I time every journey
To bump into you accidentally, I charm you and tell you
Of the boys I hate, all the girls I hate, all the words I hate
All the clothes I hate, how I’ll never be anything I hate
You smile, mention something that you like
Oh, how you’d have a happy life if you did the things you like.
I get accused of being a little too existential and a little too romantic whenever I apply poetry to a wine. And don’t worry, I’m not going to get all blubbery like people do about Pinot Noir, but if you have a relationship with Merlot the way I do, each one of those six lines represent a tenant of Merlot you have experienced and taken as a whole fairly well define the variety.
And then there’s the people who say Merlot doesn’t age.
Candy corn, just scorched perfectly. A nasal-cleansing blast of mint and brush cuttings shock the system. Then you taste it. So alive and pretty, leather and piss and German Chocolate Cake covered in coconut and walnuts absolutely roiling with magnificent cherry compote and vodka-infused tannins layered in cream cheese frosting.
Nowhere is your vapid mailed-in softness; Nowhere is your fruit has-been bullshit that constantly arises about year: 4. The best Merlots come from Carneros. I keep saying this. People laugh. Stop laughing. Come taste this. I know what I’m talking about.
2004 CUVAISON Merlot Carneros Napa Valley
Stephen McConnell 