  Counting to more than eight, Bernie asks some of them to leave and return later.  He is, after all, just one aged man and his wine.  But then, when you’re a legend, you don’t have to care about your customers.

The wine is rather exceptional, and our group bought a good amount of it.  The journey to Boskydel’s to visit the charming Bernie is easily the highlight of any trip to Traverse City.  As we left, I took notice of a single sign that hung on the wall; a quote to the effect of:

“Drink good wines habitually, and fine wines occasionally.”

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