At 2,640 feet, the site is covered with black, glassy obsidian rock — surely Cabernet country. So, we planted 105 acres of Bordeaux clones on a piece of land that was formerly an abandoned walnut orchard. –Tricycle Wine Co.
Soil is an obsession for winemakers. An interest, perhaps, of wine lovers, but for much of the wine consuming population, it’s boring as shit—if it’s on their radar at all. But that didn’t stop my local wine shop from doing a little direct soil composition marketing—aggregate advertising, if you will. It worked!
As soon as I ran my fingers over a chipped chunk of black, glassy obsidian, I was indeed pressed by the urge to buy this wine. My thoughts drifted to some old Indian arrowheads in a frame my mother gave me when I was young, their current location, and regret for a youngster’s inability to truly appreciate magnificent things.
From my tasting notebook:
Nose is gamey and touched with smoke and cheese rind. An edge of extreme bitter chocolate rides the back of crushingly deep mixed red and black fruit.
Seductive flavors of natural vanilla and a cool tang of flinty minerals and hearthstone. Huge tannins will pull at your cheeks while you search your memory bank for a flavor that turns out to be old-time licorice chips—the kind most likely supplied to you as a child by an elder. Bold red raspberry stilts the dark, introspective palate. A $24 value blast.
[OR Cabernet is an easy find online. Saratogians: don’t miss this one at Purdy’s.]