Ann Limbergh once said: "I want the windows open all the time."  

I concur, but along with the windows being open, I also want a bathtub full of Pine Ridge's Chenin Blanc  wine to soak my tired mind in after "pining" over this blog for the benefit of a few good Libertines (you know who you are).

Every year, I refuse to buy this wine until the weather becomes, as I like to call it, "Front Porch Sitting Weather".  Why?  Simply put, this wine is so refreshing and tasty that, like that first day of spring, it overwhelms the senses, forcing one to stop, take a deep breath in, and then thank God to be alive..... with a nose and two lips that work to taste this heavenly nectar.

The 2007 vintage is 80% Chenin Blanc with 20% Viognier added to soften this old/new world grape. 

Chenin Blanc is an old/new world grape as it has been around since the early 9th century.  And, although the lovely wantons of France abandoned Chenin Blanc in the early 1970's, our comrades in California (and South Africa) quickly embraced Chenin for its ability to produce a decent yield of inexpensive wines (otherwise known as cheap wine) where it thrives beautifully today.

The Pine Ridge version of Nirvana in a bottle opens up to the nose with a floral sweetness.  A long deep breath and one can immediately smell the pears and melons, the grapefruit and the lime.  A few long drinks later and one can decipher between the citrus and the pear and, hopefully, even taste the sweet floral eccentricities of the Viognier. 

The slightly off-dry finish is so clean and crisp that I am apt to be transported back to a time and place where crisp, white, freshly cleaned bed sheets hang on lines in rural backyards, flapping carelessly in the warm, summer wind, wanting for nothing more than the soft, gentle touch of Mother Nature.

So now, with your windows open all the time and your palate craving the taste of spring, deny yourself no longer, present yourself and your credit card to Greenfield Liquors, and feel Mother Nature the way she was meant to be felt......thru a glass in the hand and a butt on the front porch.

Until

A

The wine Tellar