I Can’t Find My Cork

Milky ruby with thin purple edges.  A gaseous alcoholic bent-twig and shallow-fruited nose explodes out of the glass.  Dark and round and full-cherried with nothing interesting WHAT SO EVER coming out of it.  OK, wait… there’s a tiny grating minerality grasping chalkily at the edges, desperately attempting to thrust viability into this wine.  So fat, so still, so round and obese, these wines write their own reviews–requiring no imagination, no wine experience, no passion–quite the opposite from the marketing on the label.  It’s pretty easy to spot the tourist nightmares in wine from how hard the label tries to paint individuality onto the bottle.  But this is not a marketing blog, this is a wine blog.  Caveat emptor.  If you risk this thing beyond the nose, it hits the mouth gritty and uber-concentrated, dark miserable fruit crossing the precipice into prune so effortlessly.  I’m going with 15-2.  A harsh vitamin-C brilliance thrusts its head onto the mouthfeel, obliterating everything you were looking for and crescendoing off into something attempting to be miserably tannic–but unredeemable–nothingness.  Flabbiness and a lame attempt at complexity–shallow and construed–are all that is left alongside what has now breathed out into a lame Welch’s grape soda nose.

2013 SANS LIEGE Santa Barbara GSM The Offering  15-4


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