Fine Wine
I like wine. I like wine that tastes good. I like the way wine makes me feel. I do not claim to be an oenophile but am confident my palate is sophisticated enough to discern between a 1982 Château Margaux and a grape jelly jar filled with Two Buck Chuck. Then again, I admit to having chosen inconsistently when participating in the Pepsi Challenge and, to my distress, can accurately describe several varietals of the MD20/20 family.
I think the majority of descriptions about the smell and taste of wine are an exercise in combining disjointed nouns and in no way reflect the reality of the experience of drinking the wine. That said I present for your consideration a description of the wine that is currently decanting on the kitchen counter. This is a bottle of very special occasion wine described as thus:
[The wine] shows aromas of fresh cut roses, licorice, dark chocolate, blackberry pie, smoked bacon and sassafras. Simultaneously silky and dense on the palate, this unfined wine offers flavors of cassis, espresso and zesty black cherry.
Another reviewer avers:
Saturated deep ruby. Cassis, bitter chocolate and sexy smoky oak on the nose. Dense and sweet but firmly structured, with lovely inner-mouth aromatic quality giving the wine sappy lift. Pure, penetrating flavors of cassis, lead pencil and bitter chocolate, with a sexy oak quality that I can only describe as Mouton-like...
Those descriptions right there are some high falootin', Grade-A, all-American bullshit that would make Mark Twain proud, pals!
The Wife offers another, more enlightening, description of its aromatic properties, a description I am more lief to trust, "It smells like really good wine."
A few years ago, The Sister gave to us as a special Kwanzaa gift a bottle of 2006 Opus One. This has been sitting in our small wine fridge, offering me an intimidating scowl each time I opened the door to grab a bottle of XXX Mouton Romanée Conti L'hooch (four months ago was a good year). And today, in honor of The Wife officially completing her degree (damn am I proud of her!), we are opening this precious vessel of smoked bacon, pencil lead, and sexy oak.
More to follow...
I think the majority of descriptions about the smell and taste of wine are an exercise in combining disjointed nouns and in no way reflect the reality of the experience of drinking the wine. That said I present for your consideration a description of the wine that is currently decanting on the kitchen counter. This is a bottle of very special occasion wine described as thus:
[The wine] shows aromas of fresh cut roses, licorice, dark chocolate, blackberry pie, smoked bacon and sassafras. Simultaneously silky and dense on the palate, this unfined wine offers flavors of cassis, espresso and zesty black cherry.
Another reviewer avers:
Saturated deep ruby. Cassis, bitter chocolate and sexy smoky oak on the nose. Dense and sweet but firmly structured, with lovely inner-mouth aromatic quality giving the wine sappy lift. Pure, penetrating flavors of cassis, lead pencil and bitter chocolate, with a sexy oak quality that I can only describe as Mouton-like...
Those descriptions right there are some high falootin', Grade-A, all-American bullshit that would make Mark Twain proud, pals!
The Wife offers another, more enlightening, description of its aromatic properties, a description I am more lief to trust, "It smells like really good wine."
A few years ago, The Sister gave to us as a special Kwanzaa gift a bottle of 2006 Opus One. This has been sitting in our small wine fridge, offering me an intimidating scowl each time I opened the door to grab a bottle of XXX Mouton Romanée Conti L'hooch (four months ago was a good year). And today, in honor of The Wife officially completing her degree (damn am I proud of her!), we are opening this precious vessel of smoked bacon, pencil lead, and sexy oak.
More to follow...