"Bloody, red burgundy... I can taste the iron, the steel and red hemoglobin, and it reminds me of the durm and strang of hand to hand combat, the clang of broadsword against plate mail, the desperate screams of victors and victims alike. This is a wine at war with itself. Is it a deep, dark secret of the soul, whispered in darkness as the storm rages and survival is unassured? Is it a feral howl, a bellowing chant of violence and aggression? It has these elements and more. There is something of the chaotic about this Lambrays, red Corton-like, unknit, a dancing in the dark with demons wildness. I found it impossible to predict where it was going, what point it was trying to make, where we would all end up at the end of the night. It is roadhouse wine, for sure, complex, unresolved, perhaps not quite yet ready for the light of day. Out of the bottle, opened an hour, we hit blood-iron and steel, dark rose scents, earth, a hint of birch stem, some green leafiness. Gradually, things happened in the glass, and were still happening by the time we poured the last sips down our thirsty gullets. She got better, less strident, less anxious to make herself known and more content that we were on her side and would not abandon her. But she never quite got to where I wanted her to be. Let’s revisit in another 5 years. It is a risky tactic. Some of the flavors range to plumminess, coca-cola, fig-infused balsamic... umami for sure... tannin, yes, but acidity, not so much. Where will it all lead, we ponder... to a triumphant resolve in complex precision (or is it precise complexity?)? Or to a big fat sloppy mess of component parts strewn across the battlefield like limbs and offal... Time, we know for sure, will tell."