#tried a different coloring technique with that maul

[foolishskull]

there’s the guys there’s the dudes :)

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

----------------------

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

[darnloveablecharacters]

Theory Time

I know it has been said before many times, and with many different versions but I couldn’t find anything that did a deep dive into the fact that it could actually be possible. So... here’s my version. I would love to hear other theories or holes you find in my line of thinking here! I will be unfortunately be working from the Game of Thrones TV series since the books are not yet complete.

DARTH MAUL IS ACTUALLY THE NIGHT KING

****Spoilers for Star Wars EU and Game of Thrones ahead****

Gif aren’t mine 😊

Update: Play This Song while reading....

1)      Appearance

I will admit that I wonder if they were fully aware of The Night King’s resemblance to Darth Maul at the time but... this requires no further review so moving on.

2)      Timeline – This is legitimately the biggest stretch I had to make for this to work

All we know, is that the events of Star Wars took place “a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.”

The events of Game of Thrones, as well as placement, is unclear so it could be safe to say that it happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…. But in the opposite direction.

3)      The Actual Theory

Let’s start with Maul. He cheated death, in the craziest ways throughout the entire EU because the Force and hate and will to live and such. Seriously, just when you think he’s gone… boom… he’s over there yelling:

The question that one would ask is…. Why? Well, Obi-Wan needed him in his life for things to play out as they did. Let’s review key moments:

Qui-Gon’s death – now Obi-Wan is a Knight and will train Anakin.

Satine’s death – the one person that would have the highest chance of making him question his position with the Order, only seemed to solidify his resolve, ensuring he would be around to face Anakin.

Their Last Battle – “Tell me, is it the chosen one?” Even on that day he thought he was fighting for vengeance, but do we actually believe that he existed for any reason other than to ensure events would carry on as they did? That would mean that he could only leave that plane of existence when it was certain that Luke would follow his intended path.

Now…. I REALLY wish I knew what source this came from, I got it off Wookiepedia and it just works so dad diddly gum perfect.

Some years after the Battle of Endor, Maul's remains were discovered by the Iridonian scientist Drell Kahmf, who maintained the former Sith Lord's brain within a bacta tank. Kahmf was able to connect Maul's consciousness to a solid-state hologram program that developed an apparition of the Zabrak warrior. Upon the intervention of Luke Skywalker, however, Maul was removed from the galaxy for good.

LUKE REMOVED HIM FROM THE GALAXY FOR GOOD. 

mmkay, it didn’t say he was returned to the Force so where the eff did Luke send him?

"Then darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far on roads that I will not tell."

—Darth Lord Night King Maul (actually Gandalf the White, don’t judge me I’m a friggin nerd.)

At the exact same moment, in an attempt to create an army to defend their homeland, The Children of the Forest kill a First Man who becomes: Night King Maul. A shadow of what he once was, he is neither living nor dead. He is still powerful though, remember he spent time with the Nightsister Mother Talzin? Theoretically, because he is not technically alive his control of the Force is diminished; however, assuming he picked up her techniques, he would be able to use their magick and it would thrive with his connection to death. We’ll come back to that though…

Now, being who he is… instead of helping the Children, he leads the White Walkers against them in an attempt to effectively take over the world. They lose the War for the Dawn and retreat, ultimately fading into legend and prompting the creation of the wall. Remember after he got chopped in half by Obi-Wan and we all assumed he was dead for some weird reason? Yeah…

This simply had to happen for the timeline to play out as the Force willed it. 😊

Now… 8,000 years pass and again, being who he is, he’s still alive and he spent that time refining his skills. The Nightsisters powers revolve around illusion and deception. With 8,000 years to refine the skill of illusion you could see this powerful Sith Lord finding a way to make it more than that. Power over the weather? Really not much of a stretch with that much time on your hands.

The Necromancy is the biggest connection to the Nightsister magick though… specifically the eye color. When Nightsister Merrin raises her zombie sisters, their eyes are the biggest giveaway to what they are as they all share the same ghostly green color. Darth Night King’s zombies all share the same ghostly blue eyes. We can argue the color difference but realistically, he’s a not quite alive and not quite dead dude who had 8,000 years to work on this. He is blue now so... make them blue.

Now, to the events of the Song of Ice and Fire: we don’t really get a sense of his true return until the moment Jon Arryn dies and everything basically goes to hell in a handbasket. And so, he begins to fulfill his purpose and I’ll only review, again, three moments.

Jon Snow – When they evacuate Hardhome, Lord Night King Maul has brought his army of undead and Jon Snow becomes only the second in known history to kill a white walker, confirming that valerian steel works too. However, as they’re leaving the Night King makes a show to raise all of the fallen, giving Jon enough information about his power to possibly defend against it. Not the best tactical move in my opinion…. But it was pretty dang cool looking.

Bran Stark – He would have stayed in that cave for like 100 years… but King Maul said “nope” and tried to kill him after Bran connected with him in a vision. This forced Bran back to Winterfell as the Starks reunited and, with their combined information, began the final preparations for the last battle.

The Battle of Winterfell – What else would have brought everyone else together than an epic battle for mankind? Seriously, if the White Walkers hadn’t returned to the world at the exact time they did… Jon would have never left the wall, the free folk wouldn’t have come south, Bran would still be chilling in a cave and probably be a tree, Sansa and Arya probably would have eventually been killed by the Lannisters and then Daenerys would have come in and eventually leveled the Seven kingdoms. The most important moment here is the silent conversation between Night Maul and Bran which I assume goes something like this. “Are you the chosen one?” “Yup.” Cue Arya because he knows he’s fulfilled his purpose.

What is the true connection here? Darth Maul and the Night King were never the main antagonist. Instead, they were both present to harden and guide the protagonists, Obi-Wan and the Starks, setting the path for The Chosen One to win the fight against the true enemy. Political Corruption.

Why did I just write a 1000 word essay on this you ask? Honestly, I just had this random amusing vision of at the end it all… Bran is meditating and Force ghost Luke appears at his side. Bran knows who he is, because he’s his brother born out of purpose. The only words spoken between them as they look over a now peaceful kingdom is Luke saying “Good job” with absolute pride.

G.R.R.M, I know you will probably never see this, but it could be legitimately be the end of the book… just saying 😊

[tiny-anxious-mess]

Dress to Impress

Summary: It’s date night for Logan and Roman. Logan searches for something to wear and instead finds a dress, some self-doubt, and a whole lot of love. (Human AU) 

Pairings: Logan/Roman, Logince 

Warnings: A few swears, kissing (though its nothing heated or anything), and some self-doubt and insecurity from Logan 

Notes: second story!! thank you for all of the lovely comments on my first story, every single one makes my day! this fic was inspired by all the lovely fanart ive seen of all the different sides in dresses and i felt like writing something romantic so who better to pair logan with than the prince himself? haha hope yall enjoy this! 

***

It wasn’t that Logan was nervous, he was just... hesitant.

It was date night and a date might entail looking good. Roman would say that Logan always looked good, but you couldn’t fault Logan for putting in an effort.

But tonight was different. 

There was a meteor shower tonight and Logan wasn’t about to miss a second of it. Roman had tried to surprise him by scheduling their monthly date night on that night, but Logan was already one step ahead. He had a picnic basket and everything.

The night wasn’t the problem; he wasn’t hesitating because of the night or the date or the anything.

It was internal. He knew that; he had enough self-awareness for that, no matter his struggle with other such emotions.

He wanted to be comfortable for the night. They would be there long and it was supposed to be a warm night. And so he looked through his wardrobe and looked and looked and looked and—

Here was his problem.

Right in front of his was a dress.

It didn’t come as a surprise to him to find it; he had bought it himself ages ago, though he never had the right chance to wear it. But tonight presented to perfect opportunity to wear it.

And therein lied the catch.

It wasn’t that he was insecure or that he didn’t have the confidence to wear the dress out, it was just that... well, he had never worn something like it out with Roman.

Playing around with his clothing was nothing new—college had been an exciting time to mess around with it all. But as he grew a few years older, it was something that fell to the side. He dressed practically and appropriately depending on the situation. He rarely, for lack of a better term, dressed up just because he wanted to.

But now there was the dress and the date and Logan didn’t know what to do.

It’d be easy just to slip it on and go out. It was nothing fancy, just a short-sleeved sundress. It was practical, he told himself as he picked it up. It’s going to be warm out and this is nice and light and—it’s practical.

He didn’t understand why he was so hesitant. He wasn’t afraid of what other people said, he wasn’t afraid of himself. He just...

Roman had never seen him in a dress.

Hell, Roman had never seen him in anything other than pants and a shirt, what he normally wore. He had never seen the photos of Logan and Virgil, an old college friend, in drag for that one night after finals. He had never seen the makeup Logan kept in a bag in his bottom desk drawer. He had never seen Logan as anything other than Logan.

Not that he wouldn’t be Logan in the dress; of course he’d still be Logan. He’d just be Logan in a dress and that... that made him hesitate.

He won’t hate you for this, Logan reminded himself. There’s no reason to think that he would so don’t think about it. He loves you now and so he’ll love you tonight, dress or not. It’s illogical to think of the negative outcomes. You can’t predict the future; or at least, none of his past behavior is relevant; he’s given no indicators that he might react negatively to you in a dress.

Logan sighed heavily, squeezing the dress in his hands. He placed it down and reached for his phone, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

He pulled up Virgil’s contact.

Me: Virgil, sorry if I am interrupting something, but once you get the chance, remind what is the breathing technique you use to calm yourself down. I am... in need of some assistance.

Virgil: Nah you’re not interrupting anything b. I use the 4-7-8 breathing thing but it could be different for you. nothing is exactly guaranteed to work for any single person

Me: Thank you.

Virgil: Is everything alright? you’re usually the one helping me with breathing

Me: I am fine, just... I’m second-guessing myself and it is unnecessary. I simply need to ground myself for a moment.

Virgil: what are you nervous about?

Me: I’m not nervous, just hesitant.

Virgil: sure Jan, talk to me

Me: Mm. I just. Roman and I are going to the open field down the street for the meteor shower. I was looking for what to wear, seeing as it's supposed to be warm tonight, and came across a dress I bought a few months ago. I think it’s practically that I wear it but I. I’m being ridiculous and am second-guessing myself.

Virgil: Oh okay well relax roman is gonna drop dead when he sees you in the dress, its the blue one yeah?

Me: Yes. And I am perfectly relaxed. I am cool. I am chilled.

Virgil: why must you torture me this way?

Me: I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.

Virgil: how the hell can you sound smug through text?? anyway roman will adore the dress and you and if he doesn't, ill fight him

Me: Violence is not necessary but the intent behind the action is much appreciated, Virgil. Thank you.

Virgil: no problem man, text me if you need anything or a hitman!!

Me: You’ve been hanging out with Remus, haven’t you?

Virgil: only when I'm willing to risk my sanity!!!!!!

Logan sighed again, putting down his phone. It was pointless to torture himself any further.

He stood up, grabbing the dress once again and moving towards the bathroom. 

Time to get dressed.

***

Logan and Roman arrived separately. Roman had to drive home from work and then to the field. Logan was already there, ten minutes early, with the picnic basket, blanket, telescope, books, and journal for the night.

He sat on the blanket, tugging on the hem of the dress. It would be fine, he told himself. He had nothing to worry about other than getting mauled by a bear.

He rolled his eyes at himself. God, now I sound like Virgil.

He shook his head, forcing himself to shake off his doubts. It would be fine, it was just him and Roman and the stars. He didn’t need to think about anything else.

And yet when he saw Roman’s car pull up next to his a few yards away, his heartbeat quickened.

Logan breathed in—one, two, three, four—held it—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—and then out—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

He stood, smoothing down his dress, and began towards Roman.

The man in question got out of his car, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Logan was able to identify roses, primroses, and red camellias. It was a rather beautiful arrangement; Logan could tell Roman had done it himself. He always insisted on carrying out his romantic gestures on his own.

Roman beamed when he saw Logan but it wasn’t until he used the flashlight on his phone that he reacted.

He paused then fully stopped. His mouth gaped, lips apart in an “o” formation. The flowers previously held closer up to his chest fell with his hand, now held loosely by his side.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek and reached up to readjust his glasses. He cleared his throat, saying, “Hi.”

God, “Hi”? Really, that’s all I can think of?

“H-Hi,” Roman stuttered. Even in the darkness, Logan could see the color in his cheeks, at the bridge of his nose.

“Ready?” Logan asked, wishing to fill the silence. 

Roman blinked multiple times, eyes flickering over Logan before he swallowed and nodded. “I-I, um, yeah--yes! Yes, I’m ready!” he exclaimed, cheeks flushing fully this time. Then he paused and thrusted out the flowers. “Here! They’re for you! Of course, they’re for you; I didn’t exactly plan on doing anything else tonight and even if I was, I certainly wouldn’t be getting them flowers. Unless it was someone like my mom or mama, or--” 

Logan walked forward, took the flowers, and kissed him. 

Roman followed with no hesitation. He reached up to cup Logan’s face, lips quirking up ever so slightly when Logan turned his face into Roman’s palm. 

They parted, lingering. “You look amazing,” Roman murmured against Logan’s lips. “Completely left me speechless.” 

Logan snorted, smiling. “You had plenty of words, they were just jumbled,” he said quietly. 

“That’s what you do to me,” Roman said. “Leave me all scrambled. It’s rude to deprive a poet of his words.” 

“I never deprived you of anything.” They had begun to sway back and forth, rocking in each other's arms, still just barely parted. 

“Oh please,” Roman scoffed, lips quirking again. He pulled back just enough to meet Logan’s eyes, gaze hooded and warm. “I could have a whole soliloquy written and memorized, and suddenly I see you and my thoughts fall to the side, my mouth goes dry, and all I can see is you. You, only you; you standing, sitting, humming, speaking, studying, laughing, smiling. You, just you; it’s enough to make me speechless. Enough to make me stop and stare. You’ve bewitched me and yet you are the cure.” 

Logan was no good with emotions, even less so with translating them well into the words. Roman made it seem so easy. But Logan didn’t need to match Roman’s talent beat for beat. 

Logan pressed a quick peck to Roman’s lips before resting his forehead against Roman’s. “I love you,” he whispered because he didn’t say those words a lot--perhaps not often enough--but he meant them every time he said it. 

“I love you too.” The words sounded sweet from Roman, ringing orange and pink like a sunset in Logan’s mind. 

Logan’s hand met and grasped Roman’s. “Shall we?” he asked, leaning back towards the field. 

Roman smiled--and he says I make him speechless, Logan thought--and squeezed his hand, bringing it up to his lips, sealing the night with one final kiss. 

“Let’s.” 

[robgabco2-blog]

Summer Red Pais?

New Post has been published on https://1q44.com/2020/06/08/summer-red/

Summer Red Pais?

Summer Red in North America, it’s referred to as the Mission grape; within the Canary Islands, it’s Lístan Prieto. But in Chile, the vine long dismissed or blended away is understood as Pais, and it’s finally having its moment. The wine is light and crushable, similar in body to Gamay and Pinot Noir. The grape is far loved by somms the maximum amount for its drinkability as its history. Pais may be the oldest varietal within the New World.

In Chile, Pais vines go back 200 to 300 years. At Bouchon Family Wines in Chile’s Maule Valley. Some have gone wild. Leaving they’re elegant rows and entangling during a thicket of woods. Twining into trees so that, to reap this wild Pais, workers must climb a ladder into the overhead canopy.

“Pais came with the primary Spaniards, with the conquistadores,” says Patricio Tapia, author of “Descorchados,” Chile’s renowned wine guide. “What we all know now, genetically speaking, is that Pais is Lístan Prieto. A grape which planted within the Canary Islands. This is sensible because the Spaniards stopped in the Canary Islands to urge food and stuff. The Canary Islands, they came to the New World.”

And yet, that wine of his childhood had been replaced by the drive for Bordeaux-style wines. For Cabernet and Merlot, which Chileans planted en bloc within the 19th and 20th centuries. For 30 years, the taste of Pais gone for Bouchon.

REDISCOVERING PAIS

Yet one among Bouchon Family Wines’ estates. Within the coastal dryland of Maule, was filled with untended bush vines and dry-farmed Pais. In 2008, Julio was cleaning the wild parcels at the sting of the vineyard. Therefore the old bush vine Pais came out. And so, he began learning to form it.

In wine terms, if Bordeaux is big and extracted, Pais is light and Burgundian. He tried to form it within the cellar to develop an upscale extracted wine. Then he tried rosé and even whites. Only he began making it within the old way, with less intervention. Harvested by hand, fermented with natural yeasts. Stored in cement vats, not oak barrels — did he learn to form a top-notch Pais.

Julio and his brother Juan began thinking they ought to do something with Pais. After all, it’s a part of Chile’s history; it’s the start of Chilean viticulture. Pais does exceptionally well under the driest of conditions. Like those of Chile’s Secano Interior. and, therefore, the Maule Valley and Itata. And so, they began making Pais again under the Bouchon label, releasing their first vintage in 2014.

“Do you think that you’ll sell even one bottle of it?” Julio’s father asked him once they began. Today, under the J. Bouchon label, they create six wines from Pais, including a Pais Salvaje in red and white. To reap that Salvaje or wild, workers need to climb into the trees. Which is sort of unusual within the wine world? They also make a sparkling Pais blend, and Pais Viejo, which is that the best-selling among them within the U.S.

SEARCHING FOR PIPEÑO, THE EVERYDAY PAIS WINE

Meanwhile, back within the early 2000s, Louis-Antoine Luyt, a French sommelier turned winemaker in Chile. Therefore the person credited with the revival of Pais had begun chasing Pais across the country. Santiago, he took the road to the south until he needs to Maule, he began visiting small towns and vineyards. He went farther south, and to the west and the east, and deeper and deeper within the countryside. Clocking what he expects is 40,000 kilometers about 25,000 miles — a year. He wanted to understand the place, the regions, the tiny areas. Therefore the people growing Pais and making pipeño, the country, classic sort of Pais wines.

“It was an obsession because everyone features a different quite vocabulary, an equivalent approach but a special execution,” says Luyt. Wine is one place — an equivalent small area where two or three or five people are using comparable grapes. Doesn’t show an equivalent whenever. “It is that the perfect definition of terroir,” he says.

By 2007, Luyt had produced his first Pais and launched a Pais movement in Chile. Landing it in restaurants across the planet. His six Pais bottlings are among the foremost widely available and offer remarkable value, selling for around $20 a piece. The common refrain among somms has been. Where else within the world. Are you able to find a wine made up of 200-year-old vines for around $20?

HEEDING the decision OF Summer Red

Another renowned Chilean winemaker, Roberto Henriquez, has also become known globally for his Pais. Henriquez felt a robust draw to the wines early in his career. “The vines, the terroir was lectured me,” he says. They were saying, “I am 200 years old. I’m planted in basaltic, in granitic, in sedimentary, and in soil. I’m pre-phylloxera. Why don’t you create a wine with me?”

Working with Pais wasn’t just crucial to Chile. Henriquez believes, but also to the planet, which has just about lost its Pais plants. Phylloxera in Europe or otherwise forgotten it. “I think it’s essential for the planet because the planet can record. Old genetic materials that Europe lost during a moment,” he says of Pais.

For some of these reasons, Henriquez chooses to figure with old ungrafted vines, without irrigation. It is, he explains, the traditional viticulture. Plus, there was the very fact that he believes Pais is outstanding at expressing its place. “With Pais, it’s very easy to precise the terroir, or difference between the wines,” Henriquez says. Put a Pais from Maule, from Itata, and Bío during the glass. You don’t need to be an excellent taster to differentiate the differences, he says. “The first one is animal, the other more red-fruited, the last other herbal things.”

Henriquez’s challenge has also been to vary the perception of Summer Red, of old grapes. Ancient winemaking techniques, which is what he and his cohorts like Luyt and Bouchon have begun to do successfully. Pais is often found (often labeled Pipeño) everywhere. From geeky wine bars, like Terroir in NY City. Gastronomic markets like Dopolavoro in downtown LA. To wine shops in northern Michigan like Burritt’s Market.

Summer Red, OFF THE OLD VINES AND within the GLASS

If these winemakers share a standard mission to return Pais to its proper place within the world of wine. They also share similar passions for Pais within the glass. Summer Red shows its identity best when treated with a light-weight touch, Henriquez says. It’s going to have its personality. It can easily compete with Pinot Noir, Trousseau, and Gamay. Win the palates of these who love such finessed wines.

Pais’s tension between simplicity and complexity is what Bouchon and Luyt admire about Pais. It’s light in color and body. “It seems like a pool party, sort of a glou wine,” Bouchon says. But it also has an intriguing textural element. “The combination of the country tannins of the Pais, alongside the granitic soil, get you something super interesting,” he says.

[wineanddinosaur]

Why Pais Is the Most Crushable Summer Red You’ve Never Heard Of

In North America, it’s known as the Mission grape; in the Canary Islands, it’s Lístan Prieto. But in Chile the grape long dismissed or blended away is known as Pais, and it’s finally having its moment. The wine is light and crushable, similar in body to Gamay and Pinot Noir. The grape is much loved by somms as much for its drinkability as its history — Pais may just be the oldest varietal in the New World.

In Chile, Pais vines date back 200 to 300 years. At Bouchon Family Wines in Chile’s Maule Valley, some have gone wild, leaving their fine rows and entangling in a thicket of woods, twining into trees so that, to harvest this wild Pais, workers must climb a ladder into the overhead canopy.

“Pais came with the first Spaniards, with the conquistadores,” says Patricio Tapia, author of “Descorchados,” Chile’s renowned wine guide. “What we know now, genetically speaking, is that Pais is Lístan Prieto, a grape which is planted in the Canary Islands, which makes sense because, you know, the Spaniards stopped in Canary Islands to get food and stuff, and from the Canary Islands they came to the New World.”

Bringing Lístan Prieto with them, of course. “It was the first vine planted in the New World, in the Americas,” says Tapia. “It wasn’t Cabernet Sauvignon — it wasn’t Chardonnay for sure. We think that the Mission grape was the first planted in the U.S., and the Mission grape is the same as Pais, and Pais is Lístan Prieto.”

For centuries, Pais was Chile’s wine. Until it wasn’t.

From sometime in the 1500s until the second half of the 19th century, Pais was the main source of red wine in Chile. Then, in the second half of the 19th century, producers began importing French vines from Europe, like Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, and soon Pais was considered lesser, a second-class citizen, so to speak. Chilean winemakers added it to their blends, but never called attention to it. Pais became the wine of the people. It was called pipeño, meaning an everyday wine, one that’s stored in the family cellar and drunk at lunch with a tortilla, or at a rodeo.

Julio Bouchon, executive director of Bouchon Family Wines, had been steeped in Pais in his childhood. He’d just forgotten about it. “I remember my father making Pais in this old cement tank, and this is the wine we used to have,” Bouchon says. “I used to drink with my father and my grandfather at the table. It’s the taste I remember when I was a little kid.”

And yet, that wine of his childhood had been replaced by the drive for Bordeaux-style wines, for Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, which Chileans planted en masse in the 19th and 20th centuries. For 30 years, the taste of Pais was gone for Bouchon.

Rediscovering Pais

Yet one of Bouchon Family Wines’ estates, in the coastal dryland of Maule, was full of untended bush vines and dry-farmed Pais. In 2008, Julio was cleaning the wild parcels at the edge of the vineyard and the old bush vine Pais came out. And so, he began learning to make it.

In wine terms, if Bordeaux is big and extracted, Pais is light and Burgundian. First, he tried to make it in the cellar — to develop a rich extracted wine — then he tried rosé and even whites. Only when he began making it in the old way, with less intervention — harvested by hand, fermented with natural yeasts, and stored in cement vats, not oak barrels — did he learn to make a top-notch Pais.

Julio and his brother Juan began thinking they should do something with Pais. After all, it’s part of Chile’s history; it’s the beginning of Chilean viticulture. Plus, Pais does exceptionally well under the driest of conditions, like those of Chile’s Secano Interior and the Maule Valley and Itata. And so, they began making Pais again under the Bouchon label, releasing their first vintage in 2014.

“Do you think you can sell even one bottle of it?” Julio’s father asked him when they began. Today, under the J. Bouchon label, they make six wines from Pais, including a Pais Salvaje in red and white. To harvest that salvaje, or wild, workers literally have to climb into the trees, which is quite unusual in the wine world. They also make a sparkling Pais blend, and Pais Viejo, which is the best-selling among them in the U.S.

Searching for Pipeño, the Everyday Pais Wine

Meanwhile, back in the early 2000s, Louis-Antoine Luyt, a French sommelier turned winemaker in Chile, and the person credited with the revival of Pais, had begun chasing Pais across the country. From Santiago, he took the road to the south until he got to Maule where he began visiting small towns and vineyards. He went farther south, and to the west and to the east, and deeper and deeper in the countryside, clocking what he expects is 40,000 kilometers — about 25,000 miles — a year. He wanted to know the place, the regions, the small areas, and the people growing Pais and making pipeño, the rustic, classic style of Pais wines.

“It was an obsession, because each person has a different kind of vocabulary, the same approach but a different execution,” says Luyt. So, the wine in one place — the same small area where two or three or five people are using the same grapes — doesn’t show the same every time. “It is the perfect definition of terroir,” he says.

By 2007, Luyt had produced his first Pais and launched a Pais movement in Chile, landing it in restaurants across the world. His six Pais bottlings are among the most widely available and offer remarkable value, selling for around $20 apiece. The common refrain among somms has been: Where else in the world can you find a wine made from 200-year-old vines for around $20?

Heeding the Call of Pais

Another renowned Chilean winemaker, Roberto Henriquez, has also become known globally for his Pais. Henriquez felt a strong draw to the wines early in his career. “The vines, the terroir were talking to me,” he says. They were saying, “I am 200 years old. I am planted in basaltic, in granitic, in sedimentary, and in alluvial soil. I’m pre-phylloxeric. Why don’t you make wine with me?”

Working with Pais wasn’t just important to Chile, Henriquez believes, but also to the world, which has pretty much lost its Pais plants — to phylloxera in Europe — or otherwise forgotten it. “I think it’s really important for the world because the world can record old genetic materials that Europe lost in a moment,” he says of Pais.

For some of those reasons, Henriquez chooses to work with old ungrafted vines, without irrigation. It is, he explains, the classic viticulture. Plus, there was the fact that he believes Pais is exceptional at expressing its place. “With Pais, it’s really easy to express the terroir, or difference between the wines,” Henriquez says. Put a Pais from Maule, from Itata, and from Bío Bío in a glass and you don’t have to be a great taster to distinguish the differences, he says. “The first one is animal, the second one more red-fruited, the last one more herbal things.”

And so, Henriquez’s challenge has also been to change the perception of Pais, of old grapes, and old winemaking techniques. Which is what he and his cohorts like Luyt and Bouchon have begun to successfully do. Today, Pais can be found (often labeled Pipeño) everywhere from geeky wine bars, like Terroir in New York City, to gastronomic markets like Dopolavoro in downtown Los Angeles, to wine shops in northern Michigan like Burritt’s Market.

Pais, Off the Old Vines and in the Glass

If these winemakers share a common mission to return Pais to its proper place in the world of wine, they also share similar passions for Pais in the glass. Pais shows its identity best when it is treated with a light touch, Henriquez says. It may have its own identity, he argues, but it can easily compete with Pinot Noir, Trousseau, and Gamay — and win the palates of those who love such finessed wines.

Pais’s tension between simplicity and complexity is what Bouchon and Luyt admire about Pais. It’s light in color and body. “It looks like a pool party, like a glou glou wine,” Bouchon says. But it also has an intriguing textural element. “The combination of the rustic tannins of the Pais, together with the granitic soil, get you something super interesting,” he says.

The article Why Pais Is the Most Crushable Summer Red You’ve Never Heard Of appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/pais-summer-red/

[johnboothus]

Why Pais Is the Most Crushable Summer Red Youve Never Heard Of

In North America, it’s known as the Mission grape; in the Canary Islands, it’s Lístan Prieto. But in Chile the grape long dismissed or blended away is known as Pais, and it’s finally having its moment. The wine is light and crushable, similar in body to Gamay and Pinot Noir. The grape is much loved by somms as much for its drinkability as its history — Pais may just be the oldest varietal in the New World.

In Chile, Pais vines date back 200 to 300 years. At Bouchon Family Wines in Chile’s Maule Valley, some have gone wild, leaving their fine rows and entangling in a thicket of woods, twining into trees so that, to harvest this wild Pais, workers must climb a ladder into the overhead canopy.

“Pais came with the first Spaniards, with the conquistadores,” says Patricio Tapia, author of “Descorchados,” Chile’s renowned wine guide. “What we know now, genetically speaking, is that Pais is Lístan Prieto, a grape which is planted in the Canary Islands, which makes sense because, you know, the Spaniards stopped in Canary Islands to get food and stuff, and from the Canary Islands they came to the New World.”

Bringing Lístan Prieto with them, of course. “It was the first vine planted in the New World, in the Americas,” says Tapia. “It wasn’t Cabernet Sauvignon — it wasn’t Chardonnay for sure. We think that the Mission grape was the first planted in the U.S., and the Mission grape is the same as Pais, and Pais is Lístan Prieto.”

For centuries, Pais was Chile’s wine. Until it wasn’t.

From sometime in the 1500s until the second half of the 19th century, Pais was the main source of red wine in Chile. Then, in the second half of the 19th century, producers began importing French vines from Europe, like Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, and soon Pais was considered lesser, a second-class citizen, so to speak. Chilean winemakers added it to their blends, but never called attention to it. Pais became the wine of the people. It was called pipeño, meaning an everyday wine, one that’s stored in the family cellar and drunk at lunch with a tortilla, or at a rodeo.

Julio Bouchon, executive director of Bouchon Family Wines, had been steeped in Pais in his childhood. He’d just forgotten about it. “I remember my father making Pais in this old cement tank, and this is the wine we used to have,” Bouchon says. “I used to drink with my father and my grandfather at the table. It’s the taste I remember when I was a little kid.”

And yet, that wine of his childhood had been replaced by the drive for Bordeaux-style wines, for Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, which Chileans planted en masse in the 19th and 20th centuries. For 30 years, the taste of Pais was gone for Bouchon.

Rediscovering Pais

Yet one of Bouchon Family Wines’ estates, in the coastal dryland of Maule, was full of untended bush vines and dry-farmed Pais. In 2008, Julio was cleaning the wild parcels at the edge of the vineyard and the old bush vine Pais came out. And so, he began learning to make it.

In wine terms, if Bordeaux is big and extracted, Pais is light and Burgundian. First, he tried to make it in the cellar — to develop a rich extracted wine — then he tried rosé and even whites. Only when he began making it in the old way, with less intervention — harvested by hand, fermented with natural yeasts, and stored in cement vats, not oak barrels — did he learn to make a top-notch Pais.

Julio and his brother Juan began thinking they should do something with Pais. After all, it’s part of Chile’s history; it’s the beginning of Chilean viticulture. Plus, Pais does exceptionally well under the driest of conditions, like those of Chile’s Secano Interior and the Maule Valley and Itata. And so, they began making Pais again under the Bouchon label, releasing their first vintage in 2014.

“Do you think you can sell even one bottle of it?” Julio’s father asked him when they began. Today, under the J. Bouchon label, they make six wines from Pais, including a Pais Salvaje in red and white. To harvest that salvaje, or wild, workers literally have to climb into the trees, which is quite unusual in the wine world. They also make a sparkling Pais blend, and Pais Viejo, which is the best-selling among them in the U.S.

Searching for Pipeño, the Everyday Pais Wine

Meanwhile, back in the early 2000s, Louis-Antoine Luyt, a French sommelier turned winemaker in Chile, and the person credited with the revival of Pais, had begun chasing Pais across the country. From Santiago, he took the road to the south until he got to Maule where he began visiting small towns and vineyards. He went farther south, and to the west and to the east, and deeper and deeper in the countryside, clocking what he expects is 40,000 kilometers — about 25,000 miles — a year. He wanted to know the place, the regions, the small areas, and the people growing Pais and making pipeño, the rustic, classic style of Pais wines.

“It was an obsession, because each person has a different kind of vocabulary, the same approach but a different execution,” says Luyt. So, the wine in one place — the same small area where two or three or five people are using the same grapes — doesn’t show the same every time. “It is the perfect definition of terroir,” he says.

By 2007, Luyt had produced his first Pais and launched a Pais movement in Chile, landing it in restaurants across the world. His six Pais bottlings are among the most widely available and offer remarkable value, selling for around $20 apiece. The common refrain among somms has been: Where else in the world can you find a wine made from 200-year-old vines for around $20?

Heeding the Call of Pais

Another renowned Chilean winemaker, Roberto Henriquez, has also become known globally for his Pais. Henriquez felt a strong draw to the wines early in his career. “The vines, the terroir were talking to me,” he says. They were saying, “I am 200 years old. I am planted in basaltic, in granitic, in sedimentary, and in alluvial soil. I’m pre-phylloxeric. Why don’t you make wine with me?”

Working with Pais wasn’t just important to Chile, Henriquez believes, but also to the world, which has pretty much lost its Pais plants — to phylloxera in Europe — or otherwise forgotten it. “I think it’s really important for the world because the world can record old genetic materials that Europe lost in a moment,” he says of Pais.

For some of those reasons, Henriquez chooses to work with old ungrafted vines, without irrigation. It is, he explains, the classic viticulture. Plus, there was the fact that he believes Pais is exceptional at expressing its place. “With Pais, it’s really easy to express the terroir, or difference between the wines,” Henriquez says. Put a Pais from Maule, from Itata, and from Bío Bío in a glass and you don’t have to be a great taster to distinguish the differences, he says. “The first one is animal, the second one more red-fruited, the last one more herbal things.”

And so, Henriquez’s challenge has also been to change the perception of Pais, of old grapes, and old winemaking techniques. Which is what he and his cohorts like Luyt and Bouchon have begun to successfully do. Today, Pais can be found (often labeled Pipeño) everywhere from geeky wine bars, like Terroir in New York City, to gastronomic markets like Dopolavoro in downtown Los Angeles, to wine shops in northern Michigan like Burritt’s Market.

Pais, Off the Old Vines and in the Glass

If these winemakers share a common mission to return Pais to its proper place in the world of wine, they also share similar passions for Pais in the glass. Pais shows its identity best when it is treated with a light touch, Henriquez says. It may have its own identity, he argues, but it can easily compete with Pinot Noir, Trousseau, and Gamay — and win the palates of those who love such finessed wines.

Pais’s tension between simplicity and complexity is what Bouchon and Luyt admire about Pais. It’s light in color and body. “It looks like a pool party, like a glou glou wine,” Bouchon says. But it also has an intriguing textural element. “The combination of the rustic tannins of the Pais, together with the granitic soil, get you something super interesting,” he says.

The article Why Pais Is the Most Crushable Summer Red You’ve Never Heard Of appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/pais-summer-red/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/why-pais-is-the-most-crushable-summer-red-youve-never-heard-of

[isaiahrippinus]

Why Pais Is the Most Crushable Summer Red You’ve Never Heard Of

In North America, it’s known as the Mission grape; in the Canary Islands, it’s Lístan Prieto. But in Chile the grape long dismissed or blended away is known as Pais, and it’s finally having its moment. The wine is light and crushable, similar in body to Gamay and Pinot Noir. The grape is much loved by somms as much for its drinkability as its history — Pais may just be the oldest varietal in the New World.

In Chile, Pais vines date back 200 to 300 years. At Bouchon Family Wines in Chile’s Maule Valley, some have gone wild, leaving their fine rows and entangling in a thicket of woods, twining into trees so that, to harvest this wild Pais, workers must climb a ladder into the overhead canopy.

“Pais came with the first Spaniards, with the conquistadores,” says Patricio Tapia, author of “Descorchados,” Chile’s renowned wine guide. “What we know now, genetically speaking, is that Pais is Lístan Prieto, a grape which is planted in the Canary Islands, which makes sense because, you know, the Spaniards stopped in Canary Islands to get food and stuff, and from the Canary Islands they came to the New World.”

Bringing Lístan Prieto with them, of course. “It was the first vine planted in the New World, in the Americas,” says Tapia. “It wasn’t Cabernet Sauvignon — it wasn’t Chardonnay for sure. We think that the Mission grape was the first planted in the U.S., and the Mission grape is the same as Pais, and Pais is Lístan Prieto.”

For centuries, Pais was Chile’s wine. Until it wasn’t.

From sometime in the 1500s until the second half of the 19th century, Pais was the main source of red wine in Chile. Then, in the second half of the 19th century, producers began importing French vines from Europe, like Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, and soon Pais was considered lesser, a second-class citizen, so to speak. Chilean winemakers added it to their blends, but never called attention to it. Pais became the wine of the people. It was called pipeño, meaning an everyday wine, one that’s stored in the family cellar and drunk at lunch with a tortilla, or at a rodeo.

Julio Bouchon, executive director of Bouchon Family Wines, had been steeped in Pais in his childhood. He’d just forgotten about it. “I remember my father making Pais in this old cement tank, and this is the wine we used to have,” Bouchon says. “I used to drink with my father and my grandfather at the table. It’s the taste I remember when I was a little kid.”

And yet, that wine of his childhood had been replaced by the drive for Bordeaux-style wines, for Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, which Chileans planted en masse in the 19th and 20th centuries. For 30 years, the taste of Pais was gone for Bouchon.

Rediscovering Pais

Yet one of Bouchon Family Wines’ estates, in the coastal dryland of Maule, was full of untended bush vines and dry-farmed Pais. In 2008, Julio was cleaning the wild parcels at the edge of the vineyard and the old bush vine Pais came out. And so, he began learning to make it.

In wine terms, if Bordeaux is big and extracted, Pais is light and Burgundian. First, he tried to make it in the cellar — to develop a rich extracted wine — then he tried rosé and even whites. Only when he began making it in the old way, with less intervention — harvested by hand, fermented with natural yeasts, and stored in cement vats, not oak barrels — did he learn to make a top-notch Pais.

Julio and his brother Juan began thinking they should do something with Pais. After all, it’s part of Chile’s history; it’s the beginning of Chilean viticulture. Plus, Pais does exceptionally well under the driest of conditions, like those of Chile’s Secano Interior and the Maule Valley and Itata. And so, they began making Pais again under the Bouchon label, releasing their first vintage in 2014.

“Do you think you can sell even one bottle of it?” Julio’s father asked him when they began. Today, under the J. Bouchon label, they make six wines from Pais, including a Pais Salvaje in red and white. To harvest that salvaje, or wild, workers literally have to climb into the trees, which is quite unusual in the wine world. They also make a sparkling Pais blend, and Pais Viejo, which is the best-selling among them in the U.S.

Searching for Pipeño, the Everyday Pais Wine

Meanwhile, back in the early 2000s, Louis-Antoine Luyt, a French sommelier turned winemaker in Chile, and the person credited with the revival of Pais, had begun chasing Pais across the country. From Santiago, he took the road to the south until he got to Maule where he began visiting small towns and vineyards. He went farther south, and to the west and to the east, and deeper and deeper in the countryside, clocking what he expects is 40,000 kilometers — about 25,000 miles — a year. He wanted to know the place, the regions, the small areas, and the people growing Pais and making pipeño, the rustic, classic style of Pais wines.

“It was an obsession, because each person has a different kind of vocabulary, the same approach but a different execution,” says Luyt. So, the wine in one place — the same small area where two or three or five people are using the same grapes — doesn’t show the same every time. “It is the perfect definition of terroir,” he says.

By 2007, Luyt had produced his first Pais and launched a Pais movement in Chile, landing it in restaurants across the world. His six Pais bottlings are among the most widely available and offer remarkable value, selling for around $20 apiece. The common refrain among somms has been: Where else in the world can you find a wine made from 200-year-old vines for around $20?

Heeding the Call of Pais

Another renowned Chilean winemaker, Roberto Henriquez, has also become known globally for his Pais. Henriquez felt a strong draw to the wines early in his career. “The vines, the terroir were talking to me,” he says. They were saying, “I am 200 years old. I am planted in basaltic, in granitic, in sedimentary, and in alluvial soil. I’m pre-phylloxeric. Why don’t you make wine with me?”

Working with Pais wasn’t just important to Chile, Henriquez believes, but also to the world, which has pretty much lost its Pais plants — to phylloxera in Europe — or otherwise forgotten it. “I think it’s really important for the world because the world can record old genetic materials that Europe lost in a moment,” he says of Pais.

For some of those reasons, Henriquez chooses to work with old ungrafted vines, without irrigation. It is, he explains, the classic viticulture. Plus, there was the fact that he believes Pais is exceptional at expressing its place. “With Pais, it’s really easy to express the terroir, or difference between the wines,” Henriquez says. Put a Pais from Maule, from Itata, and from Bío Bío in a glass and you don’t have to be a great taster to distinguish the differences, he says. “The first one is animal, the second one more red-fruited, the last one more herbal things.”

And so, Henriquez’s challenge has also been to change the perception of Pais, of old grapes, and old winemaking techniques. Which is what he and his cohorts like Luyt and Bouchon have begun to successfully do. Today, Pais can be found (often labeled Pipeño) everywhere from geeky wine bars, like Terroir in New York City, to gastronomic markets like Dopolavoro in downtown Los Angeles, to wine shops in northern Michigan like Burritt’s Market.

Pais, Off the Old Vines and in the Glass

If these winemakers share a common mission to return Pais to its proper place in the world of wine, they also share similar passions for Pais in the glass. Pais shows its identity best when it is treated with a light touch, Henriquez says. It may have its own identity, he argues, but it can easily compete with Pinot Noir, Trousseau, and Gamay — and win the palates of those who love such finessed wines.

Pais’s tension between simplicity and complexity is what Bouchon and Luyt admire about Pais. It’s light in color and body. “It looks like a pool party, like a glou glou wine,” Bouchon says. But it also has an intriguing textural element. “The combination of the rustic tannins of the Pais, together with the granitic soil, get you something super interesting,” he says.

The article Why Pais Is the Most Crushable Summer Red You’ve Never Heard Of appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/pais-summer-red/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/620275947630968832