Tulip

Our second stop on the wine trail was the Tulip winery in the western Galil. In an earlier post, I mentioned that Tulip was the first good Israeli wine I ever tasted, so naturally we wanted to pay them a visit. But Danny discovered that there was a far better reason to support this winery. Tulip is located in K'far Tikva, which translates roughly as village of hope. It's a former kibbutz that disbanded, or went out of business, or whatever happens to kibbutzim when their useful life has expired. It was then converted into a residential center for adults with developmental and emotional disabilities. The winery is on the grounds of the former kibbutz, and employs several of the adults who reside in K'far Tikva.

Several years ago, Tulip decided that it wanted to begin marketing its wines as kosher. That might not be much of a calling card elsewhere, but in Israel, it enhances market share for any winery to be kosher. Plus, they can sell abroad, to markets with a large observant Jewish population -- think New York, London, Los Angeles. Now I don't want to get into a complicated exegesis of the interplay of wine and kashrut, but it's my understanding that there are two ways to go if you want to make kosher wine. The first is to boil the juice, and that's what was done for a long time, and that's the reason so many Israeli wines were lousy. (My editorial opinion, of course, but really, twenty years ago, when you tasted a kosher wine with a meal, did you ever ask for a second glass?) The second way is to have only observant Jews handling the wine before it gets into the bottle. So anyway, when the Tulip guys wanted to get the rabbinic seal of approval, they were told they had to fire the disabled workers; or rather, they could not have disabled workers handling wine if they wanted it to be kosher.

Tulip, to its credit, told the rabbis no thanks. Perhaps they used stronger language, or maybe not, because they kept negotiating with them for several years. Finally, they came to a compromise that allowed Tulip to continue employing the residents of K'far Tikva, and to receive the good housekeeping seal of approval. And once they received rabbinic approval, their sales increased very significantly. Which means that Tulip lost money for several years rather than turn its back on its disabled workers. I've been trying hard not to editorialize, but I cannot help myself. I'm a lawyer, and lawyers have to be practical to solve problems. I meet lots of lawyers who may be intellectually smart -- they probably have high IQ scores -- but when it comes to being practical, they are completely fucking stupid. That's what strikes me about these rabbis. I'm sure they are great scholars of Torah, Talmud and other sacred texts. But anyone -- rabbi, lawyer, cab driver -- who advised Tulip to turn its back on the disabled residents who worked at the winery, is nothing more than a fool, no matter how learned. (I wanted to use stronger language, but my editor vetoed that suggerstion. Use your imagination. What would you call someone who wanted the disabled workers fired?) I hope that when these rabbis go to their next reward, their job is to clean the latrines for all the disabled people who got there before them.

Anyway, we loved Tulip, not just because the owners were so principled, but also because they make great wines. And of all the wineries we visited, I think Tulip delivers the best value. Their wines range from around $22 to maybe $50 for the fanciest, and all of them can compete with wines selling for much more. We spent a long time with Tulip's head of marketin -- a young woman named Orr, who was sweet and knowledgeable -- and we tasted several excellent wines. Mostly Tulip sells varietals, and I would recommend their Syrah, and Reserve Syrah, both excellent. One night in Tel Aviv, Dan & Randy ordered a bottle of Black Tulip, their high end blend, and it was terrific -- full bodied, great food wine, think Bordeaux style blend.

However, my favorite Tulip wine, and in fact, one of my favorite wines from the entire trip was an inexpensively priced Cabernet Franc. Cab Franc is apparently a tough grape to work with, and it has a reputation for making rough rustic wines. It's often used for blending, but rarely bottled as a varietal. What a shame! I loved this Cab Franc. It was the earthiest wine we tasted all week; closing my eyes, swirling the wine around my mouth, I could see and feel and taste all of the Land of Israel. One swallow, for me, captured the entire trip through the north. Orr says that Tulip is now exporting to the U.S., so I'm hoping that some of this wine makes its way to Rochester. Or maybe Tulip will begin selling through the website: Israeliwinedirect.com.  Big mistake not to order a case of this Cab Franc when we were at the winery.

From Tulip we drove further north to Rosh Pina, a little hilltop town overlooking the Galil. I don't really have time for a full description of Rosh Pina, or Hamieri Estates, the beautiful inn where we spent the night, other than to say that it was only a few steps short of heaven. Unbelievably gorgeous. The end of a perfect day.