Easily lost in cranberry sauce, vin de bordeaux of Bacchaus left lightly dry and heavily quenched. In a word: filling. Yes oaky, but not too much. Full, but not almost too little. Yet, the greatest delight was the reminder of cranberries—and ever bit as much filling. Taken with havarti and dried cranberries as a needed afterthought—mustn’t forget the cranberries!
Dry finish as an aftershave, wet start as a carbon filtered water, sweet at a zinfandel, and tart as half-sweet lemonade. You’ll forget this is wine until the spirits chase the strongest sensation: It tastes like “red pop” at the start of every sip. Wash down the jalapeño steak and havarti this red and it zips like bubbly.
Old and dry with a sleeper of water in follow. Without the unspeakable, this medalic red has an over-suggestion of forgotten earthiness. It’s finish isn’t too strong in the chest, but it feels frail and precious. The nose hits well before the tongue, the dry, fragile silk shimmers down, and all that’s left is a paper-thin memory of what we wanted to last forever. Taken with fried Taiwanese leak flatbread roll.