I do know Jack!

I might be having a mid-life crisis.

Lately, science hasn't had the same appeal. I don't get giddy with excitement about a new experiment the way I once did.

Yesterday, I was thinking about selling the Lab and sailing the Pacific when I opened a bottle of Sam Tannahill's strange "white" elixir Jack (2005).

Jack is a mix of Pinot Blanc and Gris and Chardonnay. It is, allegedly, a Josko Gravner inspired wine. Six months of extended maceration (where the juice remains in contact with the skins). And then a long spell in oak barrels (not clay amphora).

It is striking to see in the glass, a sort of dusty orange wine, but with a radiant pink core that seems to shimmer magically when it catches the light. On the nose it is apricot marmalade, clover honey and something grapey (as a side note: anyone but me find it strange how rarely "grape" is used as a wine descriptor?). I first tasted this a year and a half ago and it has fleshed out considerably since then; the then subtle orchard fruits have swelled into bright white peaches and apricots. There's still a strong mineral backbone and a tannic tingle on the long lingering finish.

But this wine is more than its parts. It defies precise analysis. It resists the experimental impulse. Jack just is. And it is a wonderful is-ness.

What did William Hurt's character say in The Big Chill? Sometimes you just have to let art flow over you...

Maybe that's the way out of my crisis? I need a break from analysis. I need to let a little more art just flow over me.

Or I could buy a Ferrari?

What Would Julius Caesar Drink?

Returning to our historic tasting series, we've set the Way-Back machine to take us back to Roman antiquity when wine was fermented and stored in clay pots called amphorae.

A small cadre of winemakers have returned to these ancient techniques, using massive terra cotta pots buried in the ground to ferment their juice. I've grown fascinated with the idea of them, and, when supported by good winemaking, the taste of them.

The main proponent of this odd trend is iconic Fruilian winemaker, Josko Gravner (here is a picture of him with his big pots). Gravner is a strict non-interventionist when it comes to wine-making. He uses only wild yeasts, no sulfur, no temperature control and, since 2000, a lot of very big clay pots. Amongst his disciples are ex-neurosurgeon Alessandro Sgaravetti of Castello di Lispida who works nearby, and Sam Tannahill, who in faraway Oregon makes his wonder of extended maceration "Jack White" (I'll admit it's an unsubstantiated rumor that Sam is burying big pots in the ground, but I did hear that he was).

A few recent amphora wines, we've tried at the Lab:

Gravner, Ribolla Gialla Amfora, 2002. Striking deep golden color. Fino sherry, wild fennel and something sweet (like a strawberry 'n cream life saver) on the nose. Spectral, mineral, linear. Flavors of baked apple, mineral water, toffee and toasted hazelnut on the finish. This was less intellectually interesting than I anticipated, but much more lovable than I expected.

Castello di Lispida, Amphora, 2004. 100% Tocai Fruiliano. Six months on the skins, then 8 more months in amphora after the cap is removed. Coppery hued. Spearmint and anise on the nose. In the mouth, this is an austere mix of bitter plum and anise. I wouldn't say undrinkable, but I wouldn't say good either.

Cos, Cerasuolo di Vittoira Pithos, 2005. Maceration for seven months with occasional manual pumping over, no temp control, minimal SO2, no filtration. A nose of wild strawberry, rose petals and traces of spearmint. Piercing and linear. Cherry fruit, then earthy minerality, then bright, orange-y acid. A mild tannic bite on the finish. Compelling beyond the novelty of the clay pot.