Current Wines - Tolo Cellars

She’s a crimson jewel, and immediate to love. You are wise to savor her slowly. Rose petals and ribbons of fuchsia weave through her chestnut-colored hair, her ears decorated with baubles of ripe plum and cherry. What a clever lass, as she tosses a pinch of coriander, a dash of cumin, a smattering of dried herbs to scampi on the barbie that she has marinated in hoisin and five-spice, all the while tending cinnamon and nutmeg-laced tarts baking in the oven. As she plates the fare, all of it so adoringly juicy, on a table of seasoned spruce and sandalwood, you inhale again the slight whiff of strawberry lip gloss on her lips, and give in to the elements of surprise, her joie et délice.

Out of the darkened forest, a beast emerges, a wild-eyed centaur mussed with bramble and lavender. He trots down to the lake, aromas of cassis, mace, and strawberry compote lapping at its shores. Behind him folded in shadows, a cherry-spiced nymph trembles in his wake of tobacco leaf, alfalfa, and black tea, powerless to resist the musty melange of blackberry and stone fruit. She stares in wonder as he leans down for a sip of the moon-lit magic. Ever mindful of spying eyes that beckon him to partake in pleasure, at the least to immerse in the lake’s coolness of swirled toffee and red licorice, he pauses at the stirring of rustling brush. With a bolt, on fleet and sure heels, he leaps into the water’s depths.

Up and down we go, round and round, on a carousel of fruitful adventure. The painted ponies grin devilishly, moving in synch with our carnival caper. Speaking of capers: why not? A hearty whitefish drenched in a buttery sauce of lemon and capers provides a lusty provision for such a tantalizing elixir so, also, would a platter of smoked brisket, heartily seasoned with 5-spice and hoisin. Back on the merry-go-round, we move merrily along its orbit, when a whirlwind of plum and raspberry, crushed cherry, cola, and a subtle dash of pepper conspires to throw us off. But we rein in our steeds, enjoining them to continue this journey of surprise

A blend of 43% Malbec, 37% Cabernet Franc and 20% Cabernet Sauvignon. A place: the dusty streets of Zanzibar. The scene: A weathered tent, a flag of purple velvet flapping atop, welcoming weary travelers. A Shirazi daughter opens a flap, releasing a rush of scents: incense of sandalwood and blackberry, ripe plum, cinnamon and sweet tar. She invites you inside to share a dish of sweet pastry, seasoned with flavors worthy of her Spice Islands homeland. Smoke and cloves, cocoa bean, and dark currants, brown sugar, pomegranate, and tobacco leaf, alongside an entrée of roasted vegetables and herb-encrusted lamb. Your host has spoiled you into a state, where embers from a wood-stoked fire cast shards of light against the cloth walls, as you melt into a kaleidoscope of the land’s shifting shapes.

A blend of 46% Syrah, 25% Grenache and 19% Mourvedre. A date on two wheels: a crusty biker, with a smoky air and a heart of gold, cruises along a dusty road, his stylish opposite clinging to his waist as they ride atop the leathery saddle. She’s sultry and lovely, decorated in a string of sparking rubies that twinkle mischievously through a vest of frilly lace. The rumbling chariot carries them through a valley brimming with aromas of sassafras, drunken cherry, and redwood forest. Dried petals and desiccated blooms blow alongside the road, blasting scents of smoky berries, plum, raspberry and cherries. Wild sage and thyme whip about our wild children as they ramble through the sunshine-drenched valley. The road, warmed by hints of cinnamon and ripe black fruits, goes on and on forever - and this party never stops.

Your animal spirit, a frisky colt, romps his way through a berry-studded mountain trail, delighting in the aromas of rose petals and geraniums, stopping at creekside to sip an exotic potion of strawberry, blackberry, and lavender-infused tea, dusted with dried marjoram. He steps gingerly through woodsy duff, toward a gently smoldering campfire, casting its incense of sandalwood and smoked mushroom. There in the clearing lies a pastoral spread of red fruits, cinnamon-toasted walnuts, soft cheeses, pomegranate and rhubarb pie, arranged invitingly on a blanket atop dewy grasses. At this moment you revert to your worldly self, the equine spirit taking its leave and bidding you bon appetít.

100% Malbec.
There is music in the vineyard, conducted by a phantasmagorical maestro, inauspicious he is, yet open to a flash of whimsy beneath a shimmering red halo. The melody rings heartily, redolent of black fruit compote, spices and plums (at least three varieties of them!). A chamber orchestra weighs in with layers of cinnamon, tea, sage, pepper both white and black, leading to a crescendo as a rhythm section of sandalwood incense and 5-spice (maybe 7!) pounds a loamy backbeat. The performance launches its audience to an otherworldly galaxy of black velvet and dark currants. With a flourish, the devilish composer raises his baton skyward and salutes his ephemeral players for their concord of flavors.

47% Grenache, 37% Mourvedre & 16% Syrah
Rugged, cosy in flannel and curiously musky, he croons a paean to his cinnamon girl. He plucks gently on velvet strings of rose petals, raspberry, vanilla and cherry, then breaks out with electric bursts of blackberry, white pepper, strawberry compote, plum, cola. His song is a promise, perhaps of a trip to a fog-shrouded redwood forest, where the duff and musty earth meet the shore and its kaleidoscope of marine scents - salt, kelp and driftwood, a campfire smoldering of pine and cedar, perfect to roast a herb-encrusted pork loin, dressed in succulent coat of mincemeats. What a trip, what a song: hello, again, to your cowgirl in the sand.

Gobsmacked by the antics of the man on a flying trapeze, the circus guests fix their eyes upon an infinite sky, deep and dark, curiously illuminated by bands of raspberry and cherry blossoms. The airborne artist knows no boundaries as he flies head over heels, higher into the atmosphere, unfazed by a confetti of Middle Eastern herbs and splashes of sassafras. Gravity is his ally. He clings to the air, much like notes of plum and morello cherry linger on the palate of the earthbound circus master, savoring his libation while admiring the bombast of the theatre he has created. A dash of soy piques his craving for a sweet and sour candy, or better yet, a grown-up dish of fried rice and kimchee, topped with slices of ginger-marinated steak. His circus offers many diversions he claps his hands in delight, knowing the allure of the high-flying acrobat will yield soon to the riotous folly of the marching clowns.

There’s a rough charm in this swarthy character, who in the mysterious night is drawn downtown by its glistening garnet lights. Dapper in a shirt of dark plum and a coat of blackberry cola, he winds his way through the metropolis’s dusky alleys in search of some sort of devilment. The air is thick with an ambrosia of sweet earth, wilted violets, spiced leather and tobacco leaf. With visions of tea leaves and tumblers, he thirsts for a swig of cherry cola, perhaps a raspberry spritzer, or cassis liqueur. You’d be remiss to call this roughneck Guido he answers to Leroy.

A weary traveler wraps himself in a blanket of wool, scratchy in musky hints of cinnamon, dried mint, and pipe smoke. Under a charcoal-black sky, with bones worn by age and nefarious experience, he settles at last to a moment when his mind can wander to memories of toastier evenings, inside fire-warmed lodges, teeming with friends, stewing in the pungent air of peppercorn and coriander-spiced brisket burning slowly on a wood stove. His comrades toast the impending night’s revelry with concoctions of mulled black cherry and sassafras as he hews a rough leather strop with which to sharpen knives that will slice the savory flesh. Now, alone in the brooding night, he slips into slumber and dreams of Duero’s mountain ranges.