Scents of fresh red fruit. Smooth and robust, with juicy, ripe black cherry flavors and a lingering, spicy finish.
Perfectly matched to cured or grilled meats, game, Cajun and Indian-style foods, and tinkering with creations...never mind the crash.
We sought our Malbec from high in the foothills of the Andes Mountains in Mendoza, Argentina, where grapes were hand-picked and sorted at perfect ripeness.
Grapes become wine in stainless steel tanks, then the wine matures in French oak barrels for one year.
Low carbon footprint: special lightweight glass, sustainable farming, winery recycling program, local sustainable printer.
"Here you meet the world's aviation artiste, Esteban Colombo. You've traveled for weeks to find him, journeying across choppy seas and along narrow, winding trails in the hopes that you might gain some insight. You are met with the sight of black cherry pits and a pile of metal sheets that might have been something, once.
A deafening rush of air catches your attention, just as an airship, bird-like in appearance, flies in at impossible speeds. At rather alarming speeds, really, as it arcs gracefully but does not straighten from its downward descent. You stand, awed at its delightful agility…right until it smashes into a nearby grove of trees.
You pick your way to the crash site, fighting dense underbrush and thick trees, red ripe fruit hanging heavy from their branches. You press on, encouraged by the angry shouts pouring forth from the scene. And there stands Esteban, only a bit worse for wear; introductions will have to wait until after he finishes cursing his machine's betrayal.
"The pilot's seat sits too high on the machine – it's slowing you down," you offer by way of greeting, which has the virtue of stopping Esteban mid-rant.
"Who are you? No, don't answer. I have no time for you. I have nothing for you," Esteban says with a wave of dismissal, hauling aside a sheet of metal.
Your spirits sink. "Please, I have traveled many miles and I ask only for a moment of your time. More importantly, I can help," you offer.
"I have no moments. I have to find the Lost City." His words can barely be heard for the clanging.
"Tayuna's Lost City? Full of inventions and prototypes made by the greatest futurist the world has ever known?"
He stops pulling at the wreck, finally granting you a measure of attention. Grudgingly, he asks: "How did you know about the wind resistance?"
"I read about it."
"You read," he says, as he regards you in your tattered travel clothes. "You know nothing of real flight," he decides. "Come with me."
And like a dream, he dusts off a colorful balloon, lights and fills it, and you are off. Up you soar, over the highest peak of the Andes, Mt. Aconcagua, up further toward a mulberry sky. You feel faint and not from the air alone.
"One day, people will be able to fly the world round in a single day," Esteban says grandly.
You nod, believing him. You're flying above the Andes – people can do anything. "You truly believe that?"
"One day it will be true. I just wish it were today," he replies.
Esteban quiets as you fly through wondrous ranges of lush tropical forests, above snowy volcanoes, belching smoke and steam. The vistas speak for themselves. As he lands back at the lab, he idly says, "If you seek to learn, I suppose I could use an assistant." You beam.
The journey had only just begun.