Our friends at the Winemaker Studio sent us this lyrical reminder yesterday that tomorrow is their last day open until February.
'Twas the week before Christmas, downtown Peconic,
Not a grapevine was stirring, I with, gin and tonic;
The sorting line silent, the crush pad is bare,
The new wines all racked with attention and care;
The ‘11s are nestled all snug in their barrels;
While The Studio is lively with the loud sound of carols.
I power down my PC and turn of the light,
With visions of getting to bed early tonight,
When out in the Lane there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew past the bar,
The condensation so thick, I couldn’t see far.
Newly fallen snow with the moon shining bright,
Gave the luster of mid-day and offered me sight;
When, what to my computer-strained eyes should appear,
But a bright red Prius, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, clad also in red,
I feared all the pinot had gone straight to my head.
Calling each deer by name, the Prius quiet and quick;
I knew in that moment it must be St. Nick,
"Now! Chard, now! Cab, now! Merlot, and Pinot, "On! Noir, on! Gris, on! Blanc and Verdot;
"To The Winemaker Studio! Just past the tracks! "It's our last stop! We’ll fill the trunk to the max!"
So up to the curb came the Prius and parked,
And some elves holding six-bottle boxes embarked.
Then Santa himself came at last through the door,
He brushed off his boots, laid his sack on the floor.
As I reached for a corkscrew while turning around,
Up to the bar St. Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, he was covered in ash,
He held forth a Riedel, (he’d brought his own glass);
“I’d like a small taste”, He twisted his wrist, “I heard this stop was not to be missed”.
His eyes — how they twinkled! There was nothing to be said,
So I shrugged and poured him some Leo Family RED;
His sniffed and he swirled before taking a sip,
Then swished it around, getting some on his lip;
He scribbled some notes, and I smiled with relief,
As he took a small taste, sucking air through his teeth;
He grinned ear to ear and pronounced it “quite grand”,
And he wrote still more notes on the card in his hand;
Again I was pouring, he wanted all kinds,
SuHru, Grapes of Roth, and Anthony Nappa Wines;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Tasting the flight; then turn'd with a jerk,
He said "Nemesis?", and I muttered “sold out”,
His frown meant just coal in my stocking, no doubt;
Still he seemed quite amused as he scribbled anew,
He filled out an order and said “This will do”;
He bought ten mixed cases, most of all “Anomaly”,
Smiling he said, “Mrs. Claus loves it you see”;
The elves took the boxes and loaded his treasure,
He added a case of “Noble Roth” for good measure;
He nodded and winked, looked me up in his book, “Naughty” he said, but then gave me a look;
“I guess I’ll ignore this” he said with great cheer, “But you might want to try being good this next year?”
He made his way back to the well loaded car,
Leaving me a nice tip at the end of the bar.
But I heard him exclaim, the Prius quiet, the night still, “Have a Merry Christmas, I know I will”.
From all of us this holiday season!
Thank you for supporting your local winemaker!