The Story of NR6

Traveling alone to faraway places to live with strangers who speak a language that is not your own, all to make wine might sound like a daunting affair. But work looks the same in every language and there is no bonding agent stronger than long days of physical labor. That is how I met Zita, Erika’s cellar master, agronomist and wine watchwoman. We did not share a spoken language so we communicated through signs, smiles, exchanging chocolates or understanding glances. 

Something peculiar happens when you put wine in an amphora. Aromas of wet stone and flint are more pronounced, the wine feels softer in your mouth, and any sharp acidity is rounded off. 

Minerality in wine - aromas or flavors that evoke rocks, flint or sea shells - is a hotly debated topic. There is no evidence that the soil in which a vine grows adds minerals, or anything that could taste like it, directly to a wine. But any wine lover will tell you that wines grown on volcanic soils, whether it is Carricante from Mount Etna, an Assyrtiko from Santorini or a Furmint from Tokaj, have a sameness that can only be described as… minerality. For some, it presents as a saline tinge on the tongue, for others, it is an aroma that smells like struck match or wet stone, and for me it is a combination of an acidity so linear it feels like it could cut glass, and a taste of what I imagine a wet volcanic rock tastes like. 

There is a seemingly infinite number of ways to misspell or mispronounce Anneleen Straetemans. Outside of Flanders where I grew up, I have been called Annaline, Anelleen, Annaleen, Anelean and (my least favorite) Analeen. It usually does not matter that my name is right there in my email, my LinkedIn profile or my last message. I have given up on Straetemans altogether.

It did not bother me much, until I read a study concluding that people with easy-to-pronounce names are consistently evaluated more positively, given more favor, and advance further in the workplace compared to those with difficult names.

The murmuring of female voices hung over the vineyard like a soft blanket. I did not understand a single word but the language of women catching up is universal. It was my first time harvesting with an all-female team. And it was the first time the team was entirely local.