I bought this wine without knowing that it would come in a bizarrely shaped bottle with a fancypants smudge of black wax atop the cork - oh, and the label itself looks like it was printed (or is that prynted?) at a Renaissance Fayre. Ugh. I guess twee is really in these days, but I digress...
Anyhow: on to the wine. The color is a dead ringer for pear cider or clarified pear juice (at least the kind found in Eastern European markets here in San Diego). Again - I don't know why I feel compelled to mention this, but here goes - it's super bright, buffed to an otherworldly sheen. You know, would it hurt anyone to release a white wine that has a little bit of optic heft to it?
The nose has what I personally find to be that smell you get when you buy wines from new, boutique wineries that are trying to make a mark on the wine market by releasing things in ridiculously small numbers, most of which are from lieux-dits and feature ecology-be-damned murder-weapon-heavy glass bottles, hand-printed labels, wax, serial numbers, and everything else you'd expect in an expensive wine - or, rather, a wine that looks expensive regardless of whether or not it is. These bottles often seem to go hand in hand with a certain vapid nose that smells of amateur winemaking, low yields, high sugars, and a certain amount of indifference. For me, this is a dead ringer for Marie Callender's lemon chiffon pie: it's lemony, kind of chemical, and not especially attractive. If you are however into gobs of fruit, gobs of hedonistic fruit, or gobs of jammy, hedonistic fruit, then this just might be your thing. There's also a hint of a matchstick note that isn't altogether integrated into the rest of it; letting down my guard and being less of a jerk about it (I know, one should never be swayed by packaging alone, but there you go) there's also a subtle nuttiness here, sometimes reminiscent of boiled peanuts from a Georgia roadside stand, sometimes more elegant than that.
Wildly zingy and acidic at first, the acid drains off to reveal a strangely flat midpalate that is remarkably similar to lemon curd; there's an interesting texture here that reminds me of partially cooked noodles - if you've ever bought fresh noodles and eaten one, you get an almost mealy effect which this wine suggests, at least to me. The finish ticks upwards and once again shows the sprightly acidity to great effect, and the length is quite good - which is kind of a shame as it tastes mostly of that same cheap lemon pie that I described earlier. Strangest of all, the acidity seems to die down very quickly and then the wine seems to sit back, undo its belt, and really allow its girth to overflow its Sansabelt: it turns kind of broad, flabby, messy, and still that acidity keeps jumping out at you like a Juggalo at Wal-Mart. It's not entirely unexpected but decidedly unwelcome.
Come to think of it, it's possible that U2 may well have been thinking of this wine when they wrote 'Lemon':
These are the days
When our work has come asunder
These are the days
when we look for something other
I, too, wish that I had looked for something other. Although I love Washington wines and know that wines from the Champoux Vineyard show enormous potential, I really do feel that something's gone wrong along the way here. My guess is that the winemakers wanted to make a Chablis - but forgot that Washington is a relatively warm climate for grapes and as a result is probably better suited to making something like a Kistler. My recommendation: don't fear new oak, lees stirring, and malolactic fermentation. Let love in. Your grapes are too good and too ripe to pretend to be Chablis.
Anyhow: on to the wine. The color is a dead ringer for pear cider or clarified pear juice (at least the kind found in Eastern European markets here in San Diego). Again - I don't know why I feel compelled to mention this, but here goes - it's super bright, buffed to an otherworldly sheen. You know, would it hurt anyone to release a white wine that has a little bit of optic heft to it?
The nose has what I personally find to be that smell you get when you buy wines from new, boutique wineries that are trying to make a mark on the wine market by releasing things in ridiculously small numbers, most of which are from lieux-dits and feature ecology-be-damned murder-weapon-heavy glass bottles, hand-printed labels, wax, serial numbers, and everything else you'd expect in an expensive wine - or, rather, a wine that looks expensive regardless of whether or not it is. These bottles often seem to go hand in hand with a certain vapid nose that smells of amateur winemaking, low yields, high sugars, and a certain amount of indifference. For me, this is a dead ringer for Marie Callender's lemon chiffon pie: it's lemony, kind of chemical, and not especially attractive. If you are however into gobs of fruit, gobs of hedonistic fruit, or gobs of jammy, hedonistic fruit, then this just might be your thing. There's also a hint of a matchstick note that isn't altogether integrated into the rest of it; letting down my guard and being less of a jerk about it (I know, one should never be swayed by packaging alone, but there you go) there's also a subtle nuttiness here, sometimes reminiscent of boiled peanuts from a Georgia roadside stand, sometimes more elegant than that.
Wildly zingy and acidic at first, the acid drains off to reveal a strangely flat midpalate that is remarkably similar to lemon curd; there's an interesting texture here that reminds me of partially cooked noodles - if you've ever bought fresh noodles and eaten one, you get an almost mealy effect which this wine suggests, at least to me. The finish ticks upwards and once again shows the sprightly acidity to great effect, and the length is quite good - which is kind of a shame as it tastes mostly of that same cheap lemon pie that I described earlier. Strangest of all, the acidity seems to die down very quickly and then the wine seems to sit back, undo its belt, and really allow its girth to overflow its Sansabelt: it turns kind of broad, flabby, messy, and still that acidity keeps jumping out at you like a Juggalo at Wal-Mart. It's not entirely unexpected but decidedly unwelcome.
Come to think of it, it's possible that U2 may well have been thinking of this wine when they wrote 'Lemon':
These are the days
When our work has come asunder
These are the days
when we look for something other
I, too, wish that I had looked for something other. Although I love Washington wines and know that wines from the Champoux Vineyard show enormous potential, I really do feel that something's gone wrong along the way here. My guess is that the winemakers wanted to make a Chablis - but forgot that Washington is a relatively warm climate for grapes and as a result is probably better suited to making something like a Kistler. My recommendation: don't fear new oak, lees stirring, and malolactic fermentation. Let love in. Your grapes are too good and too ripe to pretend to be Chablis.
; "Christopher Pratt")
; "Julian Coldrey")
O'Shea Scarborough "Desolation" Champoux Vineyard Chardonnay 2007