There's Wine in Them Thar Hills

There’s Wine in Them Thar Hills

In fancy company, we like to think of ourselves as eonophiles. But among kin and friends, we are viewed as a bunch who just like to get drunk and get silly on a scheduled basis, more or less. So every month we have dinner in each other’s homes and introduce personal wine discoveries to accompany the food. For the most part, our search would take us to Dekalb Farmer’s Market or Costco, or World Markets, to browse their wine ratings and check the bargains. But some of us who are retired and can take off anytime to travel have gone for wine pilgrimages to the hallowed and ancient lands of vinification themselves, Italy and France and to the noveau lands of Sonoma and Napa Valleys. In all of these the delight is in outdoing one another in displaying one’s wine tasting vocabulary, never mind that we have no idea on how to judge the wine. But then, just like beauty is in the eye of the beholder, good wine is in the palate of the imbiber, a matter of personal taste. This is the only way to view this exercise if we are to keep our affection for one another. Otherwise it would be an enologist’s war, for each one of us is passionate when we describe how a particular vintage affects us. We can wax poetic with our tongues, describing a particular vino’s bouquet, or legs, or sweetness, or dryness, or it’s finish or nose. Sometimes the descriptions can become X-rated, particularly when you’re searching for the subtlest nuance to convey a wine’s body. Do you notice how consistent wine’s imagery is with seduction? If you close your eyes and listen to a wine’s description, you’d think one is describing a full-bodied voluptuous woman with a fresh grass smell and great legs and ruby or cranberry red lips with an apple or musky aftertaste! You would notice in this particular group too, with an aggregate of 145 married years among them, how the talk easily descends into the gutter after the first few bottles are uncorked. The descriptions become wild, then crude, as boys who’ve had a few are wont to do. But since their tongues are now nimble and loose, and the grape’s nectar is in the head, we learn of secrets that help them to stay the virile boys that they are. So we look at them with indulgence and generosity and refrain from washing their mouths with soap.

The year before we decided to mark our anniversaries of marital togetherness in Cumberland Island and the fond memories still linger and are reviewed every time we meet. We note that I learned how to ride the bicycle there, on the pristine white beach, witnessed by shore birds and wild horses, fear of falling easily whisked away by the gentle reassurance of friends and the exquisite peace bestowed by the tranquil island that still exists as god intended it to be. This year we decided to go to the mountains and witness fall in its splendor. A friend offered the use of his mountain retreat nestled on a hill along the banks of the Chestatee River. But what can one do in Dahlonega, Lumpkin County? Is there any restaurant one can dine in? What can we do to fill the time? Once you’ve viewed the scenery, what is there to do? We look down on the Chestatee as we swing on the wide back porch. We supposed we can go fishing. But it’s past the fishing season and the fish are gone. From March to September the Chestatee obliges anglers with rainbow and brown trout, spotted, white and redeye bass, stripers, bluegill, and redbreast. But it’s now November. Our cook ( who we brought along fearing that there’s no place to dine in the mountains), the only one to get out in the water and cast a fishing pole, caught thumb-sized specimens not fit for the grill, so they had to be set free. In the summer one can also float down the Chestatee, on rafts or ride the white rapids on certain stretches of the river, or view the falls that drops about 60 feet along the river’s way. This river’s headwaters springs from Lumpkin County and meanders along valleys and hills and empty into Lake Lanier. It is the little brother to the mighty Hooch. In some sections, the river bottom had been defaced by dynamite blasting, river rocks and boulders disturbed from their natural state by man prospecting for gold in the Dahlonega quarries, the site of the first US gold rush in the 1800’s. Did you know that there was once a mint in Dahlonega to strike those gold US coins? You can learn all about the first gold rush in the USA in the Gold Museum in Dahlonega and visit a gold mine and pan for gold, and be entertained, if that’s your thing. But our thing is to shop, so we set out to the historic town square where there are several antique centers filled with treasures as good as gold. My shopping coup is a wine cork bulletin board with pewter wine-themed push pins, a marvelous souvenir of our expedition!

We discovered there is wine in them thar hills! Because of its elevation, about 1600-1800 feet above sea level and the cooler temperatures, the north Georgia mountains is hospitable to growing certain varieties of grapes, notably cabernet francs and merlots. There are dedicated eonophiles and vintners, who for the sheer love of vinification, staked out their fortunes in these mountains, and just like the early prospectors for gold, they dug into the ground to find their treasure. Today, they are pouring their initial vintages from the barrels and producing wines that are gaining attention from the big boys and attracting audience like us from established wine-tasting touring centers. We visited Three Sisters Vineyards. The name was inspired by the spectacular view of the three mountain ranges straddling the tri-state border of Tennessee, North Carolina, and Georgia in the north, just a hop and a skip away from our cottage on the Chestatee. They are uncorking their 2001 Meritage wines, so named because of their merit and heritage. Accompanying it are fine handcrafted cheeses from Sweet Grass Dairy Farms in Thomasville, Georgia. On this day we sampled Botana, an aged goat cheese which won 2nd place in the American Cheese Society Competition, and a cheddar, Clayburne, which won first place in the cow cheese category. Our hosts during the wine tasting were the owners, Doug and Sharon Paul, who craft their wines with love and pride and also collect fine handcrafted jug pottery indigenous to the region. They have a Howard Finster work behind the bar. Their Meritage Merlot won first place in the Wine Spectator’s ratings of Georgia wines in 2003. The wine trail lists several wineries; Frogtown Cellars, Wolf Mountain Vineyards, Habersham Vineyards, Crane Creek, Chestnut Mountain Winery, Chateu Elan, Fox Vineyards, Split Rail, Tiger Mountain, Puckett Family Vineyards, Georgia Wines, and Persimmon Creek. Napa Valley, watch out! I came home with a bottle of Three Sisters 2001 Cabernet Franc.
We brought a cook with us fearing that we can’t find any place to eat, but we were mistaken. There are many fine dining establishments in the area. We dined in, but decided to not skip the Southern family style dining at the historic and must-eat Smith House, and had lunch there on our way home. An endless stream of juicy fried chicken, roast beef, ham, vegetables and side dishes are served throughout, with a peach cobbler a la mode to finish the meal. Yummy!
We went to the mountains to be away and to be together and to enjoy food and wine. Our first night we had Italian sausage spaghetti marinara, accompanied by Italian wines, a fine Barolo and Riserva Chianti among the 4 bottles we consumed. The second night, we had grilled pork loins accompanied by various Cabernets from California, Chile and France. In between, during snacks and mahjong, we finished off a Beaujoulais, Merlot, Spanish and Argentinian reds, and a German Riesling. Evening entertainment was Mahjong, and to have a quorum we needed Eudy to play. But she didn’t know the game and she was reluctant to be taught, and she whined and complained, and protested. But she was given a proposal she can’t refuse and so she learned the game and played to complete the women’s quorum, albeit with the coaching of our cook who was at her side throughout. Our cook is a skilled player, so it must be Eudy’s luck that determined her position of being the only loser after 2 nights of play. Our conscience prevailed on us in the end and we didn’t accept her money. But on our next outing, she will not be spared, we will take no prisoners!
We were wishing our stay was longer but it was time to go home. We parted at Smith house after the belly-busting all-you-can-eat lunch. For half of the group it was to drive down GA 400 directly to go home or stop by the premium outlet mall in Dawsonville. For the other half that are golfers, the day will just begin with a tee time at Gold Creek, the Robert Trent Jones complex on Hwy 136. I shot a 97, a perfect conclusion to a wonderful weekend among dear friends who cherish family and each other who with their partners share 145 marriage years together. The bacchanalia of food and wine, gambling and laughter, rising above the rumble and swishing waters of the Chestatee will prompt fond memories for many months until next year’s get-away.