Cordelia Copelan

9.0

basking in the sun and eating pineapple after swimming in the quarry. fizzy and fun! — 3 years ago

Aleks Stanisic

9.1

If lizards were flowers — 7 years ago

with Gina

Jasmine Hirsch

Sales & Marketing Hirsch Vineyards, founder In Pursuit of Balance

9.1

Last night, basking in the magnificent hospitality of @engvinny. — 7 years ago

with Vinny and Michael

Pablo Cetlinski

9.7

If Saintsbury was alive, he'd add it to his notes from the cellar. Definitely a California speaking Pinot basking in the Pacific sun... — 4 years ago

Maggie Thompson

9.4

Beautiful green to gold. Crisp scent, like tarragon, citrus, and mangos. Lightly sweet with a really pleasant acidity. Feels like a basking in an herb garden by a rocky coast with the sun on your face. A “last meal” wine, for sure. Paired with Alison Roman’s seared scallops and corn from her book Dining In. Together, it was ethereal. — 7 years ago

Sean K McNeely

Viticulture and Viniculture Assistant at Viña Vik Vineyard, Winery and Hotel

9.2

Round and creamy and fresh and floral funky. Basking in this balanced Basque beauty. — 8 years ago

Chris Grimm

9.5

The color of earth basking in a Mendocino sunset, baking spice, apple, and pear. — 9 years ago

with Brooke

Vicki McKone

9.1

One of them lizards wines. Very good a little bit lighter and more fruity and citrusy then the Kashmir. — 4 years ago

Dmitri

9.4

It’s alive, medium bodied, singing songs and basking in our bread.#vinewine — 7 years ago

Lindsey King

9.4

How do I even begin to comment on the privilege of lapping up the last drops of a life's work? Puffeney's 52nd vintage, his final potion. The wine that made me aware of the Jura, that first sparked sensation of time and place, a wine that exists equally in bottle as it does in brain. When you find yourself paused mid-step on the walk home, paralyzed by the distant sound of a youthful pianist stretching their hands across blessed white and black keys. Recognizing the tension that folds over their shoulders in tandem with the all encompassing lightness of body that accompanies practice. There is something so real about the way they are playing, without too much fluidity, they stop and start again and somehow that's better than an unstopping song. There is no performance here. What is it about the walls, windows and air between you that deliver these wafts of sound in such a pleasurable way? How does the space aid the aesthetic? You keep standing there, basking in this auditory coat, and for a sliver of time you want nothing. You want no one. You have everything. This pianist will never meet you, nor you them, yet there is partnership, a unity, an offer and reception. An electrical circuit you have both worked to complete. You want to cling tightly to this moment and you find yourself searching for evidence to make you present. The sky was blue, the pavement was wet, I was just about there, I was happy. But all of this is already phrased in the past tense, the moment has already slid away from you. You pick up your forgotten step and continue forward, dizzy from experience, left with only a stamp in your mind that you can picture but never fully revisit. Little death. — 7 years ago