A green grape by any other name?

This novel adventure involves our favorites: white wine, rejuvenation, and the idles of nature. I am now in the Holy Land (not so holy) of Israel. I embarked north after visiting distant family and found myself in the valleys of the Lebanese border - also known as the Jezreel and Bekaa valleys. The hills were alive with goats, random rocks and alas, unabated grape vines.

Having left the ancient city of Acre, my American hustle-bustle kicked in and before you know it, I was in hitch-hiker paradise. The hills are fresh; so is the air and automobile tires. I walked essentially 30km from point a to b in all. This is an abandoned vineyard along the way, in a region called ‘Menachem” - a religious sect.

The vines tangled as I pushed on through route 899 and found collectives of farmers and start-up types. I passed a music school, and on my last leg of the journey made it to Sousa, like the fabled town from ancient Persia. The wine? Reeked of Moscato and roast chicken, however to my surprise quite the opposite.

____the vineyards at Moshav Sasa _____

The vineyards were small, and planted with such effect that you’d assume it was someone’s prize. Northern Israel is now becoming a heated appelation controle, ‘Golan Heights,’ which is debatable to where I was. However, the wine I ended up with was very typical to similarly edgy areas, such as Alto Adige. Behold:

I finally found a bar (right?) and sampled (once again) the Golan Heights Winery ‘Dry White’, which if you know your history: wine is wine. However, it took on the characteristics of a stunning Sudtirol Weissburgunder or just really, a dense Pinot Grigio.

There is a saying, I believe about a man and a mountain in Japanese; however, I learned mountains are for horses.

Quest cu cest La Cote d Azure??

Alas, I’m now in the throws of my last days in ‘Nouvelle Orleans.’

The savory aspects of New Orleans truly evoked shades of orange, lavender, and rouge. Le Baton Rouge was an echo in the alleys of the Rue Conti and Rue St. Louis. However, the underlying ‘caves’ of wine stay true to the raunchy nature of France - Granache Noir, Petite Sirah, and highly pitched violescent Italian wines.

My only behest, the sacre Blue; the blue of the sea, and my nose uncovered a wonderful appelation of Cote D’Azur, AKA PAY’s DE HERAULT.

Think Denim; why? Because in Italy, the town of Denim, Genoa is not far! This be the land of the Azure, the strange, and the blue. The appelation is going by the title ‘ Pay’s du Herault’ which I trave to the Land of Hercules.

I sampled three wines from the region so far and today I’m mentioning the rose. These wines are truly Greek-esqe. Rough and tumble acidity that glistens each sip. The grapes? Rudimentary and ashen. The title of the wines reads Cabernet, Grenache and Syrah. However, there even more nuances  to Greek varietals such as Malavasia or Agioritiko.

The Moulin de Gassac 2017 ‘Domaine Guilhem’ Rose was gushy and teemed with jammy blackberry. The body thin and unscathing. A truly soothing sipper.