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BAM!!! "Jeex, THAT one was
close!" We huddled in my bunker, hundreds of sandbags piled around the walls. The emergency lighting flickered, but I had chosen it to specifically bring out the color in our emergency wine rations. And that it did well, despite those annoying surges and dips in the power from my generator; those damned Japanese built it that way on purpose. Those devils don't want us any too comfortable on Takeover Day. "Open the Champagne!" I barked at The Other Stupid, then fired a round in his direction, just so's he'd know I was serious. Hey, he's always been suspicious, SAYS he's Irish. I think he's a damn Russian, one of those guys trained in special villages outside of Vladivostok to speak perfect, unaccented English. Well, unaccented, in his case. He scurried behind the drums of purified water, and still cowering, popped the cork. He stuck his hand up above the barrels, waving a white hankerchief. "OK, you can come back to the table, now." Nice pull, an '88 Salon. Racy acidic edge, fine bead with a slight edge of burnt toast. Dry and minerally and---- THUD!! Oh, damn, the rioters just torched another car. Makes quite the sound when the gas tank goes. They'd been at it nonstop since they figured out that the police radios were down. Dwight lobbed a couple of frag grenades at the mob, and I laid fire along the kill zone. Hey, this is a PRIVATE party, guys! Well, let's try this '95 Niellon Chassagne-Montrachet "Vergers." Wow, perfect for forgetting our troubles, surprisingly soft and forward, perfect balance between pineapple fruit and vanilla cream. Super length ------- Voooooosh- BOOOM!!! Another plane must have dropped out of the sky. Those poor schmucks, didn't they know what NIGHT this is?!? I pushed the periscope out between some of the sandbags to take a gander. Hunh, "FinnAir," figures. Those Finnish bastards are the next worst thing to commies. Deserved to crash, improves the species. Hell with 'em, let's pop the next couple of bottles, '89 and '90 Haut-Brion, and let God sort it out. The '90 was as roasty-toasty as ever, with some real earthiness setting in. Well fertilized earth, to be sure, with lots of rocks, but earth nonetheless. Quite elegant. The '89, by comparison, was just more of the same thing, as if you could magically pull a proportion of water molecules out of the '90 without disturbing anything else. We noticed a few survivors of the crash stagger toward us, so Linda pulled her piece ("It's just a little gun.") and wasted them before they get too close and try to drink our wine. ATTENTION!! ATTENTION IN THERE!! "What's that racket?" Kris sang them a little Uzi melody in 4/4 time to keep them outside the perimeter. Damned WASP squad leader, she had to spray him 3 or 4 times before he stopped moving. They're not real bright, those whiteys, but they're stubborn. Waste of good ammo. We noticed that Kris had taken a round in the bicep, but she's a real trooper, just stuffed a truffle in the hole and opened an '83 Guigal Cote-Rotie La Landonne. It may not be the most complex Cote-Rotie I've ever had, but it had all the requisite bacon, licorice, and black fruit that you'd want, with the wood well-integrated. Great balance, with enough Cote-Brune character to make Linda wince. The enormous tannins of this wine's youth have finally started to mellow. VZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.... Another one of those damned out-of-control ICBMs whooshed overhead. Judging from the bearing, I figured out that it was on a Great Circle course for China. So, nothing to worry about. There's too many of them, anyway. We coaxed Robin out from behind the razor wire barricade, and calmed her with some '61 Mont-Redon Chateauneuf-du-Pape. Sweet grenache fruit laced with a bit of pepper, only a rum-like hint to give away its age. Terrific length and balance, absolutely first rate Chateauneuf. Dwight belly-crawled back to the wine stash and pulled a '61 Barolo, just for the sake of symmetry. I'd mention the producer, except that the Palm Pilot that we were using started flashing black and white, and lost all its data. But I remember the color as being startlingly light (though that may have been the effect of the bright green pulsating light emanating from the direction of Livermore). The color notwithstanding, the flavors and aromas were intense, smoky cherries with a caramel haze. It was definitely showing its age, but wan't ready for the grave by any means. I can't say how it evolved because we sucked it down like it was the End of the World... oh, I guess it was. THUGGA-THUGGA-THUGGA-THUGGA.... As the tanks rolled by (damned New World Order guys), black helicopters circled overhead, and mushroom clouds sprouted over San Francisco, Linda took up sniper position and took out some looters; I don't know what language they were speaking, but it sure wasn't English. Probably some of those damned Canadians. Say what you want, my wife is mighty handy with a 'scope and laser. With the path thus cleared, and Linda's loving covering fire, I grabbed an '83 d'Yquem. Just starting to get a little golden, it was a delightful finish to our little party. Viscous, muscular, honey and grass, not at all cloying. And zero cost, now that our money's no good. Glad I stashed those gold bars. Happy New Year.
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Okay, for a change of pace, let's do eight new release California chardonnays in a blind tasting. This was tough going folks. In the pole position, appropriately, was the '97 Testarossa "Chalone". The nose had plenty of alcohol, towing the fruit along behind it. Round fruit on the palate with a dash of honey and a slight floral quality. Medium-full in body with a somewhat hot finish. Much like Stuart, the wine was fat and simple overall. Number four on my score sheet. Coming second in the flight was another well known wine, a '97 Byron "Estate". Toasty oak and pineapple aromas. Big and full in the mouth, the wine had good fruit in a guilded vanilla oak frame. The oak definitely dominates the finish. Number three for me. The third wine didn't do much better. The nose was promising with pineapple and pine needle notes but then the toasted new oak reared its ugly head. Fat and simple on the palate with tons of vanilla. In the words of a friend of ours, this is a "stubby fingered wine." Unmasked, it turned out to be the '97 Rochioli "Riverblock". It's truly a shame too. Rochioli grows fabulous fruit but the heavy, high toast new oak just kills it. Fifth place. Into the main stretch with wine number four. Round, rich fruit on the nose that had a sour edge to it. Big ripe fruit on the palate with a full, thick texture. Superb if you like chardonnays on steroids but it wore me out. Sixth place for me, it was the '97 Gary Farrel "Rochioli Vineyard". When I got to wine five, I was already wishing for something red, or at least a white with some acid and fruit. It was not to be. Decent fruit on the nose, a little dust. The big fruit was there in the beginning but didn't take long to fade away. There was also an odd banana note to it. Viscous texture. Seventh on my sheet, a '97 Plumpjack "Reserve" was unmasked. Who knows, maybe the onslaught of heavy fruit and toasted oak was getting to me. I actually liked wine number six. Toasted oak and piney fruit on the nose. Big, fat fruit and vanilla on the palate on the palate with decent balance and a long finish. I did still have enough wits about me to note that the oak and butter were too much. Second place for me, it turned out to be a '97 Beringer "Private Reserve". Wine number seven just flat out sucked. Pickled veggies (in rice wine vinegar) dominated the nose. A weird palate with no fruit. I can only hope that the '97 Forman was an off bottle. Eighth place. Wine number eight, although also overoaked, was a decent glass of wine. Vanilla and lemons on the nose. Good, clean fruit on the palate with the vanilla oak holding off until the finish. Full and rich, the finish was short. Decent juice, at number one, it was a '96 Matanzas Creek. As if we hadn't already done enough damage to ourselves, we tasted through two more chards, unblind. The first one was the '96 Dehlinger. Wow. Fruit driven with minimal oak. Full bodied but still maintaining some elegance. Damned good wine. It rated higher for me than any of the other wines in the tasting. The second one was a '97 Martinelli "Charles Ranch". Pure fruit in a big style, it came across as overripe and a little hot. I do credit them for controlling the oak content though. The host of the event took pity on us (he picked the theme, afterall) and popped a cork on a bottle of '81 Mouton. All thoughts of the ordeal soon faded away as I sipped on the mature, elegant bordeaux and listened to the mature, elegant voice of Miss Sarah Vaughn…. JD (8/99) |
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I attended a tasting that consisted of eight '86 California cabernets that were poured blind. Okay, there was one bordeaux ringer in there and an '86 Oregon Pinot. Tell ya' what folks, based on this group, further ageability is a mixed bag. Wine one had a somewhat light nose with berries, herbs, and a touch of cedar. The palate showed a mature red with moderate tannins that was very drinkable. It came in third on my card and turned out to be the '86 Cain Five. Wine two had some definite stuffing. Plenty of herbs and eaucalyptus on the nose along with a dose of berry fruit. Elegant fruit showed on the palate with a dash of mint. Over time, the fruit came even more to the forefront. This HAS to be the '86 Phelps Eisele. Wrong, it was the '86 Spottswoode. Great juice and I don't even like Spottswoode. Second on my card. Wine three seemed to have met with an early demise, most likely due to too much time in a dry sauna. Vanilla on the nose with a hint of decay. In the background there was a hopeless hint of fruit, crying out "I'm not dead yet!" Alas, it might as well have been. Austere, dry fruit on the palate. This miserable soul was the '86 Flora Springs "Trilogy". Interestingly enough, it came in fifth and not last on my sheet. That honor was left for the next wine. Wine four had a washed out color, brown rim and an aroma and nose of old, rotting strawberries. Care to guess? Yes, it was the Pinot in the group, an '86 Eyrie Vineyard from Oregon. The fifth entrant in the flight had berries and cedar on the nose but also showed an odd rubbery, green edge. Good fruit on the palate in an elegant style with a herbaceous edge. The finish, however, was dry and tannic. Sixth place on my sheet, it was the '86 Forman. Wine the sixth was something altogether different. Aromas of fruit, roasted nuts, herbs, coffee, pencil lead, yata yata yata, came wafting from the glass. Round, ripe fruit on the palate with cigar box and a dash of brett sitting cheering on the sidelines. A big, classic wine. Gee, ya' think maybe this was the bordeaux? Yup, and a damned good one at that, '82 Mouton. Needless to say, I had it in first place and it easily won the tasting. Kind of unfair actually. Wine seven tried to hang but it just wasn't possible. Candied strawberries/cherries, vanilla and herbs comprised the nose. Light fruit in the mouth with a dry finish. This ended up being an '86 Mondavi "Napa". My number four wine. The last wine in the group didn't do too much to bolster the reputation of the vintage. Musty, mature fruit on the nose with noticeable alcohol and Worcestershire sauce. Some dried out fruit made a feeble effort to show up on the palate. This puppy was WAY over the hill. It turned out to be an '86 ZD. Sixth place for me. These wines had supposedly all been stored properly. If you've got '86 California cabs, you might want to see how they're doing. JD (8/99)
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A more-or-less blind tasting of a pile of Rhônes, attended by about 10 people, including the Stupids. I say "more-or-less blind" because we knew what some of the wines in the tasting were going to be. And we thought we knew more, but that's another story... In theory, this was to be a tasting of Northern Rhônes- the common American practice of mixing Chateauneuf-du-Papes with Cornases in tastings simply because the same river flows by their respective vineyards makes as much oenological sense as mixing Burgundies with Bordeaux. But there's always some wise guy that knows better. We start with wine number one. One sniff and JD and I grin at each other and start scribbling on our note-sheets. A funky, animally accent over intense youthful raspberry perfume, coupled with relatively low alcohol and a supple, Burgundian texture was all we needed to know: '94 Gallet Côte-Rôtie. That disposed of, wine number two had unbelievable amounts of poop on the nose, which abated a little bit over time. MUCH thicker texture, MUCH higher alcohol, LOTS of leather and flowers, VERY mouthcoating- what else could it be but '90 Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape. See? There's always a wise guy! It's drinking surprisingly well- a real crowd-pleaser. And that fat, soft, alcoholic ringer served to really outline the contrast with wine number three; lots of raspberry fruit, a touch of violet and lilac, very young and tight, high acidity and tannin. Gotta be a '95 Northern Rhône, with this depth and perfume it's gotta be a '95 Gallet Côte-Rôtie. None of these people are going to like this, but give it a decade in the cellar and it will be quite special. Wine number four is way too easy to guess. Guigal's house style really stands out, for better or for worse, in these kinds of group tastings. Lots of brett and oak, but a forward, flattering style. It's fully mature, it's a bit fat, it's an '85 Côte-Rôtie. Very nice, indeed. I didn't choose my ringer well. Wine number six dinged everyone's bell. Big blueberry fruit, a cloud of dust, and a hearty Hi-yo Silver! It's so Californian that it's calling me "dude". Sierra Vista's 1996 Red Rock. I note that the vines here are traced to Chapoutier's Hermitage vineyard; if true, so much for the theory that clonal differences overwhelm terroir. This is a wonderful domestic syrah with no pretenses to acting French. Another relatively mature wine at position seven. Somewhat more austere than the '85 Guigal C-R, butof a similar age. Darker fruit, more reserved perfume, a little less oak, a bit more structure. Certainly it's Guigal's '85 Hermitage, made (I believe) by Bernard Faurie. I liked it the best of all the Guigals in this tasting. Number eight is way too easy. Smells a lot like number four, but with a bit less weight and more tannin. Bien sur, c'est le Guigal 1983 Côte-Rôtie. Drink up, it's still very good but the fruit is fading fast. Number nine was our Waterloo. We had such an easy time identifying the first eight that we started getting cocky. Hey, didn't we see someone walk in with a bottle of La Chappelle? Process of elimination, this has to be it. Pretty closed, a bit over-ripe, dark and a bit clunky. Wow, the '90 (or is it '89?) is sure going nowhere fast. Well… pulling the bag off completed our humiliation- it was the '94 Chapoutier La Bernadine. Outsmarted ourselves again. This ain't great, but it's at least drinkable. One of the group strolled in late with his wine prebagged. He had an air of "You'll never guess THIS one!" about him. And indeed, the guesses were all over the place. Quite mature, nice soft texture, missing something in the middle, not terribly long or complex. Ignoring the various shouts from the peanut gallery ("Hermitage! Cornas!"), we thought, "Not much syrah in this." Our guess: a Côtes-du-Rhône, kept a bit too long. Maybe an '85. The latecomer tried not to look impressed, then unbagged an '88 Coudelet de Beaucastel. OK, so we were off on the year. But give us half a point, anyway. Shoulda been drunk already. Things that I took away from this tasting: this is a group of pretty fine wines, some approaching greatness. It's also evident that most wine drinkers don't really understand the Rhône, especially those with a California cabernet point of reference. Aged Rhônes are something of a challenge, what with their tendency to be all secondary aromas, relatively low alcohol, and not much primary fruit. Younger Syrahs of the Northern Rhône persuasion (at least those made in a traditional manner) are also a challenge- the nature of their structure and the buried subtleties make evaluation difficult for those who don't drink them regularly or have not tracked many through their ontogenies. This is a fancy way of saying that I didn't agree much with the group's rankings. SY (3/99) |
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Once again, The Stupids got to annoy a group of tasters by puffing up and holding forth on an evening of Rhônes. I think we annoyed even more people than the last time we did them. There ended up being ten wines but one of them (a '90 Guigal Gigondas) was corked. Needless to say, it placed tenth. The wines were tasted single blind. First out of the gate was a wine that showed some age in the color. Plenty of bottle bouquet on the nose backed up by tobacco, leather, mature fruit and not a little bit of brett. A mouthful of fruit with a good dose of brett. This was a nice, mature wine. We guessed Chateauneuf du Pape. Sure enough, it was the '90 Guigal CndP. Number two was the corked Gigondas. By the way, in a group of serious tasters, who want to make there own judgements and not hear from anyone else until the scores are in, never yell out, in unison, "corked!" Wine three was not very forthcoming. Some brett and fruit on the nose with tart fruit on the palate. Not much too it. Stuart accurately guessed this to be the '88 Jaboulet "La Chapelle". Stuart nailed wine number four too. By now, he was even starting to annoy me. Mature fruit and bottle bouquet, with a hint of soy sauce on the nose. Tart, tight fruit on the palate with an earthy, dry finish. It was an '86 Vieux Donjon Chateauneuf du Pape. Wine five we've both had enough of to pick it out instantly. Raspberry jam on the nose with a hint of smoky bacon. A great mouthful of fruit with an earthy edge and a great finish. If you are holding any '91 Juge Cornas "Cuvee C", pop a bottle. You'll be quite pleased. The '96 Guigal Côte-Rôtie that followed showed the consistent Guigal house style. Gamy, smoky, raspberry and black pepper aromas flowed from the glass. Tart, sweet (huh?) fruit on the palate with a gamy edge and lots of black pepper. Long finish. Nice juice. Starting down the home stretch, wine seven showed fresh raspberries on the nose but not much else. Ripe, dark fruit on the palate with an edge of earthy spice and a dose of brett. Although the the wine, a '96 Vieux Telegraphe CndP didn't show the complexity of previous vintages, I would still happily slurp it down. Stuart wasn't as thrilled. In the number eight position was a wine that stuck out awkwardly. With a raspberry framboise nose and a big mouthful of fruit, Stuart guessed this to be a zinfandel thrown in as a ringer. Not too far off, it turned out to be a '93 Joseph Swan "Côtes du Rosa". Wine nine sucked. Unfortunately, I brought it. Raspberry and cedar on the nose. The tart fruit on the palate tried to fight its way through the massive lumber and only partially succeeded. It may be the wines bad or it may be that the wine needs another ten years. All I can say is that the '95 Burgaud Côte-Rôtie didn't improve in the glass. Wine number ten turned out to be a nice finish to the flight. Fruit and brett on the nose. Elegant fruit with some earthy brett, it drank very well. Guessed as a CndP, but we were quite surprised when it turned out to be another bottle of '90 Guigal Chateaunef du Pape. These are two different wines, folks; I wonder how many bottlings they did? JD (5/99) |
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There is nothing The Stupids like more than the challenge of a blind tasting. Except drinking a wine with dinner. Or being set upon by a bevy of 18-year-old Swedish nymphets. Or both at the same time. Hey, it could happen! Wine the First was not very aromatic, except for hints of decay and oxidation. Possibly borderline corky? The finish was poopy, metallic and as nasty as anything we can remember. SY guessed an old Ravenswood Dickerson, JD guessed an old Ravenswood. We were dead wrong except for the old part. This was a 1983 Lytton Springs Vineyards "Lytton Springs Reserve". Several people in the group loved this wine, which goes to show that every wine has its audience, no matter how bad it is. A better argument for old zin was Wine the Second. Mildly bretty-poopy and tinged with citrus, bayleaf and eucalyptus were dominant. It had a nice dose of mature sweet fruit that faded quickly. As it sat, it faded even more. SY had no guess, other than "old". And it was a 1981 Ridge Geyserville. Wine the Third was truly wretched. Dank, sweaty, swampy. Huge, life-sucking tannins. SY thought it smelled like Tinky Winky's armpit and didn't even WANT to guess. JD didn't want to know why SY knew what Tinky Winky's armpit smelled like. 1988 Ravenswood "Old Hill". Fortunately, Wine the Fourth was pretty good, otherwise we would have gotten up and left right then and there. Though it was showing a lot of oak, there was a pile of bright, forward raspberry fruit, just what the Doctor ordered. It kinda reminded SY of a freshly opened box of Trix. The oak reminded JD of a mature Rochioli zin. 1990 Ridge "Allegria". Just for convenience and continuity, let's call the next wine "Wine the Fifth". It's the polar opposite of the previous one, very tight and tannic, not showing a lot of fruit. But there's some intriguing Indian spice and the finish is quite long. 1993 Ridge Lytton Springs. Wine the Sixth was like old home week for SY. Poop and pepper pointed toward brett and a big dose of petite sirah. Very herbal, with a thick velveeta texture and tons of blackberry fruit. SY guessed Geyserville because of the petite sirah. He blew it again. JD thought it reminded him of a Ridge "Alegria." 1992 Ridge "Lytton Estate". How can we describe Wine the Seventh? Imagine eating a whole loaf of Jewish rye bread, washed down with Everclear. Now burp, being careful not to initiate a back-flush of your esophagus. THAT's the smell here. JD didn't get nearly as much rye aromas but did get plenty of cherry and grapefruit (grapefruit does NOT belong in a zinfandel). One taster in the group rated it very highly, commenting that she liked it except for the aromas and the flavors. Scarily enough, she was serious. 1995 Martinelli "Jackass Vineyard". Moving down the home stretch, Wine the Eighth was sort of a throwaway. Very simple and chunky, with the virtue of being soft and smooth. It didn't hold SY's interest (but, then again, skinny bottled wines rarely do). 1995 Ridge "Lytton Springs", and a disappointment when unbagged. Wine the Ninth was a sneaker, taking all evening to start hinting how good it was. Very fresh and spicy, well-structured, with the fruit being the center of attention. As it should be. 1995 Rochioli "Sodini". And last-but-not was a big, youthful, structured wine. Very high alcohol and extract, dark purple color to the rim. We argued about whether it might be a pre-release of a 97 Ravenswood. Heh heh. It was a 1991 Ravenswood "Old Hill". This bottle must have been in cold storage or in a time warp, it had no signs of aging whatsoever. JD (11/98)
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The Stupids thought it was about time to push ourselves just that extra millimeter toward hepatic failure. This time, the instruments of our destruction would be crafted by canny Alsace vignerons. As we start pulling corks at our local Masaladosaria, we marvel yet again about that marvelous irony of cuisine, that unlikely exception to the "local wine, local food" rule that seems to work so well, that spectacular matter-antimatter reaction of those wines with Indian cuisine. This set of shared reflections causes our wives to look even more bored than usual. Only the appetizers arriving stops their eyes from rolling. We've got ourselves a couple of 1995 Sonnenglanz Grands Crus. To be specific, Bott-Geyl's Gewurz VV and Tokay-Pinot Gris. Just to be annoyingly complete, the gewurz is greyish-to-black-market, French tax stamp and no National Self-Righteous Guardian of Pregnant Ladies sticker evident; the pinot gris was a North Berkeley import, all the Rules followed. The latter first graces our glasses, with a medium-yellow splash. The first impression is pears poached in a lightly nutmeg-and-allspice-infused bath, with a hint or two of well-used sweatsox. Not a bad thing, really, but for some reason, the ever-patient wives groan at the last part of the descriptor. "Well, I liked it before you said that!" OK, we'll drink yours. "No way!" The bit of residual sugar bounces joyfully against the subtle heat of green chile pakora. We note that the texture is fat and oily, the acidity lowish. That slight spare tire is a virtue with the earthy, exotic coconut-ground dal chutney slathered all over our appetizers. We notice that the wine is getting a little more smokey and exotic with time. We analyze the flavor of the chutney, trying to decide how it's made, marvel again at how well the pairing works. The wives are making loud snoring noises. The main courses arrive; we move on to the gewurz VV. Smells like gewurz (that aroma is so distinctive, it ought to be its own descriptor). It's on the creamy side of gewurz, again with the slightest hint of smoke and earth. There's probably just as much residual sugar as in the tokay, but the gewurz's greater acidity makes it drink dryer. And we need that with our sambars, dosas, and chicken. With these heavier dishes, it insinuates itself into every receptor not already attacked by the Madras spices, and hangs on for dear life. Another great pairing. Tasting back and forth, we try to decide what elements might be informed by the vineyard, fueled by our memories of other Bott-Geyl wines. Perhaps the creamy, smoky aspect? Our wives are now threatening to get up and leave RIGHT NOW if you two don't stop talking like a couple of boring dweebs. There's only one way to calm down these women when they're THIS annoyed: be sweeter, and the best way to do that is to pop a '94 Zind-Humbrecht Tokay Pinot Gris Clos St-Urbain Rangen. Our better halves allow as how they might like to try some of that. Golden-hued, a glass of 10W-40 in texture, the pears in this one are poached in nutmeg and honey with a tough of vanilla bean. Though it's probably the best of Z-H's pinots grises, it's SO big and SO intense that it overwhelms the remaining food. Nothing to do, then, but pack doggy bags (except for Piggy Stuart) while we enjoy the wine's roar. The wives finally make happy noises. Nice way to end an evening.
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Stupids to Concord: A Bordeaux Tasting You'll all forgive me for stepping well outside my area of competence and actually deigning to drink wine from skinny bottles... err, sorry, "diameter-challenged bottles". Wouldn't want to piss off the lawyers here. Both Stupids present, double blind, no spitting, "A bucket for monsieur! And per'aps a hose." Two whites to get us ready for the sit-down, the '98 Contour chenin blanc (a sheynig which I've well hocked) and a '93 Cambria Reserve Chardonnay. The Cambria was one of the most foul fluids I've experienced, horribly oxidized and laid to rest in a high-toast coffin. '83 Prieure-Lichine: The first thing that hits me is over-ripe, raisiny fruit. Hmm, there's a turd or two in there as well, stirred with a plank. Not as bad as I make it sound, but not exactly my fave of the night, either. '83 Lynch-Bages: I've only had this 20 or 25 times before, but this was clearly its best showing in my experience. I needn't go through the usual descriptors, but I'll note that it's one of the brettiest L-Bs, and has years to go before it hits The Big Sleep. It's the gawky girl from High School who grew into a beauty. And she's got brains, too. '83 Leoville-Las-Cases: Is this wine ALWAYS this bad? Oxidized, oaky, decayed, and more than a hint of well-used ashtray. '83 Gruaud-Larose: I may not be a great blind-tasting guesser, but I am consistent. This is the second Bdx blind tasting in a row where I picked this as my favorite. Amazingly youthful (are the good '83s EVER going to die? Was the vintage THAT badly under-rated?), amazingly poopy, amazingly redolent of pencil shavings and black-currants, quite sweet, with a tannic bite in the finish. If it had breasts, I'd marry it. '86 Lynch-Bages: Corked horrendously. Several other tasters thought it MIGHT be a TOUCH musty. Friends, this was an exemplar, a cellar that had been flooded years ago and never cleaned out. Wineries ought to realize that people who get corked bottles think that the wine was meant to taste that way. Sorry, I'll try to calm down now... '89 l'Enclos: Pruney, veggie, like the worst Amador zin you've ever had. Oxidized, too. Truly wretched. '89 Pichon-Lalande: Soft and oaky, nuances of hamburgers and a touch of poop. Very nice, but not terribly exciting. Drink soon. '89 Lynch-Bages: Classic Pauillac pencil shavings, cigar box, very rich and firm. Love it. '89 Cos d'Estournel: High toned perfume, lots of licorice and Provencal olives. Atypically soft and sweet for a Cos, a wonderfully textured wine. It's a slutty girl that I'll bring home to meet my mom. '89 Meyney: Distinctive, so much so that we thought it might have been a ringer. Lots of cassis, sage, and a dash of soy sauce- hold the MSG, please. Very deft and easy to drink. |
