Don’t Marry Me

Dark ruby with minuscule clear edges.  Staining pink everywhere.  Big Mexican laundry and muddy road get that Sonoma glycerin-ey notion out of the way early.  Flabby and still from there on, regurgitating tired Cabernet stereotypes propped up on mint-scrubbed cellar floor fading quite quickly to a sage-induced siesta.

While the label overhaul causes a pause, this is–of course–an old friend.  Remember Marietta Old Vine?  They are on what… 58? 60? now?  I remember Number 9.  That’s how old I am.  And no, thank Dog, they do NOT number them chronologically one per year.  Because no, I have not been drinking wine for 50 years.  Anyway… a stalwart Sonoma producer whose main bottlings do not show up on every shelf, but when you find them, they are usually arguably solid.

In the mouth, burnt, desiccated fruit, hot and un-inviting, bitter rises up on all sides, giving a chalky, walnut-peel wipe-this-off reaction to every gland it comes in contact with. Raunchy, rot-gut tannin tie seamlessly into the fruitless entry in well-timed fashion, giving the drinker no glimpse of anything the imagination possibly stretched into potential in the nose.

Decanted heavily, it settles into burnt and bitter.  And despite all the adjectives at my disposal, I can not twist this into a wine worth buying.

2014 MARIETTA ‘Armé’ Cab/Bec/ME/PV 86/7/5/2 North Coast 14.8

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