Wine Worth Dealing With The Devil

Faust
Napa Valley
Cabernet Sauvignon
2014
$60.95 LCBO

     My initial “Wow!” reaction to this wine (which, while ideal, is not actually helpful ) was followed with the completely obscure thought of: “this tastes like charcoal-grilled steaks.” This reaction, while very helpful, also came with a tag along of “oh no… I’m pretentious!” But if you’ll forgive me for that and keep reading, I’ll elaborate:

     Firstly, this wine is incredibly rich; not the kind you marry above your age for, but it might make you consider it, if only to be able to pay for teeth whitening after the second glass. Secondly, it has a woody, peppery flavour that can only be likened to steak rub on a charcoal grill – yes, that’s overly specific, but believe me, this description is realer than your family’s Sunday BBQ. Thirdly, the fruit comes through so much on this bottle that it had me scrambling to check that I had gotten my facts straight on the residual sugar content; I had, but boy was it hard to believe. Coming in at a measly 4g/L, this wine makes something out of nothing, rivaling the best sweet teas, with its smooth mouth feel, drinkability, and almost imperceptible tannins. It is balanced, complex, and confident (that fine line between bold and refined).

     This wine was released this past weekend by the LCBO, and while I would have liked to share it with you closer to the release date, I was out of province – and out of reach of a bottle. Faust sits at a slightly higher price point ($60.95) but if you have the means or occasion, this is a brilliant choice. It is still young at 2014, and I expected it to need at least an hour of decanting but it surprised me by being almost ready to drink straight out of the bottle. That being said, it certainly opened up after an hour, and offered a plethora of interesting aromas and flavours, including teriyaki sauce (weird, but don’t knock it) and lake water. I know I would sell my soul to the devil for another bottle of this.

     Yours in all things wine,
                              Christine