Old hippies never die, they just smell that way


Yum yum, California, I’m on a corpulent hippy of a wine tonight, like Jerry Garcia after a curry, while the acid is still weaving its magic, but before the flatulence and heartburn has set in. It’s Domaine de la Terre Rouge Mourvèdre 2001, a wild, feral, meaty wine, possibly too alcoholic for its own boots, but still enormously tasty. Why is there a sort of cedary finesse that is reminiscent of Bordeaux? Could this be related to the cork? I’m not sure whether a Stelvin-ed bottle would have this earthy meatiness. Then you taste it, and it’s like liquid raisins, but dry, like brown sugar and figs, wild, smoky, really, really tasty. Not great, but the sort of wine you want to spend an evening with, rather than something too profound that you sit (or stand, I’m not picky) in awe of. It’ll be fascinating to see how it evolves in the glass – and also to see whether I can keep my paws off it…

OK, 2 hours later. No sign of significant improvement, and certainly not a wine to keep, but still an absolutely lovely drink. Vineyard Cellars are the UK agents.

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