As I woke this morning and looked out over an emerald green mesa, I knew this was something unique to West Texas, a place of beauty, but also a tough-as-nails place. A place where, for the life of me, I’ll never understand the politics. But a place I am drawn to because it speaks to the independent streak that runs through me. I love the space, I dream about it when I am in Italy. And today when I left it, it made me sadder than when I have to leave Italy. But this isn’t on the wine trail in West Texas, is it? I must remember my place, mustn’t I? Ah gee, humor me for just this little post (or two) while I whittle the events down to some words and pictures. And a career of connections and some great memories. At least to little ‘ol me.I don’t know if I could ever tell all the stories we heard these past few days, from the hidden Italian vineyards in North Texas to the chemistry lab in the Panhandle that launched the modern wine industry in Texas (yes, we make wine here too!).
A buddy of mine, Stefano Salvini from near Forli in Emilia Romagna asked me to bring him some Viognier when I return to Italy. Stefano is making an experimental Viognier (or as we say in Texas, Vee-ahjj-ner) in Italy and is interested in how other folks craft the wine in places heretofore thought of as unlikely to succeed.
Well, let me tell you, they are making some kick ass Viognier in Texas and my two buddies Pat Brennan, from Comanche, Texas (isn’t that a romantic name?) and Kim McPherson from Lubbock (not so pretty name but definitely the high range of Texas viticultural areas) have found some local terroir in which to make a Viognier worth hauling across the pond to show off.
Kim’s dad, Doc McPherson, well let’s just say I go right back to the beginning of my wine career and well, Doc was there, making wine and selling it to the distributor who sold it to me at my wine bar. Staked Plains Red and White in 1.5’s. I’d sell it as an entry level wine for $3.50 a glass. I was fresh and clean and perfectly acceptable as a glass of wine. And it was from Texas. Doc is the Peynaud, Tchelistcheff and Tachis of Texas. What a wonderful guy, still truckin’ at 91 and counting.
That’s about all I’ve got to say about this tonight. I’ll be back for one more pass around on the subject before I head on back to the wine trail. There are lots of adventures fixin' to come up in Italy. Meanwhile, I’m so lucky it’s like riding a gravy train with biscuit wheels.




























