The Memory Garden

"How do you come up with all these aromas and flavors?" is a question I am frequently asked. 

Last fall, as I was barrel sampling the 2005 Alto Pomar--our grenache, syrah, and mourvedre blend from Alto Pomar Vineyard--a particular scent eluded me.  I knew I had encountered it before, but where?  I finally found it in the pantry of my "memory garden"--it was the yellow-ish green lace that is found on whole nutmeg cloves:  mace.

Based loosely on the concept of The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci, I have created a memory garden that I visit when seeking the scents and flavors in a wine.

First, I visit the berry patch, with its tidy trellises of marionberries, blackberries and raspberries, flanked by rows of strawberries (three kinds) and ending in a sawdust-covered mound of blueberry bushes.  In a neglected corner, there is a straggly gooseberry bush, and in another corner is a water feature--a tiny pond filled with cranberries.

There are two orchards--an apple orchard with dwarf apple trees of various kinds, all leaning in the same direction from brisk spring winds.  And there is a widely spaced plum orchard, with purple damsons and green gage plums, which is also my memory meadow, filled with warm summer grasses, hay, wildflowers, and clover.  Beyond the meadow is a memory brook, with scents and flavors of wet rocks, clay, fish, wild berry canes and pond poo.

There is a small, rough hewn barn filled with fresh sawdust and some calves, baby goats, a poultry pen, and a pony.  A tack room has leather accoutrements and saddle soap.  A little paddock has a patch of mushrooms and a pile of freshly turned compost.  Pie cherry, pear, pawpaw, citrus, kiwi, almond, and bay are scattered around the grounds.

A tiny farmhouse holds a butter churn on its front stoop, and cupboards filled with pantry spices and condiments.   One cupboard has old fashioned pots of cleaning solution and wood polish.  A little sewing room has scraps of velvet, various weaves of silk, and soft cottons in every color, and the attic has scurrying mice and musty chests of old clothing and books.

Behind the house is a forest, with deep humus and needle-carpeted soil, violets and wild strawberries, and scents of pine, cedar, fresh cut wood, and moss.

When I'm in a hurry, I often begin at the memory market, where fruits, vegetables and herbs are laid out in rows of wooden boxes for my review.  I can quickly pick out the key flavors and scents in a wine.  But when a wine intrigues me, I like to wander through my garden and its buildings, finding a cigar box, perhaps, or an old sachet of dried lavender.

To create your own memory garden, begin with plants and rooms taken from your own life, and enter them into your own mental construct.  It could be a simple garden like mine, or a sun-washed palace with extensive grounds.  You could add a wine cellar with your favorite bottles, and even markers pointing to these remembered wines from various points in the garden.  A memory garden is useful for quickly recalling the appearance and name of an elusive scent or flavor, but it is more than an exercise in memory--it's an exercise in enrichment.

You can taste the world in a glass of wine.

Comments

[Alan Kinne]

Always enjoy your writing.

[Dr. Debs]

OK, I think this is the coolest wine post ever. How did you think of the memory palace? What a great use for it!

[Mary Baker]

Hi, Alan! It's great to know you're following along.

Dr. Debs, thank you for the link and "toast" on Wine Life Today.

I started with the "market" concept, actually, as a speedy way to review the various fruits and secondary characteristics in a wine. I am a very visual person, and so I need to "see" an aroma in order to put a name to it. From there, I began adding fruiting bushes, wet stones, and other memories from my childhood, but it's simply too slow to wander through my (now gathering) life experiences finding all these things. Therefore, I began "moving" them into a specific place that stores all things wine-related. It's a very pleasant place, isn't it? ;)