I’m doing my best to imagine – in a TV drama-like scenario – how viewers would try and piece together the events that happened if my last post was the season finale and this was the premiere of the next. Writing book summaries in grade school prepared me for this moment, y’all. Insert a moment to crack my knuckles and stretch my muscles here. Because my fingers typing up all these words is the only exercise my quarantined ass is getting up here on this day.

Anyways, a conscious decision to pause writing was all intentional rather than accidental – the last 2 years have been an exercise in focussing less on wine and more on other parts of myself: a deep-dive into all things queer, Filipino, gastronomic, and cultural, with some splashes of cocktails and wine in between.

Since the last post I was but a few months inaugurated into the gaybourhood of the gay capital of America, moving in with a new best friend who I met after we went on a few dates – I FULLY pride myself in the fact that he uses my break-up-but-let’s-be-friends text on other people. (Look out, LinkedIn skills!) I had lived in South San Francisco while he had lived in Oakland, and we appropriately decided to meet in the middle. 2 years of shenanigans later, I’ve moved into a different apartment in the neighbourhood with a partner, just a short walk away. 2 years of restraining my attempts to indoctrinate my friends with champagne or nebbiolo and giving in to the micro-eras of the “whiskey soda phase”, the “vodka soda phase”, and the “gin soda” phase; musical nights and random men; sloppy walks home involving make-out sessions next to pet supply stores; and seeing your friend making a little extra coin busking next to the local theatre with his accordion. I fear for little stories that might slip out in future posts. Or do I? Is 2008 Chambolle-Musigny the dom top from 58 miles away who incessantly taps you on Grindr even though his photo is a pixelated landscape? Roll the clip!

Me and my company Endless West finally got to release our molecular whiskey (named “Glyph”) in late 2018, and then just a few months ago, we released our molecular Moscato d’Asti-inspired wine (named “Gemello”) and molecular sake (named “Kazoku”) under our our Molecular Exclusive line. It’s just the biggest mindfuck being on the other side of the whole thing – going from writing about a shit ton of wines and then creating them yourself. We even got to take Glyph (and other side projects!) to a very traditional winegrowing conference in Wellington, New Zealand, which was equal parts terrifying and exciting. I did *not* get a photo with a sheep with the caption “I love sheep thrills” and I hate myself for it.

I barely touched a book on wines in 2019; instead that year’s resolutions involved fully dedicated my reading list to 30 books on the topics of Filipino history and identity, Puerto Rico, USA politics and history, and race. Well worth marinating my brain in said thoughts.

Other travels have taken me to Missouri to explore their vineyards (?!?); to New York to carry out cool product activations and explore the neighbourhoods with my boo (honestly, a trip deserving of its own series of posts); to Switzerland’s Lausanne, where we poured our scientific libations within the beautifully labyrinthian streets and walls; making cocktails in Hong Kong (!!!); and finally, Puerto Rico. I’ve never met a partner’s family before, so that moment was the final big thing of 2019, neatly tied up with the bow that was celebrating the New Year on a beach drinking Champagne.

And with that – having given myself a couple years to ferment or age or whatever wine-related metaphor you want to use – I’ve decided to study for the Advanced Sommelier certification (again). This… may or may not be a good idea. We’ll see. My study partner and I have squeezed our way through Champagne, the Loire, and Alsace, but we’re going to give a week to massage our brains.

Lord. All this talk about “2 years” has got me realizing how many wine ageing requirements I’ve let slip out of my brain.

Bechtold 2012 Gewurztraminer, Engelberg Grand Cru (Alsace, France) Apr 2020. $34.
I will take anything blousy and oily any day of the week – toss in that slow waxing of intense flavour and that bitter anchor at the end to balance everything out – an ebb and flow of textures. Lychee on the nose, yes – but also dried mango, jasmine, and sage.