||[Sep. 22nd, 2005|11:12 am]
Don came home with three Bordeaux, and pfaff if they aren't the softest, oakiest, dreamiest wines I've ever tasted. They were a page out of a fantasy, and I'm not talking Victorian romance fantasy - this is the stuff of unicorns and wizards. Good, I'm trying to say.
In order of our amazement:
Château Prieuré Malesan 2001
This was the oakiest of the three, possessing what might be called a warm trail. Where this trail leads, who can say, but I'd guess deep into an ancient forest, maybe even underground into a hidden cave where nobody is around, but you can smell the candles that have been snuffed and feel the lasting remnants of some incantation or spell.
Château de Respide 2003
The youngest of the three, it's no surprise that this one was the fruitiest. It did vie for our attention with its aroma of pumpkin pie or butterscotch, and feigned maturity by donning a fedora and tweed jacket. We weren't fooled, but we were charmed by its efforts. This wine is very nice but the least distinctive among the contenders.
Château Rouquette 2001
This wine, oaky and dry, was my favorite of the three. Autumn and woodsmoke, it took me to the hearth of a crackling fire, pouring heavy cream over winter berries, my heart pounding with the stately clock's tock, waiting for a letter from my lover. I think I hear the messenger outside, but when I brace myself and open the door to the cold winds, I see tracks on the ground neither human nor animal. If I leave my cozy quarters to follow the unknown, will I ever return? What about the one I hold dear? There's nothing like the start of an adventure, strange music, the absence of familiarity, the moment before you jump - except for the exhilaration that follows. This wine, oaky and dry, was my favorite of the three.
Footnote: Tori Amos prefers Bordeaux, I read, and that's as good a reason as any to raise your glass. Salut!