I Once Had a Blog.

Oh sweet hedonistic heaven, I have heeded thee.

I’ve been so stuck in a glutinous rut of complimentary-event worshiping that I have forsaken the reason why I started doing all of my media whoring anyhow – my most honorable blog. Oh yeah, remember me?

Although, I stand to think if my blog had a voice (that wasn’t already my own), it would appreciate and be proud of me for taking advantage of the happenings this industry grows rich in. My father has ironically dubbed me a “Seattle socialite” long ago. He doesn’t own a (functioning) computer, has a first generation Nokia cell phone and has owned the same truck for nearly two decades. The man is a saint and he’s right.

The following all contribute to a successful, free-loading and broke writer lifestyle I’ve been seeking: afternoon (like Manhattans at 3pm?) and evening (like I need to stay til 3am for an after party?) functions leaving me pregnant with food and liquor that I could never normally afford, sparking new friendships and making a few spiteful rivals along the way.

The word “rivals” makes it sound playful but at times, it’s a bit harsher and my fateful opposers fall into the antagonist character in my storybook.

White Heron & Competitions

When we started in 1986 and for many years afterwards we entered competitions as a way to get the winery noticed. If you come into our tasting room and peruse our scrapbook you will find information about medals we have won tucked away here and there.

Eventually we realized that none of the reviews (also tucked away in our scrapbook) or medals made any difference in our sales. This was primarily because we never won the super triple gold platinum award. This is because the un-oaked, fruit forward, and unfined style of wine we make does not fare well in competitions. We then stopped entering competitions as, on average, it costs $40 per wine to enter.

Why does the White Heron style not fare well in competitions?

A recent competition near here featured over 200 wines. I have myself worked as a judge in wine competitions. You are served a flight of comparable wines, say five Chardonnays. You rate these Chardonnays without food or atmosphere. You then move on to the next flight of Chardonnays. From each flight a wine is selected, assuming enough judges liked the wine. The wine selected is the wine that tastes the best compared to the other wines in the flight in that environment. The ‘winning’ wines from each flight are then returned to be tasted where eventually the ‘best’ wine of all is selected.