How can you possibly walk by this bottle?

It has a colorful, prideful looking, fat-ass rooster on the label, which claims to be a shade under fifty pounds. If you are someone who likes big, monstrous Chardonnay, you might surmise that this oversized rooster stood for something similarly substantial. And you’d be right.

Rex Goliath Chard exudes wide open, delicious aroms of rich, ripe, spicy fruit: pear, apple, vanilla, honey. In the mouth, you get lots of ripe, sweet, heavily oaked pear fruit upfront, as well as candied peach — like you would taste in a fruit salad. A heavy, almost cloying mouthfeel contributes to a creamy smooth texture. The midpalate shows honey and canned peaches in syrup. All the fruit upfront gives the impression of a quick exit from the palate, but in fact the finish has decent length, and tastes of candied pear, peaches, and wood.

Let’s call a spade a spade and explain what this wine is: an oak-soaked, sugary sweet Chardonnay. Personally, I go for this type of wine maybe once a month, but there a lot of people who love this style. If you are type who enjoys oaky Chardonnay, then at under ten bucks, this is a great value. If you are not, and the wine somehow presents itself in your glass, I highly recommend you try it with really spicy food — the sweet fruit and oak will temper nuclear-level buffalo wings, spicy Thai, General Tsao chicken, and similarly hot dishes. At the same time, the alcohol level is high enough to add gasoline to the fire, so it’s not a perfect match.

Otherwise, don’t try matching this with food; it is expressly a cocktail / fireside sipper.

a-8 t-8 b-7 fc-5 v-8 ~ 86 Points

The Rex Goliath Wines website

Find this wine at a retailer near you through Wine-Searcher

After pouring really inexpensive Languedoc from out of Larry’s Sommeliers Series glass and down the drain, the geek that Larry is once again brought up the unforgettable night he enjoyed a bottle of Chateau Ducru Beaucaillou St. Julien Bordeaux — after turning back a corked bottle of Chateau Margaux. He said it was the best thing that ever happened to him, because the Ducru was “mind blowing, almost life-changing”.

Whatever.

Personally, I’d never had Ducru, so didn’t understand all the fuss. I figured that some time in my life I’d get the chance to taste the legendary nectar — hopefully on someone else’s dime. Then, remarkably, I found a dusty bottle of Ducru Beaucaillou in the discount bin of Shop Rite Liquors, for a few dollars more than the Yellow Tail Cabernet Sauvignon I’d already picked up. Looking at the two bottles next to each other in my basket, I knew exactly what had to be done: a taste-off !

To make it fair, I uncorked both bottles at precisely the same time, and let them sit for exactly two hours to breathe. When it was time to start pouring, I used identical machine-blown Riedel Vinum Extreme Bordeaux glasses (I know hand-blown is better, but feared inconsistency in the shape might skew the results; machines are much more reliable than humans).

Using a graduated cylinder, I measured equal amounts of each wine into their respective glasses, and began the process of swirling and sniffing.

As expected, the Yellow Tail Cab expressed youthful exuberance, showing vibrant aromas of raspberry jam, grape juice, and imitation vanilla. It exploded in the mouth with flavors of concord grape jelly, easing into a finish of succulent, lip-smacking Jolly Rancher Wild Berry Fruit candy.

The Ducru, on the other hand, was not nearly as impressive. No matter how much I swirled and sniffed, the nose remained closed and uninteresting. The palate was similar — some hints of blackcurrants, cassis, leather, tobacco, blackberry, spice, and earth — but otherwise flat and, well, obtuse. Certainly not something I’d serve with buffalo wings, pigs in blankets, or even mac and cheese (and EVERYTHING goes with mac and cheese!). In fact, I wouldn’t even offer this plonk to people who don’t know the difference between Pinot Grigio and Pinot Noir — I just wouldn’t be able to contain the guilt.

Additionally, the Ducru remained obnoxiously long in my mouth — it just wouldn’t go away. It kind of lingered … seemingly for hours. In the end I had to douse my tongue with Ass-Kickin’ Hot Sauce to kill the taste.

I compared my notes with those of my snobby wine friends, as well as some old editions of Wine Spectator and the Wine Advocate. I have to tell you, I didn’t get what they did from the Ducru. There’s the slight possibility I got a bad bottle, or, more likely, was suffering from palate fatigue after the circus-like experience of complexity of the Yellow Tail. Maybe I’ll give the Ducru another chance, on another day (though, I’ll try the Ducru FIRST next time).

Click here for more detailed notes on the Ducru vs. Yellow Tail smackdown tasting !