07 Cuatro Pasos, Mencia
Listen. Come close. So, now tell me. How's my breath? Well, yours is pretty terrible, too. But we'll talk some, eat a few tapas, and, I promise you, make out before the moon turns the night blue. Because anything off tonight is as much my fault as anyone else's. It's not me, it's us. That could very well be mencia's slogan. men THEE uh. It tastes a lot like whatever that middle syllable is supposed to be. I never thought a wine could make me google the word dipthong. But watch how your tongue bats the roof of your mouth and you exhale, sigh, calm the tremelo of your slurping winegeek taste. Come on you Ramen-critics-in-another-life. You know who I mean. For the rest of you (god bless you), what I'm saying is that this people- and food-friendly Spaniard is every articulation of the wines you enjoy. The ripe but structured aroma. The subtle tannic reference to Bordeaux. The musk for the man. The fruit that tells his fiancée, yeah, he is so gentle. It moves and changes with us. Inhale. Exhale. Love and hate. This is Major Tom to Ground Control. Ashes to ashes. Funk to funky. Let us all be mencia junkies.