Régis Minet Pouilly Fumé Vielles Vignes 2007

After all this chardonnay, it's kind of awesome to be hit smack in the face with a huge faceful of cat piss. Honest. There's also a strange emptiness hinting at celery seed and fresh unsalted butter somehow; I know that's a bit precious but it's frankly quite difficult to describe what this thing smells like. It almost reminds me of unmilled wheat; there's a potentiality in the smell that suggests raw materials, not finished product. Turns out the cat piss was only temporary anyhow; on second thought, it's much more herbal than that. Hrm.

Surprisingly broad on entry, this isn't a wispy-thin, steely, acidic white. Oh, no, not by a long shot. Acids aboud, yeah, but there's a surprisingly rich, nearly honeyed aspect to the mid-palate that slyly, teasingly turns like a cat that doesn't want its belly scratched to reveal other aspects of mineral bananas, carbon honey, I again am at a total loss for words here. It's like a Karo spill in the dried-herbs cabinet: it's like licking white sage honey off of stony pebbles.

Seriously, I don't know how to describe this wine at all, and that's a good thing. Every connection it suggests; every experience it conjures is playful and unexpected. It's all a bit overwhelming and unnerving as I was just looking for a simple sauvignon blanc, but this wine is the opposite of that.