Barrel Tasting ’07 – Or "My Wine Has a Touch O’ the Gay!"

Barrel Tasting ’07 – Or "My Wine Has a Touch O’ the Gay!"

I started Barrel Tasting weekend with the firm assertion that I would not buy a ton of wine because good fucking god, where would I put it?! (Last cellar count: 418 bottles…and rising) I even trimmed my budget down so that I had no choice but to cut back on purchases due to lack of funds until next payday (which is only like three days away). Yeah, fat lot of good that did me. Mom was no help, telling me she’d spot me until payday if necessary. So. Fuck.

Our first mistake was heading to Geyserville on Friday on our way over to Santa Rosa (if you know California geography, you’ll know that going to Santa Rosa from Dixon via Geyserville is the most absurd route one could take…). We had to go there because one of our fave wine spots, Locals, is right there and mom had a wine club shipment to pick up. And of course we did some damage while we were there because they possess not only the wonderful Hawley Viognier that I can’t live without, they also have a wide variety of awesome trinkets and tchotchkes to peruse and purchase. I picked up these napkins because I couldn’t stop laughing and almost choked on my own spit.

At first I thought I’d be the only one laughing at them, but apparently they really are that damn funny because only one person I showed them to did not laugh…and I think that’s only because she didn’t look at the image while she was reading. Yeah, the image brings it home.

While we were in Geyserville visiting Locals, we popped next door to Meeker, a place we’d always wanted to visit and just…never did. And this is where I actually spent myself right over my budget, and we weren’t even into the weekend yet. The place rocked, the wines rocked, and they had a bathroom on whose walls we were encouraged to write with a set of Sharpies so handily provided by the owners. All of us left our little mark. I was the only one who actually left something profound, but honestly, who wants profound while they’re taking a shit? So all I managed to do was make myself feel smart. Queen of Uncool am I.

Today was a lovely day and involved a huge load of spending first-thing in the morning at Sunce, where they make the most incredible Malbec, Nebbiolo, Barbera, and their signature Suck-Your-Teeth, Slap-Your-Ass Cab. They also have a fantastic Pinot which I was all over, and their malbec-barbera blend (called, appropriately, a Malbera) which I took half a case of. And of course, these were all futures…so once again, as is the purpose of Barrel Tasting Weekend, I paid money for wine that is still just a theory. I won’t see this stuff until this time next year. Le *sigh*. But of course, bonus! I get my wine from last year! Woo! So. Yeah.

We made our usual stop at Acorn, and they weren’t offering two of the three futures we usually get, the gorgeous Sangiovese and the tummy-tickling Cab Franc. And sadly, their Axiom future tasted meh. So we left without anything at all. Fucking bummer. Down the road a piece, we hit a new one for us, a little joint called Meitz, where we discovered an amazing Claret and a tasty Petit Verdot (a grape rarely used for anything other than blending). After that, we hit Alderbrook, where it was all I could do to stay awake because I just was tired of tasting wine already. Yes, three wineries and I was beat. I partly blame the fact that I just don’t care if we go there or not. I’m a bit of a sourpuss about that one. I’m sure their wines are good. I just…don’t care.

The highlight at Alderbrook was this group of loud, drunk women who went around offering people cookies from a Tupperware container as they came in from their picnic on the back lawn. They promised us the cookies were not laced, and I think secretly we were all disappointed. Their limo driver came to retrieve them, and we left about fifteen minutes later, only to find them still in the parking lot, moon roof open, windows down, the Pointer Sisters’ “Jump” blaring on the stereo…the whole limo shook as they danced and hooted and hollered in the back. Up front, the limo driver gave us a silly grin and shrugged. I so don’t even want his job, but he seemed to be having fun too, so. Rock.

We made a disappointing stop at Preston, where there were too many people for us to really enjoy ourselves. Plus half our group got lost on the ride out there and we just kind of gave up on the experience. Bummer. I love Preston. They bake their own sourdough bread and have tons of cats. And they’re an organic farm too. *sniff*

Our last stop of the day was too much awesome to pass up. Mazzocco. Now last year, Mazzocco was a fucking zoo and we dreaded going there this year. But I’m so glad we did, because we got to meet and hang out with The Very Gay Winemaker. And when someone like me, a certified fag hag, actually announces that someone is Very Gay, you know it’s all business up in there. Because I’m used to being around The Gay all the time, so it’s like just another human trait as far as I’m concerned. But the winemaker…he was the Gayest of the Gays that Ever Gayed in California. I wanted to tuck him into my bosom and tote him around like a party favor. As he regaled us with tales of his recent trip to Peru, I had to fight hard against the gaycrush I could feel rising in my soul. Oh my, do I ever recommend visiting Mazzocco. As often as you possibly can. Oh, and their wines are great too.