I felt like some red and I have been wanting to try this 2003 GIBSON " Wilfreda " Barossa Vale red blend from owner / winemaker Rob Gibson of Shiraz, Mourvedre and Grenache. It's been a humidity-free/drop-dead gorgeous sunny, bright, baby-blue skies day with just the very few accents of wispy white clouds here and there. I got up and wound my way quickly outside onto our deck to the Sunday edition of the Washington Post newspaper and a wilted Hibiscus flower blossom that had been so amazingly alive, vibrant and Kodak-perfect just the morning before.
My daughter asked me tonight at dinner as I drank the GIBSON " Wifreda " 2003 from the Barossa Vale whether or not I had taken a picture of this flower. I said I had not and she immediately launched into a tirade of words saying that it was the first blossom this year and that why had I not taken a picture - I always take pictures?!? She was incredulous, really. I liked seeing and listening to the gestures and the animation of her expressions.
I had not had my camera with me : that is why I had not taken a picture yesterday : and believe you - it pained me more than it did my daughter today! Oh well, I did take a picture earlier this morning as a poems started to arise from thin clear, beautiful, brilliant air as I sat just a foot or so away from this faded blossom. I was so inspired by it and what it conjured in my mind that I went in search of my camera as the words formed in their deconstructed fashion in my brain.
It made me think of both the male and the female sex's sex : from the open flower bright and deep red and the stamen sticking out so alluringly with a few tiny dots for golden/sun's shine antennae to this morning's shriveled female sex still asleep yet dreaming of the day before and the desire to be awakened once again by her male suitor.
And what does any of this have to do with Rob Gibson's " Wifreda " 2003 red blend : everything and nothing ; whatever you choose or I chose to connect the two. And it is funny that as I have been typing that my mind in ever over-active-drive has been making some connections that I will share and that will become obvious or not to you as I describe the wine now.
Funny, I wanted to have some red tonight with our turkey burgers that I had just grilled outside on our grill ( two feet away from this wilted Hibiscus petal ) along with some salmon burgers, too. I had already enjoyed a glass of the SAINT ANTONIO Veneto Pinot Grigio/ Garganega white blend with my daughter and wife. It was now time for me to move onto my trusty red.
I wanted to take some pictures of this bottle and my glass of white wine that I had just poured inside in our kitchen. It was still quits sunny and hot outside and so I had chilled slightly the bottle in the ice-tray in our freezer. Boy was it cold and refreshing my first taste.
I loved the dark, dusty-dry, earthy color that somehow made me think of heat and earth and browns and brambles. tangles and vine, parched grape leaves and cracked old-vines all turned liquid dark ruby brick-brown-red here in my glass. I loved it. I loved the excitement : the moment of it being revealed to my eyes for the first time : the " first " impression - assault to my senses and my being. I loved the images that the bottle and the name GIBSON and the color and bouquet all awakened in me of my time two years ago in February ( around the 20th, 2008 ) that I had been with Rob and his wife Annie Gibson for three days. I had a blast then and a lot of those images began to flow right into every fiber of my thoughts and warm emotions for this special time spent in their company with fellow-traveler Chris Pigott.
The darkness-barkness-deepness-grottoeness-old-vineness of this color really spoke to me of those hotter 'n hell Barossa summer days that Rob, Chris and I had walked between the parched vines and their precious load of grapes almost ready to be picked. We had the three of us walked these rows and cut off the shiny ribbons of red on one side and silver on the other to attach to the vines to scare the hungry birds away. Rob wanted to have more than less of this precious cargo of grapes to pick and to ferment soon into wine such as this Wifreda dry red blend. Can we blame him : can we blame the hungry birds?
This was the seventh year of the drought or was it longer? The 2003 vintage would then have represented the third year of this same drought. It was bad, it was serious, and it didn't seem to be going to change anytime soon. This worried Rob and his fellow Aussie winemakers/ owners. What to do?!?
All this and the images of Rob working late into the evening at his winery while he and his wife wined and dined Chris and me was flashing/splashing through my senses and head as I took my first sip. Boy was it dry and dusty and earthy and pungently thrilling and inviting and dark and mysterious, too. I loved it : I loved that it was not tasting like some unbalanced fruit bomb. Thank you Rob and thank you Barossa vines. How old are you anyway Barossa vines of this delicious Wilfreda blend of three originally French Rhone grapes?
I started to compose my picture with a nice towel from Bardolino, Veneto Italy : two ripe smaller tomatoes, the bottle, the glass of wine, the old antique fork and the Stelvan deep bright red Stelvan top. Yes, this bottle has a Stelvan closure and no cork. I took five or six : this was an important moment for me and I wanted to document it well with photos as well as get my thoughts to press ( like a wine press - my wine grape thoughts were ready to be pressed ) so that what I wrote would be " of the moment " and fresh and more crystal clear with more detail, too.
I liked the wine and was impressed with the flavors and the taste. I was wondering why it was so dusty dry and earthy and European and where was all that ripe Barossa fruit? There was edge and spice and intensity at first taste that made me think food thoughts. It slowly started to reveal more of the fruit core that was masked at first. The cold perhaps did this. I liked it initially better than I did later as it developed more. Sorry Rob, these are my unvarnished, unedited " first impressions ".
I liked the wine at first better than I did later because I guess at 14.8% alcohol it began to take it's toll on me with time. I would like less alcohol because it can tire my palate and it did on this hot summer day here at home in northern Virginia. I'm glad that I had chilled it.
Rob, the wine is a beautiful expression I am sure of that moment in time in 2003 in the Barossa Vale, South Australia. You worked brilliantly with what Nature gave you and I applaud your for your results here. At no time did I not like or enjoy this wine : it is as well made and as well balanced as it could have been given what you were given to work with : bravo. I look forward to drinking some more tomorrow night on my second day off in my delayed two-day weekend.
I will post this tonight at 11:18 PM on Sunday night, June 14th, 2009 and add to it tomorrow evening when I have another glass or two with that meal. I have also written the poem about the Hibiscus flower of yesterday and this morning at : chatpoetry.blogspot.com if you want to check it out.
Stay-tuned for more tomorrow. Cheers Rob and thanks for providing me with such an excellent accompaniment to my turkey burger this evening that I ate on a bun with a couple slices from those two ripe tomatoes and both some Dijon mustard and mayonnaise. TONY
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