Saturday, June 18, 2011

"...Memory must be the Devil."

I hit the library today--picked up a few really cool books regarding social media and its potential and possible destruction of our humanistic communities.  Way too heavy for a winedown evening of course so I also grabbed one of my favourite writers, Diana Gabaldon.  I've always been struck by her poignant revelations and her prologue was a killer:

"Time is a lot of the things people say that God is.  There's the always preexisting, and having no end.  There's the notion of being all powerful--because nothing can stand against time, can it?  Not mountains, not armies.  And time is, of course, all-healing.  Give anything enough time, and everything is taken care of:  all pain encompassed, all hardship erased, all loss subsumed.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  Remember, man, that thou art dust: and unto dust thou shalt return.  And if Time is anything akin to God, I suppose that Memory must be the Devil."

So all this talk of time and I got to thinking about wine, hello, so I padded over to the "cellar", which right now is the laundry room, an 8'x8' enclosed space, right off the garage, but because the air conditioner has been running mostly non-stop, is the best location right now.  I chose Domaine de la Morderee, Lirac Reine des Bois 2004, mostly because after reading the above passage, I pretty much said, screw it, I'm popping that cork, although I had an inkling I should wait at least five more years.  But that's the point about wine, "Do you know, Darling..." (Edna Mould), no, we don't know, we can only guess.  And herein the fun.

I was always fascinated by Mordoree, which is the locally used poetic nickname for the migrating woodcock, which flies over the domaine.  I checked out their website after glass one and I'm blown away by it.  They have a maturation page: which I have yet to see on another winery's site.  It's quite nicely done and quite plainly says that the '04 can go another seven years.  And boy, can it ever.  The 14.5% alcohol coats the glass with gorgeously-sculpted, manly, hairy legs.  The nose is full of dark berries, with a slight tarry edge, and cool, antique leather, like my grandmother's muddy-yellow leather handbag which I adore.  Oh wait, the Hubs clearly detects gym socks. Yeah, the alcohol is rough on the palate, and acids are still present, but tannins are in the background, still adding structure, but providing a sweetness now, a creaminess to offset the high alcohol.  The Lirac should be interesting tomorrow--ah, and there it is, time.  Time should be friend here, or not, supposedly only God knows.

Sleep well my lovelies,

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