BU - Bruliam

The photo must have been circa 1982 or ’83. I had Farrah Fawcett feathered hair and wore a pink Lacoste collar shirt with horizontal stripes, actually yellow, blue, and orange horizontal stripes. Remember that cautionary advice warning chubby kids against horizontal stripes? It was with good reason. I sported both a head-gear and a neck gear. And I was smiling – a 40,000 watts of shiny metal smile. Around that same time, my allergies blossomed into a full-fledged affliction. I walked around with wads of tissues spilling from my pockets. Limp snippets of Kleenex residua clung to my clothes, remnants from ones forgotten in pockets and shredded by the washing machine. I was nerdy and noisy. I remember blowing my nose so hard in history class that I actually honked. I failed allergy shots. I freaked out my babysitter with unpredictable asthma attacks. And I had a head-gear. And a neck gear. And blue rubber bands that occasionally snapped off and flew out of my mouth when I talked.

As adults, we all learn to love ourselves more and forgive imperfections. In fact I’m wearing horizontal stripes as I write this (bitty, thin ones). But every now and then something triggers a flashback. It might be the glimpse of newspaper photo, the thread of a song, or even a smell. For me, it’s the inability to smell. After 20+ years of vanquishing my snot with daily nasal spray and allergy eye drops, my allergies have emerged from hibernation with a new vengeance.

I’ve never spent a May in Sonoma County. With the kid’s school schedules, I’d spend the requisite April spring break week up here and then wait to decamp for summer. If I had to come north for work, it was for a day or two at most. And I was not in a vineyard or a garden or frankly anywhere outside. May is spectacular here, don’t get me wrong. Pink sunlight breaks by 5:20 am. The days are long, and everything is verdant and blooming. I can actually see pollen in the air. It’s thick and sticky and following me, like a swarm of bees singularly chasing Charlie Brown in a comic strip. I am serially congested. Just plucking some herbs from my backyard garden incited a sneezing spasm. And locals say I still have around 4 weeks to go. But this is a wine blog, not the Archives of Allergy.  Let’s talk vines.

Down below, you’ll see a terrific picture of a baby shoot emerging from a bud. Mark Pisoni snapped this picture from one of the Bruliam blocks at Soberanes around the third week of April. In grapevines, flowering normally occurs within 8 weeks of bud break. And the vines self-pollinate. When the pollen is mature and most allergy worthy, the fused dome of petals ruptures and dumps a deluge of pollen into the stigma. Scientists can measure pollen levels in the surrounding air and extrapolate to predict fruit yield (Cunha et al). In fact, Jackson notes, “warm, sunny conditions favoring aerial pollen dispersal correlate with the conditions that favor self-pollination (pg 70). Well, duh. My post nasal drip and weepy eyes are a predictive barometer, too. This May has indeed been gorgeous, dry, warm, and sunny, with gentle breezes to intensify those punishing pollen allergens. By the time I emerge from my Claritin haze, fruit set will be over.

 Works Cited:

1. Cunha, Abreu, Pinto, and de Castro, Airborne Pollen Samples for Early-Season Estimates of Wine Production in a Mediterranean Climate Area of Northern Portugal Am. J. Enol. Vitic. 2003 54:189-194

2. Jackson, Ronald, Wine Science Principles and Applications, 3rd ed., Elsevier, 2008.

It’s time for another Bruliam Charity Giveaway Poll – so start clicking.

The winner of the poll gets $250 for the charity of their choice!!

To vote all you need to do is: (1) click on the bullet next to the person’s name and (2) click the big VOTE button at the bottom of the poll. The poll will instantly update the tally and show you the most current results. If the system works properly, you will only be able to vote once. But, you can forward the link or this e-mail to as many people as you want to get them to vote for you.

The poll will only be open for voting until 8am on Friday May 18th so get voting!

If you can’t see the poll or vote properly through the e-mail, please CLICK HERE and you can vote on the website.

If you have a Bruliam t-shirt, send us a picture for a chance to win some money for your favorite charity. And if you still don’t have a t-shirt, click here and register to become part of the Bruliam Brigade.

Finally – don’t forget to share this with your friends through the Facebook and Twitter sharing options on the top or bottom of the page!

For the second year in a row, we’re very excited to be in the top 5 finalist list for the Born Digital Wine Awards in the Best Winery Self Produced Content category.

There were over 300 submissions from 24 countries for this year’s awards.  A panel of judges reviewed all the entries and selected the finalists for each category. 

The two posts are:

Insulfurable – Kerith’s ode to the use of sulfur in wine.

Born to Sell – A tribute to Kerith’s salesmanship.

The winning post will be announced on May 24th in London at the London International Wine Fair.  Sadly, our nomination does not include an expensed-paid trip to London.  But, we’ll be sure to update you with the results as soon as we are notified.

Please join us on Saturday June 2nd from 2pm-4pm on the beautiful ocean view Acapulco Deck at The Shores Restaurant in La Jolla for our Summer Release Party.

For more information and to register for the party, please click here.

This is your chance to taste our delicious 2010 Rockpile Zinfandel (along with a little pink side project)! It’s the perfect way to kick off the summer BBQ and beach season. To accompany the wines and the gorgeous view, The Shores Restaurant will be serving up some scrumptious nibbles.

For those of you who loved our debut Rockpile zin last year, the 2010 is tasting even better – truly living up to it’s pedigree of a “zin for cab lovers”.

As with all of our release parties, there will be special release pricing (with no retail mark-up and no shipping cost). You’ll be able to pick up your wine and take it home that day.

Tickets are $30/person. Payment must be made through PayPal when you register. If you don’t have a PayPal account, simply follow the directions for the option to pay with your credit card without a Paypal account. Sorry, no kids. Parking is available in the Shores garage and they will validate.

Tickets are limited, so please RSVP early!

For more information and to register for the party, please click here.

We can’t wait to see all of you and share our new wines with you.

-Kerith & Brian Overstreet

It resembled a fading Ash Wednesday smudge, except that it was on my cheek, and purple, like a bruise. The residue of wine and saliva had already dried to a flaky sheen before I noticed it in my rearview window. Dang. I thought I’d gotten it all back at the restaurant, when I mopped up my cheeks, chin, and nose with the back of my hand. Turns out that all I’d really done was smear it around. It was my scarlet letter: A. A for asshole.

Almost 18 months ago, I met the owner of an upscale, highly regarded restaurant and wine shop. We’d been seated side by side at a not-for-profit event and geeked out over wine. Despite a number of back and forth e-mails, I moved to Healdsburg before I could schedule a tasting appointment. Last week I finally secured a formal initiation to pour my wines. I’d be pouring not only for the owner but also the beverage manager and two retail employees.

We five tasted around a big table, as I formally presented each wine. Since it was barely noon, and is professional form, we all spit into one central silver bucket. The beverage manager was a real pro. A master spitter, she’d lean slightly forward from her hips and nail a perfect arc of expectorated vino into the bucket. I dared not lean. Instead I lifted up the bucket and brought it near my face, lest I sully another taster with my erratic peripheral spray. I was nervous at first and spit limply. But I gained momentum with each bottle, growing confidence and an adrenaline rush.

By the time I poured the final wine, our 2010 Soberanes Vineyard Pinot Noir, I was in full form. I took a healthy gulp of pinot, swooshed and gurgled long enough to look legit and spit vigorously. In fact, I spit so forcefully that the residual pool of expectorant and discarded wine bounced back and sprayed me in the face. Picture the sprouting water feature at the Bellagio hotel in Vegas, an intricate swath of spittle spray, fat droplets coating the bridge of my nose. I casually tried to wipe away the moist purple rainbow with my hand. There weren’t any linens or paper towels at arms length.

“At least it’s 20% your spit,” offered up one taster, stifling laughter. His nostrils flared – a giveaway he was chortling on the inside.

“Happens to the best of us,” commiserated the beverage manager in her tidy suit and coiffed hair.

I made some lame comment about spraying myself in the face with the hose during harvest. I laughed it off, but it was pretty mortifying and kind of deflating. Who knows if they’ll ultimately buy my wine, but at least they’ll remember me.

I’m always good for a laugh.