Medium black-ruby, milky, with a thin clear edge. Big punk-rock shock and awe–stemmy plum and bright fruit, apples and cinnamon–but uncooked, all raw and fresh and so unforgivingly decadent you just want to rub it all over your body. Slowly. Methodically. But not decadent in the way Napa cabs or Santa Lucia Highlands pinots are called "decadent". No, this is shrill youthful decadence, bright intelligent decadence, slim and hard, nothing bogged down with oak or reduction, so bright, so fresh, so illegally young, so brilliantly nuanced with all types of fruit, everything wrapped tightly on a turgid rod of steely crisp acid and tannins that will make you sing 'The Hills Are Alive' while twirling through the wildflowers in your blue apron. There seems to almost be an effervescence to the wine. There's no way it is an alcohol burn. With this thing clocking in at a straight-up classic 12-five, I guarantee it is the lowest alcohol red wine in Paso Robles. So it has to be merely acidic sizzle. How's THAT for being "alive on your tongue"?
This is the best wine Field Recordings makes and basically the only one I will drink. I am somewhat in shock every time I read it is indeed a Paso Robles wine–expecting it to be Santa Barbara or even Monterey fruit, SOMEWHERE with a little more *delicate* of climate. But no: "Paso Robles". So they must pick this stuff in June. Whatever they do, I don't care. All I know is it is stupidly good and you should do whatever it takes to find it. Not expensive either.