No folks, I'm making a return to Le Monstre, motivated to shake up the wine world with passion, emotion, braggadocio and posturing. But with a smile on my face to let you know that I love you.
So much wine over the past three months since last we ran across one another...so much so that I couldn't begin to dig through my Crackberry and give you the laundry list. I made a five day super quick excursion to Italy, on which I will report about more in my next post. The latest wine that is stuck in my head is a dazzlingly fascinating 2008 Knoll Loibner Riesling Federspiel that was cracked open yesterday. I can't stop thinking about how it roared out of the glass and damn near pistol whipped me with tropical fruit, minerals and spice until I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for my mommy. It was intense like Ice Cube was in Boyz in the Hood. But like the character he played, Doughboy, this wine has heart and soul. We get very little. You heard it hear first. I'm gettin' mine now. Enough said...
If I never hear the term "vintage of the century" again, I believe I will have a better, more rewarding and fuller life. Why would such a perturbing little term allow me to blossom as a human being? Because every time I hear it, I want to physically throw up. I'm not kidding. I want to run to the bathroom and vomit until nothing is left as it makes me nauseous. The idea that a great, all-time classic vintage can come once every three years for marketing purposes makes the blood boil, my hairs stand up on the back of my neck (I know--none left on my head--very funny) and most likely makes my cholesterol level rocket. I know I shouldn't let it bother me but honestly there is too much emphasis on wanting ONLY the best vintages and WAAAAYYY too many instances where the supposed "throw away" vintage makes you weep with its loveliness. That is why we taste...that is why we enjoy the wine for what it is...that is why we don't bother with numbers but rather with art form.
JCB the 4th