Chris Coad
Chris Coad
I haven’t been out on the streets marching since the early 90s. A certain fat complacency sets in, you get tired, think that’s for the young folks. Until one day it’s not. So it is I find myself shoulder-to-shoulder with about a half a million other New Yorkers last Saturday, stuck in place for hours, crowd-controlled by amiable NYPD cops, who gave us thumbs-ups and swapped hats and waved happily as we eventually passed.
So, new war stories. But the day was long and my feet were sore when I finally arrived at Stately Kane Manor for an evening of burnt-out festivization, gaily bedecked in my new “RESIST” t-shirt.
I was exhausted, but I promised Brad I’d post notes. Promise kept.
Right off the bat, a Foreau/Domaine du Clos Naudin Vouvray Demisec 2002 makes me glad I showed up. Wool and quince and dried apricot smellies, tastes angular and richly stuffed, firm acidity and a gentle long mandarin-orange-flecked finish make for a wine I keep going back for another little taste of. In a really good place at the moment, youngish on every surface, but with the beginnings of teenage complexity just beginning to peek through. Delicious. Two large earthenware Prongs smeared lightly with bone marrow and placed into a small container filled about a half-inch deep with apricot jam.
Much less interesting to me is a Paul Pernot Puligny-Montrachet Les Pucelles 2000. Creamy yellow apple/vanilla bean aromatics with a light flintiness underneath. Pleasant, mellow, easygoing, unremarkable. Seven polystrene Prongs dusted with powdered sugar and Starbuck’s pumpkin pie spice, on bases made of transparent sparkle-infused plexiglass.
Another chardonnay, a Francois Jobard Meursault Genevrieres 2001 is even more generic: again, yellow apple and vanilla bean, but more watery and less focused than the Pernot. Not unpleasant, but rather dull. Four unadorned PVC Prongs arranged as a rhombus, sitting on an orange cafeteria tray in a room with way too much air-conditioning, to the point where the women are all wearing sweaters.
Happily, the chardonnays seem to be at an end, and here’s a Domaine du Closel Clos du Papillon Cuvée Speciale 1989. It is, of course, corked. All 1989 Loire wines are corked. Every last one. Not Pronged at this time.
As we digest this truism, here’s the redoubtable .sasha with something mysterious. .sasha’s Mystery Wine smells lightly almondy and apricotty with a touch of spicy-hay botrytis, tastes medium-sweet and broad-shouldered, rich quincey tasting and moelleux-level sweet. Everyone immediately pegs it as Vouvray. Jayson Cohen ventures a guess that it’s a ’76, and I cast my lot with him, as that seems about the right level of development; it seems like middle-aged Vouvray moelleux. (Aigle Blanc/Prince Poniatowski Vouvray Vin de Tris 1989) Three balsa-wood Prongs with tiny propellors attached to their tops in a slightly comical but also endearingly nostalgic fashion.
A little change of pace, a Clos Juliette Jurancon 1974 is up next, and the geeks are swooning, as this is some rare thing? Medium-amber color, smells nutty, candied pomander-orange and almonds, with a hint of clove and a gentle suggestion of mulled wine spice. Vivid acidity, tangy and focused, on the taut side. This is fine? Nicely preserved? Points for longevity? Sure. I don’t get a lot of pleasure, but I give respect for persistence. Nineteen teak Prongs encrusted with counterfeit Roman glass shards and sprayed lightly with Shalimar (not the perfume, the Eau de Toilette).
“That’s not my daughter, that’s my girlfriend.” I hear this and look up, but I can’t figure out what this means or who it applies to. It sounds oddly Trumpish, and I’m momentarily addled.
Reds now, first a Chateau Sociando-Mallet Haut-Médoc 2001. Classic smellies coffee-cassis-tobacco leaf. But oddly diffuse and wan in the piehole. I keep waiting for the stuffing to show up, it never arrives. No focus, just kinda watery Bordeaux that smells good. Disappointing showing from a house I usually like a lot; this was very promising as a young wine, maybe it’s just shut down? Others like it, but they’re dumb. Six obsidian Prongs with styrofoam bases, arranged in a hexagon in a small pool of distilled water that has had 1/4 cup of store-bought beef broth added to it.
Is there any of that Foreau left? That was some tasty shit. OMG IT’S NOT DONE YET. I take another pour. YASSSSS, that’s the stuff.
Okay, weird oldies time. We start with an Anjou Moëlleux 1949. This has Don Rice written all over it. A co-op wine, I guess? No producer named, just Anjou. Deep amber-brown color. Brown nosenotes too - dates, figs, caramel. Tastes oxidative: Anjou Madeira, basically. Bracing acidity balances both the sour and the sweet. Medium-bodied, with a good smack of sugary sweetness, a strange bird, should probably read as undrinkable on paper, but if you think of it as Loire Madeira it’s really kind of tasty, and I go back for seconds. Four dusty old pressboard Prongs glazed with a sweet quince sauce and slowly rotated over a small tire fire.
Here’s a Chateau d’Epiré Anjou 1949, and yeah, it’s corked. Not Pronged at this time.
Next up is a René Renou Bonnezeaux Doux 1959. Amber-orange color. Smells lightly citric, mandarin orange, good whiff of dusty-hay botrytis, light hint of mint, then dried apricot. Tastes demisec-sweet, goes down smooth. Light, comforting, gentle little wine with a lot going on. Four small bamboo Prongs with eagerly growing sprouts along the top edges, wrapped in a kind of raffia-work base and stood up on a rented alabaster platform on a noisy city street.
A nice way to end a lovely evening after a long day. The new subway beckons, and I must away.
So, new war stories. But the day was long and my feet were sore when I finally arrived at Stately Kane Manor for an evening of burnt-out festivization, gaily bedecked in my new “RESIST” t-shirt.
I was exhausted, but I promised Brad I’d post notes. Promise kept.
Right off the bat, a Foreau/Domaine du Clos Naudin Vouvray Demisec 2002 makes me glad I showed up. Wool and quince and dried apricot smellies, tastes angular and richly stuffed, firm acidity and a gentle long mandarin-orange-flecked finish make for a wine I keep going back for another little taste of. In a really good place at the moment, youngish on every surface, but with the beginnings of teenage complexity just beginning to peek through. Delicious. Two large earthenware Prongs smeared lightly with bone marrow and placed into a small container filled about a half-inch deep with apricot jam.
Much less interesting to me is a Paul Pernot Puligny-Montrachet Les Pucelles 2000. Creamy yellow apple/vanilla bean aromatics with a light flintiness underneath. Pleasant, mellow, easygoing, unremarkable. Seven polystrene Prongs dusted with powdered sugar and Starbuck’s pumpkin pie spice, on bases made of transparent sparkle-infused plexiglass.
Another chardonnay, a Francois Jobard Meursault Genevrieres 2001 is even more generic: again, yellow apple and vanilla bean, but more watery and less focused than the Pernot. Not unpleasant, but rather dull. Four unadorned PVC Prongs arranged as a rhombus, sitting on an orange cafeteria tray in a room with way too much air-conditioning, to the point where the women are all wearing sweaters.
Happily, the chardonnays seem to be at an end, and here’s a Domaine du Closel Clos du Papillon Cuvée Speciale 1989. It is, of course, corked. All 1989 Loire wines are corked. Every last one. Not Pronged at this time.
As we digest this truism, here’s the redoubtable .sasha with something mysterious. .sasha’s Mystery Wine smells lightly almondy and apricotty with a touch of spicy-hay botrytis, tastes medium-sweet and broad-shouldered, rich quincey tasting and moelleux-level sweet. Everyone immediately pegs it as Vouvray. Jayson Cohen ventures a guess that it’s a ’76, and I cast my lot with him, as that seems about the right level of development; it seems like middle-aged Vouvray moelleux. (Aigle Blanc/Prince Poniatowski Vouvray Vin de Tris 1989) Three balsa-wood Prongs with tiny propellors attached to their tops in a slightly comical but also endearingly nostalgic fashion.
A little change of pace, a Clos Juliette Jurancon 1974 is up next, and the geeks are swooning, as this is some rare thing? Medium-amber color, smells nutty, candied pomander-orange and almonds, with a hint of clove and a gentle suggestion of mulled wine spice. Vivid acidity, tangy and focused, on the taut side. This is fine? Nicely preserved? Points for longevity? Sure. I don’t get a lot of pleasure, but I give respect for persistence. Nineteen teak Prongs encrusted with counterfeit Roman glass shards and sprayed lightly with Shalimar (not the perfume, the Eau de Toilette).
“That’s not my daughter, that’s my girlfriend.” I hear this and look up, but I can’t figure out what this means or who it applies to. It sounds oddly Trumpish, and I’m momentarily addled.
Reds now, first a Chateau Sociando-Mallet Haut-Médoc 2001. Classic smellies coffee-cassis-tobacco leaf. But oddly diffuse and wan in the piehole. I keep waiting for the stuffing to show up, it never arrives. No focus, just kinda watery Bordeaux that smells good. Disappointing showing from a house I usually like a lot; this was very promising as a young wine, maybe it’s just shut down? Others like it, but they’re dumb. Six obsidian Prongs with styrofoam bases, arranged in a hexagon in a small pool of distilled water that has had 1/4 cup of store-bought beef broth added to it.
Is there any of that Foreau left? That was some tasty shit. OMG IT’S NOT DONE YET. I take another pour. YASSSSS, that’s the stuff.
Okay, weird oldies time. We start with an Anjou Moëlleux 1949. This has Don Rice written all over it. A co-op wine, I guess? No producer named, just Anjou. Deep amber-brown color. Brown nosenotes too - dates, figs, caramel. Tastes oxidative: Anjou Madeira, basically. Bracing acidity balances both the sour and the sweet. Medium-bodied, with a good smack of sugary sweetness, a strange bird, should probably read as undrinkable on paper, but if you think of it as Loire Madeira it’s really kind of tasty, and I go back for seconds. Four dusty old pressboard Prongs glazed with a sweet quince sauce and slowly rotated over a small tire fire.
Here’s a Chateau d’Epiré Anjou 1949, and yeah, it’s corked. Not Pronged at this time.
Next up is a René Renou Bonnezeaux Doux 1959. Amber-orange color. Smells lightly citric, mandarin orange, good whiff of dusty-hay botrytis, light hint of mint, then dried apricot. Tastes demisec-sweet, goes down smooth. Light, comforting, gentle little wine with a lot going on. Four small bamboo Prongs with eagerly growing sprouts along the top edges, wrapped in a kind of raffia-work base and stood up on a rented alabaster platform on a noisy city street.
A nice way to end a lovely evening after a long day. The new subway beckons, and I must away.
