In Defense of “Fruit Punch” Wine

Experienced wine lovers often look down on inexpensive sweet wines. (OK gloves off, I’m talking about wine snobs.) I read a blog this morning that disparaged Sutter Home White Zindandel as a syrupy rosé wannabee. Well, maybe it IS a syrupy rosé wannabee, but these types of wines have an important, often unacknowledged, place in our wine world.

They introduce the novice gently into the wonders of wine.

My first tastes of wine were sips of Charles Krug Chenin Blanc and Cabernet Sauvignon from my parents’ glasses when I was a kid. (Sorry for ratting you out Mom, but I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations is up on that.) Not surprisingly I liked the Chenin Blanc but hated the Cab. It tasted harsh to my young unformed palate. The Chenin Blanc, while by no means syrupy, was softer and much more approachable.

I’m not alone. Many people learn to love wine by starting with the sweeter types, usually whites. I have heard very few tales of people trying a young Cab early on in their wine tasting journey and loving it. In fact, I’m guessing many wine lovers would be embarrassed to admit an early favorite to their oenophile friends. (A jug of Carlo Rossi? A bottle of Boone’s Farm?)

But wherever we start, eventually most of us progress on to more adventurous tasting and an ever widening appreciation of wine in general.

So, even if you wouldn’t drink it on a dare today, don’t make fun of those fruit punch wines. They have started many a wineaux on the road to greatness.

Grab a Glass and Join the Fray

I never realized until recently that the subject of wine could be so contentious. High alcohol, versus lower alcohol. Cork versus screw cap,  blatantly fruity versus understated and elegant, California Cab versus French Bordeaux. The list goes on.

I’d say, “Gosh folks can’t we all just get along?” (well maybe I wouldn’t say “gosh”) but I kind of like all this controversy. As wine bloggers it is our duty to make sure we understand both sides and are able to weigh in. And every new shot fired in the name of wine is a perfect excuse for another trip to the wine store to pick up some bottles and pop a few corks. We shall not shirk from our responsibilities! Research must be conducted!

Then we must labor to write our take on the latest wine war. It’s a hard job, but someone’s got to get in there and do it. We have opinions we are not shy about spreading them about liberally. If you have taste buds, and opinions of your own, grab a glass and join in. We’d love to hear your thoughts.

Step Back Folks and Give ‘em Some Air!

I was wine blog hopping the other day and came across a blog about aerating wine by buzzing in a few turns in the blender – something I just have to try, as weird as it sounds. But that is a subject for another day (after I try it). What struck me in this blog (which shall go nameless as it is a good wine blog and the fact I disagree with one line in it doesn’t make it less so) was this line …”allowing wines time to “breathe,” a notion that’s generally overstated anyway.”

Overstated meaning what? People say you should do it too much?

Well, if you have any real experience with wine, especially reds, you know the effects of oxygen on wine. You’ve experienced the gradual opening up in your glass of a tight wine, enjoyed the changes in aroma, the softening of the tannins. Maybe even set aside a wine you didn’t enjoy much today only to find it much more appealing the next day. So, I don’t think the practice of breathing wine, especially wine that is tight, numb, or young and overly tannic, CAN be overstated. One of the coolest things about wine is experiencing its evolution, from grape to wine, from barrel to bottle, from bottle to glass, from beginning of the bottle to the end – changing all the time.

Now I will agree it’s true that the practice of opening a bottle an hour or so before you drink it probably has nominal effect. The surface area of wine being exposed to air is so small that it simply would not be noticeable once you pour. (And that is probably what that blogger meant.)

The simplest way to aerate, or breathe, your wine is to pour a glug into a nice big glass and give it a whirl. Yep, we are actually not showing off a party trick when we swirl that wine around without slopping it out onto our shirts, there is a perfectly logical reason for it!

Decanting is another way to get some air mixing in with your wine. The minor trouble to do this (and to purchase a nice decanter) becomes worth it if the wine really needs a lot of air, even before it reaches your glass, and/or if you want to remove sediment.

There are a lot of interesting and clever gadgets out there that are supposed to help aerate wine. Are they worth it? The few I’ve tried haven’t really convinced me, but I’m keeping and open mind. In the meantime, I’ve gotta try the blender, just for grins!

Do you use a gadget to aerate wine? Tell us about it.

Pulling the Cork

A wine corkThere has been some debate about what type of wine opening is better, cork, or screwcap. I am not going to enter the conversation to opine whether one, or the other, is better for the wine.

I’ve had wonderful wines that had corks, I’ve had wonderful wines that had screw caps. I’ll let the science geeks hypothesize and test and compile data and make their case for one or the other.

But I’m a tradition nut of a sort. I like ceremony, and I like doing things that evoke a feeling of continuance, of occasion. In short, when I open a bottle of wine, I like to pull the cork.

They say everyone is good at something. I am really good at opening wine.  There is a sense of anticipation when I pull out my trusty wine key and remove the top foil.  An atavistic pleasure as I plunge the screw down and twist it rapidly, hearing the little squeek as the metal rubs against the cork. A sense of satisfaction as I leverage the cork out and hear that breathy little “pop”. A reminder of provenance as I whiff the cork and it smells of winery. Joy! A new bottle of wine now ready for my pleasure.

How can you compare the cheap sounding soda pop bottle crackle of a screwtop with that?

If that doesn’t mean anything to you, try this scenario on for size – one most people, including me, would prefer to avoid…

You are at a fine restaurant. You are perhaps celebrating a special occasion, or maybe trying to impress a date, or a good client. (I bet you can already see where I am going with this.) You order a fine wine from the impressive wine list. The waiter comes and holds the bottle out for your inspection. You nod your approval. Then… crrrrrrrrrrrrrrackle!

Wine is a thing of mystique, of celebration, of joy. The drink of kings. It deserves a little ceremony, a sense of specialness. Pulling the cork delivers that experience.  So, even if I like the wine inside just as much, I will always enjoy cork topped bottle just a little bit more than one topped with something that also seals cola and soy sauce bottles.

Doesn’t Wine Ever Smell Like Grapes?

person smelling wineBerries, cherries, plums, stone fruits, apples, peaches, apricots, prunes, nectarines. I’ve read and heard flavors and aromas of wine described using each and every one of these fruits (and many more). Today, as I swirled a nice red around my glass and took a healthy whiff, I detected a pleasant fruity aroma, but just couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Plum. No. Cherry? Nope. Then it suddenly dawned on me, I was smelling grape.

Uh oh.

I had to wonder, is this a bad thing?

It makes total sense to me that a wine might smell like the fruit it was made from, but I never, ever hear anyone admitting to a fine wine smelling like grapes. On labels, reviews, at tastings, I hear rhapsodic descriptions of every fruit known to man, save one.

Maybe wine just rarely reflects its origins in taste or aroma. After all, it is one of wine’s chief charms that there are so many interesting and sometimes elusive scents and tastes that develop in each one, and they are never the same twice. That is why I choose to drink wine (i.e. fermented grapes) instead of say blackberry or plum “wine”.  Those, while at times delicious and fun, always always seem to taste just exactly like the fruit from which they are made. They are invariable and predictable.

I’ve heard non-vinifera varieties produce wines described as “grapey” but that doesn’t seem to be meant as compliment.

The cult of wine is built on the delight of its complexity and unique characteristics. But I still think that once in awhile, in among all those other interesting tastes or scents, we would find grapes.

Have you ever tasted or smelled grapes in wine?

What the Rest of Us Drink

Wine Fantasy<Start Fantasy> It’s dinner time. I wander down to my climatically controlled wine cellar and pick a lovely aged Bordeaux to complement the delicious meal my chef-boyfriend has prepared. (Shoulder being shaken) Judy…Wake-up!! <End Fantasy>

<Start Reality>I am tired and have worked hard all day. I make a quick trip to the grocery store where I pick up ingredients for an inexpensive, easy to prepare meal that I will fix with my own two hands, and I grab a bottle of wine off the shelf.

The simple fact is that most of us poor slobs get our wine from the grocery store. Or maybe the local liquor store. The average (or even not so average) wine lover has neither the resources – money wise – nor the patience to buy cases of fine $30+ a bottle wine and let it age gracefully in a room set aside for strictly that purpose.

Yet when I read about wine it seems like the author is always going on about some wine that 99% of us will never even see, let alone have the chance to taste. Now maybe they are not trying to rub our noses in it when they describe the unbelievable vertical tasting they participated in with their friend Mr Napa Winemaker, but it sure feels like it to me.

Resources like the Wine Spectator offer information on wine bargains and rate less expensive wines, but when I eagerly trot down to the local supermarket, list in hand, most of those wines are still rarely to be found. Sometimes they actually have the label. But the Reserve? Uh uh. The 2005? Fat chance.

So we’re on a mission. Find the best wines of all those hundreds of bottles at the grocery store. The fruity, buttery Chardonnay, the jammiest red blend, the elegant Cab. We need your help. It’s a big job, but somebody’s gotta do it!