(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through BC
We wanted some wine, and not just some tea.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The winemakers nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Malbec danced in their heads.
And Ma after Merlot, and I after Cab,
Had just settled down for a long winters nap.
When out by the vines there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of midday to where the grapes grow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
He hoped for Syrah (Shiraz is the same)
And he whistled, and shouted, and called for our fame!
Ill have Pinots of Blanc or some Gris or some Noir!
Please give me a wine that presents your terroir!
Whether barrel-fermented or stainless-steel, too,
I want a wine that shows off the place where it grew!
He untwisted a cap, and pulled out a cork.
To find a good wine, to go with grilled pork.
He tried Tinhorns Merlot and Rosé from JoieFarm
And you know what happened? Both worked like a charm!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was muttering something about Mission Hill wine
Hed flown past their bell tower at quarter-past nine
He was heading down south, more toward Wild Goose
Having heard of their Chardonnay, and then of their Gews
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
Having also tried wines made by Stags Hollows Larry!
There was also some Chenin, made at Road 13
Oh, and Riesling from Tantalus; it was so fresh and clean!
Sampling Blue Mountain Gamay, full of plums & nice cherries
And then Meyer Chard, so bright and so pear-y
He popped open the cork from the Stellers Jay Brut
Enjoying the biscuit-y nose, and the loads of fresh fruit
He closed out his wine tour with some nice Painted Rock
A Syrah, he recalled, from a small vineyard block
And then one last quick splash, a Cab Franc made by Nichol
So herbaceous and fresh, it gave him a tickle
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
Happy Christmas, BC! Your wine made my night!
KurtisKolt.com
