I recall fondly first meeting the intellectual Randall Grahm on a rather warm summer night in the late 1980s as he hosted a group of wine drinkers’ monthly event in Fort Worth Texas. This group, an average age of the membership at that time being, oh, perhaps, 60 or so, known as Les Amis du Vin, cared no more about Randall’s esoteric-ness – vinously or personally – than they did if the wine was made of anything other than Cabernet.
Unfortunately for the average Texas wine consumer not much has changed since those days; thankfully for Randall, neither has a lot about him. Texans remain saddled to their big wines with big steaks (I admit, though to a terrific fondness for my home-state’s overwhelming Conservative leaning, tho’); and Randall continues on towards the left: funky, hippy wines with terroir just screaming from within.
All of which, perhaps suggests that I’m either a confused soul or a changed man. While I like my politics straight up Ronald Reagan, I prefer my wines a bit more on the Kennedy side.
At any rate, these beauties are sublime:
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