Karly Wines

Scorpions are nasty little critters with a vicious sting that hang out in dark hideyholes creeping out at night to hunt. Our Mexican amigos call them Los Alacranes and give them a lot of respect. In 1997, for once our Mourvedre (yep that’s a grape) vineyard planted in 1989, and added to for ten years, and now being added to some more,had a few grapes available for us that had not been subject to a preemptive strike by the deer, birds, gophers and bees. For some reason, these creatures will bypass ten acres of our other grapes to wipe out our Mourvedre year after year. The vineyard was ten years old in 1997 on our firstsecond opportunity to make a serious wine. We wanted to make the most of the chance, so instead of picking into bins, we dispersed wood lug boxes upon the vineyard floor the night before. Picking into small boxes assures the fruit will reach our crusher in perfect condition, and maybe we could find out if this vineyard is worth all the headaches.

Our Latin friends don’t waste daylight, and even before sunup Serafin let out a howl, dropped a box, and started a spontaneous cursing jig. The bees are not yet out for the day…what’s going on? He departed momentarily to shake it off, his hand already starting to swell... maybe a Black Widow, another hazard of the trade. We hire a senorita or two to preside at the field trailer to separate leaves and stems from the grapes and keep the crew in a good mood, and a minute later one of them was shreiking and gesturing, and there was Mr. Alacran. Well, we only found one more Mr.A rest of the session, but the grapes sure got a lot of inspection and careful handling.

Crushing and fermenting was anticlimactic after that. Grapes that survived the deer, bird, bee and scorpion onslaught were an incredibly fleshy…survival of the fittest brew…and made a powerful brooding, bloody, inky liquid that immediately became the staff favorite. We decided this Transylvanian reminder should be aged entirely in new Hungarian and Romainian oak barrels.

How to describe Mourvedre? I can’t. Besides, it seems to morph every four months. Before bottling it goes through a sleek elegant stage calling to mind the complexity of good Burgundy. Then right after bottling it tastes like raw beef with a currant-cherry glaze (blood is often used to describe the taste of Mourvedre). Years later it returns to complexity again, this time probably for keeps. The grape is naturally quite tannic and with all the extract of new oak barrels it should be immortal… This wine is not for beginners or sissies. We decided to name it El Alacran for obvious reasons, and also because nobody knows what a Mourvedre grape is anyway. Who but a Frenchman can say Mohr-ved-rrrh anyway? Mataro, the Spanish name for the grape isn't very exciting either (the grape is native to Spain, but they dont seem to use it very much).

We dote on this favorite vineyard and the wine is not cheap to make and we aren’t ashamed to ask thirty to forty dollars for it. Go ahead and compare it to your favorite wussy Cabernet at any price. It is a bargain by comparison and think of the incredible one-upmanship when you set this macabre mysterious bottle of unnamed grape variety before your friends. And then watch them react with astonishment at the primitive power and the palate of never before experienced flavors. Halloween would be a perfect occasion to serve this wine, but let some out of the bottle anytime with rare prime rib or pepper steaks, or just open a bottle and drink it.