I did, however, enjoy a very lovely South African Chenin Blanc, another one of my coworker’s Opimian purchases. (Though, this particular wine wasn’t a reject bottle, but merely one he just wanted to share. I may have also persuaded him to generosity with my exuberant praise of this grape.)

Indeed, Chenin Blanc from The Cape is a favourite of mine, and this was a fair example: notes of honey, beeswax and tropical fruits. It seemed a tad hot, even though I pulled it out of an icy cooler – but this could very well have been the fault of my less-than-optimal drinking vessel. (I may adore wine, but I draw the line at bringing the Riedel stems on a camping trip.)

I give this a P, for Picnic Wine.

Enter Cono Sur Pinot Noir. This wine was one of the first great values I discovered as a wee wine shop lass, and it has stayed a great value for almost a decade now. It’s only 12 bucks and you can find it pretty much everywhere.

It’s a big glass of simple strawberry fruit and tangy acidity, with none of that earthy Pinot funk which I adore, but which I also don’t want to sniff every day.

Cono Sur Pinot, don’t ever change.

I had a wonderful time stomping around the Alberta badlands. I knit and drank wine every day, of course – but not nearly to the extent you might think. As it turns out, hanging around doing nothing all day long really eats up a lot of time.

I’ve still got a small menagerie of lovely knitted things to show you, as well as a delectable bottle or two. (Though, the theme of our trip was “value”, so I wasn’t exactly drinking Champagne out there.)

On to more pressing matters: it’s WTF Wednesday! In keeping with the spirit of vacations come and gone, I present you with this:

A wine spa.

This spa is located at the Hakone Kowakien Yunessun, a “hot springs amusement park and spa resort” in Hakone, Japan. The pool is filled with red wine, and though it doesn’t say what kind, the big bottle in the background is Beaujolais Nouveau, and these shots were taken in November 2009 to celebrate its launch.

What I really find both amusing and baffling is this picture below:

Judging by the little dude happily cavorting in the Nouveau, apparently they don’t check your ID before you enter the wine tub. Wine glasses also seem to be optional. (Though, at least they are drinking from a fresh bottle, and not just dipping into the tub. Because, gross.)

I can’t decide if this spa is awesome or repulsive. I suspect it’s a bit of both. And I think this guy’s expression captures that sentiment beautifully:

This week’s WTF is all about cars. Which is actually really strange for me, since I detest driving and all things related. I don’t even have my bloody licence.

But that doesn’t meant I can’t appreciate this: a life-sized knitted Ferrari, made by artist Lauren Porter:

Flashy red sports cars  pretty much top my list of Things I Hate About Driving and Everything Related to Driving, but when taken out of context like this suddenly I love them. Here’s a video interview with the artist, which also includes a fast motion clip of the car’s assembly:

And in keeping with the car theme, our wine WTF is this:

"Hey hun, watch the leather - daddy will kill me if it gets scuffed."

William and Kate’s wedding car, which was powered by biofuel made from leftover (British) wine. (Which some would say is the only thing British wine is good for, HA!)

The car actually belongs to Prince Charles (am I the only one who finds it funny that William borrowed his dad’s car to cruise around with his girl?), who had it converted to run on wine-derived biofuel back in 2008. Actually, this is a pretty great use of wine that would normally be dumped into the Thames, and with any luck it will catch on. (Though admittedly it is really expensive to retrofit your car like this. Still, if anyone can afford to do it, it’s the royal family.)

Now someone just needs to make a wine-powered knitted car, and I might actually be motivated to buy it and get on the road myself.

NV Zonin Special Cuvée Prosecco

It tastes like apples and pears. This is good.

And this is a very nice sock that  I finished knitting while drinking the aforementioned prosecco:

It looks like flowers and hours of work. This is good.

Actually, I was a bit surprised by how well I was able to manage the colourwork. I have dabbled in fair isle before, but hadn’t tackled anything major. I recently discovered the wondrous beauty that is Norwegian folk knitting, however, and couldn’t resist trying a traditional-type pattern.

There were some hiccups, of course – I’m not sure if Nordic women have extremely narrow feet or what, but the pattern called for a crazy amount of decreasing for the gusset and foot. Which is all the more amusing, given that I initially cast on for the medium size but the cuff was turning out way big, so I started over on the small – which has an even narrower foot.

So these socks are essentially the smallest size for the leg, and the largest size for the foot. Clearly mine are not Nordic feet.

Now I just need to remember all these changes when I knit its mate.

Despite how difficult, convoluted, and just plain incomprehensible the act of knitting may seem to the uninitiated (and indeed, even to the veteran knitter on a bad day), at its core knitting is always just a bunch of loops.

I shouldn’t be surprised, then, to see something like this come along: arm knitting and finger knitting, which replaces those sticks with your own arms/fingers.

I’ve had a similar thought in passing, while playing one of those “deserted island” games where you pick what you would absolutely and totally have to bring with you if you were stranded on a deserted island. My choices usually oscillate between boxes of wine and boxes of fibre. (I could settle for a 50/50 mix, probably.)

Interestingly, though I would certainly love to chuck in a set of Addi Turbo lace tip interchangeable needles, if I had to choose between those and a good stash of wool, I would invariably pick the wool. I figured that I could always just whittle some twigs into dpn’s, or even use my own fingers if things got really desperate.

Well, turns out that knitting with your fingers is no new thing – apparently it’s often taught to kids to teach them the basics of knitting. Click here for a great tutorial on finger knitting, or on the video below:

Australian fibre artist Teresa Dair has taken finger knitting one step further. In addition to creating some seriously cool and funky knit stuff that she sells in her shop, back in May 2011 she had an exhibit at the Craft and Quilt Fair in Perth where she demonstrated arm knitting.

It’s pretty cool, though obviously you end up with a seriously large garment. Good for funky scarves; not so good for socks. I’ll have to try this out sometime and report back.

I knew I would have to wait a season and examine the tree in full bloom to confirm its identity.

After watching it explode in a riot of pale pink flowers in May (sorry, no pictures – it was really pretty though!), and then seeing those flowers develop into little red berries all along the branches, I think I have it: Nanking Cherry.

The cherries are very sour, but quite tasty. Hopefully they’ll sweeten up a bit when they ripen fully.

I’ve read these make good jelly, and wine. Perhaps someone has found other good uses for them?

…after you’ve had too many pints and realized that a two-inch cuff of BLACK RIBBING is not compatible with knitting in the dark.

But dudes, I only made one mistake. And I was able to disguise it with duplicate stitch. My pride is unbounded.

(And yes, I knit in bars. All the time. Every time. I’d just be sitting there drinking, anyway – only the scenery differentiates it from a typical night at Chez CellarDoor.)

Anyone who stopped here over the past two months will know that CellarDoor has been on a bit of a hiatus. It was unplanned. It just kind of happened. Sorry ‘bout that.

Truth be told, I became a little weary of blogging, and simply needed a break; this weariness was directly correlated to a change in my drinking habits. (Funny enough, when I don’t drink booze, I’m not that motivated to write about it either.)

For some time now I’ve toyed with the idea of hijacking this self-styled wine blog and turning it into a part wine, part knitting blog.

Yes, you read that correctly: knitting. I am a knitter. I am intensely proud of this fact, and it has come to occupy an as intrinsic a part of my life and identity as wine has.

I realize that on the surface, wine and knitting don’t seem to go together. (To the non-knitters, that is – my fellow knitters are derisively spit-taking into their drinks right now.) However, I figure if there’s a wine and yarn bar out there in the world, there can damn well be a wine and yarn blog too.

So, I hereby declare that henceforth this blog shall be a venue for both of my life’s non-human passions. If anything, you’ll get to see a parade of finely crafted objects and tasty beverages.

let the knitterly parade begin!

Oh, and I’m not changing the name. Cellars aren’t just for storing wine, you know – any manner of wonderful things can be kept down there. Like pickles. And old Christmas decorations. And a magnificent stash of yarn.

(In the interest of full disclosure, way back when I first started this blog I did a couple knitting posts before I decided a should streamline it into a full-time booze blog. You can read those articles here and here, if you like.)

About a month ago I co-hosted deVine‘s South African tasting. I fully admit a partiality to this country’s wines, and here’s why:

1. They taste good.
2. They are cheap (or if you prefer, they are great QPRs)
3. See above.
4. Their names are really fun to pronounce.

And that’s about it, really. It’s not hard to like something with a fun name that’s cheap and tasty (insert sophomoric double entendre joke here).

if you've ever wondered what a deVine tasting looks like, voila - though it looks even better when there's wine in those glasses (and even more still when that wine is in your belly)

The first wine of the night was the 2010 Durbanville Hills Sauvignon Blanc. It had a distinctly lime-y quality on the nose, reminiscent of Aussie Sauvignon, along with some grapefruit and melon. It also had great acidity, thanks to the cool temperatures in the Durbanville region – it’s one of the chilliest places in South Africa’s wine growing areas.

It was a good reception wine, though as is the fate of so many unwitting reception tipples, it was rather easily forgotten. Happily, I was provided with a sample bottle of this same wine just a few days ago, and I noticed a serious streak of green pepper on the palate that I swear wasn’t there at the deVine tasting. (Though I also could have just missed it completely. It happens.) The pepper made it much more memorable, albeit potentially off-putting for those who prefer their wines not to be “stemmy” (the condemnation of a previous coworker). My verdict: salad wine.

This winery bears the name of its eponymous region, a small but rapidly developing area perched in the hillsides just outside Cape Town.

If you haven’t tried any South African Chenin Blanc, go buy a bottle now. Right now. This is the country’s flagship white, and while it may have become outpaced by Chardonnay (which isn’t always a bad thing – see below), it is a unique and extremely delicious wine. This grape probably ranks among my favourite white varieties, namely for the lovely aroma and mouthfeel of beeswax that it often bears. (Am I the only one who unashamedly enjoys sniffing beeswax candles?)

The 2010 Spier Chenin Blanc was a solid example of this grape. And for the eco-minded, you’ll be happy to note that Spier farms all their grapes biodynamically, in addition to implementing a host of other recycling and eco-conscious programs. They also buy most of their goods and services from local, black-owned companies – so this is a wine that’ll give you that do-good feeling while you drink it.

mmm beeswax

It is a seriously risky venture to try fermenting a wine naturally, using only the wild yeasts that happen to be chilling out on the grape skins and floating by the fermenting tank. Why, you ask? Well, let me first go on an historical aside: this happens to be the method by which wine was originally made. Actually, this is how wine was discovered: some 7000-ish years ago, Neolithic man – or woman, rather, since it’s highly likely the chicks figured it out first – picked wild grapes and stored them in pottery vessels, and after a few days the juice from the squashed berries started fermenting. As a perennially foolhardy curious species, the women drank it – and thus was born the first ever ladies’ night.

The problem with making wine this way is that you are at the mercy of nature. Sometimes the fermentation will stop and start randomly, and sometimes it will literally get “stuck” – which creates all sorts of weird aromas and flavours. Put simply, the more you leave to chance, the more of a gamble the finished product is, so the vast majority of modern winemakers inoculate their crushed juice with specific strains of yeast intended to bring out certain qualities in the final wine.

In light of this, Abrie Bruwer, winemaker at Springfield and mad genius behind the 2004 Springfield Wild Yeast Chardonnay, is clearly a gambling man. Now, I had this wine a year ago and it was all kinds of wonderful, but tragically it seems to have jumped off a cliff at some point in the last few months. It tasted, well, dead: limp and lifeless, with slightly oxidized fruit aromas and no spark or vivacity on the palate. It was still drinkable, but it was such a pale shadow of its former glorious self that I could only shed a tear and move on. I have no idea if the use of wild yeast had any impact on its sudden demise; this wine is seven years old, which is pretty geriatric for most New World whites. Nonetheless, I can recommend buying newer vintages in full confidence.

dead, but not forgotton

This is also known as the Nelson Mandela wine, because in 1993 Mandela chose Rust en Vrede‘s wines to be served at his Olso dinner where he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

This is a high honour, and indeed the 2008 Rust en Vrede Merlot is a pretty great wine: lots of warm plummy red fruits and a creamy mouthfeel, with some nice toasty French oak influence. I don’t know that it would be my first choice should I ever be awarded the Peace Prize, but I certainly wouldn’t turn down a glass.

That's "Rust-en-Vrede" - not "Rusty Red." C'mon people, put some effort into it.

Beware, little lambs: that bird adorning the label of the 2007 Lammershoek Pinotage is not a friendly little songbird. In Afrikaans, “lammer” means “lamb” and “shoek” means “corner” – this “lamb’s corner” wine is so named for the forests surrounding the winery and vineyards, in which lambs would hide from the black eagles (“lammgervangers”) that would nab them if they strayed into the open.

This is a pretty classic South African Pinotage, with that characteristic metallic twang underpinning a lot of wild black and red fruit and smoked sausage flavours. Incidentally, lamb chops would probably make a killer (nyuk nyuk) pairing with this wine.

Just how big would those bloody eagles have to be in order to effortlessly carry away a whole lamb? Geez, watch out for your youngest when you visit.

This next wine holds a dear place in my heart, not because it is delicious (though it is), but also because it has the best name ever. The 2007 Allesverloren Cabernet Sauvignon is just my style of Cab – bold and tannic, yet still elegant and toasty. (It also reinforces my belief that American oak mostly sucks. Bring on the French, please.)

In Afrikaans, “allesverloren” means “all is lost.” Seriously, how epic is that? Pretty epic, let me tell you. As you may have guessed, the wine estate has a pretty tragic backstory, which you can read about on their website here.

and the award for Most Epic Wine Name goes to...

Last, but certainly not least, was a hefty Syrah from Boekenhoutskloof. (And since I’m doling out spontaneous and random wine awards, this wins the award for Most Fun to Pronounce wine name. Gotta love those elongated vowels.) A boekenhout is a type of tree (beech, to be precise) that has been used to make furniture for centuries – hence the chairs on the label.

The 2007 Boekenhoutskloof Syrah is an inky, well-structured wine with lots of oak influence and dark fruits. It could age another few years for sure; if you’re impatient then decant it for a couple hours before serving. The winery also gets props from me because they posted one of my tasting notes on their website – and it’s one of my flash fiction notes, to boot! (Or should I say, to boek!) They also have a comic book on their website. Awesome.

long name, longer finish

And that, my friends, is South Africa in a nutshell.