Dirty chalky nose floating on dried rose and the sort of wet linen that will never get you completely cool but the breeze helps. So does the rum & Coke. Massive PURPLENESS. That’s it. It smells massively PURPLE. WTF does purple smell like? It smells like this wine. Logic, son. Huge dense plastering raw meat, woody hollow and the sweat in the small of a woman’s back. Pine pitch and pine itch and wool stitch and sinking ketch, armpit so clean and a kind of angry cherry they don’t grow on earth yet.
Another winner from the kids at Deux Punx. Not a weird variety. Don’t even play that card. A unique variety, not quite as pronounced as Zin, not quite as chameleon as PS. Somewhere in between you’ve got this steroidal fruital attack contained in violent violet. And then you put your lips around it.
Far more delicate and acidic in the mouth than expected. Bright cherry, a lemonade sugar, sharp mud pie, and the kind of weedy acid reserved for geeky soft-shouldered bottles from Bojo and the Loire and Alpine Italy. Perfection in balance, the rapping on the door barely gets heard over the pounding soundtrack inside. A sweet-pot of dribble-inducing juicy fruit stretches against the buggy brilliant etch of pure wine in the finish.
Just a stupidly good wine. Eleven point mother fucking seven and one of the most beautifully ripe wines I have had this year.
2018 DEUX PUNX Teroldego Clarksburg California 11.7