08/01/2026
🍷 2022 Syrah
🌱100% dry-farmed
📍100% St. Peter of Alcantara Vineyard in the Willow Creek Sub-AVA
Aging: 33 months in neutral oak barrels (22 months sur lie)
Cases bottled: 224
Bottling date: 06.05.25
Pair with⤵️
🍴4-spice seared duck breast: purple cabbage okonomiyaki, frisée, micro cilantro, ponzu mayo
🍴spam maki: rice, nori, spam, tamago egg, avocado, furikake
🍴baba ganoush & chorizo: cowboy caviar, back porch baguette, oregano
🍴alpine blossom cheese, duck & pork pâté, strawberry
The drums of war beat as a deep guttural hymn rises to Týr, reaching far beyond the loud vociferous boastings and hushed worried undertone murmurs, as the clink and clank of horn, wood and pewter cups spill pitaya blood-red w**e upon a thirsty and envious earth. Innumerable fires sputter, pop and crackle like the interior of an angry dragon’s maw, whilst the smell of singed hair and dripping fat wafts this way and that on the swirling breeze. Roasting boar’s flesh renders, stretched precariously over licking persimmon flames, hungry as a ghost white stoat for a clutch of speckled quail eggs, as black cod hangs limp on braided line to dry, and boysenberry purple plum octopuses slowly stew in Saigon cinnamon ceramic bowls in their own Gjöll like ink, providing warmth and sustenance for the hirsute bodies wrapped in leather and fur the color and texture of dry coconut husks. Not all celebrate, however. Only the young and as of yet inexperienced, those still eager for battle. The seasoned warriors, who have marched and sailed in times before, know the cold hard truth. Not all who venture forth on raid will return, and the icy bite of life shattering steel, or goose fletched arrows, may take their last breath, before Valhalla calls and Jörmungandr devours all sight in a black nothingness, deeper, darker and more opaque than the soundless depths of the Kraken haunted North.
notes by clay selkirk, w**emaker & all-around cowboy
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