Since Saturday, the wine opportunities have been uncommonly good. This has been in large part due to KT's request to have grilled lamb chops for "preaster" (so dubbed because the day before was so glorious - as only a 70 degree spring day in Oregon can be - and the actual easter day was bound and determined to be damp, bleak and like the rest of Oregon spring weather).
Lamb for me is like being given the keys to the wine cellar and told: "Go on. Pick one of those wines that you covet that soars in the presence of this meat that the gods and goddesses designed for wine." Sooooo many choices! Red for sure. But which red? One of the bordeauxs tucked away for a special meal? One of the old LdH's waiting patiently to take my breath way? Finally, we decided on a CdP because the lamb was accompanied by an excellent olive salsa. So a 1998 Domaine Lucien Barrot et fils to the table.
The Cdp was superb, but not at all what we expected nor what was best with this meal. In a very peculiar way, this wine was sweet and fruity - not in the "new world" way - and lacking the acidity that the olives required. Oh, make no mistake about it, we finished it off with relish but it was the magical pairing wine that I had craved.....and then.....
Leftovers! Last night I rewarmed some leftover chops and a smattering of chive, tarragon potatoes. To accompany, I selected a mystery wine: a red from the Bellet aoc. Bellet aoc? Yes, this wine we picked up from one of the Noble Rot classes of yore and neither KT nor I could recall it. But let me tell you, this wine from the area around Nice was THE wine for the lamb! It was a 2001 and still had lovely mediterranean style: rustic, herbal, suntanned and grisled but so approachable and lovely going down. The wine was polished without being principled, wild without being untamed; just on the money for this meat and meal. It was like Bandol but Bandol after it has aged a generation or two. Only bottle we have but we WILL find more.
We bought a lovely assorted case of roses from North Berkeley, all from Italy, and they have been outstanding. When in doubt, rose is always there. Maybe Joni Mitchell fooled us: her For the Roses album may have been For the Roses (insert the appropriate accent mark please). An excellent rose is certainly up to the pairing with her lyrically smokey voice, sweet seductive and never cloying. Did you notice me Joni? That night at McCabe's guitar shop, when you sat behind me and "we" joined fifty other people listening to Jackson Browne spin his gorgeous, soulful web? I made every excuse to turn and quickly glimpse you, when what I wanted to do was to stare, unabashed at a woman that I have always thought amongst the most beautiful of all time. (Insert the appropriate swoon mark please). For the Roses, then, liquid or otherwise. I toast you and the air that we shared.
