Monday, March 21, 2011

So. Uh.

It’s hard for me to talk about an uninspiring wine because it is.........uninspiring. A few days ago, I tasted one which left me at a loss for words, and not in a good way. Angst-ridden about the challenge of not waxing lyrical about said wine; I worried about whether it was my palate, my inexperience, or my lack of ability to put words together. Later, after a night of theatre, turkish food, chardonnay and wafting apple hookah smells, it didn’t matter; if I didn’t like the wine, I should just say so.

Wolf Blass, Yellow Label Shiraz Viognier, 2008. South Australia.


"So."


I won’t talk about Viognier, Shiraz, how fabulous they are as separate wine entities, and the amazing result when put together. I didn't find this wine to be a fine example of that.
Upon the first sniff, the Viognier asserted itself with a floral and berry sweetness. On first taste, I could sense a silky softness, which slightly lifted a medium-bodied lost ghost of a wine, a gently insipid form of its ideal self.

So. The wine was red with purplish hues, and though it was written on the label, I couldn’t find the Shiraz. Was it wrong to expect more? More cherry, more spice, more……flavour? I wanted a melding of sweet viognier with a spicy berry shiraz on a soft bed of aromatic flowers – but I tasted something that reminded me of vegetable stock. There, I’ve said it. I’m sorry W.B., I don’t mean to be rude. I’m willing to grant that my tastebuds were having an off day (though I generally love shiraz viognier - those buds should've been jumping for joy). An hour and several waters later, I tried another glass, ever hopeful of change. Alas, none.


Quite frankly, I'm a little surprised. There are a few trophies on this wine. When you see gold stickers on a bottle, you're mentally gearing up for a nice tasting experience. As I've already said, I expected more.


Please, courageous wine-loving friends, try this one out, and tell me how wrong I am. Send me another perspective. I even ventured a semi-sip today, and still no joy. Perhaps I can cook with it, given it’s stock like properties – it may redeem itself in a fantastic red wine beef casserole.

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