This is what can happen when you expect too much from a wine-in this case, a rosé. This, as opposed to just letting the wine tell you its own story, rather than the ignorant mind of some traipsing amateur conjuring one of his own (which nearly happened...I was the amateur). So, I have this unfiltered rosé from 100% Grenache grown in white clay and decomposed granitic sand, the 2007 Portal del Montsant 'Brunus' Rosé, and I'm all too anxious to have this paralytic rosé epiphany. Alas, I reach the bottom of the bottle on an early August picnic date with the frau, and all I'm greeted with is an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. What a drag, right? -To have expected so much, and thus never to have realized the point at which your expectations had long since been met, satisfied even to utter exhaustion. I suspect we wine geeks at times can't even speak the language of fulfillment and satisfaction, the dream of something bigger, better, deeper haunts us so.
But that's also what drives profundity on the sell-side...so whatever. The nose on this Brunus was a bit inexpressive at first, mulish even. I imagine the wine was a bit too cool at first. This had more of a seductive white wine nose, with the wet chalk and red berries you sometimes get with Riesling (Selbach, say). Marked acidity here, great structure, ever so subtle tannin, like a tickle monster with a two-year-old's hands. After the temperature corrections, this started to take on a Minute Maid OJ persona, both on the nose and palate, and became just an absolute joy to drink. There wasn't one aspect of this wine that screamed louder for attention than another-everything was in perfect harmony. Sure, I failed to notice the moment of satisfaction-as devoid of empiricism as such a notion is-but at least I took the time to say 'slow down' to myself, especially when it comes to offhandedly inferring greatness to any rosé wine that corners me, without so much as a nod to context.
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