Page 111 of Blush
“Vintage is very important for East Coast wines. Vintage refers to the fall when the grapes are harvested. Out here on the North Fork, that means a lot. There’s a greater difference from year to year for our wines than for our West Coast counterparts. This is also true for Europe. We are at the mercy of the weather. Cooler temperatures mean the grapes retain more acidity and are very aromatic.”
Hands shaking, she poured herself a glass of Viognier and took a sip. Was Leonard there out of curiosity? To give feedback afterward?
“Our first pairing today is the Pawlet cheese and the Viognier. We’ll sample the cheese first. You’ll notice it’s yellow and firm. This is a washed-rind cheese. Now slice a small piece and smell it. Light, slightly meaty. The rind, by the way, is edible, as are the rinds of all cheese made in the US.”
She waited while everyone tasted the cheese, some eating it right off the small knife, others coupling it with bread.
“For our wine pairing, we have Viognier. We began planting these grapes in the mid-nineties and planted them again four years ago. Viognier does not have to age, and so these grapes were picked less than a year ago. You’ll note this wine is very clear, crisp, acidic. It was actually more clear at the start of the summer, and the Pawlet was a paler yellow at one point. One of many parallels between cheese and wine.”
The class sipped the wine.
“Any thoughts?”
A woman raised her hand. “It’s a little like Sauvignon Blanc.”
Leah nodded. “It’s made in a similar way as Sauvignon Blanc. Our seaside conditions here on the North Fork are perfect for these wines. While I’m pairing the Pawlet with white wine today, another option is...” Did she dare say what she really wanted to say? What she’d planned on saying before her father showed up? “Another option is to pair it with a rosé. Next summer, we will have our very first vintage of rosé to share with you.”
The women nodded appreciatively and clapped. Leonard jumped up from his seat and walked to the front of the room. Her stomach churned.
“Ladies,” he said to the room. “I’m Leonard Hollander. Welcome to Hollander Estates.” He consulted the printout in her hands. “I see your next cheese is the Capri. Why don’t you sample that while I borrow my daughter for a moment.”
She followed him into the oak room.
“Can’t this wait?” she said. Fine, maybe she’d gotten ahead of herself. But he couldn’t just interrupt the class.
“Leah, I’m fine with you carrying on business as usual as long as we’re open. But don’t make promises we can’t keep. It’s only going to make things worse when this inevitably hits the press.”
“You told me last night that you put on a show at the production meeting. So let me put on a show now.” She crossed her arms.
He narrowed his eyes. “I really bet on the wrong horse, didn’t I?”
What was that supposed to mean? That she had tenacity and Asher didn’t? It was gratifying to finally have her competence acknowledged, but not at Asher’s expense. She sighed. Even when her father was complimenting her, he still found a way to be divisive!
“Dad, let’s not go there.”
But yes, he had bet on the wrong horse. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake. She was absolutely willing to bet on herself. The question was, how? What to do?
She returned to her classroom, taking in the group. Mentally, she reached back into her earliest experiences of the winery, as a little girl watching her mother gather with her friends. In the past few weeks, with her wine and cheese classes, in reaching out to book clubs, she had taken steps to make Hollander a destination for women looking for a communal experience. But if Hollander was truly going to be for women like the ones filling the room that afternoon, if thewinewas really for them, then she had to make them a part of it in a real way.
And she had an idea just how to do it.
Fifty-six
“Your daughter has lost her mind,” Leonard said, bursting into the kitchen. “She’s out there telling people to expect a Hollander rosé next spring.”
Vivian and Peternelle were in the midst of trimming a bunch of bright pink ranunculus. The round, tightly petaled blossoms were one of her favorites, but they didn’t seem to have much staying power. Peternelle had just been explaining to Vivian that the soft-stem flowers needed only a little bit of water in the vase, and that was why they weren’t lasting as long when Vivian prepared them herself.
Peternelle, sensing the incoming storm, made a hasty retreat, mumbled about forgetting something from the herb garden.
“Oh, you’ve scared her off,” Vivian said. “She was just explaining to me how I’m mistreating my poor ranunculus.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, I heard you,” Vivian said. “And I have news for you: your son has also lost his mind; he broke off his engagement over all of this.”
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with his engagement. And frankly, it’s not our business. It’s bad enough you got involved dragging Steven out here.”
As far as she could tell, that was one of the few things she’d done right. She saw the spark back in Leah’s eyes with Steven by her side at the production meeting.
