My Woody.

Amber golden. Easily the finest mousse I have seen in recent memory. Absolutely NEVER ENDING, ridiculously microscopic pin-point bubbles rising effortlessly and abundantly 5… 10… 15? minutes in the glass and no end in sight. Deep toasted almond nose with sides of horsehair and lanolin. Licked postage stamp and splattering of bruised melon bring the smokey, savory bouquet into a honeyed arena with no real fruit notes. This HAS to be vintage. Let me check. Yup, sure is.

Bubbles not even slowing down.

In the mouth, all your aged-Champagne ideals are dashed to smithereens. Where the nose obviously hinted at a round, toasty mouthfeel, the frank opposite greets you. Sharp, zingy, crazy lemon-apple tart in an acidic package raspy and dry as it goes over the tongue, biting and intense, stupendously dry–and still, apricot and pear flushes out the fruity strut, with the nutty reduction only coming along late and with lots of air.

Bubbles have not even THOUGHT about slowing down.

A most remarkable wine, and I will be very curious if it is done in-house. This is a tiny winery with products rarely seen outside the region. I picked this up in Duncans Mills at a little country grocery store I frequent when in coastal Sonoma. It is where I discovered Wild Hog Vineyard and several others.

And still, these bubbles.

2011 WOODENHEAD Natural disgorged 1/2016 Russian River Valley 11.6

2 thoughts on “My Woody.

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