Just a Taste

This week I invited three of my friends in the Ithaca area to participate in Shabbat festivities. My three friends and I headed to a new bar in town - Corks and More - situated right on the lake. The four of us loaded up pre-paid cards that would allow us to try every wine in the house.

At Corks and More you wander the bar and choose any wine you like from the wall - then the vending machine/ wine tap pours for you. You can try a taste, a half glass, or a full glass. The bar is filled with small clusters of comfortable couches where we sat with our wine and schmoozed a little. It was a great time to catch up and get excited for the year ahead.

We spent $10 or so dollars each and about 3 hours enjoying one another's company. Thanks for the great assignment!

Shavua Tov, friends! This is such a cool project!

My husband and I don't drink alcohol of any kind, so we decided to find a poem that somehow relates to wine from a country we've never visited. Neither of us have ever been to Chile, and we were drawn to a poem by Pablo Neruda, which compares writing poetry to feeling drunk. Those of us who are true "word nerds" understand the sensation of drunkenness that comes from writing or even reading truly excellent literature. While it may not be wine, great literature is definitely something we can savor and enjoy.

Poetry by Pablo Neruda

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.

And here is Neruda's Ode to Wine:

Ode to Wine by Pablo Neruda

Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.

My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.

But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.

Week 1 task

Excited by this idea and Hillel Institute, the first thing I did when I got home was tell my non-Jewish boyfriend about this great Shabbat experiment. We often discuss Shabbat, what it means, different interpretations and how we can make time in our own lives to celebrate Shabbat "our way" so we've decided to do this together. Our wine came from New Zealand. While wondering around the store looking for a country neither of us had been to, we picked up a bottle of wine that had a rating of 88 from some wine rating system. We stared at it for a few moments and discussed if this was the bottle we wanted when a woman behind us said, "oh yes, it tastes great, pick that one." I pondered telling her about the Shabbat Experiment but decided it would be weird however we did end up selecting that bottle.

We looked up images from New Zealand. For me, pictures are worth 1000 words and New Zealand is beautiful. We also figured since we were having this "special" bottle of wine, we would cook and eat dinner (tofu and asparagus in a lemongrass rub! Amazing!) at the actual table (instead of on the couch in the living room).

Here's a picture of New Zealand. Thanks for the task David!

And Shabbat Shalom and Shavua Tov.

I spent the last few days on vacation on Block Island and was very disappointed to be coming home yesterday. It was wonderful to get this task and be able to buy a nice bottle of wine from Australia, look at some pictures and keep the vacation going a little bit, even though we were home.

Here is a poem I found about the sunrise in Australia. Even though we were only in Rhode Island, our sunrise here looked just as beautiful!

The Australian Sunrise

by James L Cuthbertson

The Morning Star paled slowly, the Cross hung low to the sea
And down the shadowy reaches the tide came swirling free.
The lustrous purple blackness of the soft Australian night
Waned in the grey awakening that heralded the light;
Still in the dying darkness, still in the forest dim
The pearly dew of the dawning clung to each giant limb,
Till the sun came up from ocean, red with the cold sea mist,
And smote on the limestone ridges, and the shining tree-tops kissed;
Then the fiery Scorpion vanished, the magpie's note was heard,
And the wind in the sheoak wavered and the honeysuckles stirred;
The airy golden vapour rose from the river breast,
The kingfisher came darting out of his crannied nest,
And the bulrushes and reed-beds put off their sallow grey
And burnt with cloudy crimson at the dawning of the day.

Shabbat Shalom everyone!

-Joie

Group Daled's First Task

Below is the task that was just e-mailed to Group Daled as we embark on this 10 week journey! Hope everyone enjoys.

Task #1 Drink Wine

For this week, buy a bottle of wine from a country you have never been to before. Do some research on the country and find an interesting fact, literary story, poem, artwork, anything fun and funky. Enjoy the wine and what you researched sometime over the course of Shabbat, or the weekend, and report back to the group about your country and what you learned. Please feel free to attach the picture, story, poem, whatever it is you came up with so that we can learn from it as well!

Shabbat Shalom,

David