Balls of Chard

At 42°, an oaky buttery glow, thin pineapple and ripe banana in the nose, a tiny little grassiness and possible mineral astringency visible. WAY colder than I ever drink Chard–or ANY white wine, this is straight outa the refer, baby: 10 degrees warmer than 100% of wine-drinkers drink this wine. Tried to taste it at this temp, but it is so shocking to my mouth. Still, stuffed paniers of round trunk-junk hang readily off the sides of your tongue, dragging any green freshness in the entry down into a woody abyss, where a dog is peeing on cardboard and someone is trying to put out a fire with peach schnapps.

OK, up at 55°, the fruit is peachy and systematically spicy, apple juice scrubbing the white fluffy stuff off a car battery, complicated by touches of briar, deep vanilla, and Bailey’s. Butterscotch races across the mouth, sweet and sticky, varnishing the back of a sweaty woman with turpentine, poking sharp tingles of acid into swollen holes. I know this is too warm to be drinking this particular wine, but hey: If I’m going to drink my La Pitchoune’s and Smith Madrone’s and Maritana’s and Liquid Farm’s and Pouilly-Fuissé’s this warm, it is only fair to level the playing field.

It is so fun to drink this and put yourself INSIDE the minds of tens of thousands of Americans: THIS IS CHARDONNAY.

The finish is a nutty affair, where cloying hits bitter, leaving you with memories which will surely compell you to buy another case next time you drag the rugrats to Costco.

2017 ROMBAUER VINEYARDS Chardonnay Carneros Sonoma 14.5

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