Legon 2007 Roble

"Where did it go?" - Emmett

This bottle had been sitting on my shelf since July. Over the summer, I started going to wine tasting at Zola downtown after work. They'd usually sample 5 or 6 wines and there was always an incredible spread of complimentary cheese and crackers. We're talking smoked gouda, goat cheese, various hard cheeses - it was awesome and often a makeshift dinner. When I tried this red, I was enraptured. It was one of the weirdest tasting experiences I'd ever had. Over the past few months, I'd started to wonder if my tastebuds had imagined the whole thing. Finally, after finishing Fall finals, I decided to open it up and revisit my curiosity.

100% Temparanillo from Ribera del Duero, Spain, it was aged for 6 months in American, French, and Hungarian Oak. As you know by now, different oaks create different qualities in wine. I've never seen something aged in Hungarian oak, so I did a little research. Though regarded as similar, when compared with French oak, Hungarian oak adds "more nutmeg, clove, and sweet oriental spice." Maybe you haven't heard much about Hungarian oak; that's because for about half of the 20th century, the forests and industry were state-run and most of the oak barrels that were made went to European winemakers. It seems like you'll be seeing more of Hungarian oak, though, because the forests are full of trees, so to speak. As the result of massive chopping by the British a few hundred years ago (for shipbuilding during war), Hungary enacted laws requiring sustainable forest management - which, I guess, means they have to plant more than they chop. Coupled with recently increasing privatization of forest ownership, the Hungarian cooperage (barrel-making) industry is redeveloping and expanding to North American markets.

So, the funny thing about this wine is the finish. It just ... disappears. It starts out smelling a little fruity and rich. Medium-bodied and relatively mild tasting, the Roble is a little softer than most Temperanillos I've tasted. But just as the wine settles on your tongue and you start to grasp the flavors, it's gone. So weird. There is just a touch of tannin left, so you know you didn't dream the last 3 seconds, but everything else is gone. So you have to take another sip and try again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. To me, this was a pretty neat thing, and it made the wine light, fun, and easy to drink. But I'm not sure this lack of finish is technically a good thing in the wine world. I guess it depends what you're looking for, but as a precursor to a night out dancing, I liked that I didn't get bogged down in the details of this red.

Saintsbury 2005 Carneros Pinot Noir

No time for a full post, but I had an awesome Pinot Noir last week that I'll forget about it if I don't write it down. Somehow it was dark and complex while still light and drinkable. I'm sure it had something to do with the age, and I think this winemaker keeps the wine in the barrels for quite a while (judging by the fact that they are just selling the 2007 vintage now). You can buy their wine online! (http://saintsbury.com/index.html)

Parker Station 2009 Pinot Noir

Thursday night I hit up Clyde's happy hour with some of my favorite people from the Mint this summer. It's always trouble when Allison, Danae and I get together; somehow the wine bottles empty at an alarming rate and hilarity follows. This night was no exception, and the pictured bottle was actually our second bottle of Parker Station. We were all unclear as to whether we actually ordered another bottle, but the bartender, who was young and flirting with Danae, came and sat down with us, this bottle in hand. Allison (pictured left) was pleased with the choice, because Parker is her soon-to-be last name come March 25.

Parker Station wines are the economic line from Fess Parker, a family owned and operated estate in Santa Barbara County. Fess Parker is the actor who played Davie Crockett and Daniel Boone - he started the winery with his son, Eli, in 1989. Eli now runs things as President, but the whole family is involved. Parker Station grapes are sourced from something like 5 area vineyards to keep prices down, so the quality is obviously not the same as something under the Fess Parker label, estate grown and bottled.

Clyde's menu listed this as a light-bodied red, but the label tells you that it's medium-to-full bodied. I'm inclined to agree with Clyde's on this one. This was a typical light and fruity Pinot Noir - no surprises, which I guess is good? Recently, I've been a bit bummed out by the Pinots I've tried. They are starting to all taste the same, "the same" being kind of foofy and simple. This one for instance, had a lot of cherry and not much else. These Pinot Noirs are easy to drink, but leave me wanting something with more character and heart.

This bottle costs around $12 retail, $28 at Clyde's, which is a surprisingly modest markup. Sidenote: Clyde's has a pretty extensive bottle menu, with the vast majority in the $22 - $38 range. We had no problem finding 3 different bottles to try without leaving the $20s.

Acrobat 2008 Pinot Noir

Wednesday was Peter's 28th, so I invited him over for cake and an awkward/inspiring rendition of Happy Birthday, complete with candles and video footage. When I was in Austin visiting Meg and Mon this summer, I tried an incredible chocolate cake that Mon's boyfriend's mom made for her. Ever since, I've been looking for an excuse to try making it, and this was the perfect opportunity. I tweaked her recipe a smidge - hers called for a layer of amaretto buttercream, and I used creme de menthe instead. To accompany the cake, I went with a Pinot Noir - a birthday gift from the lovely Gregor just a few weeks ago.

Acrobat is a more approachable line of wines from King Estate in western Oregon. The King Estate is devoted to organic and sustainable farming, not only for its grapes, but also for the produce it uses in the Restaurant on premises. One of the ways King Estate manages pests naturally is with a relatively large raptor (including owls!) population. The estate has actually formed a partnership with a local raptor sanctuary, which releases recently rehabilitated birds on the estate. It's a great place for them to thrive, because all the crops are organic, the landscape is diverse, and there are several birdhouses in place around the grounds. Pretty cool.

King Estate only grows Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris, and Chardonnay, so I imagine they are skilled at crafting those particular varietals. The 2008 Pinot Noir was aged for 8 months in French oak - a pretty complicated mix of barrels. 17% were new oak, 19% one-year, 33% two-year, and 31% three-year. Does that even add up to 100? Anyway, the wine spec sheet said something about "cooperage", followed by some funny sounding names. I looked it up, and cooperage just refers to the brand of the barrels used for aging. This is a pretty big deal, considering that the quality of the oak essentially shapes the characteristics of the wine. There are a bunch of factors to think about in selecting wood that goes into barrels, like porousness, grain tightness, etc., so cooperage is a bit of an art, it seems.

The wine was a unanimous hit. It was incredibly light - in the glass and on the tongue. It was fruity like a typical Pinot Noir, but so delicate that it reminded me a little of those flavored waters that supposedly have no sugar, artificial chemicals, or calories but miraculously taste like some fruit. Peter was actually enthusiastic about this red, which means it definitely didn't taste like fish or mayonnaise. It went well with the cake, because it was easy to drink and didn't lay claim to my taste buds as soon as it touched my tongue. Instead, it slipped through my mouth quickly, and I had to spend a few sips just getting it to stay in place long enough to think about. In the end, it left a lovely impression and left everyone wanting a little more. Thanks to Gregor for the wonderful birthday gift; I'm so glad I got to share it with someone else on his birthday!

Chalk Hill 2000 Merlot

It turns out people don't eat as much cheese as you'd expect. In preparation for by birthday party, I bought out the city's supply of cheese - jarlsberg, blue, camembert, chevre, smoked gouda, aged gouda, sharp cheddar, grafton, and of course, Natalie's bohemoth brie. Unfortunately, a large portion of this went untouched - I guess people are afraid of getting fat or something. Last night it was my turn to cook dinner, and considering half the fridge is currently dominated by cheese, it seemed like a good idea to use some. I invited Peter over, and since he's a big smoked gouda fan, I substituted that for parmesan in my usual risotto recipe, plus a little red bell pepper and spinach. I also stuffed some baby portobellos with homemade sun-dried tomato cream cheese, wrapped them in marinated steak, and grilled them on the Foreman.

Peter brought over a Merlot that supposedly had been sitting in his apartment for a while. Before dinner, he quizzed me on the flavors while reading the wine specs online. Miraculously, I got a few right, but it was probably luck and a little bull shit, (as Peter would say ALL wine tasting is). This is a pretty neat wine - estate grown and bottled on just 1200 acres, "Chalk Hill," in Sonoma County. The label even lists the then-proprietors of the estate, Fred and Peggy Furth. Fred is (was?) a pilot and founded the estate in 1972, which includes a farm, equestrian center, restaurant, culinary gardens, swimming and fishing ponds, and a home. The current proprietor, William Foley II, added the Chalk Hill estate to his expanding portfolio in August of this year. For some reason, this makes me sad. I wonder what happened to Fred and Peggy.

I couldn't find anything about the 2000 vintage in particular, but more recent vintages are actually a blend of 80% Merlot and 20% Malbec. The winery waits until the grape softens slightly before picking, which results in softer tannins.

This wine was slightly more burnt brown than maroon, with lots of sediment from age in the bottom of the bottle. It was on the thinner side, medium-bodied and drinkable. When I first tried to identify a smell for Peter's quiz, all I could pin down was mulch. This translated into a kind of cedar flavor and almost no fruit. This confused me; I never drink Merlot, but I've always heard it's one of the fruitier reds. Now knowing that it probably had 20% Malbec (also typically fruity), I have no idea what was going on with this wine. Eventually, I picked out a few fruits: plum, black something, and a hint of the acid and tartness of cranberry. But honestly the whole thing was way more earth than fruit - it reminded Caitlin of a Cab, and I agree. Luckily, Cab is my favorite varietal, so it worked out well. It finished "persistently" with firm but not overbearing tannins, and the bottle was gone before we knew it. I think this Merlot would go well with a lot of things and was great on its own; it has definite personality but doesn't hog the spotlight. It made me want to give Merlot another shot.

(photo note: my new moleskin wine journal! this was, appropriately, the first entry.)

26 years, 25 friends, 15 bottles

I turned 26 on Saturday. To celebrate, I hosted a wine tasting party for my friends. We sampled 15 wines - 3 each of Sauv Blanc, Chard, Pinot Noir, Cab, and Syrah. All were from California, and I set out paired cheeses for each varietal. It was a blind tasting in that no one knew the prices; within each varietal, there were a low, middle, and high-end bottle. Natalie blessed the party with a massive baked brie, Caitlin made bacon-wrapped dates and chocolate biscotti, and Brittany contributed some fantastic olives. I whipped up a little sun-dried tomato dip and picked up some foie gras and chocolate macadamias for nibbling.

People were mostly surprised by the whites. I think a lot of people (myself included until recently) have pegged white wine as foofy or super sweet or just not as good as red. And on top of the general stigma against whites, Chardonnay carries an additional shackle of shame. One thing that pleased me about the tasting was that several people discovered a white they never knew existed (like the unoaked chardonnay), or just realized that white doesn't always equate to the Riesling your lush auntie Martha buys by the case.

The reds were all rather good, but people were a little more wrapped up in the conversation than the wine by that point in the evening. Below, I've highlighted the bottles that received the best reviews.

The wine list:

Sauvignon Blanc

HALL 2008 Napa Valley

Vintjs 2009 Napa Valley

Markham 2008 Napa Valley - this bottle was the first to go

Chardonnay

Poet’s Row 2009 Sonoma County (Unoaked)

SIMI 2008 Sonoma County

RAMEY 2008 Sonoma Coast - no surprise at $40 a bottle

Pinot Noir

Blue Fin 2009 - a few people hated it, but the rest were amazed at the $4 price tag

LAETITIA 2008 Arroyo Grande Valley - smooth and enjoyable

MacMurray 2008 Central Coast

Cabernet Sauvignon

LIBERTY SCHOOL 2007 Paso Robles

Alexander & Fitch 2009 Alexander Valley

HIDDEN RIDGE 2005 Sonoma County - I personally enjoyed this one

Syrah

Barrel 27 2005 Syrah Head Honcho - though you couldn't taste the bacon fat

Alexander Valley Vineyards 2007 Alexander Valley

Quail's Creek 2008

Special thanks to Peter for taking me to get all the wine and cheese, Emmett for contributing the Barrel 27 Syrah, Caitlin and Natalie for cooking, and everyone else for their various showings of birthday love.

Name That Wine

http://www.winespectator.com/namethatwine

A "fun" wine knowledge "game."

An Interesting Glossary

WSJ has put together a moderately informative glossary of commonly used the terms, places, and people of wine culture. A few that were news to me:

Botrytis Cinerea. “Noble rot” fungus responsible for making some great dessert wines in Sauternes and elsewhere by shriveling grapes and concentrating juice.

Disgorge. Process in Champagne in which the sediment is popped out of the bottle before the final cork is inserted.

Gewurztraminer. Peppery white wine that’s a specialty of the Alsace region of France. (I totally thought this was a strictly German varietal)

Meritage. Name for red and white blends in the U.S. made from classic Bordeaux varieties. Rhymes with heritage. (I've been pronouncing it incorrectly?)

Sur Lie. Allowing a white wine to sit on its dead yeast for a while, often giving it extra complexity and mouthfeel.

Check out the whole gloss here.

Also, let me apologize for sleeping on the job. I promise more reviews soon.

Egervin 2005 Bull's Blood

Friday Josh and I hit up the Baltimore Aquarium, compliments of one of my besties from my summer internship, Allison. Her fiance works for the aquarium and hooked us up with free tickets. After we'd explored the sea animals (jellyfish twice), we did happy hour with Allison and her fiance, then headed to dinner at a cute little Eastern European restaurant called Ze Mean Bean. Allison's fiance said we HAD to get the Bull's Blood; mostly because of the $16 price tag but also because it was pretty good. The restaurant was super quaint, and there was a singer playing his acoustic guitar on a mini stage. You wouldn't think this could be a recipe for disaster, but it nearly was.

Egri Bikaver is a famous Hungarian wine that got its name from the historical lore of the 1500's, when the Turks invaded Eger. In a classic David vs. Goliath fashion, 2000 soldiers of Eger defeated 150,000 Turk invaders, effectively thwarting the Ottomon empire's conquest of Western Europe. The victory is attributed to the Hungarians drinking plenty of red wine for sustenance, which spilled onto their clothes and armor. A rumor started among the Turk soldiers that the Hungarians were drinking actual bulls' blood for strength, and the Turks were demoralized into defeat. Now, the wine is still made in the tradition of that time, to honor the history. There are eleven different varietals that can be in Bull's Blood (by regulation), so long as there are at least three and none make up more than 50% of the mix. Bull's Blood is classically cheap and a little rough, so the bottle usually includes directions to let the wine breathe for an hour before drinking and serve at 60 degrees.

I honestly can't say much about this wine, other than that it was drinkable. Josh and I made mental notes that were subsequently erased by naty bo. I do remember that it was on the drier side, but not too harsh. It wasn't too interesting or complex, but it also didn't taste obviously cheap. Allison recommended we try perogies for an appetizer, and the Bull's blood paired really well with those.

There might have been something to that legend about Bull's Blood fueling some sort of war winning rage. When Josh and I sat down at the restaurant, we noticed immediately that the singer was using a microphone. Considering the size of the restaurant, it was complete overkill and as we worked out way through the Bull's Blood, Josh got more and more annoyed. He started with comments at normal volume, and by the end of the bottle, he was literally yelling insults at the singer about how loud and awful he was. Thank goodness we managed to finish the bottle before anyone asked us to leave. Blame it on the wine?

Fonterutoli 2004 Chianti Classico

That's Missy in the background. She is one of Natalie's cats, and she generally wants to be part of whatever is going on. Tonight Caitlin pulled this Chianti Classico off the shelf to bring to dinner. Natalie made us gnocchi from scratch, and I cooked up a little red chard for color (chard is my current vegetable of choice, if you hadn't noticed). We cooked, drank, and girl-talked til we realized it was 10 pm and we are old.

I'm not sure this wine falls under the "humble" category at $25, but it is definitely worth a review. It came from the Mazzei estate, which makes six other labels, all either Chianti Classico or Tuscany appellations. I actually never realized this, but Chianti is just the name of a region of Tuscany; Chianti Classico is a 100-square-mile sub-region of Chianti. Even within the Chianti Classico region, however, climates and soil can vary greatly, so one wine might be quite distinct from the next. To be classified as Chianti, a wine must contain at least 80% Sangiovese grapes and Chianti Classico must be aged more than 7 months in oak. Other sub-regions of Chianti have various respective regulations under Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita (DOCG), the Italian export quality control regulations.

The Fonterutoli is 90% Sangiovese, 5% Malvasia Nera, and 5% Merlot. It is aged for 12 months in French oak barrels, half of which are new (infusing stronger oak into the wine). All of the grapes at the Mazzei wineries are hand-picked, and only 200,000 bottles of this particular vintage were released. The Mazzei estate also produces grappa (grape brandy), olive oil, and lavender-based cosmetics.

I loved this Chianti Classico. It was wonderfully delicate and almost invisible on first impression. It left no traces of fruit, or anything really, on the front of my tongue. At the end of each sip, there was a small kick on the back of my tongue, but not much. This Chianti had no bitter bite or rough tannins. It was easy to drink, but definitely not boring. I felt a little like I was chasing it around my mouth, trying to figure out its story to no avail. Eventually, I stopped trying to define it and and just enjoyed. A little more punch emerged when paired with the food, but the little gnocchi were so yummy, I didn't care to analyze the wine anymore.

Cono Sur Bicycle 2008 Viognier

I spent the past week in Austin, Texas with Meg and Monica. The second night in town, we decided to cook dinner and go out dancing on 6th Street. Meg cooked up some chicken in a wine sauce, Mon made mac and cheese, and I sauteed some rainbow chard. Mon and I picked up this Viognier for $7.99 at the flagship Whole Foods while Meg was at work that day.

I was really excited to find this, because in DC I rarely see Viognier under $15. The Cono Sur wineries are spread throughout Chile and produce just about every varietal you can think of. They are particularly devoted to organic and sustainable agriculture, taking measures like using lightweight bottles to reduce CO2 created by glass production. Hence the environmentally friendly bicycle on the label. This Viognier is grown in Colchuaga Valley and aged between two to ten months in stainless steel.

Viognier is probably my favorite white wine. Although it's been getting more popular recently, generally Viognier is a rarer varietal. This is probably because it's relatively hard to grow; something about the grape attracts the powdery mildew fungus, fruit yield is low, and the wine can be ruined if it's not harvested at just the right time. There are two different kinds of Viognier - old and new world. I'm not sure which is which or what the difference is, though. Virginia actually grows a bit of Viognier, which I would drink more of if it weren't so expensive.

The Cono Sur was pretty good. It tasted fruity up front, like pineapples and sweet green grapes, but a bit acidic on the way down. One of the best things about Viognier is that it has all the thick fruit and roundness of a sweet white wine without the heavy syrup (like you would get from a Riesling or Gewurtztraminer). This one was a little too tart at the finish, but it was still yummy. The girls both gave their stamp of approval, too. Meg used a bit in the chicken dish she made, which turned out really well. I might buy it again, but only because it'd be hard to find another Viognier at that price.

Chateau les Arromans 2007 Bordeaux

Girls night requires fondue. And Fondue requires wine. Natalie came over Sunday night and brought her fondue pot (ah, the fruits of marriage). She brought me a bottle of Bordeaux from her summer travels to Europe - best souvenir EVER - but that's not what we drank. I didn't want to drink such a special gift on just any old Sunday night, so we opened a bottle I got a while back from Paul's wine tasting.

The bottle read "Appellation Bordeaux Controlee," which is a guarantee that the grapes came only from Bordeaux and were processed with traditional style and methods of the region. This is important, because each winegrowing region and vineyard has different terrior, which shapes the character of the wine. Terrior is a broad French term meant to encompass all the influences that might impact the wine, such as soil, climate, geography, human skill, and tradition.

All were in agreement - this wine was delightfully simple and drinkable. It was dry like most Bordeauxs I've tried, but not in the harsh way that some are. There was virtually no back-of-the-throat-smack if you know what I mean. Not much fruit, either. The girls and I decided there was some definite wood happening in this red, perhaps French oak, if we had to hypothesize. Oddly, this wine did not taste better with food. In contrast to most reds, the tang of tannins only came out after digging into the fondue. If I weren't into trying a new wine every time, I'd grab a few bottles of this for food-free enjoyment. Although it wasn't the most dynamic or interesting red, it's hard to find such a pleasant Bordeaux for only $10.

MontGras Reserva 2009 Chardonnay

At the beginning of the summer, all my friends left DC. It was bizarre and I hated every minute they were gone. But finally! Chris and Natalie made it back from their respective foreign study programs, and I had both of them over to my apartment on Saturday afternoon for wine and avocado pie. The gossip flowed and it was glorious. It was like they'd never left at all.

The wine was left over from a dinner party the evening before. One of our guests brought this yummy Chardonnay from wine tasting at Paul's (the local liquor store). It was on sale for $10.99 and was sampled alongside other MontGras wines, almost all of which I also enjoyed.

The MontGras vineyards are in Colchagua, Chile.Colchagua is part of the Rapel Valley between the Andes and the Coastal Mountains, one of the most important agricultural areas in the country. The climate there is similar to the coasts of California and the Mediterranean, the Cape of Good Hope in S. Africa and the SW coast of Australia - basically all awesome places for wine making. The particular vines of MontGras were planted in 1993, the Chardonnay in a soil composed mostly of clay to hold in water allowing a long fruit ripening period. 40% of this wine was aged for 6 months in oak - 30% new oak barrels, 40% 2nd-use, and 30% 3rd use. The idea is that the newer the oak barrel, the stronger the oak flavor in the wine. So by splitting the vintage and only aging a small amount in new oak, and not letting some touch oak at all, the Chardonnay won't be overwhelmed and end up like the bottles of wood some people dread tasting when they hear "Chardonnay."

This wine was a total hit; I think 3 of 7 people who went to wine tasting actually brought this to the dinner party - and we tried 8 different wines at Paul's. The first sip tasted like pineapple or a yummy fruit cocktail, but the sweetness was balanced by just a little oaky warmth. There was no butter or smoke to the oak, so the wine tasted kind of tropical. But despite all the thick syrupy summer feelings this white invoked, it wasn't the least bit sickening, and it paired really well with the avocado pie I served Chris and Natalie. I think this is a perfect summer wine by itself, as an aperitif, or with desert. I'd also love to try the MontGras Carmenère, which they weren't sampling at wine tasting, but must be delicious.

Bodegas Ateca 2009 Garnacha de Fuego

This afternoon I felt a little like I might be getting an ulcer. After finishing a pretty big motion for summary judgment at work (17 pages what!), I took on a small assignment for another attorney, then jetted off to school to meet with my prof and the IT department about the Business Law Program website. By the way, it's "website" now, as opposed to "Web site" like it was when I took Writing for Mass Comm. in undergrad or "Website" like it morphed into soon afterward. So sometime before the meeting, I got this kind of ill burning in my tummy, which lingered until well after I got home. I considered the possibility that the burning was a direct result of me eating cake for dinner, but that seemed like a bummer conclusion. Instead, I decided that it might be an ulcer from all the stress, so I should probably relieve some of it with a little vino. On the rare occasions when I have a glass of wine by myself, I try to select the cheapest bottle on my rack. I don't even know if this makes sense, but it feels like a waste if I open an awesome bottle and no one is here to share in the elation. This grenache was a steal the other night at wine tasting, on sale for $7.99.

The vines used for this wine are 60 to 80 years old and rest at 3000 feet above sea level in the Calatayud Region of Catalonia, Spain. It is 100% Granache and is not aged in oak (though I can't find what is IS aged in). Calatayud consists of 15 vineyards, or bodegas, and the area produces 12.3 million liters of wine every year. The soil is clay and gravel loams, which just means that it retains water well while not completely locking in water as a pure clay would. Thus, the vines need minimal rainfall to get enough water, and aren't drowned by lingering water stuck in the clay.

I had to smile when I swirled the wine in my glass. It was a beautiful fuschia and glowed under the fluorescent kitchen lights. The first taste was full of grapes - maybe this sounds obvious, but if you've ever tasted a cab sauv or malbec, you know there ain't no grapes in there. With a little more attention, I noticed a heavy cherry flavor - but cherry juice, not cherry syrup. I was nibbling on some gouda while I drank it, but oddly, neither was enhanced by the other. Usually, I find that just about any cheese makes just about any wine taste markedly more delish. In this case, the wine could hold its own with the fruit and wasn't in need of accompaniment. That being said, I could go for a burger right now.

Diseño 2008 Malbec

This weekend I had a visitor from Brooklyn. After a day of whiskey tasting at Pauls, running around the Mall, staring at hundreds of portraits in the Portrait Gallery, and going on a failed food mission to the National Museum of the American Indian, we decided to just cook dinner at home and relax for a bit before making any evening plans. I had a couple red peppers in the fridge, so I thought I'd do a tex/mex stuffing and spinach quesadillas on the side. I was craving olives, so we stopped at Whole Foods on the way home to pick up the last few ingredients. Somehow we settled on a stuffing of sardines, rice, kalamata olives, onion, jalapeno, cherry tomatoes, rice, cilantro, black beans, and Monterrey cheese. It was no longer tex/mex. It had become Mexiranean (clever, right?). Since the peppers were a little spicy and a little latin, we went with a Malbec.

I got this bottle the other night at Superfresh for $8.99, on Viv's recommendation. It is made in Mendoza, Argentina, an area known for its incredible Malbecs. When I googled Diseño Malbec, all sorts of positive reviews popped up for the past few vintages, so I guess this is generally a solid choice. (Thanks Viv.) I must say, this one did not disappoint. I will definitely get it again.

The wine was good, but it wasn't all sunshine and giggles. We ran into some pretty serious cork issues within the first minute and a half. Not to toot my own horn, but I can usually uncork a bottle with the best of them. This one, however, put up a fight and threatened to bend the life out of our wine key. Eventually, we got it out in a two step attack, but I was quite concerned for a while. On pouring the first taste, I noticed it had a dark, muted purple color, almost opaque in the glass. The first sip was already good, and the wine didn't need any time to open up or settle down. It was soft, warm, and mellow, with a little bit of chocolate and just a touch of fruitiness. This Malbec was on the drier side, but it wasn't too thin and the tannins were completely undetectable, so it didn't create that sticky suction at the back of my throat. It was so delightful, I'm shocked it lasted all the way through cooking and eating. I think the good conversation might have had something to do with it.

Graff 2007 Riesling Spätlese

After a morning sampling most of the public bathrooms in Greenpoint, we finally made it over the bridge and dropped Meg of with her boyfriend's family for lunch. The three of us remaining (Han, Mon, and I) ended up in a little shop called Village Tart in Little Italy, in an effort to escape the heat of the city. After mulling over the wine list for a few, we hesitantly eyed a humble (relative to others) Riesling, but decided to talk to the server in hopes it was a dryer one. He assured us it was just a tad sweet, and despite his shiny gold t-shirt, we believed him.

He lied. I swallowed at least three sugar cubes in the first two sips. This was a Riesling to end all Rieslings - everything we were hoping it was not. We actually told the waiter when he went through the tasting that it was waaaaay sweet, but he just shrugged and looked uncomfortable for a solid 30 seconds until we told him to go ahead and pour it. Halfway through our first glass, we were reduced to asking for soda water to cut the sweetness, which of course, the restaurant did not have. Though it was hard to tell with my tongue coated in syrup, there was a touch of pear and a light acidity on the finish that helped lift the sugar just a little.

This white is grown in the Mosel-Saar-Ruwer region of Germany, named for the three rivers that frame the region and known for limestone slate soil. The vineyards of the area are basically God-given for Riesling - most are on steep slopes, which are difficult to farm but allow for great rain drainage and sun exposure. Almost 60% of the grapes grown there are Riesling, and 90% are white varietals. You'd think that with the expertise that goes into Riesling from Mosel, this Spatlese would have rocked our world. And to be fair, maybe it would have if we had wanted something super sweet instead of specifically asking for the opposite. Oh, and I almost forgot the worst part of it all - 8% alcohol content. Cheers to really expensive grape juice in NYC.

Round Hill 2008 Chardonnay

Adi has the best roof ever - even better than my roof, which is quite a statement. You can see the entire city from it, including the Monument (far right in the picture) and the Capital (picture too crappy to see). After (a looooong day of) work on Wednesday, I headed to his place for an Indian dinner with a view. He made spicy turkey with potatoes and chapatis. To accompany the meal, he offered a choice of Pinot Grigio or this 2008 Chardonnay. Recently, I've been toying with the idea that all Chardonnay might not suck, so I decided to test the theory.

This white is 96% Chardonnay and just a 4% touch of Muscat Canelli. In 2008, spring frost damaged the vines in California, so many grapes were lost and the remaining stayed relatively small. But apparently, small grapes can make better wines, depending on when in development they are deprived of water. Smaller grapes usually have higher sugar concentrations and intenser flavors. In red wines, the increased skin to pulp ratio makes for a more tannic wine as well. Although I couldn't find anything on its aging process, I assume there is some oak involved. Oddly, Round Hill recently started making an Unoaked Chardonnay that I've wanted to try.

Even with the oak, this was yummy. It was exactly the type of Chardonnay I've been searching for ... bright with a syrupy acidity, but the body and smoothness that a little oak offers. Though supposedly just 4% Muscat, the peachy sweetness was really noticeable (but not too sticky). This bottle was a really good compliment to the spicy Indian food and just a nice summer wine in general. It's listed online for $8, which seems reasonable. I recommend enjoying it on a rooftop.

Isola D'Oro 2007 Nero D'Avola

It's been a while since I grabbed a random bottle off the shelf and just went for it. Last night I was duped into buying this red from Sicily. It was "marked down" from $15 to $8 at Superfresh, and my inner bargain-hunter could not resist. Adi was cooking me an Indian dinner (and I wasn't much in the mood for a white), so I thought a Syrah might be a good match for the spice. I guess we will never know, because I accidentally grabbed this one... same winemaker, same price, identical bottle. Through my research, I've learned that Nero D'Avola is often compared to Syrah, so perhaps it didn't matter.

Nero D'Avola, indigenous to Sicily, means "Black of Avola," the southern town where the original vines were. Now Nero D'Avola is the mostly widely grown varietal in the country and Sicily's most popular wine. It is used to fortify weaker reds (which just means it gives them more body and color), but recently has grown in popularity as a solo varietal. This particular red is made by the Cantina Corbera winery in northwest Sicily, started in 1971 as a coop of farmers who survived a 6.4 quake that killed 236 and drove many others away from the area. Although Nero D'Avola has an affinity for oak, this one is aged in stainless steel. When a wine has an "affinity for oak," it means that aging it in oak barrels softens the tannins and complements the natural flavors of that particular varietal.

Perhaps this wine should have been aged in oak, because it tasted kind of like battery acid. Even the smell was harsh. On impact with my tongue, it was thin and tart, and even after a moment to get comfortable, there was no warmth or softness. The center was hollow and it even burned a little going down. This wine reminded me of the occasional sour green grape that everyone dreads biting into; I can't imagine choosing it, and I contemplated throwing the bottle out. But with a little air and most of my taste buds destroyed by the first few sips, the Nero D'Avola was eventually drinkable.

Luckily, the food was amazing (see photo for sev puri appetizer).

Penfold's Koonunga Hill 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon

Last night I went to VA for dinner with Sandie. It was Mother's Day and we were burying the ashes of her beloved Cinnamon (dog) who just passed away last week. Several of her neighbors joined the funeral and planted an azalea bush on top of the burial site. Sandie is a whole-heart-giving kind of woman, so this was a pretty emotional event. Actually, it was my first funeral. But from what I've heard, the best funerals are the ones where the sadness is followed by a kind of joyous celebration of life with friends. So that's what we did. We made pizzas with a ridiculous pile of toppings - chicken, olives, cilantro, red peppers, broccoli, & swiss. The neighbors brought a big salad, and we opened Sandie's favorite wine, Penfold's Cab Sauv.

I've seen this wine at the store before, but never had a chance to try it. Penfold's Koonunga Hill is much better known for their Shiraz Cabernet, which has been around since 1976. Penfold's owns a large number of vineyards all over South Australia, and Koonunga Hill in the Barossa Valley was planted in 1973 with only Cab Sauv and Shiraz grapes. The soil is described as red-brown earth over heavy clay. Clay stays cool and holds water well, which causes the grapes to ripen slower and become more acidic and complex. The winemakers age only a portion of the grapes in American oak so as not to overpower the fruit in the flavor.

This Cabernet tasted good. It was rich but not too heavy, and the oak was barely there. The Cabernets I've tried recently have been quite flat, and I started to wonder if my tastes were changing. Sometimes Cabernet can be a little thin and boring, especially when tasted next to a Malbec or something, but this one was full of flavor without being super fruity or terribly tannic. The tannins added just enough dryness, instead of sticking on the back of my tongue like some. I think this bottle cost around $12, and it is definitely worth the price. It was great on its own and paired well with the pizza.

After dinner, we had coffee ice cream and Sandie played the piano for us. A lovely evening in honor of the late Cinnamon.

Bastide de Beauvert 2007 Cotes du Rhone

I forgot there was steak in the fridge. I had spent all day parked on the futon outlining Criminal Law, and it occurred to me that dinner would eventually need to be eaten. Miraculously, I finished my outline right around dinner time, and decided to celebrate with a little red meat and red wine. I pounded out a top round steak, rubbed it with a black pepper/grain mustard blend, and roasted it in the oven with sweet potatoes, onions and asparagus. All of this went over egg noodles with butter and the Grana Padano cheese leftover from last weekend. Of course Caitlin joined me for dinner, and we opened a bottle of Cotes du Rhone I took a liking to at wine tasting a few weeks ago.

The wine was a $10 blend of 70% Grenache and 30% Syrah. I strategically selected it for the spice in the Syrah and the sweet balance the grenache contributes. While this wine is classified as a Cotes du Rhone, about 90% of the grapes actually come from a region known as Cotes du Rhone Villages Laudun. A small amount of wine from the actual Cotes du Rhone appelation is added, allowing the wine to take that name. The difference in the regions lies in the soil; the Villages Laudun area is mostly limestone, while the Cotes du Rhone is sandy. The less acidic limestone soil produces a softer aromatic wine than a traditional Cotes du Rhone.

I guess it's not really like opening a present if you already know what's inside. Whenever I open a bottle that I've brought home from wine tasting, I pretty much expect that nothing gross is going to come out of it. But I must say, I was quite proud of the food pairing. By itself, this French blend was fruity up front, with a light but flavorful body and tangy dry finish. With the buttered noodles and sweet potato, the wine's dry kick softened and the sweetness in the butter and potato emerged. All the sharp edges rounded and it was like someone coming home to her lover after a day off hustle and bustle. Nestling into the peppered mustard and red meat, the Cotes du Rhone unraveled and shed its tangy bite in favor of a sweet kiss. Corny? Yes. Delicious? Yes.

Charles Shaw 2009 Pinot Grigio & Quail's Gate 2005 Old Vines Foch

This weekend, Tom came in town to accompany me to the Barrister's Ball. After having dinner with his grandparents on Thursday evening, his grandma gave me a bottle of her favorite go-to wine - Two Buck Chuck Pinot Grigio from Trader Joe's. Tom and I opened it on Friday. I had made plans to cook a nice dinner that night and open the most special bottle in my (small) collection, an Old Vines Foch that I took home from a wine tour in the Okanagan Valley of Canada. Earlier in the week I had researched food pairings, and lamb was at the top of the list. So I decided rack of lamb would be appropriate and impressive.

Around 6, Tom and I went to the weekly local wine tasting with some friends, then headed to Giant for dinner ingredients. When we arrived at the store, there were no racks of lamb to be found. Clearly everyone else in the neighborhood had the same plan. There was a pause as we stood in front of the meat cooler and Tom looked at me expectantly. I eyed a stack of lamb chops. I've always had a strange aversion to the idea of lamb chops, perhaps because I felt so fondly about Lamb Chop and her Playalong. But the thought of reformulating our whole meal was entirely too much to deal with, so I pushed "The Song That Never Ends" out of my head and put the lamb chops in our basket. We picked up the other ingredients without incident and headed back to the apartment to cook. The recipe Natalie gave me for risotto called for a quarter cup of white wine, so Tom and I opened the Two Buck Chuck. I steamed an artichoke to snack on with a little balsamic mayo for dipping, and we shared the Pinot with my roommate, Caitlin.

Two Buck Chuck got its name from the $1.99 price tag at California Trader Joe's, but I hear it costs more like $2.99 (gasp!) around these parts. Unfortunately because of state law, the Trader Joe's in Maryland doesn't sell wine, which is probably the only reason I haven't had this before. Fred Franzia, of the beloved boxed varieties, has been making the Two Buck Chuck line of wines since 2002, with the mission of producing everyday affordable wines that people actually enjoy drinking. Although all the varietals are cellared and bottled in Napa or Sonoma, the grapes come from multiple locations to keep costs down.

This springy white turned out to be a wonderful artichoke accompaniment and aperitif. If Tom's grandma hadn't told me it was a "two buck" bottle, I would have thought it to be in the $10 range. It was a lovely Pinot Grigio, light and crisp, but not too watery. Tom expertly detected hints of pear. The finish had just a tinge of acidity, cutting whatever sweetness lingered and making it incredibly drinkable. Every time I looked at my glass, it was empty. I think Tom was drinking mine when I wasn't looking, because his glass always seemed to be full.

Just as we finished the two buck chuck, dinner came together. Lamb chops with onions in a dijon worcestershire sauce, portobello mushroom risotto, and spicy sauteed rainbow chard. Tom got a photo of the meal; tragically, the bottle of Old Vines Foch was being shy.

The red we had with dinner was a limited release 100% Marechal Foch by Quail's Gate Winery in Kelowna, B.C. Summer of 2008 on my way home from two years in Japan, I stopped in Canada to see a friend who had gone home the year before. Hessen, her friend Keltie, and I took a week-long road trip from Edmonton to Vancouver, stopping in the Okanagan Valley on our way back. The region, which is home to most of Canada's wineries, is rather fascinating. It's actually almost a desert, with over 200 days of sunshine a year and only 10-20 inches of rainfall. The soil in Kelowna is mostly sand and gravel, with glacial silt and sediment. The Marechal Foch varietal is a French hybrid introduced to Canada in 1946. The vines used in the Foch we had were from the first plantings in the Quail's Gate vineyard about 25 years ago, hence the "Old Vines" label. The grapes were picked around September '05 and aged in American oak for 18 months. Currently, most Marechal Foch is sweetened and used for cheap jug wines, but there is a small cult following of carefully produced Foch made from older vines. This bottle cost around $25, but I don't think you can find it in the states.

I'd been carrying this bottle around for two years, so I was really looking forward to opening it with Tom. At least I knew he could help me write the wine blog entry. Not to disappoint, he immediately tasted dark chocolate, which my palate could not pick out. I picked up hints of coffee, and we both noticed a strong layer of oak. The Foch was a beautiful wine - bold and full but with soft tannins on the finish. Like warm satin in the mouth, it was round and not quite fruity or dry. As expected, it paired well with the lamb and Grana Padano cheese in the risotto. The rainbow chard was a nice break from the richness of the everything else, and it turned out to be quite photogenic.

From a fun two buck white to a sentimental red - the wine, the evening, and particularly the Tom - were perfect. I'd recommend them to anyone.

Fifth Leg 2006 Red

This was one of those evenings meant for wine. Nothing on the agenda, The Time Traveler's Wife on DVD, and Caitlin cooking dinner: all signs pointed to red. A month or so ago I picked this bottle up after wine tasting from the 50%-off crate most people are too embarrassed to dig through. Usually a $13 bottle, I scored this Western Australian red blend for half that. Apparently "Fifth Leg" stands for the label's anti-corporate, self-proclaimed indie status.

It's a blend of Cab Sauv, Merlot, Shiraz, and a smidge of Cab Franc grown by Devil's Lair in Margaret Valley. In 2006 there was a drought, so the region only got about 80% of the normal rainfall. Luckily, the summer was warm and dry, so the grapes ripened well and were harvested a little early. They were then aged for a year in American and French oak. According to the tasting notes on Fifth Leg's Web site, the 2006 vintage is most drinkable through 2010, which may explain the discounted price.

This red started out fruity and stayed sweet at the finish with mild tannins. It was full-bodied but not too heavy, and as it opened up in the glass, it got smoother and smoother. I could definitely taste the spice of a Shiraz, but without the harsh kick they usually deliver. The balance of the blend was nicely done, producing a purpley flavor that was spunky but easy to drink. I'd recommend it if you can find it; this wine seems a little obscure. Now I just have to figure out when I have time to finish off the bottle this week...

Wily Jack 2007 Zinfandel

I know, I know. It's been a long time. Believe me, I missed you, too. But the good news is that I have a pretty good wine to recommend. (See left)

Monica came in town this weekend for a job interview, so I decided to throw a modest dinner party in honor of her arrival on Friday night. On the menu were Greek salad, a baked potato bar, kabocha spinach soup, spicy chicken skewers, curried avocado and tofu salad, my signature hummus, and for dessert, warm poached prunes over vanilla ice cream. The prune recipe called for a dry red wine, so I pulled this Wily Jack off the rack. The bottle cost around $7.99. While the fruit was simmering, Caitlin and I enjoyed a glass of the remaining wine.

The grapes for this Zin are grown in Sonoma and aged in French oak, but I couldn't find much else about the wine making process. Despite the lack of information about the wine itself, the back label did offer Chapter Three of Wily Jack's adventures. A young winemaker, Jason Becker, has done quite a clever job creating a story to sell his product. He hired Michael Schwab, a celebrated graphic artist with work on display at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, to create the character behind the label. Schwab came up with Wily Jack, the cowboy-esque silhouette who represents the brand. Wily Jack makes three wines - Zinfandel, Chardonnay, and Cabernet Sauvignon - each with a slightly different image of Jack on the front and a new chapter of his story on the back. Interestingly, the Wily Jack Cab Sauv just won a silver medal and the Chardonnay a gold medal in the 2010 San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition. I'll have to try those next. You'll have to pick up a bottle (or all three) to read
Wily Jack's story.

This Zinfandel turned out to be a perfect fit for the poached prunes, and rather enjoyable on its own. It was wildly fruity up front, with plenty of berries and an arguably pruney flavor. After the yummy entrance, it revealed its dry side with full oaky body and a bit of pucker on the finish. It was quite a wily mouthful, and while I found it a very interesting zinfandel, the tannins were a little strong for my taste. Despite being personally overwhelmed, I think this is a really fun wine and recommend it to anyone who's not afraid of a wily ride.

Chateau de Castelneau 2006 Reserve Merlot Bordeaux

I had just finished a loaded baked potato and opened Intro to Law & Economics - there was a knock at the door. Strange on a Wednesday eve at The Irene, unless it was Bob from the 12th floor, and he hasn't stopped by in months. I still haven't figured out if our door has a peep hole (there is a weird plastic box thing where a peep hole might be), so I just opened the door. There stood Jaime with a brown paper bag and a tired smile. Awesome surprise.

Jaime loves wines from Bordeaux, so of course he brought a 100% Merlot from the region. Merlot is the prominent grape grown in Bordeaux, but it is rare to find a pure merlot; usually it is blended with other varietals. It was an interesting change for me, because I almost never drink merlot. The most striking aspect was its dryness. It almost felt transparent, like it was just sweeping through in a gossamer wave and taking all my mouth's moisture on its way out. On the inhale, it had a smoky flavor with very little fruit. Actually, I find it kind of hard to describe, because this merlot was so different from the wines I usually choose. It had a whole new set of characteristics I haven't learned to articulate yet. New goal: drink diverse.

We enjoyed it for sure. A gluttonous Wednesday eve.

Gnarly Head 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon

It all started with a honey ham. Caitlin found one on sale at the market and decided to make an event out of it. Girls Night With Honey Ham, we called it (in my head). A few of Caitlin's ladies came over for dinner, followed by a trip to the theater to see Valentines Day. Movie reviews are not my thing, but I will note that the movie was not the highlight of the evening, though nor was the Gnarly Head Cab.

I don't remember much about this wine, partly because it wasn't that great, and partly because I drank it over a week ago. This week has been a little demanding, so I apologize to my loyal reader(s). I will recall what I can about this gnarly wine, which I picked up on sale from $12 to $7. Last summer, a friend said it was one of his favorites, so I figured I'd take advantage of the buy and grab a bottle for the party.

The Gnarly grapes are grown in Northern California, and this wine is a blend of grapes from different regions, including Mendocino, Paso Robles, Monterrey, and Lodi. Each area's grapes add something to the overall flavor. The Gnarly Head Winery started with a mission to make great Zinfandel, but has expanded to making Merlot, Pinot Grigio, Chard, and Cab as well.

I opened the bottle while baking coconut cream cheese cookies for the ladies. (pictured left coated in almond slivers) Perhaps it wasn't the best pairing, since the label suggests drinking it with meats and rich cheeses or chocolate. It was medium bodied with a hint of cranberries up front, with a lot more presence than a typical Cab Sauv. The wine left a strong aftertaste, which Caitlin thought tasted like lime rind, and I just thought tasted bad. It was light on the tongue, but quite heavy on the taste buds - spicy and bitter with tannins on the finish. Oddly, this wine has gotten great reviews: 91 points at the 2008 California State Wine Fair Competition and 86 from Wine Enthusiast Magazine. I didn't like it much.

Domaine Grand Veneur Les Champauvrins 2007 Côtes du Rhône Villages

There's not much to do during Snowmageddon other than drink wine and blog about it. Caitlin was making pizza from scratch last night, and class was cancelled for today (surprise!), so it seemed like a good time to open a nice bottle. We bought this Cotes Du Rhone Villages together at the neighborhood liquor store after a wine tasting one Friday. We both really liked it, and it was on sale for $19. Not exactly the humblest of wines, but splitting the cost made it bearable.

Les Champauvrins is a single vineyard bordering Chateauneuf du Pape appelation (a legally defined geographical indication), first made known for winemaking by Pope Jean XXII in 1320. This is evident in the name of the region, meaning "New Castle of the Pope." The Jaume family, who run Grand Veneur Winery, began farming the region in 1826. The area is renowned for its soil, a base of marine sandstone layered with remnants of Alpine glaciers and rocks deposited by the Rhone. The winery practices green harvesting, which means that during the growing season, they go through the fields and selectively remove bunches of immature grapes. Although this process significantly decreases the winery's output, it allows the vines to give everything they have to the remaining bunches, ultimately producing better grapes and wine - quality over quantity logic.

This particular Cotes du Rhone Villages is a blend of 70% Grenache, 20% Syrah, and 10% Mourvedre. It is aged in stainless steel vats for 15 days with "pigeage". Pigeage is when the skins and stems, which naturally float to the top of the liquid, are manually submerged to increase their contribution to the flavor. Traditionally, people did this with their feet, like in the movies. If you Google "pigeage" there are some interesting image results.

I must confess we opened the bottle before the pizza was even in the oven. Even the cork in this wine was lovely. It was a proper cork (not agglomerate or the beloved screw top), and crested with the name of the current head of the estate, Alain Jaume. Beyond the cork, the wine was no disappointment. When I first tasted it, I thought OH! sweet! But then as it circled around my tongue and slid towards my throat, it opened up into something else. It took me a few sips to figure out what was happening, and for the first time I really understood what it means to say a wine is complex. Maybe it's because I've been paying more attention, or maybe it's because this wine cost more than $6, but it really tasted like a story. A childhood of rich syrupy fruit, a sweet and seductive adolescence, evolving gently into delicate refinement, and finishing with the subtle scars and callouses of a life well-lived. Sorry boys, but wine seems more like a woman to me.

If you can't tell, this wine was a win. So was the pizza, by the way.

Jargon 2007 Pinot Noir

Thursday night Law & Econ is a great time to G-chat. Adi (left) was also stuck at school and suggested we try out the free salsa lessons after class, since I have been talking about wanting to learn ballroom (and he went all last semester). One of the girls from my section hosts lessons at school from 8-9 with a guy whom I guess she teaches legitimate dance classes with outside of school. Earlier in the evening, Adi and I had both been drinking wine at respective event receptions at school. We decided (via G-chat) more wine was needed. So he went and picked out this bottle while I was finishing class, and we convened afterward to enjoy. He brought a crunch bar and a mug, true law student ghetto chic.

He selected a 2007 Pinot Noir, mostly, I think, because of the screw top, and partly because of the little megaphone man on the label. It's bottled under the Jargon label, which only makes Pinot Noir. They have a pretty cute Web site, www.jargonwines.com, through which I learned that "Jargon" is basically poking fun at the whole wine-critique culture (and by association, my blog?). It is grown in California by the Trinchero Family Estates, which also encompasses several other well-branded wines. I can't find anything online about the process from vine to bottle, probably because of the rebel nature of the label. But I would guess it was aged in stainless steel or concrete, since there wasn't any oak in the flavor.

The easiest way to explain this wine is that it was much more like a white than red. It was simple and fruity and reminded me of the Manischewitz they serve for church communion. The sweetness was thick with cherries, and the tannins were barely noticeable. I've never had such a bright Pinot Noir, and I honestly think anyone would enjoy this wine. Adi and I liked it, anyway.

It was the perfect wine to loosen the hips for salsa. After a glass, we joined the class and I learned some pretty sweet moves. I'll definitely be back next week to learn more, and maybe review a new bottle!

Jacob's Creek Reserve 2006 Shiraz

There are certain things men will never understand. One of them is The Notebook. And I'll admit, sometimes I don't even understand why the idea of curling up on the sofa under a blanket with a glass of wine and a movie guaranteed to make you cry sounds like the perfect Thursday evening. But it did - this Thursday at least.

This bottle was a very personal choice, so I thought it was the right time to open it. The Jacob's Creek Reserve Shiraz is the first wine I ever loved. I only had it once: it was my farewell dinner at Dragonfly in Gainesville (sushi seemed appropriate since I was moving to Japan), and a few of us split the shiraz. I've never forgotten it, and a while back, I saw it on sale in the SuperFresh behind school. $8.99 from 12.99. Good excuse to revisit the past.

Wearing neon blue tights and my oldest t-shirt, I plopped on the couch and poured a glass of blast-from-the-past. Just in time for the awkward strip scene in The Notebook where Adams and Gosling are about to consumate their teenage love on the floor of some old house. This had been a good idea, after all.

This South Australian wine is aged in a variety of French and American oak barrels for 18 months. At the end, the product is tasted, and only the best barrels are blended into the Reserve. It scored an 89 on the Wine Spectator scale. I don't know what that means.

Recently, I've found that shiraz is no longer my favorite varietal. So I was a little nervous about this wine - since it was so infused with memories, I didn't want to ruin it by realizing that I don't actually like it anymore. But it was nice. It was smooth up front but had that characteristic punch at the finish that I've found is the reason shiraz has fallen out of favor with me. It was a pleasant punch, though, spicy and not too bitter. I finished the bottle a few days later with Caitlin, and she expertly noted that it was very oaky, which I wouldn't have identified on my own. Also, those few days made a big difference in the texture. It got a lot softer, and thus a lot more enjoyable. I guess it just needed to breathe. In the end, I learned this:

wine + the notebook = catharsis

Los Vascos 2007 Sauvignon Blanc

I seem to be on a Chilean wine kick recently. Perhaps this is because there are so many affordable bottles, but it's also because the region produces really nice Cab Sauvs. Plus I recently made a Chilean friend, Nico, and whenever he brings wine over, it's inevitably (surprise!) Chilean.

This weekend I actually had two Chilean wines - a Carménère and a Sauvignon Blanc. Nico brought over the Carménère on Saturday night. He and Caitlin (my roommate) had plans to make dinner, and they downed one bottle of red while I was out ice skating. Luckily, I came home just in time to open the Carménère, which Nico received as a rather generous gift from an older co-worker. I won't review it here, because it was not a "humble" wine, and I'm sure my novice tongue could not even begin to do it justice. But it was lovely: velvety and indulgent.

Interestingly, the Carménère grape was one of the original varietals grown in Bordeaux, but was imported to Chile around 1850. It's a rather finicky grape: it doesn't grow well when exposed to too much rain, and the grape often doesn't develop properly (this is called poor fruit set). After years of problems with phylloxera infestations and failed vines, most regions gave up on growing Carménère. Luckily, it seems to do just fine in Chile, so most of the world's supply is now grown there. Until the last 15 years, Carménère was often confused with Merlot in Chile, as Sauvignon Blanc was with Sauvignonasse. Scientists and wine connoisseurs finally noticed something was off, and nowadays most bottles are accurately labeled with the appropriate varietals. But if you get ahold of a pre-2000 bottle, you might find a surprise inside.

But back to the cheap wine. Sunday was Ajay's 4-year veggietastic vegetarian anniversary, so he made yummy porcini mushroom risotto and had a few of us over for a celebration. I made chewy chocolate chip ginger cookies (sounds bizarre, but whoa) and took a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to match. I'd picked it up a few months back at World Market on a wine binge and was saving it for an occasion that called for something light. We all shared a red with dinner, and only Ajay and I made it to this bottle.

This white from Casablanca Valley was a little tart and slightly acidic. I find most whites pretty easy to drink, and this was no exception. It was light, almost watery up front, but at the finish a strong citrus flavor emerged. Honestly, I didn't have a strong impression of it either way. It didn't offer the same taste journey that a red would have, but I enjoyed it. Also, I might have been distracted by the delicious risotto, addictive cookies, and Nick rolling around on the carpet.