Sober Tasting
C.B.
No legs, no nose.
P.J.
No tits.
C.B.
Tutti-frutti (he spits it out).
P.J.
(who does not spit it out) Yuck.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Really bad.
P.J.
A new flavor of candy that Lifesaver decided not to market.
C.B.
Flunks the “stuck with boring relatives” test. Flunks the “altar boy communion wine” test. That is, flunks the “time when you’ll drink anything” test. I’m not sure it would be transubstantiated if consecrated.
P.J.
My guess is Skouras.
C.B.
Really Greek, or Livingston, or box wine. It’s exotically bad.
Conclusion: When the varietal blizzard strikes, don’t duck into a wine bar.
3. Codice
Rioja, 1997
Spain, $7.49
V: “Bordeaux method with Tempranillo grape. A bit lighter, tarter than California wines. Wood flavor, rusticity.”
PEW: “Spain and Portugal joined the EU (and, as far as most of their wine is concerned, the twentieth century) only thirteen years ago.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Okay legs, chlorine nose.
P.J.
YMCA pool.
C.B.
Better than it tastes.
P.J.
Huh?
C.B.
Daring to be really bad, but not quite managing.
Drunk Tasting
P.J.
Fruity smell.
C.B.
If fruit were a medicine.
P.J.
Drinkable.
C.B.
Acceptable, complex. Ariel or Livingston Cellar.
P.J.
(who, not long ago, had been to Spain, where he swilled Rioja and was thus cheating) Codice.
Conclusion: CB’s mistaking Codice for Ariel dealcoholized wine—a subconscious plea for the Twelve-Step Program?
4. Carruades de Lafite
Pauillac, 1996
Bordeaux, $61.99
V: “Youthful Bordeaux. Flavors of vanilla from oak. To drink or to age.” Suggests serving with steak.
PEW: The second wine of the four-star Lafite-Rothschild. Not rated separately. The ’96 is a recommended vintage. Of Pauillac generally: “Very varied in style.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
No legs.
P.J.
(who has a slight cold) Nose is subtly bad.
C.B.
Ugly nose. Chalky complexion…. You know this trick about wine tasting? If you’re at a loss, describe someone who’s in the room.
P.J.
I’ll have you know that this nose has been broken three times. Twice in fistfights.
C.B.
Manly nose.
P.J.
And once in a riding accident.
C.B.
Okay, okay, I’m sorry.
P.J.
Well, actually, it was the pony at the church carnival.
C.B.
Let’s have a drink. (They do.) Subtly good.
P.J.
Tastes okay. Kind of stinks.
Drunk Tasting
P.J.
Smells too sweet, tastes too bitter.
C.B.
Cloying nose, mildly annoying taste. It’s getting worse.
P.J.
Awful.
C.B.
Skouras?
P.J.
Skouras.
Conclusion: As for serving it with steak—Philly cheese steak comes to mind.
5. Château Cheval Blanc
Saint-Emilion Grand Cru, 1989
Bordeaux, $299.99 (magnum)
V: “Made with the Cabernet Franc grape, as were the great nineteenth-century Bordeaux. An exceptional vintage year. Violets with cassis. Well-ripened, lots of structure. Leathery, woody, rich, length in palate.”
PEW: Four stars (indicating “grand, prestigious, expensive”). “Intensely vigorous and perfumed…. For many the first choice in Bordeaux.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Has legs. Nose is (smiles) whew! Licorice, tar.
P.J.
Tar?
C.B.
Wow, is that complex! Don’t quote me. Is it the Big Boy?
P.J.
We’ll have to drink several glasses to be sure.
C.B.
P.F.G.
P.J.
Is that a technical term?
C.B.
Pretty f—ing good.
P.J.
It’s the Big Boy.
C.B.
Definitely the Big Boy.
Drunk Tasting
None was left.
Conclusion: The English Huswife, published in 1648, says, “The wines that are made in Burdeaux are…the most full gadge and sound Wines.” Mr. Buckley and Mr. O’Rourke think like the English Huswife and, by this stage, spell like her too.
6. Skouras
“Mediterranean Red” (no vintage)
Peloponnese, Greece, $5.99
V: “The American importer designed his own label. He drew a sketch of sailboats and sent it to Greece. The printed labels came back with pictures of kites on them.”
PEW: Two to three stars, Mediterranean Red not rated separately. Of the Peloponnese generally: “Vines mostly used for currants.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Sudsy legs.
P.J.
Smells too pleasant.
C.B.
Tastes very fruity. Way fruity. Juicy Fruit.
P.J.
Château Wrigley.
C.B.
Inviting you home. Almost playful.
P.J.
You’re cut off.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Sweet. Terrible.
P.J.
Creepy.
C.B.
Livingston Cellars.
P.J.
Don’t know, don’t care.
Conclusion: Be especially wary of Greeks bearing gifts of wine.
7. Château Lynch-Moussas
Pauillac, 1996
Bordeaux, $29.99
V: “Good vintage, full-ripened. Deep, rich, passionate flavor.”
PEW: Two stars; ’96 recommended vintage. A fifth growth but “making serious wine.”
Sober Tasting
P.J.
(drinking deeply) Either real good…or not.
C.B.
Thick, almost Bulgarian legs. Pug nose. (He, too, drinks deeply.) And yet, and yet…not the Big Boy, but a Lady-in-Waiting.
P.J.
A little sharp, a little bitter.
C.B.
A little pipsqueaky.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Fine, dignified nose. I like it a lot. It’s grown, blossomed, since last time.
P.J.
(at that stage when he suddenly thinks he can talk wine talk—and probably Chinese) Perfumy. Big. Tannin. A game wine, but too young.
BOTH
(more or less in unison) Definitely Carruades. Unless it’s Lynch-Moussas.
Conclusion: Buy some.
8. Frog’s Leap
Cabernet Sauvignon, 1996
Napa Valley, $29.99
V: “Rich, with structure and complexity, but not at top of California level. Not overly weighty.”
PEW: Two to three stars; ’96 a recommended vintage. “Small winery, charming as its name (and T-shirts).”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Extremely leggy. Ghastly nose. (He drinks.) Upchucky.
P.J.
No flavor at all and yet it tastes bad.
C.B.
Wine I’d serve to house guests I was trying to get rid of.
Drunk Tasting
P.J.
Ac
tually, I think it has a better nose than number 7. (He stubs out his Monte Cristo in the pâté plate.) But shrieks of raw youth.
C.B.
Probably Lynch-Moussas.
Conclusion: The only bad wine that got markedly better as C.B. and P.J. got markedly stewed. Consider this when serving those house guests—who are probably wearing Frog’s Leap T-shirts.
9. Meerlust Merlot
Stellenbosch, 1995
South Africa, $19.99
V: “Acidic in a good way.”
PEW: Three stars. “South Africa is the seventh-largest wine producer in the world—but as a consumer remains a mainly beer-drinking nation.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Slimy legs.
P.J.
A lot like number 8.
C.B.
Forceful nose. Bad in a new way. Slatternly.
P.J.
I disagree. Bad without dirty thrills or novelty.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Awful. Dignified nose. Taste a nasty surprise.
P.J.
Eeeeeuw. God! Harsh. South African?
C.B.
Let’s hope it’s the Ariel.
Conclusion: Mainly a beer-drinking nation.
10. Manischewitz
Concord Grape (no vintage)
Naples, New York, $3.49
V: “No comment.”
PEW: Not rated. Concord grape generally used for “mostly grape juice and jelly…strong ‘foxy’ flavour, off-putting to non-initiates.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
(recoils)
P.J.
Really, really awful. Explains why Jewish people don’t drink much.
C.B.
Hypoglycemic finish.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Manischewitz.
P.J.
Manischewitz. (Bottle is poured down sink.)
Conclusion: Possibly all right with peanut butter.
11. Ariel
Dealcoholized Cabernet Sauvignon, 1997
Napa Valley, 1997
V: (Didn’t know what to say.)
PEW: Doesn’t say anything.
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Chocolate nose.
P.J.
Chocolate-covered oak, with gym shoes.
C.B.
A soupçon of gym shoe.
P.J.
Odd flavor, completely different from, and even worse than, the “bouquet.”
C.B.
Sweet and sour doggy bed. Paint.
BOTH
Livingston Cellars.
Drunk Tasting
P.J.
Time to hose out the kennels.
C.B.
Awful. Awful.
BOTH
Ariel!
Conclusion: The theory that alcohol is what makes booze taste bad is hereby exploded.
12. Franzia “Mountain Burgundy”
(no vintage)
Ripon, California, $9.99 for 5-liter box. (Price per 750 cl is
$1.50—cheaper than some water.)
V: (winced)
PEW: One star, “Mountain Burgundy” not rated separately. “Penny-saver wines.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
I’m having trouble with this nose.
P.J.
Mine’s been broken three—
C.B.
You said that.
P.J.
Sorry.
C.B.
Aggressively unpleasant.
P.J.
I said I was sorry.
C.B.
The wine.
P.J.
Oh, come on. Tastes okay. Pretty good cheap-drunk material.
C.B.
Sangria material.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Smells bad.
P.J.
Tastes worse.
BOTH
Box wine.
P.J.
(peeking) It’s the most popular wine in America.
C.B.
No.
P.J.
Says so right on the box.
Conclusion: Avoid the sangria.
13. Rosemount Estate
Cabernet Sauvignon, 1997
Perth, Australia, $9.99
V: “User-friendly. Good price. A riper, sweeter style of Cab, more Californian or New World.”
PEW: Two to three stars; no vintage information; Cab S not rated separately. “Australian ideas and names are on all wine-lovers’ lips…. Even growers in the south of France listen carefully to Australian winemakers.”
Sober Tasting
C.B.
Good legs.
P.J.
Oh, cut that out.
C.B.
Ambiguous nose.
P.J.
The kind of nose shared by both good and bad wines.
C.B.
Uh, yes.
P.J.
Kind of winey-smelling.
C.B.
Lots of tannin.
P.J.
Bitter.
C.B.
Shanghai Tang.
P.J.
Not very good, but let’s drink some more of it.
C.B.
Headachey finish.
Drunk Tasting
C.B.
Promises more than it can deliver.
P.J.
Sort of loud and upside down.
BOTH
Australian.
Conclusion: Loud, upside down.
“When the Business Fun expense vouchers are audited,” said my wife, “I hope the IRS shares your sense of humor.”
It was lumped under Research, I said. Here’s how I’m going to end the article:
It was Mr. Buckley and Mr. O’Rourke’s fondest hope that, if they got drunk enough, wine would cease to be a qualitative matter and become a quantitative issue. They aspired to stifle wine snobbery and reduce all tiresome oenophilic queries to the basic question: “Is there more?” They failed. In fact, drinking seemed to sharpen their critical skills. The bad wines got mostly worse as the bacchanal wore on. And, more’s the pity, so did the good ones. Messieurs Buckley and O’Rourke both felt just terrible the next day and were forced to admit to the wisdom of their friend V, who had disparaged the entire idea of the Blind (Drunk) Wine Tasting. “Wine,” said V, “is to enhance food, enliven the mind, lubricate conversation, and enrich life. If you do all that, drunkenness will come naturally. And anyway, for getting drunk, vodka is better.”
“A good thing,” said my wife, “because we’re out of gin.”
About a week later, just when I was starting to feel better, the Political Nut who lives around here showed up. Do you realize, he said, that this is the second anniversary of Bill Clinton’s impeachment?
“Seems like two years ago,” said my wife.
On January 8, 1999, said the Political Nut, the United States Senate, in all its dignity, solemnly swore…. And talk about great TV! Especially when Trent Lott got tongue-bungled and said that the Chief Justice “will now administer the oaf.” Anyway, the United States Senate, in all its dignity—if we don’t count Senator Barbara Boxer, who was wearing a brown pants suit perfect for Breakfast Bingo at Wal-Mart. And what was with Rehnquist’s robe? Adidas stripes on the sleeves, big old zipper down the front—it looked like a novelty beach wrap for vacationing gospel choirs. Nevertheless, on January 8, 1999, the United States Senate…got free souvenir Oath Book ballpoint pens with United States misprinted as Untied States. Senators Bunning and Mikulski tried to return theirs. They are good-government types, unwilling to receive the smallest perquisite at public expense. Either that or they can spell.
The CEO of the Sofa (O'Rourke, P. J.) Page 12
