Somewhere along the Blue Ridge Parkway in the mountains of Virginia stands a vineyard with a noble mission. Chateau Morrisette advertises that an undisclosed portion of its wine sales will be donated to help treat dogs with kidney disease. As it turns out, the company's Red Mountain Laurel tastes like it may have been filtered through a dog's kidneys. Billed as a sweet, red table wine, the Red Mountain Laurel smells like Vaseline and tastes like Robitussin mixed with a melted cherry Popsicle. This is not hyperbole."I didn't realize that Johnson & Johnson was a vintner," says Claudia, warming to her subject as she pours the glass down the kitchen sink. "I had to use two teaspoons of Palmolive dishwashing liquid just to get the smell out of this glass. The label says, 'for the love of dogs,' but if they had any love for their customers they would discontinue this wine."
Claudia pulls the cork on a bottle of Syrah and pours a glass, she says, to get rid of the taste of the Red Mountain Laurel. I dare to try another sip in the interest of journalistic fairness. Maybe it isn't as bad as I thought.
Nope. Waste of time. It really is as nasty as Claudia says, with a stench like burning rubber, as though a teenager peeled out of the driveway in a rusted Chevy and filled the air with acrid smoke.
"Maybe it will clean the drain pipes," Claudia says, upending the bottle over the sink. The unnaturally bright red wine looks like fruit punch as it blub, blub, blubs down the drain, filling the kitchen with stink.
"That was the worst bottle of wine I ever conceived of tasting," my wife says. I raise an eyebrow, less out of surprise over a disappointing wine than the uncharacteristic vitriol that sweet Claudia brings to the table this evening. Claudia typically goes out of her way to avoid harsh criticism. Not tonight.
"Ugh!" she says. "That petroleum jelly smell won't go away."
Here's the vintner's own appraisal, as published on the Chateau Morissette website:
"This is a distinctive dessert wine made from a blend of native American grape varieties. It exhibits flavors of fresh grapes and cherries that are complemented by a sweet, smooth finish. A nice accompaniment for chocolate desserts, delicious poured over pound cake, or served as an aperitif."
One more taste, I think. Up to the lips, over the tongue. I cringe and make a face. Nasty wine. Chocolate and pound cake would be wasted on this vinegar. That fortified grape wine with the screw-off top -- the stuff that winos score downtown for $3.99 in nickels and dimes -- could not possibly be worse than Chateau Morrisette's red dessert wine. Nowhere on the label will you find the name of a varietal, the alcohol content or any other distinguishing factor beyond the company's philanthropic interest in dogs. Just don't give the poor brutes any of this wine. Red Mountain Laurel might euthanize the heartiest of our canine friends. We did not consume enough of it to gauge the impact on humans.
Could this just be a bad bottle? We don't think so. Red Mountain Laurel is on sale all over town at deep discounts, suggesting stores cannot get rid of the stuff at any price, although this wine would still be overpriced if they gave it away by the case. Drinking cough syrup could be no worse.
Manischewitz tastes like Veuve Cliquot compared to the antifreeze bottled under the Red Mountain Laurel label. Oy. El Shaddai. Spare us bad wine. Amen.
A Wine for All Seasons copyright (c) 2010 by Steve and Claudia Evans. All rights reserved.
