She is warm and inviting as an old homestead, with doors flung open wide and a fire dancing merrily on the hearth. Her chicha morada tongues of flame torturously tickle the crackling amaretto oak bark as passionfruit jasmine green tea steeps contentedly in the hanging black plum kettle, while bundles of white asparagus abound, woven together in twirls of caracara orange zest, accompanied by purple potato mash and of course cauliflower purée. The table is laden indeed, for nothing could be finer than roasted eggplant in a dry farmed tomato marinara sauce with fresh basil, Primitivo pomace wrapped leg of lamb, Kumamoto oysters dressed in champagne mignonette, Japanese mackerel nigiri sushi and Manilla clam miso soup. She certainly does not deign to skimp on the butter sprinkled with fleur de sel for the seaweed rye bread, nor turn her nose up at ti leaf wrapped lau lau with sweet purple poi. A perfect single black dahlia trimmed in crimson presides as the centerpiece, and like a tipsy snowball fight, the air shimmers with powdered cinnamon, shines like a fine cognac in a chrystal decanter, and sparkles with a dusting of purple peppercorn flakes, strawberry sorbet and the Amarena cherry waiting at the bottom of a bold old fashioned.

notes by clay selkirk, winemaker & all around cowboy