Some more about oaks...

It's a new spring and a new opportunity for me to bore you with more information about one of my favorite trees. Do I even need to name it? 

I use the term 'bore' in a bit of apparent self-deprecation, but the truth is that I like what I've learned about oak trees and am using this format to force it upon all of you.  That's actually tending toward the brash end of the scale, isn't it?  I hope you'll forgive me and find this short post at least tolerable. 

(There he goes being self-deprecating again, are we being manipulated?) 

This was taken on September 16th, 2020.  This is my oak tree. Acorn central.  

Here is another oak on top of Mt. Dizzy.

Very new growth.

I picked up a few more interesting bits about oaks recently. I found the information I'm about to share with you from The Wood: The Life and Times of Cockshutt Wood, by John Lewis-Stempel.

Oaks have been used in a number of ways that I haven't mentioned before. I knew that whisky has long been aged in oak barrels, charred or otherwise, but I didn't know that 'May dew gathered from oak leaves was a beauty treatment for young women.' Nor did I know that oak leaf wine was a possibility. Besides that, in his Sylvia, (1664) John Evelyn wrote that -young red oaken leaves decocted in wine make an excellent gargle for a sore mouth. 

The header picture shows the area under my favorite oak tree. When I first saw this tree, it reminded me of a giant maple tree that grew in our yard when I was a kid.  I remember playing a game back then on a very sunny day when the shadows where sharp. We pretended that the shaded area defined our camp in the woods and beyond it's limits where all manner of danger.  

I think our game proves something of the wisdom of children, because John Evelyn also wrote about the oak in Sylvia, -Nay, tis reported, that the very shade of this tree is so wholesome, that the sleeping, or lying under it becomes a present remedy to paralyticks, and recovers those whom the mistaken malign influence of the walnut-tree has smitten.  

Now, we had no idea as kids that walnut trees were such trouble makers, and we were playing under a maple instead of an oak, simply because it's all we had, but we understood the fundamental idea, according to Evelyn, of a tree's wholesomeness even at that early age. I think that's significant.  

Now, some of you know me. You know that when I hear about being able to eat this, or drink that, natural food, I'm very likey to try it.  Accordingly, I brought home a pocketful of oak leaves from that little oak on Mt. Dizzy that I showed you above and I brewed myself some tea. I'm glad that I tried it although truth be told, I actually imbibed less than an ounce of the stuff. You could get a very close approximation of the flavor of my tea if you simply stuck an oak leaf in your cheek for a while. I found that it tasted very 'green.'  I understand why it has never caught on as a beverage. Even 'iced' and 'sweetened,' it would remain wanting I think. I'll give the wine a pass as well. 

But John Evelyn not all positive with his comments about oaks. He was an oak realist. He ended with a warning about them. 'Beware the oak, as it draws the stroke. (of lightning)' 

I assume from this then that he would suggest sleeping or lying under it only after checking with the weather channel.  

Finally, to finish this post, I refer to an experiment I started well over a year ago, I present the 'data' of my pin oak storage testing

You may recall that although the pin oak acorn is tiny compared to the English oak acorn, I said that it was produced in such quantity by the trees in our area that it could, if necessary, be gathered in quantities that might make a difference between starvation and survival if all other sources of food were exhausted. Because it is small, I reasoned that it might dry very successfully and store its approximately 7% protein content for a long time.  

This is the 2nd spring after I havested these acorns. Of the 30 I opened at random, 28 were in excellent shape and edible after rehydrating, grinding and leaching steps were carried out. I call that a huge success.   

Condition during storage, very clean and completely dry.

Those pieces on the right make up the two I tore apart during my inspection. 

I am going to continue to keep my mind open to other possibilites for 'fun with acorns.'  

However, groundskeeping crews came through some time ago and trimmed all the trees in the area, taking off the lower branches. Unfortunately for me and my 'research,' because of this I can no longer pick acorns as I have in the past, directly off the branches. I'll have to now pick them up after they fall. I don't suppose this will change the quality too much, as long as I am very watchful and don't let them lie around on the ground at all, but I liked the thought of getting the acorns when they were still attached to the tree and 'perfect.'  

Whatever I get up with to with species Quercus, I'll keep you posted.          -djf 
 

Spring around Mt Dizzy

I think that the seasons change more slowly in New Zealand than they do in Michigan. They go about the business gradually.  And, it's rather confusing sometimes, because many of the plants here seem to go about their yearly schedules based on their own internal clocks, rather than the calender.   

There are certain signs though that tell me when a change is occuring. 

For spring, which arrives in New Zealand according to the calender on September 1st, the sign (to me)  is a tui feeding in the flowering kowhai trees.  

The tui I showed you in the header photo is in this picture, but he's hiding.  

Here are some loquats, the first fruits that appear in the spring, next to some oranges, still on the tree from last season, as they finish ripening. We like to leave our oranges on our tree as long as possible, just like this home owner is doing, because they continue to become sweeter as they hang.  

I don't know what this is, but it's impressive.  

I'm on top of Mt. Dizzy now. 

(This picture doesn't really fit with the others. I took it because it reminded me of past times.) 

I notice the 'windrows' of grass left by the grounds crew that mowed this area recently. They remind me of the windrows of hay that my father in law used to cut in his fields each year. 

When I first met Jeanne and visited the farm, haying and every other part of farming life was a mystery to me. Over time, I learned a lot though.

Today, as I looked at this, I thought of how I came to know what freshly cut hay felt like, how it changed as it dried, and the point at which it was ready to bale. I value that knowledge and those memories.) 

The view from Mt. Dizzy toward the Waitakere Range of hills.

This photo doesn't really fit my 'spring' theme either, but I noticed this little grouping as I walked past it and liked it. 'Cousin Itt,' from the original Addam's Family, (1964-'66)** came to mind.    

Welcome spring!                        -djf

** It's hard to believe that it was that long ago.  

Thinking about wine

Do you ever think about wine?  I got to thinking about it today. You might assume that it  popped into my mind because I just published a post about the Babich Winery, but that's not why. It's really because of some recent experiences that I've had with wine. And because of my present stage of life; I have plenty of time. I find myself thinking about a great many things I've known over the years. Today it just happens to be wine.  

Besides, I think it's an interesting item to think about.  If you like wine that is. If you're not a fan for some reason of your own, maybe you won't care to read my musings about it that follow. Your choice.

As I sit here and try to order my thoughts, I have my favorite glass positioned next to my keyboard and filled with some red wine. I intend to sip as I type. I think it will help stimulate my 'little grey cells.' But let's talk first about my choice of glassware.

I just Googled wine glasses and found a site that listed 18 styles of glasses, and each was intended for a specific sort of wine. Wow, think of the pressure (and expense) I'd endure if I tried to always match my glasses to the wine I was drinking. 

My favorite glass wasn't on the list. I didn't think it would be. My favorite is not a wine glass at all, I know that. It's what's known as an Old-Fashioned glass or a whiskey-on-the-rocks glass. And it's a rather small Old-Fashioned glass at that. It stands just under three inches tall. Odd choice maybe, but I don't think so. I'll get into the reason for it later.

Let's now consider the wine I'm drinking. I think I know what's expected at this point in my narrative. I'm supposed to tell you about the kind(s) of grapes that were used to make it, the winery, it's country of origin, and maybe some tasting notes at the very least. You're supposed to care about all that. Or pretend that you do. To be honest, I'm sure neither of us really gives a hoot.  

I did drink a wine not long ago whose label claimed, among other things, that it 'pairs synergistically with meat. Its tannins mingle with the proteins of great cuts of meat.'

Clearly, that wine thinks a lot of itself if its label is to be believed. If I were to give you any tasting notes about that stuff, I'd also have to add that it's 'bossy,' because where does it get off telling me what kind of meat to eat with it?  Ooh, I better not pair this with a lowly hamburger. Steaks and prime ribs only need apply, huh?  Well, maybe I'd be forgiven if the burger was of wagyu beef?  No, forget it.  I snacked on part of a salt pretzel as I drank it and that wine mingled with it just fine.  

I find myself getting tired of all the hoopla and pretense that I think comes along with wine these days.  Actually, I know that I am really tired of many things. All things Covid try my patience, but worst of all are the politicians and the legions of battling minor demons (the press) that surround them.  Don't worry, I won't go there. I am trying to 'set my face against them,' but with admittedly less than perfect success. But, back to the wine... 

Jeanne and I have enjoyed a lot of wine over the years. One of our earliest experiences was in 1972 at the Northwoods Supper Club outside Marquette, Michigan. We considered it one of the best restaurants in the area at the time and went there for dinner one night for some special occasion.  We got our first lesson in wine pretense there. I had ordered a bottle of wine with our meal and our waiter, a guy not much older than we were, working his way through N.M.U. no doubt, brought the bottle. He opened it dramatically, and poured a portion into my stemmed glassware. (I don't remember if I had a burgandy or shiraz-shaped glass) I knew I was expected to taste it, consider it thoughtfully and give him the okay to serve us, if it satisfied my discriminating palate.  

Now, I'm sure he knew very well that I wouldn't know a good wine from a bad one. Like most kids in college at the time, I had more experience with Boone's Farm Apple Wine at $2 a bottle, than I did with whatever vintage was in my glass that night. Still, I felt I had to play the part, even as I felt slightly foolish to be doing so.  

In the years since then, I have had innumerable opportunities to pretend I knew something about the wine I was ordering. As I mentioned earlier, I have become a little tired of it in the 'twilight of my years.'  

There have only been a couple of times that I have seen wine presented and served honestly.  One, I've already told you about. It was in Madrid at El Abuelo.  

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/398866872025297364/94759441724243347

There was no pretense about the wine at this little 'hole in the wall.' You ordered red (tinto) or white (blanco) and that was that.   

The other was at the pension (apartment with meals) we lived in while in Madrid. Dona Macrina, our hostess, once ran out of the wine she served us every day at both lunch and dinner. Since we had been there at that point for some time and she felt she could ask, she sent me down to the wine shop that was located just two doors away from her establishment at 65 Calle de Las Huertas. I carried an enormous jug and was instructed to tell the wine guy to fill it and put it on her bill.  Inside the shop were two huge vats with spigots. I told him I wanted tinto and soon returned with it brimming to our landlady. 

Jeanne and I had commented to each other several times on the wine she served. We could tell for example one day that the wine in the wine store's vat must have been getting toward the bottom of the barrel because it was starting to taste 'different.'  That was when we would add lots more of the soda water than we usually did to the wine in our glasses.  These days, people make all sorts of fancy wine spritzers with soda water or other mixers, but back there in 1973 in Madrid, our 'spritzers' were a defense mechanism for wine of somewhat lesser quality and noticable sediment.  I also remember that we all but cheered when the wine improved markedly and we knew that the wine guy had received a new shipment delivered into his vats.  

I used to think of the wine in those vats around Madrid as 'vino de Madrid.'** They weren't pretentious, or full of nuances or tasting notes. They were good (mostly) solid wines that were delivered probably by the tanker, not the bottle. 

I nostalgically miss them. I'd like to walk into a cafe here some day and be given the choice of red or white if I asked for wine. 

Agatha Christie's character Hercule Poirot, made a face in the movie I watched recently when the man he was dining with ordered glasses of 'the house red' for their meal. I can certainly understand his reaction. He is a world-class detective at the height of his career. He expects the best. 

But I don't feel that way today. I have tried the best (or at least the pretty darn good) many times during my life but no longer require the services of a sommalier. I find myself rather relishing the ordinary. That is why I was delighted when I discovered an on-line deal for some red wine recently. It is definitely a 'vino de Madrid' judging from its bargain price. I ordered a bottle, and after trying it, smiled and ordered a full case. It is not remarkable; it will provoke no discussions regarding its nuances or finish, and will never be boasted about. But I can pour three fingers of it into my favorite glass, which looks very much like the glasses used at El Abuelo so long ago, and be comfortable. And did I mention that it was cheap as?  I just wish I could see the vat it was drawn from. I'll bet it's a big one...      

** My term of 'vino de Madrid.' for the wine we enjoyed while in Spain, came about after our first experience while having dinner in a Chinese restaurant there. The restaurant we chose was a 'modest' one. As students with a given amount of money that had to last us during our more than four months in Europe, we wanted to splurge now and then by dining out, but it had to be somewhere we could afford. That night, after we ordered, our waiter asked what we'd like to drink with our meal. The menu listed a number of both mineral (carbonated) and still (not carbonated) bottles of waters, but they all added to the price of the meal. He saw us hesitating to spend additional money. He smiled then knowingly at us, and suggested that we might like, "agua de Madrid, (Water of Madrid - tap water) We smiled back at his suggestion and have ever afterwards remembered that meal, and the kind waiter, by referring to 'agua de Marquette' or Carney or Wilson.    

It was a natural progression then to refer to any common wine we enjoyed in Spain by the term of 'vino de Madrid.'  When you think about it, it makes sense because the vinos de Madrid didn't come out of bottles either, they came out of spigots or taps, just like the water did.     -djf

Babich Wines

New Zealand is also known as Aotearoa.
That translates to, 'The Land of the Long White Cloud.'
In a recently published post I referred to it as, 'The Land of Rainbows.'
It would not be a stretch to also call our part of it, 'The Land of Vinyards,' or, 'The Land of Wineries.' Obviously the one leads to the other so feel free to combine the two if you wish. They're all over the place here.
   

The one closest to our home in Henderson is the Babich Winery. In another recent post, the one about my walk on a dreary day, I showed you a photo of the working side of the Babich Winery, high on the hill across the vinyards.  

Today, I thought that I would visit the tasting portion of that Winery. I should have done it long ago. As the tui flies, it's only 3/4 mile from our home. I simply hopped on to our local 143 bus on its run toward Ranui and got off, less than 10 minutes later, about 250 meters from the gate.  

Come on along. Let me show it to you. 

 In the middle of their display of wines, they have these soil samples. Another vinyard owner once told us that drinking wine is a way of tasting the soil. An interesting idea. 

(..And as good an excuse as any to open a bottle) 

((Hmmm, Do you suppose that annelids ever smack their 'lips' over a particularly good vintage soil?)) 

{"Ah, this bit is excellent... Complex. I'm tasting lots of Rangitoto ash here, with some peaty overtones, smokiness, but not too much, probably from that last big burn-off, and a strong, lasting finish, hinting of tsunami salt.  This is a winner, no doubt about it."}

 The grapes are grown right up to the parking lot

 Above and below: Places to sip some wine on the grounds.

Looking off into the distance.  

I had to get at least one bottle since I was there, and then I spotted that insulated wine/edibles carrying bag.  Couldn't resist. I brought it home too. 

   -djf