Trust Cellars 2006 Columbia Valley riesling

Seattle is in the top-10 in the latest “gayest U.S. cities!” Back to that later. A 45 year-old Pennsylvania woman was fired from her job for trying to be a man. No, really. She was deciding on a sex change operation so she slung a plastic ding-dong in her pants while on the job as a “packer/line inspector.” She claimed discrimination in a lawsuit, referring to a male co-worker who was “taking hormone treatments and wore female prosthetic devices and dressed in female clothing” and was not disciplined. Since when did the local wine commission have an office in the keystone state? A 39 year-old Indiana man being held in custody for auto theft must have thought he’d get out quick so he took a page out of Sean’s autobiography, “How To Stay In Jail And Love It,” by threatening officers that he would hunt them down and eat them, their families and their dogs. Deviating from the advice, the man was found to have a BAC over three times the legal limit, whereas Sean prefers to get drunk on “fre” wine. This frightened the Brits across the pond into having their health department declare that their citizens should have at least two alcohol-free days a week. This flies in the face of their “sensible limits” of men imbibing in 21 units of alcohol a week (14 for women), and that explains why they are so oblivious to the oily blandness of their cuisine (and subsequent Michelin man physiques). But, in all fairness to my kingrib-eating chums, Mrs. Guardian Cellars reported today that a Capitol Hill man was so distraught over his lover leaving for a dirty shoebox-flat in Wallingford that he kept discharging his .38-revolver in the street, shooting at buildings, the air, and into the ground. When the po-po arrested him and asked why he was firing the gun, he replied (in typical ghetto-Boston logic) that he only wanted to see if the gun still worked. Guess he was in withdrawal from no longer drinking mooched wine. Speaking of .38-caliber guns, North Carolina jail officers found one (with a 4 and 1/2 inch barrel) in the holding cell of a 22 year-old man arrested for multiple counts related to his being pulled over for speeding. Despite procedures to ensure no weapons were ON him (think strip-search, “squat-and-cough,” and a visit to the hospital) or already in his cell, the gun was later found, prompting officials to reason he had stored the firearm in his… wait for it… RECTUM! It wasn’t loaded but officials “tested it” and the gun worked just fine. Well, that was a shitty blow. And this just in… a 45 year-old Stockholm woman walking the countryside after a storm found a love letter in a field that dated back to 1862. Could it be the missing mythical document between Greg P. Utt and John Wilkes Booth?? Now, ask yourself if it is any wonder why Seattle made that list (and didn’t rank higher)?

I love playing with this Siri-thing on the 4S so I can see why the hired-extras who stood in line in Beijing and Shanghai caused a riot when Apple announced a delay in releasing the latest iPhone to the mass of Reds (due to selling-out to the Communist elite); thus the scalpers reneged on paying the fake-customers. I give it verbal commands like “call girlfriend” and it automatically dials up. It takes dictation faster than my secretary, and with sometimes more humorous misspellings. But, a major advantage is using it as a concierge, like when I have a tasting room fix to quench, it gives me a few alternatives that I then act upon. Wineries may want to take note and find a way to land a favorable placement on such listings. Occasionally, Siri will have a rather bizarre response to my inquisitions. It responded to my “Talk dirty to me” with “Soil. Compost. Silt. Gravel.” For Halloween, I asked what I should have been and it replied, “A dish. Girls love doing dishes.” I wanted to play a classic joke and started with “Knock, knock,” of which Siri replied, “Knock knock. Who’s there? Motherfucker. Motherfucker who? Motherfucker, I don’t do knock-knock jokes.” While on the way to dinner with a date, I asked for the location of the Spanish restaurant in downtown and I got back this—“Here are directions to (restaurant). Also, FYI, there’s an abortion clinic only a few blocks from there. Just saying.” The best response I had so far was to my question of finding and calling a soup noodle restaurant (“Call something cheap, fast, and easy.”). Siri started dialing Barbara Winegal…

To the wine…

Found this old bottle in the server room (don’t ask) so thought I’d pop it open. I tried a sample of the Trust Cellars 2009 version a few months back and asked the tasting room masseuse about aged rieslings and he said something to the tune of Washington rieslings not entirely being worth sitting on due to the loss of all that glorious fruit forwardness. He also suggested not keeping any of the Trust rieslings beyond a couple years, despite other advice that raved about its petrol-like qualities. I’ve had a 2001 German riesling before that and was none too impressed with the tones of varnish. Some people must like that stuff. Not me. Washington riesling is all about the fruit and tangy acids. And no more than 2% residual sugar. Riesling is our answer to true French Champagne. It pairs with just about everything Northwest in cuisine, and takes the gourmet experience to the next level without blasting a hole in the Amex Black card. Why is it not on more wine lists around Seattle is somewhat perplexing. After all, a restaurant could charge a measly $5 a glass and still make a hefty 400% profit on minimal cost. Go figure.

Paired with pork marsala, Country Crock mashed, and Beecher’s Reserve Flagship cheese. Fully recovered from temporary blindness…

Tasted at 52-62 degrees on the IR temp gun. Color-tuned to light clarified butter, this syrupy riesling breeched the Riedel rim with aromas of heady peach, apple blossoms, white/yellow flowers, honeysuckle, and stone fruits. Mmm, stony. Correspondingly dense and sappy on the palate, the lengthy flavors evolved from peach-flavored schnapps and lime to honeydew and kiwi with a tinge of sultry oak. On opening, disregard the ephemeral cast of reductive plume. Beautiful.

Alcohol: 13.5%. Columbia Valley AVA. Off-dry (RS 1.1%). Acids: medium +. Alcohol: medium -. Finish: medium +. Power: 2/5. Balance: 3/5. Depth: 3/5. Finesse: 3/5. Rated: 91. Value: $20. Paid: $16. Music pairing: “What Make You Beautiful” by One Direction. This is WAwineman… uncorked, uneducated but not uncouth.

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