When I smell violets, others smell singed hair.

I have posted before on Vinsanity about wine descriptors and how each wine drinker has different ways of describing what they are tasting, usually dependent on their individual life experiences.  I have written of how Vinomaker is often reminded of Necco Wafers whilst drinking certain wines.  And, for me, how certain wines evoke the very olfactory-memorable smell of Parma Violets.  (First happened to me with a bottle of Château Margaux, purchased by Thud for my 18th birthday.)  Well, just recently, I began to follow an Instagram-er (who shall remain nameless) who has the craziest wine descriptors I have ever read.  (I wish I'd known about this wine reviewer last year when I was required to find some outlandish wine descriptors for the marketing class I was taking at NVC.)
Here is a selection of the reviews (and the wines described within);
"...bell pepper, warm wet concrete and garden hose.  Apple butter and dirt road this is red-checkered-tablecloths and old-fashioned wine glasses."  (2011 Illuminati Ilico Riserva, Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, DOC.)
"Barnyard bluster, full of funk, spit, manure and warm hay, framing an intense lilikoi and apricot, giving a fantastic ying/yang tropical/stone situation--with a decidedly buttery edge.  Minerality and oak play alongside pomegranate-skin tannin, banana and pineapple..."  (2014 Sea Monster Chardonnay, Los Alamos Vineyard, Santa Barbara County.)
"Tomato compote, kefir and green melon explodes into eucalyptus bark, dusty road while an icy vermouth and raspberry leaf tea warmth prop up the chalky brilliance."  (2014 Liquid Farm Chardonnay, Santa Rita Hills, Santa Barbara County.)
"Hair singeing rotten vegetables, Barbie sweat and dog-killed grass over a firm foundation of vegan hotdogs and turpentine-fueled electrical fire."  (2011 Red Lava Vineyards, Syrah, Lake County AVA.)
"Thin and bright, steely barnyard loveliness. Urine on galvanized steel and fat woodsy wet needles salted with nutmeg."  (2013 Villa Borghetti, Valpolicella Ripasso Superiore, DOC.)
I hope these wine reviews are meant to be tongue-in-cheek because Vinomaker and I have been having a laugh making fun of them: they are simply preposterous.  But then, who am I to pooh-pooh someone else's life experiences?  Titter, titter.

The nose knows.

Over the years there have been some wines that upon smelling Vinomaker has stated that, "this wine smells just like Necco Wafers".  Having no idea what a Necco Wafer smelled like, let alone tasted like, I would just humour him and nod like I knew exactly what he was talking about. The same way I suspect that he always humoured me when I would declare that some particular Cabernet Sauvignon "smells just like Parma Violets". (Parma Violets were one of my favourite sweets when I was little.)  The nose on our recent bottle of Barefoot Zinfandel just happened to elicit the, almost reflexive, Necco Wafer statement from Vinomaker. Unfortunately, having only ever tasted Necco Wafers once, I do not have the same olfactory memory to draw from, so thank you to Mr. Pellechia for validating Vinomaker's nose-nostalgia.
There aren't a lot of places in the San Francisco Bay Area that sell Necco Wafers, in fact I have never seen them for sale anywhere local.  I bought this packet of Necco Wafers in a petrol station in Utah on one of my trips there.  Necco Wafers are made by the New England Confectionery Company, (the oldest candy company in the United States and founded by Englishman, Oliver Chase), and a roll of Necco Wafers contains eight different flavours.  I'm thinking that it is a combination of five of those flavours, specifically clove, cinnamon, wintergreen, licorice and chocolate, that may be responsible for a cheap glass of red wine smelling like a candy/sweet.
Each one of us will have different descriptors for wine depending on our individual life experiences.  Apparently, Vinomaker and I associate certain aromas and flavours with candy/sweets from our respective childhoods. Considering that one's sense of smell is more closely linked with memory than any other sense, it is not surprising that certain smells can evoke particular memories.  I may not be exactly sure how that all works, I'm just glad that it does.

Double Gold.

Whilst reading wine-writer Dan Berger's column in this past Friday's 'On Wine' section of the Napa Valley Register I noticed that his 'Wine of the Week' was a Barefoot, NV, Zinfandel (California).  Hmmm, interesting.  I like Mr. Berger's columns and I like Zinfandel, so, with the wine's suggested retail price of a mere $8.00, I resolved that I had to try this wine - which proved to be easier said than done.
I went to three different supermarkets, but there was not a bottle of Barefoot Zinfandel to be found.  Each store carried a different selection of Barefoot wines, including; Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon blanc, Merlot, a Rich Red Blend, a Sweet Red Blend (perhaps wanting to steal Conundrum Red's market share), Pinot noir, Pink Moscato (ouch!  Just typing that makes me wince), Pinot grigio and a White Zinfandel (erm, no thanks). Undeterred, I finally found the Zinfandel in a CVS drugstore - for $5.00.  Five, dollars, people!
In the same section of the Register it was reported that Wine Spectator had recently named their No. 1 wine of the year: a Cabernet Sauvignon from Peter Michael Winery (Sir Peter, actually), the 2012 Au Paradis (Oakville AVA).  Incidentally, just in case anybody is interested, the Au Paradis garnered a 96 on the Speculator's scale.
Do these two wines have anything in common? Yes, both wines are wet, red, Californian and alcoholic.  However, one of these wines would set the consumer back about $160 - $180 (if you could even find it, which is highly unlikely), and the other is currently a fiver at CVS (though, almost just as hard to find if my experience is anything to go by).  And how did the Barefoot Zinfandel taste?  One would be justified in expecting this wine to taste fabulous, after all it won Double Gold at the '2012 Ultimate Wine Challenge'.  (Please, don't get me started on the merits and demerits of wine competitions.)  This perfectly quaffable wine proved to be very fruit forward with an abundance of sour-cherry, a slight ripe-raspberry component and a nose-pleasing pepperiness.  Vinomaker commented that the nose reminded him of Necco Wafers, a candy from his youth. Although a tiny bit low on acid for my liking, and with perhaps the faintest suggestion of residual sugar, I nevertheless ended up pouring myself a second glass.
WWRPD, or think?  No matter, it's a fait accompli.  And besides, I don't really care.