Pale milkiness. Dried herb and wet oak leaves–a smoldering fire at the curb and the cold fog of January moving in. Rich grassiness tinged in honey with a sharp green edge visible in the nose.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential things in life and not, when I came to die, discover I had not lived.”
How much basic LIFE can you cram into a Chenin Blanc? No other variety for me brings so much essence and vivre to the tongue. All without sweetness or tropical or butter or jam or any of the gimmicks other whites use. Yes, Riesling has its devotees and Viognier its soldiers and Sauv-blanc its myriad of promoters valiantly defending its purpose. I don’t play favorites, but Chenin. Chenin for me, please.
Late-breathing (60°F) brings black walnut and black tea to the nose, and in the mouth, a thin bright conglomeration of fruit attacks the acid, swelling and growing buttery until finishing in a tight burn. Light crisp Granny Smith and match-head combine with a certain oilyness to seal the deal on troublingly high in AL–with visible notes–but so tongue-quiveringly beautiful everywhere else.
2015 LO-FI WINES Chenin Blanc Jurassic Park Vineyard Sanya Ynez Valley Santa Barbara Co. 14.0
The art of poetry lives. Beautiful review.