Well, now THIS is the funkiest-ass wine you have had this year. I promise. Holy wow. All kinds of barnyard and bell pepper and crisper green vegetal: soggy lettuce, pickle juice, multi-vitamin, carborundum, gypsum, cement, armpit and wet wood–ALL wound up in a nose meaty and full: but the meat is boiled hotdogs and the full is fresh asphalt. CAN YOU HANDLE THE FUNK??? Briar-green at the same time, dank catacombs with salt-peter and iron oozing from clay. SO MUCH LIFE.
In the mouth, a calm fruity entry is almost immediately shredded by a chalky bite that starts down low, easing itself up into the swing of things without much grace or invitation, thinning the fruit marvelously and melding with it perfectly. SO MUCH VERVE. The bitter brings your mouth to tears, the gentle cherry nurses your wounds, the salt crusting the corners–but is it sweat or tears? I don’t care: the sweet/savory mouthfeel is almost as charming as the packed-train tobacco stench you want your face buried in. Tannins are a singular bunch–a solid line of adolescent thugs itching for a fight, but a little worried about getting their jeans dirty.
How bad do you want this wine. Be careful what you wish for. This is glorious stuff, but registers up there on the funk-o-meter with only the most dedicated of wine 1 percenters. It is not smooth. It is not supple. It is not ripe or lush or elegant. This wine is way beyond that. Heroin. Next level. Turbid love. Flesh for fighting. Sex. All the bad things you don’t admit you love wrapped up in one bottle.
2015 GASPARD Cabernet Franc Touraine Loire France 12.5