Chris Coad
Chris Coad
So, before I left for six weeks in Hawaii the irrepressible Bradley Kane, Esq., decided it was incumbent on him to herd the old-school New York cats to his place to swap stories about our fallen comrade, Joe D., and bitch about how old and fat/gray/bald we've gotten. It's taken me awhile to get back to the notes, but I felt compelled, somehow.
The mandate was supposedly LDM wines only, but I swore I would bring only a 1995 Wolf Blass Shiraz and a 1997 Turley Aida Petite Sirah. But since Joe isn't around to make horrible faces and call a plague down on both their houses, it seemed a lackluster bluff, best abandoned.
I got stuck with train-maintenance issues, so arrive a bit tardy, having had to avail myself of our local tramway. Whoa, full house tonight, many of the old stalwarts have come out. There's gentleman farmer Andrew Scott, and Loire guru Don Rice and gurette Melissa, among other luminaries. Here's "good ol'" Greg dal Piaz, of all people, and Cliff Rosenberg. The Latin Liquidator has returned with the luminous Josie by his side, and there's the mysterious Jayson and Laura Cohen chatting with Jay Miller and Jeff Grossman.
Well, a cheerful little bubbly is always the best way to start off a gloomy evening of lamentions for a dead friend, so here's a David Leclapart Champagne 1ere Cru Brut NV. This has a happy little nosetickle, a peachy-creamsicle juicy-fruitiness that I like a lot. Very pure and light and clear, almost crystalline, if that makes sense. Like drinking little mouthfuls of creamsicle diamonds. I'm not a huge bubbly fan, but I really like this. Sharon? Am I crazy?
Goodness, here's an old pal, a Domaine du Closel Savennièrres Clos Papillon Cuvée Speciale 1996. Medium-pale amber-gold color. A good whiff of sherrylike oxidation on the nose, almonds, tangerine rind. There's still good stuff here, nice heft in the middle, vibrant acidity, lots of flavor, but it seems weirdly advanced, the yellow flavors of a few years ago browning all around. What the fuck? What has happened to this wine, that used to be what Kane would invariably bleat out: "BENCHMARK SAVENNIERES"?
This showing prompts much worried discussion, as this was frankly the most exciting young wine I'd had when it came out and in the demi-decade afterwards. It seemed like one for the ages, was it really a flash in the pan? I squirreled four bottles away for my dotage, I'll be pissed if they've gone belly-up in the short term. Perhaps I'll fire off an indignant email to Joe in the great beyond, demanding restitution. I like to think that might have amused him: "Dear Recently-Deceased Bigshot Wine Importer, I am outraged that your product has not had the lifespan I expected it to have. Please cut me a check to cover storage costs. If you are under the impression that your recent (extremely convenient) demise excuses your fiduciary responsibilities, you've got another think coming!"
What the hey? An Occhipinti Bianco Sicilia 'SP68' 2010? This oddball has to be dal Piaz's doing. Muscatty, apple-pie aromatics. Simple, fairly low acidity, gentle and rather pleasantly insubstantial. Evanesces entirely in the piehole, a wine of very little definition except gentle pleasantries.
Jeff is selling one of his harpsichords. Is anyone in the market for a French Double? It's a lovely piece of work, I can vouch for that.
Ungh, here's a Pierre Frick Cremant d'Alsace 2008. Slightly nutty smellies, wet dog in a bakery, lemon-cream and a hint of breadiness. Medium-crisp, straightforward, unremarkable. Meh. Decent enough, but meh.
Don has brought along something he's been talking to me about for a good long time, a Domaine Pierre Luneau-Papin Muscadet Sevre etc etc "Pueri Solis" 2005. Yes, it's Muscadet demisec. Yeasty, leesy smellies, wet stones in a bakery. Tastes odd, very low acidity, relatively light-bodied, hint of sweetness, soft and plush and stony but with a quiet spine buried down there underneath the waves of softness. Weird never-to-be-replaced wine for our degustation. Really an odd duck, a hopeful freak. I like it a lot, but it's not for all tastes. The winemaker apparently took a "Good for the ladies" tack on selling it. He must know different ladies than I do, but it's good for me, at any rate.
Can't hurt to try a Paul Pernot Puligny-Montrachet les Folatieres 1996. Hm, this is chardonnay? Sniff, sniff, some light pear and flint-laced apple hints. A sip, and it's got some assertive acidity; a firm, coiled little wine, impressively built and on the severe side, for chardonnay. Maybe there's hope for that benighted grape after all? This is pretty decent, I could drink this. In a pinch.
Another chardonnay, a Morey Chassagne-Montrachet 1er les Caillerets 2000, is corked. Ah well, wouldn't want to push our luck with this workhorse grape.
Back to the proper chenin action, a Robert Denis Touraine-Azay-le-Rideau Sec 1989. Firecrackery hints on first nosage, bit of sulfur. Joe hated sulfur, even more than me. Underneath that, grapefruit pith, lemon and light honey, beeswax. A sip, and there's that piercing Denis acidity. This fucker hasn't budged in ten years, my notebook reads "See note from 2001." Where is Connell when we need him to tell us this is a thirty-year wine? And thirty years begins whenever you desire? Andrew loves it, of course; I find it a little severe, although there's like a million things going on.
Mini-vertical time!
François Chidaine Montlouis Clos Habert 2002: Medium straw-gold color. Always a wine full of happy smellies, this seems just a bit more advanced than what, five years ago? Strange how that happens. There's that light tangeriney flicker, honey and quince jam notes underneath. Happily broad-beamed and gently sweet, enough acidity to get by. Very nice.
François Chidaine Montlouis Clos Habert 2000. Similar in all respects to the '02 at about 3/5ths the scale. Less sugar, less aromatics, just the same thing built smaller. Still perfectly charming, but I like the bigness of the '02 more tonight.
Brad is pressing people to tell Joe stories. People are a bit reticent. He presses more. They come slowly, haltingly. Dal Piaz relates the time Joe was banned for two years from Astor for going off on a woman with a blueberry smoothie who wanted to taste his wine, pointing out that she was in fact a "moron tasting wine with a blueberry smoothie."
"I've been banned! Can they do that?" Joe pleaded to Greg, apparently mystified that calling customers morons was frowned upon, blueberry smoothie or no. Joe's in-store ban was reduced to 14 months on appeal, so perhaps justice was tempered with mercy.
Oh my god, why did I not save a bunch of Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Rouge Côt 1997? Mmmmm, blackfruit and licorice, blackberry and a hint of pine resin. Inky purply-black color. A sip, and there's dark rough-edged blackberry-laced fruit, wonderfully focused and pure. Nice composure, medium-bodied, bracingly crisp and vividly stuffed. Really showing well, for all the rough edges. Why the hell didn't I put more of this away? What was I thinking? Wonderful wine, still very young.
I've written "Manuel tells the 'We've got to take a shit together' story" in my notebook, but I seem to have mercifully mentally-blocked any details relating thereto. Camblor, please feel free to fill in the blanks. The floor is yours.
A Maréchal Savigny-les-Beaune 2005 is matchsticky at first, then hints of dark cherryfruit, smokiness. A sip, and it's a bit jangled, all elbows and knuckles. Seems to have a nice vivid vein of dark richness, but showing awkwardly tonight. More potential than anything else, but the potential seems to be there.
Don relates his meeting-Joe story. I was picking up the cases of '83 and '90 Pinon, had spoken with Dressner on the phone the year before to help organize winery visits. He called and said the wine had arrived and was at his office in Long Island City, and to please bring cash. We went. Small commercial building. We knocked several times and heard wooshing. Then the door opens and it is Himself, Joe Dressner, vacuum hose in hand, mumbling something about making the one room office presentable.
I can see that. I can see it happening.
Pierre-Jacques Druet Bourgueil Vaumoreau 1995. Oh, goodness. Classic Bourgueil smellies: tobacco leaf, cran-cherry, pine resin, mmmm. Tastes damn good, too, rich and deep and nimble as it goes down, medium bodied but with a gentle purity and focus that I find compelling. Really, really tasty stuff. Yum.
"Joe offended a lot of people," asserts Andrew happily. He relates a story about having sushi with Joe and the people at the next table having too much fun, and him going off on them about how much fun they were having and how other people who weren't having fun might feel bad by them having so much fun. Or something like that, the details are a little fuzzy.
A Bernard Baudry Chinon La Croix Boissée 1997 is showing more Bordeauxish than Loirish tonight, graphitey, pencil-shavings, tobacco, with a touch of barnyardy funk. Nice composure, poised and smooth and quietly flashy, a confident wine, almost smug, with no need to impress. Ripe, but not too ripe. Firm, but not too firm. Just right.
Cliff mentions that he made the mistake of asking Joe the varietal composition of one of his wines, a cardinal sin that resulted in a stern dressing-down from the Wine Importer. Andrew laughs, "Joe's so funny—when I was first making wine, that was the first thing he asked me!"
Domaine Sylvie Esmonin Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St. Jacques 2001. Quite smoky-oaky-smelling, with a whiff of a milky note, caramel hints over cherry-beet redfruit. Good heft, stony and redfruity in the middle. Nice stuffing, but just too oak-marked for me to enjoy tonight.
My own Joe story, of fairly recent vintage: so he bugged me for years about coming to every big fancy trade tasting he ever did. He'd send me invitations, try to cajole me, and I was always like "No thanks, dude, not my scene, don't like meeting winemakers in those kinds of situations, don't like crowds, don't like being jostled, can't taste properly while standing up." And that just made him more insistent. So maybe two years ago I finally agree to show up at this thing at Town Hall, and I get there and it's huge and crowded and people are wearing nametags and it's horrible, so I find him, and it's like I'm the pony on Christmas morning or something. He's pulling me around, introducing me to people as "His friend who writes about wine on the internet," which makes me groan.
"C'mon, don't say that, that sounds so pathetic, sheesh, can't you just say I'm your friend or something?"
He shrugs, then Marc Ollivier wanders by and Joe yanks me over and introduces me. My French is fairly weak, but I know that “Voici mon ami, le pédophile!” is probably not a standard introduction.
Ollivier, who certainly knew Joe well, and who I'd actually met probably a half-dozen times before, was perfectly impassive.
Domaine de Bellevière Coteaux du Layon 'Hommage a Louis Derré 2000. The wine that had SFJoe putting all his money in pineau d'aunis futures, the Bunker Hunt of the pineau d'aunis crowd. Just a bit mousy-animale right at first, smells like dirt and dark redfruit and rhubarb. Medium bodied, or perhaps a bit shy of that, as there's a nerviness that gives it plenty of lift. Hard to categorize, but stony and juicy and goes down smooth. Me likey.
We discuss the provenance of the phrase "The Dressner Pour," which involves taking about half a bottle into your glass, taking a whiff of it, declaring it FAKITY FAKE FAKE, then pouring it wholesale into the dump bucket. A legacy item. Good times.
I tell the story about our September 15, 2001 tasting, the last time we all sat around talking about Joe. I remember Don arriving, announcing loudly "Hi, I REALLY CAN'T STAY, Melissa is in the hospital, I just wanted to say hi to everyone, but I really have to go." Then someone sang out "Hey Don, there are TWO '59 Vouvrays open tonight!" and Don's eyebrow twitching and "Wellll, maybe I can stay for a few minutes." This gets a laugh, perhaps most from Melissa, who knows the man she married.
We discuss, among other things, the receding from popular culture of the Broadway musical. "Can you think of one song from a musical that got any airplay in the mainstream radio since 'One Night In Bangkok?'," Kane says. "Can you? Even one??" We can't.
Brad helps himself to a DRESSNER POUR of the corked chardonnay. Stop. Don't. No.
Cappellano Barbera d'Alba Gabutti 2001 STOP. I CAN'T TASTE ANY MORE WINE MAKE IT STOP AERSKRAREWHARRRGARRBL
Oh, wait, here's a François Pinon Vouvray Moëlleux 1ere Trie 1989, I can taste this. Whee, happy pineapple-chalk-cinnamon-quinine smellies. Tastes sweet but not anything like syrupy. Just gentle, firm, layered, expressive, complex. Lovely stuff, I grab a second pour.
Are we sweeting now? Here's a Müller-Catoir Scheurebe Haardter Mandelring Auslese 1998. Woof, talk about exuberant, this is just a fountain of tropicality: guava, pineapple, lilikoi, white grapefruit, it's like POG wine. Very, very sweet but brightly crisp as well, nothing ponderous here. Wow, just really vivid stuff, gimme more, please. Joe really outdid himself in bringing these guys in.
Domaine des Petits Quarts Bonnezeaux la Malabé 1995. Oh, I just can't. I'm too burned out. There's more, too, a Pierre-Bise sweetie, another Bonnezeaux, blah, whatever. Been there, done that. The wine magnifying glass doesn't seem terribly important tonight.
Joe, you asshole, we miss you, ya big smartass fuck. Shit ain't the same when we can't count on you showing up to crap all over things that need to be crapped upon and pissing off your friends and colleagues for no particular reason other than pissing people off keeps the night interesting.
Nights are less interesting these days.
Fuck.
The mandate was supposedly LDM wines only, but I swore I would bring only a 1995 Wolf Blass Shiraz and a 1997 Turley Aida Petite Sirah. But since Joe isn't around to make horrible faces and call a plague down on both their houses, it seemed a lackluster bluff, best abandoned.
I got stuck with train-maintenance issues, so arrive a bit tardy, having had to avail myself of our local tramway. Whoa, full house tonight, many of the old stalwarts have come out. There's gentleman farmer Andrew Scott, and Loire guru Don Rice and gurette Melissa, among other luminaries. Here's "good ol'" Greg dal Piaz, of all people, and Cliff Rosenberg. The Latin Liquidator has returned with the luminous Josie by his side, and there's the mysterious Jayson and Laura Cohen chatting with Jay Miller and Jeff Grossman.
Well, a cheerful little bubbly is always the best way to start off a gloomy evening of lamentions for a dead friend, so here's a David Leclapart Champagne 1ere Cru Brut NV. This has a happy little nosetickle, a peachy-creamsicle juicy-fruitiness that I like a lot. Very pure and light and clear, almost crystalline, if that makes sense. Like drinking little mouthfuls of creamsicle diamonds. I'm not a huge bubbly fan, but I really like this. Sharon? Am I crazy?
Goodness, here's an old pal, a Domaine du Closel Savennièrres Clos Papillon Cuvée Speciale 1996. Medium-pale amber-gold color. A good whiff of sherrylike oxidation on the nose, almonds, tangerine rind. There's still good stuff here, nice heft in the middle, vibrant acidity, lots of flavor, but it seems weirdly advanced, the yellow flavors of a few years ago browning all around. What the fuck? What has happened to this wine, that used to be what Kane would invariably bleat out: "BENCHMARK SAVENNIERES"?
This showing prompts much worried discussion, as this was frankly the most exciting young wine I'd had when it came out and in the demi-decade afterwards. It seemed like one for the ages, was it really a flash in the pan? I squirreled four bottles away for my dotage, I'll be pissed if they've gone belly-up in the short term. Perhaps I'll fire off an indignant email to Joe in the great beyond, demanding restitution. I like to think that might have amused him: "Dear Recently-Deceased Bigshot Wine Importer, I am outraged that your product has not had the lifespan I expected it to have. Please cut me a check to cover storage costs. If you are under the impression that your recent (extremely convenient) demise excuses your fiduciary responsibilities, you've got another think coming!"
What the hey? An Occhipinti Bianco Sicilia 'SP68' 2010? This oddball has to be dal Piaz's doing. Muscatty, apple-pie aromatics. Simple, fairly low acidity, gentle and rather pleasantly insubstantial. Evanesces entirely in the piehole, a wine of very little definition except gentle pleasantries.
Jeff is selling one of his harpsichords. Is anyone in the market for a French Double? It's a lovely piece of work, I can vouch for that.
Ungh, here's a Pierre Frick Cremant d'Alsace 2008. Slightly nutty smellies, wet dog in a bakery, lemon-cream and a hint of breadiness. Medium-crisp, straightforward, unremarkable. Meh. Decent enough, but meh.
Don has brought along something he's been talking to me about for a good long time, a Domaine Pierre Luneau-Papin Muscadet Sevre etc etc "Pueri Solis" 2005. Yes, it's Muscadet demisec. Yeasty, leesy smellies, wet stones in a bakery. Tastes odd, very low acidity, relatively light-bodied, hint of sweetness, soft and plush and stony but with a quiet spine buried down there underneath the waves of softness. Weird never-to-be-replaced wine for our degustation. Really an odd duck, a hopeful freak. I like it a lot, but it's not for all tastes. The winemaker apparently took a "Good for the ladies" tack on selling it. He must know different ladies than I do, but it's good for me, at any rate.
Can't hurt to try a Paul Pernot Puligny-Montrachet les Folatieres 1996. Hm, this is chardonnay? Sniff, sniff, some light pear and flint-laced apple hints. A sip, and it's got some assertive acidity; a firm, coiled little wine, impressively built and on the severe side, for chardonnay. Maybe there's hope for that benighted grape after all? This is pretty decent, I could drink this. In a pinch.
Another chardonnay, a Morey Chassagne-Montrachet 1er les Caillerets 2000, is corked. Ah well, wouldn't want to push our luck with this workhorse grape.
Back to the proper chenin action, a Robert Denis Touraine-Azay-le-Rideau Sec 1989. Firecrackery hints on first nosage, bit of sulfur. Joe hated sulfur, even more than me. Underneath that, grapefruit pith, lemon and light honey, beeswax. A sip, and there's that piercing Denis acidity. This fucker hasn't budged in ten years, my notebook reads "See note from 2001." Where is Connell when we need him to tell us this is a thirty-year wine? And thirty years begins whenever you desire? Andrew loves it, of course; I find it a little severe, although there's like a million things going on.
Mini-vertical time!
François Chidaine Montlouis Clos Habert 2002: Medium straw-gold color. Always a wine full of happy smellies, this seems just a bit more advanced than what, five years ago? Strange how that happens. There's that light tangeriney flicker, honey and quince jam notes underneath. Happily broad-beamed and gently sweet, enough acidity to get by. Very nice.
François Chidaine Montlouis Clos Habert 2000. Similar in all respects to the '02 at about 3/5ths the scale. Less sugar, less aromatics, just the same thing built smaller. Still perfectly charming, but I like the bigness of the '02 more tonight.
Brad is pressing people to tell Joe stories. People are a bit reticent. He presses more. They come slowly, haltingly. Dal Piaz relates the time Joe was banned for two years from Astor for going off on a woman with a blueberry smoothie who wanted to taste his wine, pointing out that she was in fact a "moron tasting wine with a blueberry smoothie."
"I've been banned! Can they do that?" Joe pleaded to Greg, apparently mystified that calling customers morons was frowned upon, blueberry smoothie or no. Joe's in-store ban was reduced to 14 months on appeal, so perhaps justice was tempered with mercy.
Oh my god, why did I not save a bunch of Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Rouge Côt 1997? Mmmmm, blackfruit and licorice, blackberry and a hint of pine resin. Inky purply-black color. A sip, and there's dark rough-edged blackberry-laced fruit, wonderfully focused and pure. Nice composure, medium-bodied, bracingly crisp and vividly stuffed. Really showing well, for all the rough edges. Why the hell didn't I put more of this away? What was I thinking? Wonderful wine, still very young.
I've written "Manuel tells the 'We've got to take a shit together' story" in my notebook, but I seem to have mercifully mentally-blocked any details relating thereto. Camblor, please feel free to fill in the blanks. The floor is yours.
A Maréchal Savigny-les-Beaune 2005 is matchsticky at first, then hints of dark cherryfruit, smokiness. A sip, and it's a bit jangled, all elbows and knuckles. Seems to have a nice vivid vein of dark richness, but showing awkwardly tonight. More potential than anything else, but the potential seems to be there.
Don relates his meeting-Joe story. I was picking up the cases of '83 and '90 Pinon, had spoken with Dressner on the phone the year before to help organize winery visits. He called and said the wine had arrived and was at his office in Long Island City, and to please bring cash. We went. Small commercial building. We knocked several times and heard wooshing. Then the door opens and it is Himself, Joe Dressner, vacuum hose in hand, mumbling something about making the one room office presentable.
I can see that. I can see it happening.
Pierre-Jacques Druet Bourgueil Vaumoreau 1995. Oh, goodness. Classic Bourgueil smellies: tobacco leaf, cran-cherry, pine resin, mmmm. Tastes damn good, too, rich and deep and nimble as it goes down, medium bodied but with a gentle purity and focus that I find compelling. Really, really tasty stuff. Yum.
"Joe offended a lot of people," asserts Andrew happily. He relates a story about having sushi with Joe and the people at the next table having too much fun, and him going off on them about how much fun they were having and how other people who weren't having fun might feel bad by them having so much fun. Or something like that, the details are a little fuzzy.
A Bernard Baudry Chinon La Croix Boissée 1997 is showing more Bordeauxish than Loirish tonight, graphitey, pencil-shavings, tobacco, with a touch of barnyardy funk. Nice composure, poised and smooth and quietly flashy, a confident wine, almost smug, with no need to impress. Ripe, but not too ripe. Firm, but not too firm. Just right.
Cliff mentions that he made the mistake of asking Joe the varietal composition of one of his wines, a cardinal sin that resulted in a stern dressing-down from the Wine Importer. Andrew laughs, "Joe's so funny—when I was first making wine, that was the first thing he asked me!"
Domaine Sylvie Esmonin Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St. Jacques 2001. Quite smoky-oaky-smelling, with a whiff of a milky note, caramel hints over cherry-beet redfruit. Good heft, stony and redfruity in the middle. Nice stuffing, but just too oak-marked for me to enjoy tonight.
My own Joe story, of fairly recent vintage: so he bugged me for years about coming to every big fancy trade tasting he ever did. He'd send me invitations, try to cajole me, and I was always like "No thanks, dude, not my scene, don't like meeting winemakers in those kinds of situations, don't like crowds, don't like being jostled, can't taste properly while standing up." And that just made him more insistent. So maybe two years ago I finally agree to show up at this thing at Town Hall, and I get there and it's huge and crowded and people are wearing nametags and it's horrible, so I find him, and it's like I'm the pony on Christmas morning or something. He's pulling me around, introducing me to people as "His friend who writes about wine on the internet," which makes me groan.
"C'mon, don't say that, that sounds so pathetic, sheesh, can't you just say I'm your friend or something?"
He shrugs, then Marc Ollivier wanders by and Joe yanks me over and introduces me. My French is fairly weak, but I know that “Voici mon ami, le pédophile!” is probably not a standard introduction.
Ollivier, who certainly knew Joe well, and who I'd actually met probably a half-dozen times before, was perfectly impassive.
Domaine de Bellevière Coteaux du Layon 'Hommage a Louis Derré 2000. The wine that had SFJoe putting all his money in pineau d'aunis futures, the Bunker Hunt of the pineau d'aunis crowd. Just a bit mousy-animale right at first, smells like dirt and dark redfruit and rhubarb. Medium bodied, or perhaps a bit shy of that, as there's a nerviness that gives it plenty of lift. Hard to categorize, but stony and juicy and goes down smooth. Me likey.
We discuss the provenance of the phrase "The Dressner Pour," which involves taking about half a bottle into your glass, taking a whiff of it, declaring it FAKITY FAKE FAKE, then pouring it wholesale into the dump bucket. A legacy item. Good times.
I tell the story about our September 15, 2001 tasting, the last time we all sat around talking about Joe. I remember Don arriving, announcing loudly "Hi, I REALLY CAN'T STAY, Melissa is in the hospital, I just wanted to say hi to everyone, but I really have to go." Then someone sang out "Hey Don, there are TWO '59 Vouvrays open tonight!" and Don's eyebrow twitching and "Wellll, maybe I can stay for a few minutes." This gets a laugh, perhaps most from Melissa, who knows the man she married.
We discuss, among other things, the receding from popular culture of the Broadway musical. "Can you think of one song from a musical that got any airplay in the mainstream radio since 'One Night In Bangkok?'," Kane says. "Can you? Even one??" We can't.
Brad helps himself to a DRESSNER POUR of the corked chardonnay. Stop. Don't. No.
Cappellano Barbera d'Alba Gabutti 2001 STOP. I CAN'T TASTE ANY MORE WINE MAKE IT STOP AERSKRAREWHARRRGARRBL
Oh, wait, here's a François Pinon Vouvray Moëlleux 1ere Trie 1989, I can taste this. Whee, happy pineapple-chalk-cinnamon-quinine smellies. Tastes sweet but not anything like syrupy. Just gentle, firm, layered, expressive, complex. Lovely stuff, I grab a second pour.
Are we sweeting now? Here's a Müller-Catoir Scheurebe Haardter Mandelring Auslese 1998. Woof, talk about exuberant, this is just a fountain of tropicality: guava, pineapple, lilikoi, white grapefruit, it's like POG wine. Very, very sweet but brightly crisp as well, nothing ponderous here. Wow, just really vivid stuff, gimme more, please. Joe really outdid himself in bringing these guys in.
Domaine des Petits Quarts Bonnezeaux la Malabé 1995. Oh, I just can't. I'm too burned out. There's more, too, a Pierre-Bise sweetie, another Bonnezeaux, blah, whatever. Been there, done that. The wine magnifying glass doesn't seem terribly important tonight.
Joe, you asshole, we miss you, ya big smartass fuck. Shit ain't the same when we can't count on you showing up to crap all over things that need to be crapped upon and pissing off your friends and colleagues for no particular reason other than pissing people off keeps the night interesting.
Nights are less interesting these days.
Fuck.
