Chardonnay love

I recently had a glass of Chardonnay that stopped me in my tracks…one of those wines that wakes you up inside and reminds you of the almighty power of Mother Nature alchemized by reverent human hands.

Immediately I was reminded of a hot summer’s night and biting into the most succulent cob of roasted corn at the height of the season. Its holy juices gently splashing my cheeks…then supple, fine ribbons of butterscotch woven into French vanilla ice cream…and when you come back to nose it for a third time (because you simply can’t resist) there’s bright, ripe golden apple and so much solar power.

Six years after bottling and on the palate there’s still loads of life in this wine. She’s round and full with a pristine backbone of acidity that draws her power up and in and forwards. Minerality striking like a sheet of glass—a crystal clear lake in the backwoods, reflecting the rising sun, misting the morning air.

Sometimes I like to think I’m more than a "Chardonnay girl,” and then I come across one of these magic ones…it wraps me in its insistent grace and whispers, “No dear, you’re a Chardonnay Woman.”