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91 Points

Sunday, May 14, 2023 - From a bottle stood for weeks and decanted clear. A half teaspoon of sandy, crumbled solids at the bottom was less than I expected! Pour a glass. Feed a cat. Smell the wine. The aroma is clad in sheets of dark red berry, and embroidered with discrete figures of pan crust, stone, anise, and tobacco. It promises to be ripe.
A drink indicates vestigial pupescence—boney knuckles strain to shed stuck cotton gloves. Its thirst for air is legible from the beginning. Within 30 minutes, it finds traction. Dark cherries with broken pits entrain dried herbs (fossils that chime mint) black plum, tar, and sour perfume. The event is as attenuated as it is saturating—tannins, tense as rope. Big, and self-contained. A bitter spine through its vertical axis is so productive of flavor that it confesses its role as the motive energy plant. If fresh air were intaglio ink. Inventory says I have one bottle left for the 10 year drinking window I see in its future. I'll aim for 2024-2029.

FOODT NOTE: with tacos lamb, guac, and salsa ranchera the wine leaned out, becoming more floral and transparently mineral-bitter. It was a good combo, especially considering the informational delta.

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