I’m in Texas for a funeral for my Grandpa. A man loved by so many people, who lived large. A man who told me (even though we had our suspicions about what he really did) that all he did was “check in bananas and blankets through customs.” Then he would ramble (I get that from him) on about being airlifted into the jungle with nothing but a swiss army knife and a canteen to figure it out for himself for 3 days. That was just in case the bananas got out of hand. Or another story where he had to take a class and he walked into the room where snakes were crawling everywhere. He had to sit through an 8 hour class without reacting. Because crazy things happen when you check in blankets.

He was one of the most incredible people that I have ever known. He was Texan to the bitter end. Although he was worldly and had traveled, he swore he would never live any where else in the world but Texas. And he never did.

At 73, he became an EMT and he claimed to be the oldest EMT in Texas (he did tend to exaggerate a little). He volunteered for the local police and fire departments. He was an avid gardener and most of what I know about growing a garden comes from him. He grew pecans, peaches, plums and figs and was constantly making jams, jellies and candies from them (and won numerous awards and ribbons that are strewn all over the house).

He used to make his own wine, in fact as we were cleaning out his workshop today, we found some vintage 1975…no one dared to try. My grandpa was a port man.

He became one after visiting England and Australia and trying the different bottles available abroad. He was so proud of me and what I have been doing lately with my wine studies. Last year when I visited he asked me if I wanted to taste some port he had. I was a little wary. But we had a lot of family around and so I caved. So my grandpa scampered into the house and brought out this dusty (open, mind you) bottle of port. Now when he poured me a glass, if I had just closed my eyes…there were floaties in it. So I was a little frightened. But I’m serious about the eyes, because smelling that glass was sensational. It still had that incredible port spice beauty. I did end up taking a tiny (and I mean tiny) sip.

So in honor of my grandpa, I’m writing about a Texas wine. And one that is close to the town that he lived in since 1987, Fredericksburg. Becker Vineyards is in Stonewall, Texas, just a stone’s throw from Fredericksburg. Most people don’t automatically think of Texas and wine, but its history of the vine pre-dates California and Virginia. The red sandy clay is very close to the terroirs of Coonawarra in Australia.

The Becker Iconoclast Cabernet Sauvignon 2008 was extremely ripe. It is grown in a hot climate, so I would have expected nothing less. Its flavors are of black raspberry, dark juicy plums and vanilla mingled with hints of chocolate and cola. The tannins were soft and the acidity was moderate. Overall I would have to say that it was a more pleasant experience than I was anticipating. I do believe that it is only sold in this general area, but maybe one can order it through the website. I paid a whopping $8.99 for it!