I’m reading Elin McCoy’s book The Emperor of Wine, on Robert Parker. Here’s a chunk of page 153, as grabbed from Amazon:
I like that “Parker interpreted”. Remember that this is the 1990s we’re talking about here: How much of an ego does a man need to interpret a “sly introduction” as a winemaker essentially pimping out his own daughter for a higher score?
Yeah, Parker — feh.
Granted, I have a reason for so saying. The man has his tastes, and he does have a facility for remaining consistent to them. Still, when friends come to visit who happen to be adherents, what do we do? We go wine-tasting. And what do they want? Fruit-forward Napa cabs.
If I never taste a fruit-forward Napa cab again, it may be too soon.
FD: my current ideal wine is a 1996 Champagne