1.Say you go to one of those Saturday afternoon tastings, where sips of various wines are poured and guests either murmur (noncommittally) or nod their heads yes (agreeably) or exclaim (enthusiastically) to their neighbor, “You have got to try this...” When people are doing much of the latter – as they were at this afternoon’s tasting at the Brookline Liquor Mart – you know something’s up. What was up today was Still River Winery’s apple ice wine, which is somehow like wine (it’s a fermented beverage, after all) and not like wine (not like wine made from grapes, that is). It’s well on this side of hard cider, with enough apple-ness to do the town of Harvard, MA proud. Yet it also has enough mouth-coating zing to bring rich dessert wines to mind, and enough interest to make you glad that you took this road less traveled.

2.Say, after the afternoon tasting, you go to visit an old friend for tea. Except instead of tea you pull out a bottle of the Still River wine. Your friend is charmed (and, frankly, also quite happy to travel this less-traveled road with you). It reminds him of other fermented beverages his grandfather used to make a long, long time ago. He reminisces. You listen. He sips. You smile. Later you take your leave, both of you somehow reinforced.

3.Say you’ve got a dinner party to go to that night, and you decide to bring your other bottle of the apple ice wine to the host. “Wine made from apples?” she asks, uncertainly. Yes, you say, local apples, some 80 of them used to make the very bottle she held in her hands. “Let’s open it!” she exclaims (enthusiastically). I suggest we may want to wait until after dinner. “Why not now?” she says, looking around at the other six guests, who are nodding their heads yes (agreeably). We pour, and taste, and share, aperitif-style. It’s sweet, they say, and luscious, and a few get a nice hit of tartness on the finish. Talking about the wine led to talking about apples and school field trips and how far away is Harvard, MA anyway and eating and now drinking locally and and and before we knew it we were onto dessert. My host picked up the now-empty bottle of apple ice wine, looked at me, murmured something about not bringing enough, and turned to serve her four-layer chocolate cake as if it were a last resort.