I have to confess I was hoping to catch the three pillars of the Rogue Valley's biggest wine event off guard.
"You will see it," assures the steady voice of viticulture wizard Chris Hubert as he guides me over the phone to a land magically being transformed into a 15-acre vineyard.
My most impatient self is asking — pleading — with Wayne Hitchings of Red Hill Vineyard to answer a simple question. But he just shakes his head.
We all have heard the stories about good people acting badly at the Newport Seafood & Wine Festival: Thousands of drunken frat boys smash wineglasses onto the floor of a crammed circus tent whipped...
A grape grower asked me if I wanted to borrow some boots. I looked at my snow-white, canvas sneakers and then his steel-toed LaCrosse work boots that safeguarded his calves in rubber.
Warning: This column contains stories of irrepressible love, public nudity and other forms of wine-infused misbehaving.
People accuse me of being highly competitive, especially when the stakes are low.
Please don't judge me because I'm a snow wimp.
I swear that the strongest drug I have ever taken — legal or otherwise — is NyQuil.
In my inimitable quest to hobnob only with people who make me feel inferior, I find myself ignored by globe-trotting bluebloods shopping for masterpieces at the storied contemporary art fair, Art...
People who know me only through the written word are unaware that I am freakishly tall.
You know that sweet guest at your Thanksgiving table whom you just adore? Well, that's not me.
Pacifists and peaceniks, please turn away as I punch a woman half my size — and smile.
Video gamers would hate me right now.
I parked my crass, modern car at a street corner, walked across a lawn glimmering with croquet stakes and finally entered the Champagne-infused world that F.
No sooner had those slackers from Cycle Oregon skedaddled out of Ashland after only biking up a 4,647-foot ascent to the ski resort on their day off before continuing on their quest to lap Southern...
I'm reposing on a pal's pontoon boat on Emigrant Lake, appreciating both the white cushions that I'm sitting on that seem culled from the set of a Jean Harlow movie and the $28 bottle of white wine,...
I remember only one word Julia Child told me.
I attended a conference where we watered the lawn with priceless wine.
Man against nature: It doesn't always have to be a battle.
Songwriter and guitarist Ryan Vosika has come full circle since the days he attended Ruch...
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