Most of you, that is, practically all of you readers out there missed the recent Tasteless Washington event where hordes of wine whores convened in lower Seattle to score free pours of Washington wines.
The event kicked off with a wine tasting race called the WAcked Wine Derby where local wine bloggers whose writings sound like a three year-old hermaphrodite wrote them mount their overly obese lardasses onto a stick pony and skip around the track of wine booths, sampling wines as fast as they can then rating each one with equal perfunctoriness as they sprint to the finish line laced with green and purple cheeses and authentic prosciutto from California. Yours truly and my fellow peer reporter, Britt McHorny, announced the race.
Viewing the day’s racing sheet sponsored by Chateaus And My Shells, we see that the odds on favorite at 5:1 is none other than Walla Walla fanboy and overrater Sean Sillyvain. Not far behind is uber-horse luhhhh-ver who stole and claimed as her own–The Chiffons ripoff title of “She’s So Equine”… why that would be none other than Shona of Woodinville Wine Dipshits. Longshots squatting in the outer lanes include Margot, who peglegged it from the ass end of nowhere to place in last year’s free-for-all; Jameson the unemployed greaseball who would rather attend a wine seminar on anthocyanins than shag a Nordstrom model, male or female; and Kori the eternal wine creep who fluffs free wine from wineries that daddy had great influence in initiating the free pipeline.
The free-wine fattened hyenas are all locked into their gates then after a brief salute to the wine commish who gave them free passes while the poor masses actually had to shell out a few bucks to acquire those heavily discounted tickets, the bell sounds… Aaaaaaand, they’re off! Kori’s in the lead at the clubhouse turn. She nearly breaks the course record for the first furlong as she whips down a dozen glasses of 1 ounce pours from SYZYGY, Tempus Cellars, Terra Blanca, Tenor and Tertulia. Her only hangup was nearly choking on a stem from Thorny Rose.
As they enter the backstretch, some outsiders have taken the inside rails! Why look, it’s that old 50-something goat in William Blake G. splashing down his favorite Rainier Wines, Purple Star, and Saint Laurent Wines as he boasts that Napa wines are still better, but not by much. It looks like Bon Jonne is right behind him and appears to be giving assistance to his friend and Bay Area cohort by giving Willy a hand. No, literally, he’s pushed his hand so far in that it’s actually stuck up Willy’s ass! Britt looks shell-shocked at what she’s seeing and notices one of the track officials is about the disqualify the pair and she assesses the developing situation to the crowd, “Looks like Bon’s hand is in deep shit!”
At the far turn, Margot and Shona have taken the lead and… wait a minute, they have both suddenly slowed down as they pass the Viking stage. It looks like since there are no free wine booths in sight, they have decided to make out with their stick horses behind the stage. They convince the rest of the uninfluential field to hunker down and stroke the mighty stick that Shona rode and is now riding in a new and deeply disturbing posture. What is that moaning sound coming from? Says Britt: “Gives new meaning to the term, 14 hands.”
And DOWN THE STRETCH they come! Streaking past the VIP barrel closet, Doubleback, Dunham, and Dusted Valley tables, the Silly and Vain one catches a second wind of Walla Walla whiff but oh no!, his jockey pants have come undone down to his knees! You can hear all the guy wine bloggers go “Oooooo!” as they conclude he is not wearing any knockers, yet they see the trademark skidmark on his striped trousers. Britt smugly kicks in, “Will he be suspendered after the race?” Well, at least he’s not bringing up the rear. I can’t tell which one is his face, tho. Overheard in the crowd, “And I thought that smell only came from reading his stupid overrated-wines report.” Another bloke pops his antiviral medication and quaffs, “Guess he passed on the samples from Modesty Wines.” Next to me in the announcement booth, Jamie PeePee haa’d, “Well, now I know why the derps at Choad Enthusiast chose him.”
As to who won, I won’t spoil it for you because you just had to be there to witness history on par with the lighting of the Hindenburg. But, I got bills to pay so slide a Franklin in my handshake next time and I’ll tell ya.
The new DeLille Cellars is the same as the old one, except the prices are higher and there are more high-end offerings that you and I can no longer afford. Thankfully, their Doyenne lineup is still mostly in sane territory if you can find any on sale outside the chateau and Carriage House. Doyenne is the non-Bordeaux portfolio that encompasses the wines made with grapes best associated with the Rhone region of France. Suffice to say, this entry-level syrah offers the best value without the need to sell your gf, if only for a night.
Tasted at 53-67 degrees on the IR temp gun. Squid ink black with deep garnet rims, this Red Mountain AVA wine rocks the nares with black currant, red currant and red cedar smokelines. Full and dense expressing a muscular mid-palate of purple berries, sweet cedar, black licorice, sarsaparilla, blueberries, and black pepper, this silky juice seduces your soul while shading the fact that the grapes hail from the cold 2010 harvest. This is why you go Red Mountain, regardless of any year’s climate challenges.
Alcohol: 15.0%. Red Mountain AVA. Winemaker: Theodora’s husband. Power: 3/5. Balance: 2/5. Depth: 2/5. Finesse: 3/5. Rated: 90. Value: $30. Paid: $32. Retail: $39. Music pairing: “Bills” by LunchMoney Lewis. This is WAwineman… uncorked, uneducated but not uncouth.