Piss-ass-i WHAT?!?

Dark impenetrable ruby with bright purple edges.  Nose of wet cardboard, cat piss and saute’ed brown sugar.

Ok, WHAT is this.  No, seriously.  What IS this.  I know what this is.  I’ve had this before.  We used to buy this in boxes in college.  Or large-format bottles.  We liked to call them “Mags”.  They had names like ‘Mountain Burgundy’ and ‘Vintage Claret’.

An over-watered-Grenache, cheap, cloying, fruit-forward entry.  What did they make this out of–Red Flames?!?  Instantly it turns to meagerness and miserable acidity, burning long into what I can only imagine the tasting-notes call a “Long, complex finish”.  It is like drinking a sweetened chicken-farm. Wait–you’ve never smelled a chicken-farm?

I know the homage here is to vegetal dream-Euro-classics and IPOB correctness, but honestly things have gotta a little outa hand.  I have been accused many times of having a Cali-centric palate and with it the inference I need big fat ripe oaky bombs, but nothing could be further from the truth.  I can appreciate a mediocre Beaujolais or 6-euro Cote-Rotie with the best of them–and better than most bloggers with a sweet-tooth firmly lodged in this grand state.  IPOB is supposed to be all about purity and simplicity and low-alcohol and this is opposite EVERYTHING.

Here we have balance and concentration gone awry.  Instead of what should be clarified goodness, we have a stand-a-fork-up-in-it concoction.  Instead of pure simple fruit, we have sweet fake boobs.  Instead of varietal nuance, we have ridiculous rubber-band hipster bullshit.  This guy is famous for lots of things, but gets an asterisk for this one.  Making a 20-dollar Syrah isn’t rocket-science.

2012 Central Coast PS Syrah 14.1

http://www.piedrasassi.com/

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