A quickie before bed. While I rarely give ANYTHING a 10/10, I have a brief, poetic description of the most beautiful moscato I have yet to experience. Described by Globe and Mail critic Beppi Crosariol as “blazing a new stylistic trail”, he urges one to “imagine a white table grape jumper-cabled to a car battery.”
This high-acidity brainchild of winemaker Jean-Benoit Deslauriers works so beautifully due to the muscat grape’s love affair with the indecisive Nova Scotia weather and as Crosariol also notes, it reminds one of a fine Moscato without the sickly sweetness.
I do not pretend to be a wine connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination so my description of this potent nectar is based on the knee-jerk instinct of pure delight. But I enjoy a good Moscato and feel at least somewhat entitled to say what I’m about to say next. Therefore the best way I can describe my brush with one of the mere 4000 bottles of the current 2011 vintage would be to simply say that it is like honey produced by a hive of self-aware bees from pollen plucked from the flowers that surround the very gates of heaven itself. Tinted ever so slightly with a heavy metal feel, if this wine were anything other than wine, It would be a Metallica song played by Beethovan as he made sweet love to the world’s last unicorn. Naked and on fire.
Unfortunately you may simply have to take my word on this as the current vintage is completely sold out. Il Mercato may still be carrying the odd bottle here and there but they’re not selling. Unless you’re willing to offer a serious bribe. And I suggest you do.