"Clever Tyrants are never punished" . . . Voltaire

Below is a quote from July of 2013 describing our experience with growing grapes and making wine:

"Of all of our crops, the grapes are the most work intensive and, if ignored for one moment, can turn on you like a mean girl at camp.  At every step of the wine making process, there is opportunity to fail -- from a miscalculation at harvest or a blown bung during spring to a leaking barrel to bad corks to exploding wine bottles -- the list is endless.  For whatever reason, though, the wine grapes are much like the child in any family that is difficult, fussy and throws tantrums; it seems Mother always loved them the most.  Making the wine (and drinking it) is a passion, a love which cannot be explained, and we are passionate about making extraordinary wine -- although it hasn't happened yet -- and nothing beats those moments when it all comes together and we get it right.  We are inching ever closer."

That was three years ago.  At that point, we had had grapevines in the ground for nine years -- and still no wine.  Those who check in from time to time will recall well break-downs, coyote attacks, rattlesnakes everywhere, deer damage, locust, and one final blow from which the Zinfandel could not recover, red blotch.  Is there anything we've left out?  

People kept asking us where our wine was, haven't we been making it for years?  Why haven't they tasted it?  The truth is, we have made wine for years that we have dumped out.  If we, as the loving creators can't drink it, no one will.  We have read long into the night.  We have performed bench trials.  We have changed yeast after yeast.  We have changed methods.  We have changed barrels.  With the 2013 crop of Petite Sirah, there was such a sense of confidence about those grapes and that fermentation that we openly stated in the blog and online that this would be the first of our wines we would submit to competition.

As was also stated on the blog, clearly, the olives are the workhorse of the ranch and the crop that has been chosen to be our main commercial crop.  They are not tyrannical.  They give and give and shine as our brightest star, bringing in 17 medals in the last two years -- and at important olive oil competitions.

Last night we found out that finally, after what seems like centuries of work, we won a Silver Medal at the California State Fair for this Tyrant.  Why are we so excited about receiving one medal, after so much hard work for so many years?  What is it about the Tyrant that keeps drawing us back?  Why are we so excited about one medal, when the workhorse olives bring in numerous and bigger medals?

We live in an area with hundreds of wineries around us, where this medal is a drop in the proverbial bucket.  We are surrounded by San Francisco International Wine Competition winners and vintners whose wines are highly rated wines in Wine Spectator.  We will never be commercial vintners and do not expect to reach those heights, yet we feel as if, finally, we have achieved something with the wine.  Progress has been made.   

We don't understand the fascination with the grapes, the wine, and the adventure.  Sometimes we wonder why we don't rip all the vines out and plant more olive trees.  But there is that one moment when it all comes together at sunset or in front of a fire, the cork is pulled from a bottle of wine that we made from grapes we grew, and hope springs eternal that it is not only good, but that it is outstanding, and then it is not just a sunset or an evening in front of the fireplace, it is memorable.  You will always remember it.  That one moment in time.

Voltaire was right, clever Tyrants are never punished.  In fact, they're rewarded for their bad behavior.