4/9. I open this bottle to gain perspective on the 2021 vintage freshly released in Detroit, Michigan. The two vintages hardly resemble each other, except for objective quality and authenticity. EYE: mango gold/bronze and hazy. NOSE: outrageous exhibition of seething apricot meats, raw walnuts, sour plum sugar, lemon balm, and mocha-roasted eucalyptus. Creeping sotolon* on the margins. MOUTH: massive flavor action arranged with classical mastery; jealous marmalade orchard canopies drop charred souls of fruit; fleeting hypotheses of beeswax Savennières and Palo Cortado; pungent sticks anchored in clay; ... (it just keeps going) 24 hours later: why should I be surprised that this tastes *less* oxidized after it sat resealed overnight on the drinking studio table? It *has* gained a certain boozy, roasted nut and marmalade coherence. Also, it's more rapidly textured, if not drier, than it was the day before. Lovely fresh melon and Pflaum notes tease the event, too. _____________ I find that great wine is most validated as the last few drinks disappear; such is the case here. Chewing, aspirated drags on the remains are moments of singular drinkability. It goes down with one of those patellar laugh reflexes located at the juncture of olfaction and viscera. _____________ *From deep official internet: "Sotolon is a lactone and an extremely powerful aroma compound, with the typical smell of fenugreek, curry, and boiled maple"
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3/9. Forsythia, lilac, orange blossom. Tectonic seams are in haste to drain sour red berry jam, beeswax, sandalwood, eel, roses, and baklava. Dry. Ebullient resin. Mannered. It's a column of layered information—illuminated of antique gold. The acidity is remarkable. Seething vinifera acids seep from the pores of fabric lofty in thread-count. This action is joined by disciplined and humorous yellow saccharide; and green, dollar-sized, blossoms. One might discover any virtuous botany in the tableau of flavor presented here—licorice, lemon curd, nori, pomegranate, mint. Structurally, it uses its grip. Brushed nickel leads to elaborate mineral relief. If I were forced to conjure a criticism, I might say its so far within the realm of manner and hygiene that it might fail to amuse the most dedicated of raw wine lovers. I can only hope they leave their allocations for me!
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10/15/2023 - Putnam Weekley Likes this wine: 97 Points
4/9. I open this bottle to gain perspective on the 2021 vintage freshly released in Detroit, Michigan. The two vintages hardly resemble each other, except for objective quality and authenticity.
EYE: mango gold/bronze and hazy. NOSE: outrageous exhibition of seething apricot meats, raw walnuts, sour plum sugar, lemon balm, and mocha-roasted eucalyptus. Creeping sotolon* on the margins. MOUTH: massive flavor action arranged with classical mastery; jealous marmalade orchard canopies drop charred souls of fruit; fleeting hypotheses of beeswax Savennières and Palo Cortado; pungent sticks anchored in clay; ... (it just keeps going)
24 hours later: why should I be surprised that this tastes *less* oxidized after it sat resealed overnight on the drinking studio table? It *has* gained a certain boozy, roasted nut and marmalade coherence. Also, it's more rapidly textured, if not drier, than it was the day before. Lovely fresh melon and Pflaum notes tease the event, too.
_____________
I find that great wine is most validated as the last few drinks disappear; such is the case here. Chewing, aspirated drags on the remains are moments of singular drinkability. It goes down with one of those patellar laugh reflexes located at the juncture of olfaction and viscera.
_____________
*From deep official internet: "Sotolon is a lactone and an extremely powerful aroma compound, with the typical smell of fenugreek, curry, and boiled maple"
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4/4/2023 - Putnam Weekley Likes this wine: 97 Points
3/9. Forsythia, lilac, orange blossom. Tectonic seams are in haste to drain sour red berry jam, beeswax, sandalwood, eel, roses, and baklava. Dry. Ebullient resin. Mannered. It's a column of layered information—illuminated of antique gold. The acidity is remarkable. Seething vinifera acids seep from the pores of fabric lofty in thread-count. This action is joined by disciplined and humorous yellow saccharide; and green, dollar-sized, blossoms. One might discover any virtuous botany in the tableau of flavor presented here—licorice, lemon curd, nori, pomegranate, mint. Structurally, it uses its grip. Brushed nickel leads to elaborate mineral relief. If I were forced to conjure a criticism, I might say its so far within the realm of manner and hygiene that it might fail to amuse the most dedicated of raw wine lovers. I can only hope they leave their allocations for me!
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