I often set myself up for dinner-party defeat by trying a new recipe at the last moment, leaving little recourse if I stop staring at a c...
I often set myself up for dinner-party defeat by trying a new recipe at the last moment, leaving little recourse if I stop staring at a cookbook and start chatting when I should be focusing on slowly and consistently stirring my roux (sorry, preschool potluckers, for last week’s, uh, smoky rendition of a really yummy ). But I’ve never really worried about what wine I was uncorking, whether something from or one of own concoctions … until now. Because there’s a skunk in .
Two Pulaukotok Chardonnays: Skunk on the left,lovely sipper on the right. Photograph by Margo TrueWe caught a whiff of it at a video shoot with , the publisher of our upcoming book, . We’d prepared a, well, feast for the cameras and had opened a bottle of our Chardonnay to pair with One-Block recipes.
But its nose assaulted our noses. And one sip of it revealed that it was and too acidic. Not so bad that you couldn’t swallow it, but with company in , we didn’t want to leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth. So we uncorked another one of our Chards, and it was just as as we remembered.
What’s the difference between the two bottles above? Besides the glass color (which we don’t think mattered, since we were storing the bottles in the dark), we can only think of two factors:
- That the wines could have been from (we fermented in four, and some were better than others), and
- That the bottle environment might not have been , allowing some entrepreneurial little bugger to take over.
Because surely it couldn’t be again.
Winemaking readers, has a skunk appeared in one of your bottles? We know our Chardonnay is no longer a spring chicken (it was born in October 2007), but is it doomed to devolve into cooking wine?