the straggler

last night, we opened a bottle of cédric bouchard's inflorescence (a blanc de noirs from a single parcel in the val de vilaine). golden and only lightly effervescent, with compellingly mellow and vinous yet lively acid and none of the harsh carbonic acidity of sparklier champagnes and cremants. a remarkably beautiful champagne of depth, grace, and lightness that i actually want to drink—preferably in quantity and after (heresy i know) it has warmed up a little and gotten a bit of air. why did four half-glasses of it get sent off the table to be poured down the drain? at the end of the night, we found a micropour left in the bottle and gave it a good home.