Remember when I kind of wanted to hate that big-ass Napa Cab from Del Dotto Vineyards?
Well, there’s now a sequel to that story.
Not too long ago, Shannon and I managed to escape the confines of our typical (yet blissful!) domestic scenario for a date night, and once again I decided to indulge her desire for a big CA Cabernet. And once again, I kind of expected to hate it.
Except, I didn’t.
One of the interesting things about working with Cristaldi & Co. is that my boss Jonathan Cristaldi, as part of his tenure with Decanter (in which he was recently promoted—congratulazioni!) is that he does not review Napa Valley wines on Cristaldi & Co. And so I find myself left with a good number of Napa Valley wines in the sample pool.
In the case of this particular date night, I grabbed the remaining Del Dotto Vineyards Napa Valley Cab in the stash, and when such a wine insists on imprinting the oak regimen on the front label you can be reasonably assured that you have an oak bomb incoming.
And, well, yeah, kind of; apparently, the entire point behind this particular lineup of wines from Del Dotto Vineyards is to show how the oak (Taransaud, in this case) impacts the wine, specifically the Cabernet from their 11-acre vineyard planted neat the Mayacamas mountains on the western side of St. Helena in Napa Valley (which normally provides the majority of fruit for their flagship red, “The Beast”).
Do I hate oak in wine? In short, No.
Do I want it to be one of the primary aromatic and flavor components of any wine? Also, No.
Does this wine suck because of the oak focus? Definitely a No.
This Cab is super deep. Über deep. Insanely deep. It’s also totally and utterly obnoxious in its assault on the senses; it has no subtlety at all. Normally, that would be a deal-breaker for me, even with expensive Napa Cab. BUT… With soooooooooooo much ripe, juicy, and pure blackcurrant, blackberry, plum, and black cherry fruit action all over it, it actually has a very, VERY good chance to absorb all of that oak given time in the bottle. The oak is prominent, but it’s also (dare we say it) elegant: spicy, high-toned oak, and there’s a ton of it, but it’s in the “awesome smelling candle” territory of pleasantness. Think coffee, leather, toast, and bubbling brown sugar. The mouthfeel is super sultry and silky. It’s not contemplative, it’s not going to whisper to you, it’s not going to be gentle. But it’s just going to be insanely delicious probably at any point in its lifecycle, including right now.
Cheers!
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