Late-night knock on my door, and it’s my buddy Marcel. I don’t see him often, but when I do it’s either a brief stop at the winery at some random time, or a midnight visit with a bottle of wine.
Last night he showed up with an indifferent Bouzy, and this label idea for the Rosé of Pinot Noir he made from some fruit we sold him last year. We had to sit outside so we wouldn’t wake up the family and so he could smoke, and it was a damn cold and still 30°F in Sonoma last night.
As we killed the bottle he prattled away in his heavy accent on his very un-French enthusiasm for Husserlian phenomenology, Japanese silent films, and the role of the cabin boy in the British Navy of the 17th and 18th centuries (and he wonders why he’s single).
I told him I like the label. It’s about as close as I think we will ever get of a picture of him.