Making sense of one's feelings--or Zero's feelings . . .

In the process of dreaming, designing, and planting a vineyard --on top of fixing a house and starting two businesses--I found myself constantly thinking about flavors, colors and smells.

In a distant time and land of childhood in Argentina, a household with several excellent cooks (Norma, my mother, Maria, my grandmother ) and many eager dining philosophers (chiefly among them, my father ,"El Jefe") had become a recognizable part of my persona.

The intricacies of California water rights and mistaken identities brought Mark Lyon into my life.  Now my best friend, Mark is widely known as a consummate winemaker, and I owe much of what I know today about wines and vineyard tending to him.

This process did not start when I bought land in Alexander Valley.  It began when I was born, when I grew up with the tap-tap sound of parsley and garlic being chopped on the board.   When the pasta proclaimed its readiness by the sticky sound of boiling bubbles, when the red pepper permeated the air, announcing "I am roasted already!" the early osmosis of my training had begun.  Cooking by sound and smell is very efficient; you can spin once in a kitchen checking the roasting, the boiling, and the sauteing all at the same time.  Only recently did I realize I was doing it--one day when cooking in this small patch of the Alexander Valley.

I have always cooked, but ever since I arrived in the Alexander Valley of Northern Sonoma County, I have come to realize how important it is to think and communicate about flavors, colors, and all the feeliings surrounding them.

Winemaking is a large-scale form of cooking at its most sophisticated and complicated level. It is my goal that this website testify to it--with enjoyment along the way!