Fling another pie in the Millenial’s face!
Bernie’s army just got a lot thinner after yet another set of expected losses, mostly in the backyard of homer’s Northeast region. “It’s a posture of reality,” quipped the nursing home candidate who introduced a sugar-coated form of socialism to this country. Yes Bernie, just like all my millennial ex-gf’s when I made them get down on all fours.
In the latest pages of Celebrity Overdose is that 9th Wonder of The World, Chyna. Now, who didn’t have just the teeniest bit of curiosity that she was packing junk in her wrasslin’ tights under all that ripped muscle? She was a bodybuilder’s dream, at least her pecs, quads, and delts, and probably lifted more than a majority of the other male studs that strutted down the WWF ramp. But fear not, Prince may end up following her on the list as narcotics were found in his residence. Celebrities and illicit drug use have always gone hand-in-hand. What’s so ironic, but not surprising, is that sales of the-artist-formerly-known-as-then-recovered-his-name’s music have shot up the charts. What flattery… knowing you’re worth more dead than alive.
And, typical Seattle millenials… railing against the Facebook poster by UW cheerleading advising potential cheerleaders on the do’s and don’ts for their tryouts. There’s a decent picture of a lovely blonde with a shapely slim figure and pointers on how to appear. The advice is nothing unexpected or insulting. After all, it’s cheerleading. Name a major university’s cheerleader team that includes a tatted, Krispy Kreme-muffin topped, beauty pageant-cosmetic caked, color-blind attired horseface in stolen Air Jordans? Nevertheless, millenials who resemble the roadkill that the dog buried under the tree bothered to let the social media world know how offended they were.. and probably because they’re so fugly, they wouldn’t have qualified in the first place. Talk about hating on others who actually work at taking care of their bodies instead of chimping on the phones as they watch the latest Game of Thrones episode from last season while sucking on a donut pop or a larded Nashville-style fried chicken thigh.
Continuing on the things are not what they appear to be theme… the marketplace recently presented this compelling bottle at a fraction of the price for previous vintages. You had to do a double-take if you saw the $13.99 price tag for a wine from Ross Andrew Winery. And, even more so for his syrah– from an old block at Washington’s second oldest vineyard for growing syrah. Prices for this winery’s previous vintages topped almost $70 for juice from the same plot of land. Now, while it seems every other winery in Woodinville makes a Boushey Vineyard syrah, only a handful know how extract the terroir that makes Boushey syrah the most sought after in the region. Notice, I didn’t say “one of the most” or anything that may suggest I am kowtowing to other vineyards. No. Boushey Vineyard syrah stands alone… when done right. The ‘Old Guard’ know the secrets, among them is Betz Family Winery. And, Ross Mickel perfected his craft at Betz. So, the expectations were set very high for this baby.
However, the fine print was it was the 2011 vintage. The dreaded 2011 vintage. The one this blog has warned against buying anything from that ice cold year. $14 was just too much bait not to take. After all, the somms and other retailers waxed so poetic about the 2011 vintage with tones of “delayed gratification” and “longer cellar time” to coax out delicate, complex flavors. It’s like polishing a turd, folks.
Nevertheless, it got fast-tracked with our group’s testing. Didn’t matter. This thing was like a dead thoroughbred. I don’t blame the winemaking. It’s the shitty grapes that came from a cold AVA in a cold year. No bacon fat. No morels. None of that blistery, smoked-meat cabinet that is the hallmark of Boushey Vineyard syrah. In defense, there was life to this syrah–good fruit, good botanicals, and firm spine. But, that type of syrah was ubiquitous with the 2007 vintage. This tasted like it came from the Okanogan Valley.
Tasted at 62-69 degrees on the IR temp gun. Color: dark magenta. Nose: smoky blackberry, cedar plank, tobacco leaf. Mouthfeel: soft, 3am. Tail trail: 7 seconds. Flavors: plum, raspberry, blueberry, supermarket spice rack, dried cherry, acidic. Not even a bitch-slap would have helped. Paired with grilled ribeye… should have popped a cabernet.
Alcohol: 14%. Columbia Valley AVA. 1994 block. Phelps clone. No listing on winery website, like this thing got abandoned at the fire station. Power: 2/5. Balance: 2/5. Depth: 2/5. Finesse: 2/5. Rated: 88. Value: $17. Music pairing: “Hit The Road Jack” by Ray Charles. This is WAwineman… uncorked, uneducated but not uncouth.