This wasn't a one-time, in-one-sitting tasting. This turned out to be a three-day adventure for him and a nearly identical adventure for me. And most of it's 'cause we don't know everything we should know about Mourvèdre. But we do know just enough to be dangerous.
So I became an ABC (Anything But Chard) gal. It was quite a few years before I found the Chard character my palate desired and, as I discovered, you had a spend a little money to get it. Nowadays - whether it's because you really don't have to spend a fortune to enjoy a good Chard or because my palate has matured - I enjoy it on a fairly regular basis. Yup. Me. Liking white wines. Who'da thunk?
I was done. There was nothing left. I cried uncle. Generous servings along with delicious wines had done me in.
The first two bottles were great, don't get me wrong. This one (time to rest? bottle variation? planet alignment? full moon? sun spots?) was absolutely outstanding, and I stretched that bottle out over two nights. It lost almost nothing the second evening.
The next night I had a roasted turkey thigh and poured a glass of the same wine – with some trepidation, I might add. After all, could a wine that caressed the barbecue sauce so beautifully the night before possibly be any good with plain ‘ol turkey?