Maybe some of you are wine blogging junkies and have been keeping up with The Cork & Demon Wester Wine Tour. Taj made her way to Seattle this weekend and I tried to show her some of the local boys doing good.

Our first stop: The Tasting Room, a co-op of 7 Washington wineries, offers pours and glasses of each wine, a light food menu, and convenient cellar atmosphere all in the heart of the Pike Place Market.

I’m always interested in Camaraderie whites, Latitude 46° from Walla Walla, and Wineglass Cellars (the worst of amateur labels, but try to look past that as the wines are consistenly delicious).

The highlight was definitely the Camaraderie Trinquer, a Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon, and Viognier blend that combined strong points of each grape for a super-tasty, unique white. You get the zippiness of Sauv Blanc, mellowed out by the less citrusy, soft notes of Semillon, all boosted by the aromatics and just right richness of Viognier. I think Washington has a future in bizarre biancos.

I wanted to show Taj a few garagistes, seeing as how this is a literal phenomenon of epic proportions in this state. No where else in the world do you have so many winemakers making the stuff so far away from the source. (a future topic of discussion). My friend Darryn works with Owen-Sullivan Winery, and I think these guys are a great example of how very ripe Washington wines can still exhibit complexity and style.

2005 Champoux vineyard Cabernet Franc, tasted in barrel = my highlight and a little slice of heaven. Pretty, plucky, cherry fruit, already developed subtle spicy notes, prevelant acidity, uh… wow. Over the years, this vineyard has shown itself, to me, as the A#-1 ichiban piece of grapey real estate in Washington. If you’re ever out in Yakima, look ‘em up. They have a tasting room just outside Prosser filled with all the wines made from their grapes. It’s the single best tasting experience you will ever have of Washington wines. Gauranteed. Wanna bet?

Now, people who read this site know I have lots of problems with Washington wine, but when it’s good, goddamnit it’s good. I think that’s my biggest problem. Mediocrity. To me, it’s worse than sucking. I had high hopes for our next stop; I had to—they are my friends.

We followed Darryn to his own winery where, along with his partner and my friend Travis, they’ve just finished racking their third vintage. Together, they’ve worked every side of the business. Being hardcore garagistes in le rock du punk sense of the word, they operate out of a rented one-car garage near the Space Needle. Just enough room to single file in and congregate around the barrels, we got to taste their recently bottled 2004 Alder Ridge Syrah. No bottle shock here. It was a berry big boy, and it had the pepper I’m always looking for, and plenty of balance and acidity. I can’t wait to see how it’ll taste in 6 months.

In barrel, we tasted their 2005 Lewis Syrah that wasn’t finished with malolactic fermentation (big words that equal softer reds). This adds a strange sensation of spritz, but underneath was some very complex red and black fruit, pepper!, and wine both technically correct and lovely. Like knowing a girl’s going to be a knockout when she grows up, the wine had power and depth and already had developed many a nuance. My lazy ass will be on hand to bottle this puppy.

The 2005 Ash Hollow Cabernet Sauvignon from Walla Walla was so good good good, even the guys were giggling. It had a tangy to silky range of fruit, wonderful structure that didn’t try to constrict the wine’s curves, and there’s that balance again. Let’s face it, winemakers that drink shit from all around the world, not just their own backyard, make more interesting wines.

Adventurous to a fault, they got their hands on some 2005 Pontin Riesling (a vineyard planted in 1982–ancient by WA standards). It was their first ever white (so they chose the bitch goddess Riesling, naturally) and they wanted to see what would happen if they let it go dry. The wine still had to be tweaked and fined, but, uh, lots of stuff happened. It’s a wine that if someone said it came from the Adelaide Hills and costed $25 bucks, I’d believe them. It smelled like fruit blossoms and almond and tasted like a perfectly ripe nectarine, bracing and fruit sweet, but not sweet sweet. Lucky bastards, the goddess was kind.

Sometime back in January, they got a wild hair up their ass to go pick Semillon. In January. In Eastern Washington. Wicked weather, weird idea for two guys who’ve only ever made one white wine. We tapped the keg of the late harvest wine, and I think both Taj and I agreed it was crap-your-pants fantastic. The grapes weren’t as ripe as most people would like for making a dessert wine. This produced an insanely vibrant pink grapefruit note with an undertow of nectarine and a mouthfeel that stuck without being cloying. Now I’m pissed I didn’t go help them pick–I wish there was more of this stuff.

In my expert opinion, I think my friends’ operation is charmed. You can’t buy the O’Shea Scarborough wines… YET. But when you can, you’ll hear it here, after I get mine first. So why am I writing about them? Buzz, baby. Buzz.