Current Wines - Tolo Cellars

Her sparkling garnet trusses wrapped in a scarf of fresh linen, the fortune teller takes your ticket. Her canopied enclosure exudes aromas of Indian spices, black tea, bay leaf and sandalwood, heightening your sense of anticipation. An exotic perfume of rose petal, strawberry, rhubarb, tobacco and cinnamon swirls about as the enigmatic procrastinator, lovely and bright, leans in with determined intent. The shrieks of thrill-seekers on the boardwalk rides shake you from a trance. The seer stares deeply into your eyes, interrogating your mind like a navigator reads the stars. She knows you will be back, for her promises of affection as much as her predictions of fortune and fate.

Reflections of Ruby by the fireplace, eyes smoldering as she wraps a crushed felt purple velvet around her willowy frame. Wisps of mahogany, cassis, and sweet tobacco fill the room, a smoky incense, alluring with plummy promise, but of what? Perchance a basket brimming with red and black fruits - blackberry, raspberry, strawberries, and olallieberry - or a compote of licorice, pepper, and tar? The fire crackles, a brambly pop snaps you to attention, awakened from this hazy but edgy dream state. She was but a mirage, though the radiating coals in the hearth and the glowing cigar in your clutch is indeed quite real.

Dark & brooding, like a crushed velvet glove on the hand of Darth Vader. Tempranillo can be both other-worldly & of this world: muscular & alluring, spiced & fruity, regal & rough. Our Tempranillo offers aromas of cedar & dried herbs, soy, dark plum, licorice & crushed rose petals. A strong backbone of acidity & tannins brings this wine to life on the palate - leather & spice, dark fruit rollups, blackberries – all wondrously balanced like a wine glass on a mattress on the head of a unicyclist. What a feat! What a wine!

With a red rose clasped between your teeth, you and your beloved take to the dance floor. A lively beat flows in a cascade of juicy red fruits and savory essences: strawberry, cherries, raspberry, chocolate, licorice and vanilla. You can’t control the band for a song! Back and forth, forth and back you go, beyond the glass doors the sky painted luminously after a storm, pink and red hues brushed against silver-lined clouds, the air basked in a draft of cloves and baked biscotti, warm and toasty. A dab of sweat breaks out on your cheek - this wine, this adoring partner your reward for daring to tango.

Black eyes set deeply behind rugged folds, our normally hard-boiled detective feels vulnerable as he removes his felt fedora and settles into a supple leather chair. A blaze glows in the fireplace, emitting scents of char and smoked meats. He’s not sure what to make of the dish filled with cherry cordials and black fruit leathers on the nearby table – is it a ruse to lull his senses? He is more deeply mystified by aromas of baked rhubarb, rose petals, licorice, cola and spiced jams emanating from the kitchen, decadent accompaniments to a dish of Italian sausage cooked long and slow in a viscous marinara sauce. There’s a crime afoot, for sure, though the stout chef next door could hardly be suspect. Marlowe melts in the wine’s mated morass of Sangiovese and Zinfandel, an experience whose complexities he can’t unravel from the string of circumstances that brought him to this cozy den. Far from a big sleep, this is a dream with eyes wide open, saturated in sanguine riddle.

Always a veritable riot in the kitchen, Maman corrals an abundant cache of farmers market produce and sets to strewing the fresh goods about the room: sunflowers here, strawberries there, plums on the table, blackberries on the counter, cranberries and pomegranates in a colander. Now she heads to the spice rack, where she reaches for a pinch of cinnamon, a dash of cumin, a shot of tamarind. With an electro-technical touch, she orchestrates a purple haze of epicurean delights. She tides you over with butterscotch chews and fruit leathers while she whips up a pie-crust with minced meat filling and rose hip garnish to enjoy later at your gustatory leisure. She, like you, will always be a child at heart.