Now, fully half-way through the book, we are introduced to wine on its own. Maybe it’s better this way, like old-fashioned “courtin’,” where taking it slow makes the lasting relationship better. That’s the way the Widmers rolls.
We’re treated to some nice glamour shots (which may have been taken in my grandmother’s “parlor”).
And then a magnificent landscape of barrels as far as the eye can see, each containing Widmer’s sherry, ripening on the roof of the winery, exposed to the seasons, but aging to perfection.