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Let me ask you this: do you know what BJAC is? BJAC. Think about it.

No, even though this is a wine blog, it’s not Blackberry Jam and Currant. It’s much, much better than that.

Let me give you a hint: I just woke up to one. Well, sort of.

It’s wet and sloppy, and probably tastes like shit.

Nope, not Butt Juice After Crap either.

I’m talking here about the institution of the Blow Job Alarm Clock, probably the single most appreciated gift a woman can give her man. You’re laying there, pleasantly dreaming about what you usually dream about (Twister® sex with midgets), when - lo and behold - you wake up to find your junk being oh so vigorously serviced by the woman you love (or the bar whore you dragged home last night, whichever works). You weren’t expecting it, you were just laying there on your back, minding your own business, soundly asleep, and **Bling Bling** your day starts off with a Bang (or loud pop, at least).

This wine, for me, was like a BJAC. This ‘06 Ketcham RRV Pinot caught me completely by surprise, so much so that I think I just hosed down my cellar fridge with a yogurt-like substance.

Now, you may be wondering to yourself “Self, WTF? Ketcham is made by Michael Browne, of Kosta-Browne fame, so why would this disgusting jackass be surprised that it’s good?”

I certainly can’t blame you for thinking this. In fact, if you are thinking this, pat yourself on the back for having at least a passing knowledge of Cali Pinot lore, and then pat yourself on the balls for being sure enough of yourself to hold my opinions suspect. You really shouldn’t be taking me all that seriously.

Here’s the thing: this reviewer found the ‘05 Ketcham (that’s last year’s vintage, for the mathematically challenged) to be more flabbier than Rush Limbaugh’s ass. Flappier than Nixon’s jowels. Heavier-handed than a serial public-masturbator. More bloated than your Aunt Buella– you know, Aunt Buella, your rotund, all-boob midwestern auntie with the roadkill shawl, who, along with her skinny husband Pete, has more cars and garden gnomes growing in her yard than she has teeth. In short, it was a big-old overripe, fat-assed fruit bomb– so much so that I felt like saving it for a dinner that would otherwise require a late harvest zin. It had none of RRV’s trademark terroir, little nuance. It was like an un-neutered Rottweiler at a poodle breeder’s house: just fucking the shit out of all it’s unsuspecting victims without remorse or style.

So much so that, having tasted the ‘05 after ordering the ‘06, I was disappointed that I ordered the ‘06 at all, and even considered canceling my allocation order. Let me just say now that I am soooo glad I didn’t.

This ‘06 is a totally different beast than the ‘05. It’s as if Michael Browne ate some mushrooms, had a vision, found himself, and decided he wanted to make a true Pinot Noir, not a fruit-bomb Cali variation like some of Kosta Browne’s releases.

All the Russian River area Pinot growers had a scary year in ‘06. Late-season heavy rain and mid-summer temperature spikes led to a general concern that much of the crop would be lost, or that the fruit wouldn’t have optimum growing conditions and would not have an opportunity to ripen in the temperate conditions that Pinot grapes love. Ketcham dropped 50% of their Pommard fruit and 35% of the Dijon in ‘06, to allow the rest of the fruit to reach an acceptable concentration. But, as was the case with Kanzler Vineyard’s ‘06 release, the less-than-idea seasons of ‘06 led to some really interesting, complex and enjoyable wines. This Ketcham is in that class.

This ‘06 is crisp, bright, nuanced and rich as a Pinot should be. It carries with it loads of RRV’s distinctive terroir: hearty earthtones, cola, cardamom, maybe even a little bit of redwood bark underneath a really intense shot of perfectly-ripe red fruit: cherry, strawberry, maybe a touch of cranberry or raspberry, but not too much. The tannins are nicely balanced– this baby’s going to lay up nicely, probably for up to 5 or 6 more years (glad I have 2 more bottles!), but it’s really fun right now, when all the flavors haven’t yet figured out that they can talk to one-another, even hop into a daisy chain with one another (as I suspect they will). I can’t wait to hit this one again in a few years and compare notes.

I have to give this one a 105, which combines the actual flavor of the wine with the fact that it surprised the shit out of me. Add another 10 for the BJAC recollection it inspired. Take away 5 for the flabby-ass ‘05 and you get 110 points: a real winner of a Pinot.

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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