I haven’t posted a sip review in quite a long time now. If I’m honest it’s because 2020 was such a struggle that doing even the simplest thing felt like a Herculean task. But this isn’t a blog about depression, it’s about regional boozes and my impressions of them.
I don’t think I need to dive deep into politics, which I’m loath to do anyway, to explain that the 2020 presidential election was a weirdly disturbing affair. The mere mention of it will, doubtless, send anyone reading this running to their side of the battlefield, ready to take up arms. Trumpism took hold of half of us with a fierce grip, and anti-Trumpism the other half. We drew bizarre lines in our imaginary sand and declared that crossing them meant you were pure evil. Rage and hate hung in the air like a thick fog, youth suicide skyrocketed, and America as a whole felt like a drug crazed party gone horribly wrong and devolving into a fiery riot.
January is typically a sober month for me, and this one had been so far. But I decided that the inauguration and transition out of the Trump era (one can hope) and into a more peaceful age warranted a break from my dry January doldrums and the popping of a good champagne.
Before anyone reading this gets started on that tiresome tirade about how it’s not champagne unless it’s from that region in France and made in a very specific way, we all know that. This is a “sparkling wine” from Argyle Winery in Newberg, Oregon. I am calling it champagne because I use that word to describe the thing we drink in celebration of something. There are those who will wag their finger at me for this, and those who understand it and use “champagne” the same way. So be it. We all know you’re technically right, and that the name “champagne” is exclusive to a very specific French beverage, but we’ll use it wrong anyway, and we’ll fight for our right to be wrong to the end. This isn’t about your facts, it’s about our freedom to use the wrong word and not be judged!
This particular bottle was a 2016 blend from the Willamette Valley of 55% Chardonnay, 35% Pinot Noir, and 10% Pinot Meuner that is bottle fermented and described, rather unappealingly, on the bottle as “disgorged on-demand.” A process that immediately brings to mind a series of rather revolting images of having enjoyed too much of it.
I watched the inaugural proceedings with a nervous dread. A sniper’s bullet, or rogue pipe bomb, or something awful that I couldn’t imagine seemed inevitable. America felt like a place that simply couldn’t pull off a peaceful transfer of power anymore. And when the swearing in was done and things started to feel like they might not catch on fire, I treated myself to a rather large goblet of the bubbly.
A tip of the hat is in order for Argyle. This fizzy treat has almost no sweetness, thank all that’s holy, but instead has a bone-dry toasted, woody essence. A faint hint of hazelnut (more on the nose than the tongue) with just the slightest green apple tartness to it. Truly delightful across the whole mouth and with lingering warm tones of oak and fresh baked bread that drift like a soft breeze through your entire head.
As I enjoyed the feeling of spreading heat radiating from my belly, I could feel my neck and shoulders start to slowly relax back down to where they belong and yet had not been in what felt like years. I knew full well that the road ahead was full of battles for our bitterly divided nation, but if we can make a drink this delicious then we can do anything.
Many thanks to Argyle Winery for producing such a perfect companion to this moment, and such a tasty way to celebrate it.