Marsanne and Viognier were fermented together, then aged for 6 months in mature oak, to make this full-bodied white blend. The color is translucent, with barely a hint of straw. The nose has some fruit and a touch of must, apples, peaches, and magnolias. Pears and peaches lead on the
Apples, cloves, and nutmeg aromas roil up from the glass. Apples and cloves lead on the palate, with a surprisingly savory mid-palate offering hints of mushroom and leafy herbs. Classic Viognier tropical fruits pop out and linger on the finish. This is a complex and interesting wine that would pair
The color is pale, barely a straw yellow. Vigonier and Semillon shine through on the nose, redolent with honeysuckle and guava. Sauvignon Blanc makes a showing with a bit of cut grass in the back. On the palate, tropical fruits, guava and pineapple, join crisp pear and hints of white
Color is a very pretty very pale gold. The nose is rich with classic Viognier tropical fruit. Meyer Lemon, guava, and fried plantains come out on the palate. The balance between citrus and tropics will make it welcome on many tables. Drink with baked chicken with peaches. Recommended. 88 points.
The color is a pale gold. The nose offers classic viognier aromas of tropical fruits and citrus blossoms. Tropical fruits lead on the palate. Meyer lemon and mango lead, with banana and coconut in the background. The finish falls off a bit quickly, but this is a pleasant quaff, and
It's that time of year again. This week we will be running our favorite articles from Palate Press staff writers. Evan Dawson's always insightful wine writing for Palate Press often covers the Rhône and here he revisits the "old vines make better wines" marketing trope. On a 97-degree day in France’s Northern Rhône Valley, I
On a 97-degree day in France’s Northern Rhône Valley, I was standing at the top of a vertiginous parcel of vines with a chain-smoking winemaker. There wasn’t a single part of Laurent Courbis that seemed coached or “media-trained” or careful. He was the picture of authenticity. And then he said
It is a drizzly afternoon in late February when Stéphane Ogier drives me in his Range Rover to the top of a hillside overlooking the Rhône River and the small town of Seyssuel just north of Vienne. We bump along rutted, muddy farm lanes at the edge of a plateau