Tired and generally shagged out

As this note appears online I will be heading into London for Clark Foyster’s 2011 Burgundy en primeur tasting – this the most desirable event of the Burgundy tasting calendar. I will wear loud clothing and sample hilariously fine wines whilst rubbing my belly with mirth. The jocularity of the event should prevent the ‘going to London’-experience from annihilating all memories of the wines I’ve tasted this week. Consequently, I’ll certainly be completely capable of cogitating on the collection of reds I’ve consumed to compose compelling critiques on the 2011 red Burgundy en primeur circus. I shall report over the next few days.

So whilst I am tasting I hope you will be mildly distracted by this report on the wine I popped to recover from an all-nighter writing up 2011 white Burgundy. I wanted something as fresh and fruity as 2011 Burgundy seems to be, but of a different aspect. I hoped Bandol Rosé 2010 from the excellent Chateau Pradeaux would hit my sensitive bits quite accurately. The mind boggles…

Chateau Pradeaux Bandol Rose 2010
Chateau Pradeaux Bandol Rose 2010

Bandol Rosé 2010, Chateau Pradeaux

What the hell am I doing owning a bottle of three year old rosé? I know Bandol rosé is a bit more rugged and robust than the average rosé, but I knew you drank these things as soon as possible after release before I was legally allowed to buy it. There is a suggestion of rather insipid red currants on the nose and that’s it. And red currants are crap as any fool knows. The nose is so tired out it is pathetically dreary. The palate is completely dead as well, having the charm and enchantment of a particularly doleful Scotsman discussing rugby with a bunch of jocund Englishmen. When the Scotsman hasn’t been allowed any Buckfast for a week. The first thing that vexes me is the motive behind me to buying this cheerless bottle of arrant depression. Furthermore, why did I ever bother opening it and risk serious dysphoria rather than give it to someone I despise with a fulgurating virulence? By the cat’s long-since removed danglies, I must have been insane! Twice!