Just Peachy

The Vinagoth loves him some Petite Sirah. While all manner of grapes grace these pages, when it comes to sitting down for some serious swilling your author oftentimes chooses the delectable delights of Dr. Durif. A considerable amount of the best Petite Sirah I’ve consumed originates from the Paso Robles area of California and some recent travels found me in that very town. I was traveling by car and Paso Robles fell at the half-way point of our two-day drive. While the town itself is not much to behold (think “Sunburns and Tractor Pulls!”) the vineyards of the region produce some damn good fruit.

My traveling companion and I went out for dinner upon our arrival. He chose the place, I chose the wine. He chose a local pizza joint, then informed me that he doesn’t drink. The things I have to endure! The pizza place was nice, with a big brick oven and a huge choice of wines, all local. We ordered a medium pepperoni, and I requested jalapenos and garlic on my half. (what can I say… I’m a barbarian!) Afterwards I walked over to the huge array of local wines and spotted this Petite Sirah, the only Durif in the whole display! I ordered a bottle, and the nice lady behind the counter handed me an open bottle and a glass.

Peachy Canyon 2005 Petite Sirah, Paso Robles, CA ~$18/bottle

Love this wine. Big. Tasty. Just like a Petite Sirah should be. It even stood up to the killer death barbaric pizza… well almost. You see they mangled the order and forgot the garlic, so we were given another pizza for free. The first had the jalapenos, but not the garlic. The peppers themselves were killer-hot. Like wines, you never know what you’ll get with a Jalapeno. Sometimes they are sweet and mild, sometimes, once bitten they will burn through matter like the blood of a H. R Giger Alien, seeking the gravitational core of the planet. The Jalapenos of Paso Robles fall into the latter end of the Scoville Scale. I had to peel off quite a few of the damn things to be able to taste anything afterwards. Very few wines, especially reds, can stand up to a Capsaicin clobbering such as the one I was enduring. The Peachy held up “ok” with plenty of ice water “palate cleansers” thrown over the tongue to douse the wildfire burning there.

I re-corked the bottle and brought it back to the hotel, where I assumed I’d have another glass before turning in. The stuff was so good I polished the whole bottle off that night…

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