Who knows what the balance is in articulating nose, palate, finish, pervading palate presence. Don’t look at me, I have no idea. What I do know, or at least I think I do: wine can be euthanized by analysis surplus, tidal critiques. Discussion should always be welcomed, solicited. But to file at elemental significance is all but devilish, inhumane. Why would one want to do that to wine? Share reactions, and move on. Or don’t, just engage in civilly enriching interchange. I love discussions of that flavor. That reminds me of my days as an English Instructor. And yes, wine can have a depths like Literature. No quite as interwoven, loaded, lively as a mastered manuscript, but still somewhat circuitous. Think I may have finally calmed from the day. Tomorrow morning, back on 12, East. If I could stay here all day, waking normally, at 6:15a, and writing till I normally return to bunker, 6:40p, my book would be done. I projected my book so, as to not entail years of editing. Winemakers don’t have that luxury. Nor do writers like I. We write, and release. What do I get on this ’07 Cab now? No idea. I don’t want to analyze it, deconstruct the purple puddle. Not tonight.
And I changed my mind. Now, one nose: spicy floral dampness, smokey London bricks, French chocolate cherries. Palate: chocolate cherry river syrup snow [something chilly about it, I think], taco spiciness, bell pepper spread (subdued). Or, I just don’t what it is I LOVE in what I’m tasting. Sonoma County Cabernets can every degree of dexterity as Rutherford or Oakville. If you’ve tasted as many Cab Sauvs as I have, with mind exposed, you see similarly. How could you not? What’s in this glass is a persistent flavor ghost; encircling, haunting, mischievous, marvelous.