In the spirit of our founding fathers, the old colonial world traversed the great American landscape to Philadelphia in search of wisdom, the power to control our respective individual environs and the courage to soldier on despite ominous forces working against us when are backs are turned.  While Jefferson, Adams and Franklin discussed the integral fate of their colonial representation, we discussed the fate of our own fledging nation—the East Coast Wine Nation. 

 Upon our arrival, we noticed that the Radisson Hotel and Conference Center may not have had the quaint elegance of Independence Hall, but we had a hunch that our founding fathers would be quite impressed that we were in close proximity to one of the largest shopping malls known to civilization–not to mention the place of meeting had a Starbucks and hipster Dance Club, both modest improvements to distract us from prolonged lectures.  But, of course, we needed little distractions (save Philly Beer Week), as we, along with a handful of other Maine wineries, proudly represented Maine at the East Coast’s most prominent meeting of the great wine minds in our region.    There were discussions on overcoming microbiological populations with improved sanitation regimes, new cold-hardy and wine chemistry friendly hybrids, winery layout and design, and a great seminar on wine defects, including geranium taint and (my personal favorite) lady bug taint, after which I feel I have discovered New Zealand’s secret to Sauvignon Blanc. 

It is never easy to craft something new in unfamiliar territory.  While Jefferson showed his genius when he diligently wrote the Declaration of Independence, he could never quite get the grape-growing/winemaking thing down.  And that was Virginia.  We’re in Maine–Represent.  So we will pick up where our old buddy Tom left off and show the world that it can be done in the east.  Look out West; I smell revolution fermenting.

Cheers,

Aaron

On a sunny morn on the 4th of March an epic battle was waged
With a salty scourge that sat in her tank hunkered down with rage

Despite dark omens of darting chipmunks scurrying under hasty tires
We rushed on to connect the multitude of hoses and wires.

With our filters fashioned and bottles unsheathed
We opened the gate to face the wrath of that blue beast

She came at us with a vengeance all spiky with claws
And chopped at our heads, giving us pause

But with red-soaked rags and downtrodden spirits
We fought that foul beast refusing to quit

And on through the day, she kept coming at us
As we moaned and we groaned, but I can attest

That no living beast could withstand the blaze of our cobalt blue
As we tamed that monster and strapped it down for you

And as the clock moved closer to midnight
We knew that we had indeed won this fight

So we shut off the pump and cleaned our battered weaponry
And went home for the night having tamed the blue demonry

And for generations they will sing the song of this epic struggle
Erecting shining statues throughout the villages for folks to ogle

And as history may look to Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” and “The Taming of the Shrew”
For humankind’s great stories
The world can now put aside that great bard’s glory
For nothing can compete with Cellardoor’s bottling of Blue Lobster Blue

-Sir Aaron B. Peet