The Spider and the Pip: A Tale of Friendship and a Fantastic wine
Friday night, 8:45 p.m. I had just wrapped up my work week and was about to sink into the couch when my phone buzzed. It was a text from my sister from another mister, K&L colleague Dejah Overby: a photo of a massive wolf spider camped out in her bathroom.
I knew the right move was to help a good friend out. She lives about ten minutes away, so the round trip wouldn't take long. Besides, we'd have a story to laugh about for years to come. Dejah is a keeper. She's also an incredible sommelier, one I know I can always count on.
I wasn't always the person you'd call for spider rescue. I used to be terrified of them. That changed when I was an apprentice winemaker and learned, fast, that spiders are everywhere: in the cellar, in the vineyards, in the bins of grapes waiting to be crushed. Every crush season, I'd end up with spider bites from the knees down, just from standing in the bins, shoveling organically grown fruit into the crusher. By my second crush, I'd cut my hair short, tired of spiders getting tangled in my long, fine, wavy hair.
Along the way, I also learned that spiders have important work to do. They're allies, not enemies, so now I catch and release them. That's a habit I picked up from my father, a retired Los Angeles County Fire Department captain. After decades of service at a high-traffic station, he'd seen his share of death and suffering. But for a big, tough man, he was soft-hearted when it came to critters. Everything struggles to live, he told me. Don't make the world a worse place by killing something harmless. Help creatures live, especially when they're vulnerable.
When I pulled up to Dejah's place, she was already outside waiting, sweating and flushed with anxiety over the sheer size of this arachnid beast. She led me to the bathroom and pointed behind the shower curtain. Armed with a plastic takeout container, I slid the curtain back slowly, and there he was. Big, all right—easily the size of a U.S. half dollar. A wolf spider, and by the look of his boxing-glove-like pedipalps, a male. Lucky for me, he was sluggish and easy to catch.
On my way out the door, Dejah tried to hand me a nice bottle of white Burgundy as a reward. I told her no, no need. I'd come to help without expecting anything beyond a funny story to remember. A hug was payment enough. But Dejah being Dejah wasn't having it. She reached for a bottle of red instead, one our colleagues had been raving about and calling a killer deal. Me being me, she got my attention. After all, as my dear friend and somm, she knows me well. I'm always more excited by a good deal than a fancy label, mostly because it means I'll casually drink it on my own and might go buy more of it. I took the bottle and got the hug, too.
Back home, I went to show my husband my arachnid quarry and realized there were now two spiders in the container. The spider molted on the ride home, which explained why he'd been so easy to catch. Freshly molted and soft-bodied, he could barely stretch his legs and sat curled in a dull, doughy little ball. I put a few drops of water in the container and let him rest for a couple of days so his exoskeleton could harden. I named him Carlos Lobos, the manly version of Charlotte. Charlie Wolves just didn't have the same ring to it.
Two days later, Carlos stretched his glorious legs out and was spry and full of energy again. I released him in the woods behind my house late that afternoon. Plenty of places to hide and hunt back there. I'm hoping he stays outside. I appreciate spiders, but I'd rather they remain outside.
Now, about that fabulous bottle of red Dejah rewarded me with.
2019 Clendenen Family Vineyards "The Pip" Santa Maria Valley Nebbiolo (Winery Direct Library Release) $12.95 This wine is lovely. I opened it the night I got home, late, alongside crackers and some cold leftover steak. I hadn't planned on drinking wine or even eating a real dinner, but after wrestling a wolf spider for Dejah, I couldn't resist.
After the first sip, I felt more than fairly compensated for my efforts. Black plum, juicy berries, dried rose petals, lemon balm, rooibos tea, and a subtle tarry note unfold across the palate, with a stony mineral quality adding another layer of complexity. It's light on its feet, with food-friendly acidity and the kind of easygoing character that makes it just as enjoyable with a few casual snacks as it is at the dinner table. At full price, it's an excellent value. At more than 45% off right now, it's a screaming deal.
Buy this for dinner with friends who know and love wine, particularly fans of the late, great Jim Clendenen and Au Bon Climat. As a library release from such a storied producer, it's the kind of bottle your host or fellow guests will appreciate without ever knowing how little you paid for it.
Kerry, her dad, his dog.
True to Italian tradition, "The Pip" spent three years aging in large 500-liter Hungarian oak puncheons, followed by another year in bottle before its original release. It has now had an additional seven years to rest and is still going strong, a thoughtful and elegantly rendered expression of Nebbiolo.
Dog lovers may get a kick out of the fact that the Pip series of wine is named after Jim’s beloved late border collie Pip. I smile with the thought that the two of them are together again. I like to think that all dogs and great winemakers go to heaven. They can say hello to my now-late father, who I hope arrived just eight weeks ago this week.