Rafeiro Tinto 2015

For many years Alentejo has been a synonym for extremely harsh wines, with strong tannins which made them incredibly bitter  and corky in the mouth and with a strong presence of alcohol in them. 

This stereotype has long been abandoned, if ever true at all, and there have been some pretty exciting developments in the last twenty years as some small producers have been entering the market with pretty good wines that challenge and break this stereotypes as well as challenge the traditional quality wine producers.

A good example of that is this Rafeiro.

It is an incredible fresh and young wine, with strong notes of berries allied with some chocolate, revealing an intense and unique character. 

It is quite an uncomplicated wine to drink both solo or along with some meat dishes or stronger cheeses.

It is also interesting the mix of both Portuguese and foreign grapes, which gets mirrored in its extraordinary balance.

And all this without forgetting to assume itself as a pure Alentejo. 

With it, why not a look at the beat poet Gregory Corso?

Uncomprising year—I see no meaning to life.

Though this abled self is here nonetheless,

either in trade gold or grammaticness,

I drop the wheelwright’s simple principle—

Why weave the garland? Why ring the bell?

Penurious butchery these notoriously human years,

these confident births these lucid deaths these years.

Dream’s flesh blood reals down life’s mystery—

there is no mystery.

Cold history knows no dynastic Atlantis.

The habitual myth has an eagerness to quit.

No meaning to life can be found in this holy language

nor beyond the lyrical fabricator’s inescapable theme

be found the loathed find—there is nothing to find.

Multitudinous deathplot! O this poor synod—

Hopers and seekers paroling meaning to meaning,

annexing what might be meaningful, what might be meaningless.

Repeated nightmare, lachrymae lachrymae—

a fire behind a grotto, a thick fog, shredded masts,

the nets heaved—and the indescribable monster netted.

Who was it told that red flesh hose be still?

For one with smooth hands did with pincers

snip the snout—It died like a yawn.

And when the liver sack was yanked

I could not follow it to the pan.

I could not follow it to the pan—

I woke to the reality of cars; Oh

the dreadful privilege of that vision!

Not one antique faction remained;

Egypt, Rome, Greece,

and all such pedigree dreams fled.

Cars are real! Eternity is done.

The threat of Nothingness renews.

I touch the untouched.

I rank the rose militant.

Deny, I deny the tastes and habits of the age.

I am its punk debauche .... A fierce lampoon

seeking to inherit what is necessary to forfeit.

Lies! Lies! Lies! I lie, you lie, we all lie!

There is no us, there is no world, there is no universe,

there is no life, no death, no nothing—all is meaningless,

and this too is a lie—O damned 1959!

Must I dry my inspiration in this sad concept?

Delineate my entire stratagem?

Must I settle into phantomness

and not say I understand things better than God?
 




16,5/20
Country: Portugal
Region: Alentejo
Grapes: Trincadeira, Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, Aragonez
13,5%
Winemaker: N/A
Website: https://www.herdademontebranco.pt/vinhos/tinto/vinho-tinto-hmb-t-00/