It has been seven years since my last fake wine review column, but I figure it’s high time I start it up again, mainly because the last year or so has given me plenty of ammunition to drink heavily. So here goes.
One doesn’t oft think of a wine as being “aged” with a label date of 2015. I use the term aged to describe this wine because it’s been sitting in my kitchen for a few hours since I purchased it on clearance to use as the celebratory wine after the Indians won their first World Series championship in almost 70 years. So really, this wine is aged with 70 years of expectations and hopes. And how does it hold up?
It is a full-bodied wine, and yes, I’m calling this wine fat. The dark mulberry hue of the liquor reminds me of the blood pouring from Trevor Bauer’s hand early in the postseason which perhaps cost the Indians at least one critical win. The label is blue, like my mood.
One can’t help but notice the unmistakable aroma upon loosing the cork, that of disappointment. A gentle swirl of the glass, something taught to me by watching movies of pretentious people, proves to do nothing to alter this overwhelming assault on the olfactory nerves. The first taste, like that of most chiantis, is bold and effluvient (which I realize, after a quick google search, means partially treated sewage water and, while not the most accurate description of this otherwise drinkable wine, I’m keeping in because it’s been that kind of day). The palette would be wise to savor the initial burst of flavor, with its hints of heartache, shattered dreams, and plum.
Really, though, the joy of this wine is not in the savoring, but in the drinking of it as quickly as is reasonably safe. This achieves two important things: 1) forgetting the events that preceded it in the last hour or so, and 2) it won’t let the robust aftertaste of pine tar and failure overwhelm the taste buds.
This is, without a doubt, a wine that will probably be even better next year, when it will have matured as a cohesive unit, and when it won’t have lost two of it’s three top starting pitchers to injury in the penultimate month of the season.
Rating: 6/10. Drinkable, but hopefully forgettable.