When Wine and Music Share the Same Room
I’ve always believed wine and music speak the same language. Maybe it’s because both require patience, craftsmanship, and a little soul. Or maybe it’s because when I set that violin down next to the bottle, the whole table looked like it was ready to tell a story.
The candles were flickering just enough to throw warm gold across the marble surface. The violin—freshly tuned earlier that afternoon—looked almost theatrical against the soft shadows. And that bottle of Cellar Beast? It stood there like the conductor.
I poured myself a glass and let the wine settle, just like I’d let a note hang in the air after a long bow stroke.
First Sip — First Note
The first sip surprised me in the best way. Instead of coming at me with big, loud tannins (the way some Cabs like to flex), this one opened slowly, gently—more like the opening bars of a folk tune than a heavy symphony.
Here’s what hit me first:
- Dark berries, especially blackberry
- A warm, earthy undertone
- A little cedar
- And a whisper of vanilla, the kind that sneaks up like a quiet harmony
It wasn’t trying to be bold and brash. It was confident without being loud. Like a musician who knows exactly what they’re doing—no need to show off.
The Mid-Palate Crescendo
After a few more sips, the wine started to open up… and this is where the performance really began.
A little plum.
A little cocoa.
A touch of spice, somewhere between black pepper and clove.
Think of it like a violinist shifting from a soft intro to a warm, mid-range melody—nothing screechy, nothing rushed. Just smooth, steady rhythm. You can taste the craftsmanship behind it.
How It Finished
The finish was long and surprisingly velvety. Not a heavy tannin bomb, not overly dry—just a slow fade-out, like the last note of a song hanging in the rafters before dissolving into silence.
This is a wine that invites you to take your time. It’s not here for a sprint. It wants you to settle in, breathe, and appreciate the work that went into it.
What I Ate With It
I didn’t cook a big dinner that night—just sliced up some aged cheddar and grabbed a handful of roasted almonds. The salty-fatty combo pulled out some deeper berry notes in the wine.
If you really want to pair it right, here’s what I’d recommend:
- Skirt steak with char marks
- Mushroom risotto
- Dry-rub pork chops
- Aged cheeses
- Dark chocolate (trust me—just one square will do the trick)
This Cab has enough backbone to stand with savory dishes, but it’s smooth enough to enjoy solo on a quiet night.
What Surprised Me Most
Honestly? The balance.
Some 2022 Cabs can taste a bit rushed, but this one feels… purposeful.
There’s maturity in the structure. A sense of “we weren’t cutting corners.”
It shows.
And at its price point, it’s a steal.
This is the kind of bottle that makes you say, “Really? It’s only that much?”
My Violin Moment
At one point, I actually picked up the violin and plucked a few strings—just to see if the wine really matched the mood.
It did.
If this wine were a piece of music, it’d be a warm, mid-tempo ballad. Something with depth, heart, and a little nostalgia. Not a flashy concerto. Not an aggressive showpiece. More like a tune you hum days later without realizing it.
Would I Buy It Again?
Absolutely.
This is a “yes” bottle.
A Wednesday-night-with-candles bottle.
A “gift to someone who appreciates craftsmanship” bottle.
And a “pour a glass after the guests leave so you can relax properly” bottle.
It’s versatile, it’s smooth, and it brings emotion to the table—without trying too hard.
