We ventured out into the landscape winding our way to Wales through intermittent spats of rain and wind followed by moments of bright blue cloud dotted skies. The day was a perfect illustration of what I call the ‘in-between’ times, the liminal. That place in time and space where everything overlaps and there is a momentary but perceptible ambiguity of boundary; an invigorating mix of weather; hinting at spring while also reminding of winter.

We were headed to a place called Caerleon, which apparently means “Fortress of the Legions” in Welsh. Caerleon is an important archeological site, riddled with layers upon layers of human history; a point which only truly dawned on me once we arrived and I saw how beautifully the community and landscape merged and grew, up, around, and out of the varying relics of the past.  
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The whole day had an illicit feel to it. Stephanie and I felt like a couple of city types in search of hooch from an illegal still during the days of prohibition.    

The whole day had an illicit feel to it. Stephanie and I felt like a couple of city types in search of hooch from an illegal still during the days of prohibition. We were in the lush green pastures and hidden valleys of the county of Somerset. It wasn’t booze we were looking for but a commodity that’s much harder to find these days. We were hunting for raw milk.        

What’s raw milk you may ask?

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Ambyth! Ambyth means “forever” in Welsh. Every now and then, it’s nice to find something that you hope will last forever. 

Take for example, a smooth and complex glass of biodynamically grown and harvested Grenache, Syrah, Mouvedre blend, so delightfully fermented in its terra cotta amphora urns that it just eases its way onto your palate, all suave and sophisticated. Fleeting, yes...but the desire for forever is there. 

That’s my experience of my first taste of one of Ambyth Estates’ vintages. There was something different going on in this wine and I wanted to know what it was. Was it the organic, the biodynamic, the terroir, what??

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Okay, maybe it wasn’t the lion that was roaring...maybe it was me; roaring with absolute pleasure after an amazingly Mojo experience at the Red Lion Freehouse in East Chisenbury.

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Sometimes we get things wrong and sometimes, unintentionally, we don’t provide our readers with the full picture. To that extent we’d like to fess up to an incomplete article we wrote a couple of years ago when Bohemianmojo posted an enthusiastic and complementary piece on the pleasant town of Frome in the UK’s West Country.
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I have a confession to make. I am a bibliophile. I dare say the rest of the Mojo team are with me on this one.

Books. We love them. We read them. We write them. Honest to goodness real books. The kind you can hold in your hand, feel the weight, smell the pages, and luxuriate in the words. Time spent in bookstores and libraries is an indescribably treat. In today’s world of electronic devices and technology, the printed word is under threat. We at Bohemian Mojo do our best to support local book vendors and reading resources. It’s one small way of preserving history.

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