| Hey Free Rangers, Thank dog that Malcolm Gladwell thing from Outliers is relatively true, at least I’ve found it to be so. I put my 10,000 hours into writing decades ago, and while I’ve gone several long stretches without practicing regularly in the last ten years, it generally seems to be a power tool I can still switch on at will. I just did. What I had been previously writing this week requires a bit more research, and corroboration with a P.J. O’Rourke book I was fairly certain I owned, but that I can’t seem to put hands on. I definitely had it at one point, dog-eared pages, noted up the margins, and I don’t recall deliberately loaning or disposing of it. Speaking of which, if you borrowed my palm-sized Banksy paperback in 2004, please return it. So, I’ve put the aforementioned chunk of text on a side simmer until a paperback of the missing volume arrives. I wouldn’t say that writing is easy, but it is something that I can just do, most of the time. Editing is the hard part. One can only get away with unmitigated stream of consciousness for so long, if one plans to keep anyone else’s attention. And in my freelancing days, I figured out early on that every word over the assigned limit one roams is an opportunity for an editor to remove your very favorite part(s) of the total text submitted. Everywhere besides at the very highest levels (which had I achieved, I wouldn’t be selling booze for a living), most editors are more rusty hatchet than sterile scalpel; word slayers, we lowly scribes called them. The only editor who ever altered my text for the better was Joe Ehrbar at The Rocket back in Seattle. Luckily, I had already been writing for them for a few months when Joe told me that had he realized I was only 22 at the time, he wouldn’t have hired me. It was all down hill from there. I recall one particularly unqualified word mangler growling at me, “The sun doesn’t settle, it sets,” which lobotomized the rhythm of my clever little clause, and the greater story suffered for it. There was no editor in my pocket to witness that serene festival field, beneath the Sierra Nevadas, in Quincy, CA. That particular sun settled amongst the swaying pines, beyond those smokey mountain tops. Swear to dog. I must confess that it’s getting harder and harder to come up with worthy weekly sales. It’s one of the very few downsides of peeking around the corner of this foul Plague Year. Parts of the industry are recovering, and the rest have adapted, such that the tidal wave of overstock in usually rare bottles is dwindling toward a sporadic trickle. So, let’s talk about one of my favorite living winemakers, Kelley Fox, whose Oregon Pinot(s) and whites are the kind of bottles upon which I’ll gladly stake my reputation, any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. I could write a book on just how awesome Kelley’s wines are, so I’ll try and keep this reasonably concise, and you’ll find more detailed tasting notes on the hidden sale page. If you were a fly on her wall, or more accurately, an earwig on her old vines, you might catch a glimpse of Kelley singing to the spring’s new shoots. Kelley Fox’ intent and practices, in the vineyard and cellar, are as high and wild as they come. If I do sell this joint, you’re likely to find me offered up as slave labor, with the hopes to one day produce a bottle worthy of the heavy shadow of her profound, yet precise bottled achievements. But I digress. Some time in the last few years I’ve apparently turned into somebody’s grandma because all I want to drink is expensive Chardonnay. By expensive, I really mean delicious, as this Kelley Fox Chard 2018 drinks well beyond its price, and is my go-to white wine these days. The finished wine show a purity and depth reflective of the super clean practices, and the magical hands, that produced it. While I love her whites, and occasional pink and orange wines, it is her Pinot Noir that has so fascinated my palate over the last decade, and she is unquestionably doing her best work to date right now. Kelley Fox Mirabai Pinot Noir 2018 is one of her lightest ever, from younger vines at the famed (tiny) Maresh Vineyard, but is far from a pushover. Kelley Fox Ahurani 2017 is her final release from the younger vines at the mineral driven, wild fruit of the Momtazi Vineyard, and the resulting wine is a bit bigger, and has significantly grippier, woodsier follow through. Our Kelley 101 (intro to Kelley Fox) 3-pack contains one each: Chard, Mirabai, and Ahurani. Her single vineyard (and single block) bottles are where things get really serious. These are American Pinot Noir you can serve to your most insufferable “I only drink Burgundy” friends. Kelley Fox Hyland 2017 is from another old vine site, planted in the ‘70s, and this wine, while drinking nicely now, has long cellaring potential, and is quite a bit bigger than profoundly elegant Maresh Vineyard bottles. Kelley Fox Maresh Pinot Noir 2018 and Kelley Fox Maresh Royal Ann Block 2018 are amongst the finest Pinot(s) to pass my lips this decade. They are each a stunning paradox of themselves, somehow equal parts structure and finesse. There are very few humans taking Pinot Noir to this level anywhere in the world. These are wines that can be enjoyed now, with a bit of air, or laid down at temperature for many years of successful bottle aging. Our Kelley-ology (Advanced Kelley Fox) 6-pack contains the three above, plus one each of her single vineyard/block wines. I cannot sing loudly enough the praises of this unique human being and her otherworldly wines. (!) Click here for hidden sale page (!) sale: retail: Kelley Fox Chard $45 $ Kelley 101 (3-pack): $109 $ Kelley-ology (6-pack): $289 $ ** This week only, as supplies last! ** * No other discounts apply.* Cheers, Jack Proprietor Free Range Wine & Spirits P.S. Free Range E-mail Archive |
 |
718.643.2250
info@freerangebrooklyn.com
