The Pinot Gris was nothing too consuming or convincing, but reliable and a being that was more than a mere something, contributing to atmosphere and my mood. Relaxing at the end of the day with the scene it sung with its tropical language and bright realizations of California PG. I used to say that Pinot Gris was the one varietal I was SURE would either underwhelm or disappoint me, every time. Kind of harsh, I know. Though this voice has a gentle and soft romance about her ways and progression across senses. Integrated acid and texture. It’s not just a quick sequence of sip-storming, but personality, music, ambient ride. After the second glass, I put it back in the fridge, for the next night. And I know it’s cliché to say “it was even better the second night”. But she was. More redolence, more precision, more manuscript and writing in the phenolics.
Pretty sure I’d had the Goldschidt Cab before, the KATHERINE”. Can’t remember which vintage, or again if I’d even met this belle before. So I put myself int he mind of a first time. Smitten, quite frankly. Loving the smoke hue and depth of the shapeliness and her music, berries thick and spice rich and decided. Everyone knows my grape is Cabernet, and this bottle reminds me why. Not because if big and mighty and assertive, “full-bodied”, but mellifluous and politely erudite. Not stuffy or snobby, but inviting and conversational, versatile if you want to pair her with something though I only sipped with me and the chair. Nothing else needed to be there. A renewed Bordeaux air. I sipped slower from glass one to the half-glass I poured after, trying to her her intentions. What does she want me to think, what does she want me to do next. A call and order to passion, doing what you love, follow the spell that has you spellbound.