Duke Elington. A lot of his band’s music pipes through my head after a few glasses. This is effect is amplified when I’m walking out on the town after said two (or more) glasses. These walks coincidentally seem to fall on evenings where the orange in on the horizon, slowly trailing away from the encroaching deep blue that never fails to escape description once one tries to formulate one. That blue is a gallop of gradation, a hint of an abyss that stands as a reminder of what so many writers write of and for and to. Emerson wrote that, at the end of the day, “there are two absorbing facts – I and the abyss.” And that’s a twilight’s blue. But perhaps its song and dance that come closer to describing the night, a stroll on the town. It is precisely these other modes of evocation that bring to mind what a stroll under the twilight’s blanket truly is, and that is a mood. Emotion is at the heart of of human Being.
Everyone has a certain flair that is drawn from them, like air from the fire, with wine. Mine just happens to recall the precise feeling Duke Elington draws from, which is from something deeper than my ontological processes can explicate. If I sound like Martin Heidegger, it’s only because I’m reading the rather rudimentary philosopher at the moment (which should not be taken pejoratively, I love the wacky fellow). His prose hosts a mood all his own, which is actually quite close to how I experience absinthe; but that is a story all unto itself.
The woman sitting studying a wine next to me last evening told me that a very distinct Vivaldi tune ran the course of her mind when drinking wine. Any wine. And she had no reason to take a stroll to evoke it. It simply played out, her own personal orchestra trumpeting, sweating it out, playing their bloody hearts out just for her – as long as the vino was surging throughout her. I have to admit I fell in love with her all over again. How envious I was. If I put my ear to her, what would I hear? The sweet serenade of “Winter” from the Four Seasons? Or the candle-flick desire of his “Violin Concerto in G Minor” from Summer? Or would it be an off day and catch a bar or two from Strauss’ “Wine, Woman and Song?”
Three new bottles. This is all we have for you. All relative bargains, and all worthy of the price points they carry upon their retailed backs. Salú.
Marqués de Riscal Rioja Proximó 2009 – $9
Get your nose deep in there and you’ll find a pixi stix redoence intertwined with what can only be explicated as a forrest wood mixed with a lingerie shop – the cheap kind. Don’t take this as pejorative declaration. Do you not find the most interesting people in such places, like a kink store in Vail Colorado?
In the mouth, it’s a kicking scream without an echo. Tight, tart deep without a drumbeat to its tannic structure. Open it to some air for a night or so. This is akin to sacrificing a virgin (your patience) for it, thus pleasing the great wine to gives its divine blessings to you during the next crop (tomorrows dinner).
Worthy. Solid value.
Santa Ema 2007 Amplus Cabernet Sauvingnon – $23
A textured nose you could feel yourself traveling down to, only to find a cavern of schist and garnet hued feldspar. Mineral is forthcoming, leading with dried leaves.
The linger goes for miles, like Stephen King’s The Long Walk. Supple and luscious without being distractingly sweet. It’s a wine that had long winded thesis, but stayed cool and eloquent throughout the tasting. You will not soon tire of such a classy presentation. Frankly, this delicate approach to Cabernet is my kind of dig, although my partner was quite explicit about preferring a Cabernet with more of a going power, like a dose of XXX whiskey in an old Ford’s gas tank.
Worthy. I can not say I miss the the money I had spent on this. Which is to say is the equivalent of a few self prepared meals to last me the good of many days.
2008 Greg Norman Estates Shiraz – $11
You get a flair of fire and brimstone with an undertone of that candy from your youth, the Fruit By The Foot.
On the palate is a Whloe Lotta fruit. It’s not the sweet that is tantamount to cheaper wines, but it’s lacking a semblance, and intrigue. It’s raspberry with little more. The back end of the wine is interesting, with its brawny girth and inky, fiery tannins. Again, this isn’t worth much conversation. This is easy sipping despite that. Pleasing to the end. Worthy.