The Best of Times In memory and joy of living. BY LANCE SPARKS I've been young too long, and suddenly I'm not. Been living on wine time, every year a new vintage, a race to taste all the best while others only improve with the years' passing. I'm Mick Jagger's age, and we both can still feel rock 'n' roll coursing through our veins. There's still a dance in these legs, and not yet a slow two-step. But suddenly illnesses and ailments are striking my friends, cutting down people I love, people who have made the music in my life. Couple days ago, our friend Dave Johnson was getting dressed, hustling to a hospital appointment, a scheduled knee surgery. Dave wrote fine, sharp poetry, lots of other stuff, the kind that (barely) paid some bills. Seems like minutes ago we celebrated the publication of his latest book, Pitching My Tent on Slanted Ground; couple seconds ago he was reading one of the poems at Raven Gallery and we were tossing back glasses of Broadley Pinot Noir, all giggly because our podna, Sandy Jensen, had just brought out her book, I Saw Us in a Painting. Dave's lines probed special places; his metaphors were (are) firmly woven in wind, water, cloud, bird, tree, stone, stuff that lasts forever. Good times, the best of times. In a photo by Michael Paige, Dave wears his black beret, holds his book in his left hand, his right hand in Buddha gesture called hamsasya, the swan's beak, sign of knowledge. I doubt he knew that, but he might have; doesn't matter, couldn't be more right. I envy the grace and speed of Dave's exit. No lingering descent into helplessness, no more probes, scalpels and stitches. I imagine those last moments, the inventory of leaving home: coat, bag, books and paper (always), good pen, beret, cat in, lights out. Lights out. Painless fall into darkling air. We'll drain some bottles in memory of Dave Johnson and in joy for those who remain to raise the glasses and read the poems and savor our moments: Let's open this festival of light with a bright white, Silvan Ridge 2003 Pinot Gris ($12), inhale its peach/citrus aromas, imbibe its crisp, clean flavors, maybe best with some cold salmon paté, some crunchy bread, dabs of white cheese. Silvan Ridge, if you didn't know, is one of our neighbors, their tasting room located in the Lorane Valley, on Territorial Road, a 20-minute ramble through sweet country roads as the land bursts into bloom. If you go, don't neglect to sip their semi-sparkling Early Muscat, one of the prettiest wines produced in this state, or anywhere. Fresh early greens are flowing into the stores, and the Dungeness crab season is at its peak, so it must be time for Kim Crawford 2005 Sauvignon Blanc ($16), a dry white wine that fills the mouth with ripe tropical and grapefruit flavors that just resonate with fresh seafood, cold meats and salads. There are many fine sauvignon blancs in the market, but New Zealand's Marlborough region wines set a new standard for this varietal, actually more a new and defining style, a rare and special richness. People who try these lovelies almost inevitably want more. Luckily, there are many and at good value; Kim Crawford is merely one of the best. Last night, we tucked into a traditional Italian late winter/early spring dish, osso bucco, a stew made from lamb shank, with morel mushrooms and white beans, flavorful and so satisfying for a cold night after a warmish winter day. Had just the wine, stashed for a few months to gain a little maturity, Falesco Vitiano Rosso Umbria ($10), dark, rich, concentrated with flavors of blackberry, plum, hints of chocolate, a pleasant earthiness, a fine complement to the dinner. I'm a shameless promoter of local foods and wines, on the simple grounds that the closer to home the truer the flavors and the better for the home economy. So no apologies, OK? But I also admit to a distinct weakness for Italian foods and wines. It began long ago when, in a previous incarnation, I spent nearly 10 years as the wine manager for Ambrosia and other Italian restaurants, which meant that — nasty part of my duties — I was compelled to taste hundreds of wines, under the close tutelage of experts, and eat a prodigious amount of superb food prepared by some supremely talented chefs. Sigh, I did my best, appreciate your sympathies. Suffice to say some of my peak wine experiences have been Italian, and I wish the same for you. An opportunity might be coming soon. Maurizio Paparo, owner/operator of the Excelsior, is branching out, opening the Brindiamo Event Center at the Emerald Valley Resort in Creswell. Grand opening will be 6:30 pm March 14 with a five-course dinner prepared by their young (23) Cordon Bleu-trained chef, Gustavo Pardo, and featuring five super wines from Michele Chiarlo, with Alberto Chiarlo as the guest of honor. They promise the 100 invited guests chances to taste Chiarlo Gavi, Barbera, Barbaresco, and Barolo. Some might even score sample sips of the renowned 1999 Cerequio Barolo, which usually runs about $200 a bottle. I'd argue that a wine lover hasn't really lived until lipping a great, mature Barolo; very few wines, and only the very best, approach this depth and complexity. And let's be clear: Being alive is what good wine is all about. We'll close with a toast to all our dearly beloved: To the zestful living of life, till the graceful moment of its leaving.
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