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| - There are a number of things that are spectacular about Cheuvront -- it is a classy spot in an up-and-coming area of town, ripe with their targeted market, and in a gorgeous building that allows for sunlight and views of the best thoroughfare in Phoenix, Central Ave.
The wines are expertly picked and they have included my favorites, Trimbach Gewurztraminer to Pascual Toso Malbec to the Sexto. They have the old reliables like the Kim Crawford Sav Blanc. They even have -- and I'm very impressed by this -- Cakebread Vineyards Chard! Now, granted, I'm not keen on throwing down $70 for a bottle, nor is it really in my disposable budget when two bottles of the Sav Blanc will suffice; but if we are talking about a special occasion, THAT is your bottle.
The cheese list is exhaustive and very impressive. I wish I knew more about cheeses and pairings to offer a helpful review, but the pairings that were suggested by the waiter were perfect. You can see their cheese menu online and its worth researching before you go so you'll know your varieties.
The thing that bothers me about Cheuvront, however, is their chronic lack of atmosphere. First, it kind of feels like drinking in the lobby of an airport. There just isn't a ton of ambiance. While I do enjoy the lighting, the brightness reflecting off of the concrete mess that is Central Ave is just really uncomfortable when you are trying to enjoy a bottle. Where as Pacifico pairs beautifully with the sunny deck of a pool, I count on dim, moody lighting for a bottle of Pinot.
Furthermore, the place is just usually dead, no excitement, or aura. Its bright, lacks energy, and the seating is mostly awkward. This place deserves an inspired crowd, but I've yet to see it yet. The mood even trickles, up/down to the staff who seem to be going through some of the motions. I don't know, maybe its just my perception. I think a lot of it has to do with the enormous amount of spacing between tables, and of course, the trepidation of those couches that seem to infiltrate all posh valley spots. Ugh. Those damn bar-lounge-couches will be in my local pub down in Hell.
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