Chardonnay: Three Wishes ($3)

Whole Foods, where Lucille Bluth buys her bananas for $10, is not where you would expect to find cheap wine. Nevertheless, they do have a product for those who, struck by remorse in the middle of their weekly grocery trip, feel the need to make up for their profligate habits. Three Wishes Chardonnay is only $3! One dollar a wish, says Joe.

"What do you think?" I ask him.

Joe tilts his head, and thinks. "There is a worse version of bad wine," he says, finally, "than this version."

It is bad. It is too bad. It is simultaneously too sweet, too sour, and too water.

Now I know what my three wishes are!

We finish the wine. We drink some beer. C comes home; we all hang out. At the end of the night, I walk Joe to the door.

"That was terrible," I say.

A pause, as Joe thinks for three seconds. "I liked it," he says.

White Blend: Big House ($8)

[Continuation from below post.]

We tried a second wine.

"It's a wine that I would toss in a guy's face at a bar."

"I don't know if I like this one," DVT said.

"It's better than the other one," AH said. "I don't mind it. I don't think I'm picky with wine though. I would drink anything."

A few glasses later, DVT said, "I prefer drinking the other one."

AH nodded. "I think I would prefer the Sutter Home."

It was bitter, we agreed.

DVT said, "It's a wine that I would toss in a guy's face at a bar."

AH said, "It's a wine that they would hand out for free at the art thing."

Later, DVT's boyfriend, JP, arrived. "This wine is good!" he said, when asked for an opinion. "It tastes like a classy and high-quality Manischewitz."

Chardonnay: Sutter Home

I'm sorry it's been so long! I've been drinking wine, as usual, and taking notes on some of them, but then I didn't write them up immediately, and now those notes are tragically incomprehensible. So let's take a moment of silence for the "not atrocious" wine with "peppery notes" that I drank in Vermont with C and my friend Z, and another moment for a Trader Joe's wine that I drank at some point, somewhere, with someone.

And now, to business.

"This is my boyfriend's mom's favorite wine."

A week ago, I was sitting in my new New Orleans home (!) with some new New Orleans friends (!), drinking some wine.

"It's kind of... sweet," DVT said. She took another sip. "It's kind of... dry."

We all sat there, pondering the mysterious complexities of wine. AH pointed out that the bottle's label said that the wine was "medium between sweet and dry." We all sat there, contemplating our wisdom.

"I don't think I like this," DVT said.

"It tastes rotten," I said.

"This is my boyfriend's mom's favorite wine," AH said.


VERDICT: Fine.

"Jack's Blend": McWilliams Hanwood Estate ($13)

"Red Wine."

A few weeks ago, as C. and I were bravely making our way through a particularly terrible bottle of red wine, I remembered about this blog (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, baby you know I love you) and quickly snatched up the bottle to look at exactly what kind of unholy grape we were drinking.

Quick aside -- I know this is a wine blog, but you guys know a thing or two about whiskey, right? You know, probably, that a lot of the time it comes from Ireland or Scotland or Kentucky or Tennessee; you know and love/hate its burn; you know that people put ice in it, to "open up the flavor." You may also know that sometimes they are called "single malt" and sometimes they are called "blended malt" and sometimes they are just called "blended," and probably you know from firsthand experience that single malt whiskey is, like, way expensive omg. The reason for this -- stay with me, guys -- is that single malt whiskey is made from only one kind of grain and only at one distillery, which makes it more pure, and makes it taste better, et cetera.

Blends, on the other hand, are made by blending -- that is, blending different distilleries' whiskies or even different kinds of whiskey altogether. Throw everything together, and it's still alcoholic, right? Cheaper for them, cheaper for you, just try to make sure you get that shot in the back of your mouth so it doesn't hit your taste buds.

So: whiskey can be blended. That's fine. That's a fine thing. God knows I've had enough blended whiskey to be able to start a second blog. But wine, though? Wine is something different. Wine is sophisticated. Classy. Traditional. Pure.

This is what I learned from our terrible, terrible wine that night: blended wine exists!

"Jack's Blend," the label declared, and then, on the line below, by way of explanation: "Red Wine." Nothing else.

Of course, we finished the bottle. But we weren't happy about it.



VERDICT: DO NOT BUY.

Chardonnay: X Winery 2012 ($20)

Mmm!

Obviously, I got this on sale. Twenty dollars! Absurd.

However, my thrifty wine aficionados, it is with a heavy heart that I must break this news to you: this wine was, actually, pretty good! I know it does nothing to further the search for the best-tasting, cheapest wine -- any wine more than fifteen bucks had better taste good -- but, hey, if you ever see it on sale, grab it. It was sweet, but not too sweet; it was fruity, but not in a gross way at all.

If anything, it was much better than the label would have us believe; on the back of the bottle, X Winery claimed "a supple, fleshy mouth-feel."


VERDICT: Buy!

Cabernet Sauvignon: Máscara de Fuego, 2011 ($15)

Bad, yet compulsively drinkable.

God, this is actually kind of bad. And yet compulsively drinkable -- I wonder if it's more alcoholic than wine normally is, for after each sip I feel that pleasant sort of immediate fuzziness...

"I don't really drink wine," says our friend, JM. "But I like it better than most red wines I've had. So I assume it's pretty good."

Also, this wine's name means "mask of fire."



VERDICT: Oh, it'll do.

Sauvignon Blanc: Steelhead 2011 ($14)

"aggressively grassy"

This wine is a little over my normal price range -- it's fourteen dollars! -- so my expectations are high. Nevertheless, Steelhead's sauvignon blanc disappoints: it is too sour, and too dry. At this point, I wish I could say something knowledgeable, like, "Like most sauvignon blancs, its dryness is counterbalanced by a grape-ish finish," but I know actually nothing about wine. What is sauvignon blanc, anyway?

Wikipedia tells me that it is a green grape from France. Good! Also, "the flavor can range from aggressively grassy to sweetly tropical."

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THIS WINE IS.

IT IS "AGGRESSIVELY GRASSY"!!!!!!!

It's getting me tipsy, though. I've almost finished the bottle! Time to finish Arrested Development!

love,
Maia



VERDICT: Enh, you could get a better wine for cheaper, probably. Definitely not worth the fourteen bucks.

Pinot Grigio: Flipflop 2012 ($8)

A few weeks ago, my friend L and I went out to dinner to celebrate her college graduation. We chose a Thai restaurant that was BYOB; L said that she would bring some leftover wine that she wasn't planning on drinking. This was the wine:

"Drinkable."

The name of the manufacturer, as you can see, is "flipflop." Those are "Hawaiian"-patterned flipflops depicted on the label, because this brand is relaxed and refreshing. Please check out their website.

Just like the one in the picture, our bottle of wine had a yellow "Best Buy 2011" sticker from Wine Enthusiast Magazine, so we had very high hopes.

Before we tasted the wine, I realized that I didn't have anything to take notes on. I looked through my bag. The only thing I had was my planner, which had no blank pages at all. So, in order to preserve our thoughts, ideas, and feelings, I took notes in the planner's back pages. Specifically, my notes are scrawled on top of "Guide for Evaluating Web Sites," a handy guide to deciding whether or not you should use, say, "1001factsaboutdolphins.geocities.com" for your research paper.

So: the wine! L, confessing a bias towards white wine, because she "likes cold beverages," had a sip first. "Drinkable," she pronounced. According to my notes, I thought much the same: "bland in a good way," "not sour," "pleasant enough."

Our food came. We ate; we talked; we laughed; we talked about Taylor Swift's "22." Being in more of a beer mood that night, L declined any more of the wine, and focused on her beer, leaving me to the wine, all by myself. Eventually, I said, "I'm kind of tipsy."

"I don't mean to pressure you into drinking," she said.

This shocked me. "I don't think anyone has ever said that to me," I said. "Like literally. No one."

We were at the restaurant for three hours. At one point, the couple next to us moved tables. "Am I talking really loudly?" I asked.

"Whatever, you're saying a lot of really great things," L reassured me.

"You're so smart," I said.

"I am smart," L agreed. "I'm graduating."


---


At the bottom of my notes, this quote (for I enclosed it in quotation marks) is written, with no attribution. I'm not sure who said it, or when, or why. But here it is:

"I'm sitting here with my arms crossed and holding this glass of wine and like, I don't know. I don't know."



VERDICT: Not too sour or two sweet. Buy!

Chardonnay: Liberty Creek ($7.99)

This is a momentous occasion. Joe, my former blog partner, is back from his year-long government-mandated exile in Latin America, and we are about to write a review together. We are sitting on my porch in West Philadelphia, watching the cars noisily race by. A perfect May afternoon. Earlier, we saw a horse!

It tastes like a floral pattern on a sofa.

FIRST GLASS

"How long do you have to let the wine breathe?"

"I don't know. I don't care, really."

"I like your general approach."

(Joe here, taking a turn narrating: This is a NICE wine drinking set up.  Sitting on the balcony, beautiful weather, glorious friendship restored, hunky men playing volleyball...but it is possible this wine is really bad.  It is definitely too warm.  So we have placed it in the refrigerator.)

Joe's right -- the wine is either very bad, or too warm, or possibly both. I guess we'll have to wait until the second glass to find out!



SECOND GLASS

Our friend JG has arrived! He says, "Very pleasant, goes down smoothly." (He is drinking out of the martini glass.)

Okay, my second glass. In my opinion, it's a little too fruity, a little too sweet, but then again, I don't really like sweet wine.

It tastes, I think, like a floral pattern on a sofa.

"This wine," Joe says, "is like the green light in the Great Gatsby. Semicolon. Let's... What does the green light stand for? It's kind of like Daisy. No, don't -- don't -- no, don't type -- it... Brings out a sense of longing. You see an ideal, so in the Great Gatsby that is Daisy, but in here it is a good fruity wine--"

"-- the platonic form of a good fruity wine --" says JG.

"Yeah!" says Joe.



THIRD GLASS

It's still not very good.



FOURTH GLASS

Maia" I would rather raise children with you than Alex."






VERDICT: Do not buy!

Malbec: Trivento 2012 ($12)

Okay, guys, so I have some exciting news. Tonight, I'm going to try something new! It's called: "drinking in moderation."(*) Instead of drinking the entire bottle of wine, I'm just going to have a glass with dinner, because I'm sort of in the mood for it, and then I'm going to use my fancy new vacuum wine stopper, and save the rest for another day. Am I an adult now? Is this what adulthood means?

* Seriously, I have never actually not finished an opened bottle of wine in my entire life. (**) While I was on the phone with C in the liquor store, I asked him if this was sad. He said I should be proud. I'm not so sure.
** My father can never, ever find this blog.

DAY ONE: Growing Up

Whoa, this smells good.

Hey, you know, I actually like this one! It's very, like, well-balanced -- it isn't too sweet, it isn't too sour. It's... nice, actually.

I guess if I had a complaint, I would maybe say that it's not, like, "full-bodied"? Do you know what I mean? Do I sound like an asshole? Do you ever read something in a wine review and think, "What does that even mean, this person is an asshole," but then you're drinking wine yourself and the term just pops into your head and suddenly you understand it? Whatever.

I'm not drunk, but I still feel nice! Glowing and mellow. I'm going to curl up in my soft girly curly white bed and pull up the comforters and read a magazine. I like life.

Glasses of wine: 1



DAY TWO: Tragedy Strikes

OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, IT'S SOUR.

!!!!!

Or is it? Did I just eat something sweeter for dinner and it tastes more sour? Is this in my head? But I used my new Vacu Vin wine stoppers that I bought at the wine store!

A quick search for "what the fuck is the right way to use vacu vin wine stoppers" reveals that I have not, in fact, managed to use the stoppers correctly. Having ignored the incomprehensible directions (see below), I simply shoved the stopper in my bottle, figuring that'd do'er.

This is what I was supposed to do. Please click on this so you can see it better.

These directions make much more sense now that I've figured out that I'm supposed to buy a pump! So here I am, home alone, drinking sour wine and looking at Amazon with my credit card out. Aaaand there goes! Vacu Vin pump bought! (I got the stainless steel "gift" edition, because I'm worth it.) Will it work?! STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT.

Isn't this blog useful?

Glasses of wine: 1

DAY THREE: The End

okay, the pump hasn't come yet, but i finished the bottle

Glasses of wine: 4

Cabernet Sauvignon: Stone Cellars

i didn't take this picture it's on the internet

Hi, guys! Sorry this blog has been so inactive lately -- I've drunk a lot of wine, but have been waiting too long to write about them, and by the time I get around to it I've forgotten my impressions. So, in order to fix that, this entry will be LIVEBLOGGED!!!

Setting the scene: D, my childhood bestie L, and her high school friend Hometown D, are all sitting around on a Friday night playing a rousing game of Monopoly. As I type this, L and Hometown D are taking the first sips.

"Dry," L says. I keep typing. "Dry," she says again. "Dry dry dry dry dry dry."

"Nice legs," says D, who isn't drinking it.


FIRST GLASS

"Oh, I -- ooh! ...Oh. Mm. Enh," I say, as I take my first sip.

I'm thinking it's kind of sweet, but L nods understandingly and says, "It's kind of sour, right?"

Oh, wait! It is kind of sour. It's very flavorful -- maybe not entirely in a good way? But it's definitely not bland! It's got a lot of taste, but not in the most subtle or elegant way.

D acquires B&O railroad. "Let me try it," he says. I give him my glass. He takes a sip. "It tastes like wine," he says, idiotically.

When I smirk, he continues: "No, this one, of all of the cheap wines we've had, tastes the most like you would expect wine to taste," he says. "You know? Everything else we've had, there's like something very clearly wrong with it. But this one's, just, like, wine. Which is good."

"I think this is the B&O railroad of wines, in that it's got body and odor," L says. She is drinking her wine out of a martini glass.


SECOND GLASS

Reader: At this point, I realize that I forgot to tell you about this particular board. It belonged to my grandmother, who was a sharp-tongued Depression survivor, and played Monopoly far more viciously than a four-year-old child really expected or deserved. For her, Monopoly was an opportunity to teach me two things: one, how to do quick mental math under the pressure of her awaiting contempt, and two, that money is everything. (I learned neither.) She lived about forty minutes from my parents' house, and so practically raised me, since they were so busy when I was growing up. During my junior year of high school she died of a brain tumor; the souvenir that I claimed from her house -- the object that, for me, was really the essence of her, this woman that I loved -- was this Monopoly board.

It's old. It looks like it's from the forties; it probably is. The fonts on the property cards and the money are different from the fonts on their contemporary counterparts; the box is taped and re-taped with duct tape.

"There should be an Alicia Keys version of monopoly," says D.


THIRD GLASS

"We didn't ever talk about our second glass," L says, while intense negotiations between D and Hometown D are going on. "I stopped tasting it."


FOURTH GLASS

WEEEEEEEEEEE
ARE NEVER EVER EVER
GETTING BAAACK TOGETHERRRR

oooohhh oooo oo oo oooo


FIFTH GLASS

my monopoly is the purples it's not as good as other people's monopolies


SIXTH GLASS

nooooooo HOMETOWN D GOT FRE PARKINGGGGGG


SEVENTH GLASS

"huhhhhhhhhhhhh," says d, having some wine


EITTH GLASS

th ewinee's all gone!!!! i'm drinking liquor goodnight everyone

love always,
maia




VERDICT: yeah it's all right, i dunno

Cabernet Sauvignon: Las Parcelas 2011 ($10)

"A wash of flavorless acid with an aftertaste."

We had a dinner party a few nights ago! "We" of course means my housemate D and I, because it was in our house; "had a dinner party" of course refers to my boyfriend C, who did 100% of all of the actual prep and cooking. Friends BH and CG were the guests of honor, and we decided that this was a wonderful occasion to try two new wines (which D bought, and for which I have not yet paid him back. Basically, I brought nothing to the table).

First, we tried the Las Parcelas Cabernet Sauvignon 2011. (We later tried the other wine, a Bolla Pinot Grigio 2010, which you can read about here.) It is our very first non-American wine. It is Chilean! Take a moment and pretend to give a fuck. Okay, good, let's move on.

"It tastes like wine to me," said CG, wisely. "Like this is what wine tastes like. Right?"

"It's not bad," said BH. "It's not too sour." He added, "I'm drinking it very mechanically."

So far, so good! Having successfully used my guests as guinea pigs, I felt confident enough to try it myself. Here are my tasting notes:

8:03: I disagree -- I think it's kind of sour! Very flavorful. Reminds me of the first one we ever did. That weird dark concentrated winey flavor. Is that "peat"? Is that "peaty"? What does peat taste like??

8:06: It gets better the more you drink it. Not because you're drunk (this is only the third sip) but just less intense, like you get used to it.

8:07: Nope! It depends if you catch the taste with the front of your taste buds or not.

I voiced this last thought to the company, interrupting BH's and CG's impassioned conversation about the male gaze. "If you hold it in your mouth, you know, it tastes different..." I said, and they looked at me. "Like, not if you gulp it down like college students usually do wine, but like, if you actually like, hold it in your mouth. Swish it around a little. You know."

They tried it. 

"Oh," said BH, making a face.

"It's..." said CG. "It's strong but at the same time a little watery."

"There was an instant," said BH, "where it turned medicinal."

We had found the trick to drinking this wine: Don't let it hit your taste buds! I would strongly advise drinking it as you do hard liquor -- make sure it hits the back of your throat, and avoid the front of your tongue. If you just gulp it down like that, it's cold and clear! But otherwise, it tastes like a wash of flavorless acid with an aftertaste.

"I would buy this," I said.

CG said, "No."

A sidenote: It was SO difficult to find a picture of this wine! Weirdly enough, the only sites that I could find pictures on were all Polish (I think). Draw your own conclusions.

VERDICT: Do not buy. 

Pinot Grigio: Bolla 2010 ($10)

Weirdly refreshing.

We had a dinner party a few nights ago! "We" of course means my housemate D and I, because it was in our house; "had a dinner party" of course refers to my boyfriend C, who did 100% of all of the actual prep and cooking. Friends BH and CG were the guests of honor, and we decided that this was a wonderful occasion to try two new wines (which D bought, and for which I have not yet paid him back. Basically, I brought nothing to the table).

First we tried the Las Parcelas Cabernet Sauvignon 2011 (which you can read about here). Then, we moved on to the Bolla Pinot Grigio 2010, our white. BH tried it first. "It tastes like juice," he said.

That sounded promising! D then offered his opinion: "I kind of like it! I wouldn't want to drink a lot of it because it's too sweet," he added, "but..."

My own notes read: "weirdly refreshing" and "tastes like very light apples."

VERDICT: We kind of like it!

Pinot Grigio: Turning Leaf 2011 ($10)

"Exactly what I would want to drink a bottle of in the middle of May on a weekend when I have nothing to do."

My housemate, S, was kind enough to contribute a bottle of wine to a gathering that D and I hosted last night. "It's another Turning Leaf," he said, "so we can compare!" Truly, he is a scientist.

There were six people present, so this review should give you, Dear Reader, an uncharacteristically reliable report, given the comparatively enormous sample size.

First, we smelled it. Two (2) people reported that its scent was pleasing. One (1) person reported that it smelled very acidic. Everyone else wasn't paying attention.

Then, we tasted it. Here is how it was described:
- watery
- super-inoffensive
- sweet; reminiscent of green grapes
- watery
- very watery
- "some bullshit"
- "exactly what I would want to drink a bottle of in the middle of May on a weekend when I have nothing to do"
- like water
- feels like it should be iced and served with a slice of lemon

As we had similar feelings about Turning Leaf's Merlot (extremely inoffensive but not really tasting like anything), I'm beginning to spot a manufacturing trend. The Merlot was worse, though; this Pinot Grigio was watery, but kind of comforting, while the Merlot was entirely bland and forgettable.



VERDICT: Inoffensive: watery, but sort of pleasant.

Chardonnay: Black Swan 2010 (1.5 L / $14)

It tastes like rotten fruit with a finishing of rising sour. It's bad in a really interesting and surprisingly -- complex way.

[NOTE: This picture is not accurate -- we, of course, got the 1.5 L bottle.]

SOBER

This bottle has a BLACK CORK. Have you ever seen that?! Did you even know that existed?!?? IT IS COMPLETELY BLACK, WITH PALE YELLOW LETTERING. I sense great things!

My housemate, M, comes running in excitedly. "Black Swan! I always used to get these because the labels are so funny!" She reads aloud to us: "Grapes, sun, wind, a dash of daring, unfiltered laughter, the feeling of leaving work at three on a Thursday, the rush of having your favorite cafe name a dessert after you, the pride of filling page  6 of your passport... In other words, tropical fruit twinkles bright like city lights, with hints of pineapple, authentically refreshing to the finish."


FIRST GLASS

I take a sip. I say, loudly, "Oh my god!"

My boyfriend, C, who is cooking, says, "What?"

I cannot respond. I am in shock.

It occurs to me, for maybe the first time ever, that I do not want to finish this bottle.

"Oh my god," I say again.

"Is it bad?" says M.

"It's bad," I say, "in a really... interesting way. Like, it's not just like 'oh it's sour.' It's bad in such a way that I want to keep drinking it to be able to describe it."

It tastes like... It tastes like rotten fruit with a finishing of rising sour. It's bad in a really interesting and surprisingly -- complex way. It's got so many different flavors: there are four and five notes, and all of them are terrible.

"Oh my god," I say aloud -- totally involuntarily -- with every sip. Eventually, I am overcome by the need to have someone else share in this experience, and so I wrangle D into having a cup. He says, immediately, "I like the smell." A few moments later, he says, "Maybe it's just the mug, but it looks remarkably yellow."

"Have you tasted it yet?"

"No!" he says. "A true connoisseur waits. How it actually tastes is saved for the last paragraph of the review." Finally, he tastes it. He says, "You know that alcohol shudder? This wine makes me have it."


SECOND GLASS

It tastes better if you hold it up in your mouth (towards the back) and then swallow, so it doesn't actually hit your taste buds. Just like drinking whiskey!

"It's getting better," I say, later. "Don't you think?"

"No," says D, decisively.

C has dropped pieces of a grapefruit into the jar he is drinking out of and is steadily and stoically plowing through this concoction. 

THIRD GLASS

it's actually kind of good!!!! i know it seems like i'm saying this just because it's the third glass but like, actually it's actually kind of good. maybe i had just eaten something else before it and so it tasted weird??? like when you drink orange juice after you've brushed your teeth?????? it's sweet, and nice. mmmm.


FOURTH GLASS

no actually nvm it's pretty bad



VERDICT: DO NOT BUY.

Merlot: Lindeman's "Bin 40" 2010 ($6)

"Sour, red-colored water."

My bestest friend D and I decided that we wanted to get very, very drunk before we went out in the cold to a party, so we decided to buy one wine apiece and then each drink half of both bottles. That way, we could write two reviews!

My pick was a 2011 Turning Leaf Merlot (reviewed in another post); D also chose a Merlot, from Lindeman's promisingly-named "Bin" series. We went to my room, uncorked both bottles, and let them "breathe."

The Lindeman's was less bland than the Turning Leaf, and more smooth, but also far more bitter. "It doesn't smell..." said D. "It doesn't smell!"

I smelled it. "It does," I said.

"Not really."

We invited our housemate, N, to take a sip. "This is pretty bad!" he said, after thinking. "This is pretty terrible. I mean, I'll still drink it, but... Yeah, this is terrible. Sour, red-colored water." He then said, "It doesn't smell like anything."

We also invited our housemate, S, to try it. S said that it was "dope."

VERDICT: Smooth, but very bitter.

Merlot: Turning Leaf 2011 ($8)

Turning Leaf tastes like someone put a bunch of ice cubes in very, very weak Hawaiian punch.

My bestest friend D and I decided that we wanted to get very, very drunk before we went out in the cold to a party, so we decided to buy one wine apiece and then each drink half of both bottles. That way, we could write two reviews!

My pick was the 2011 Turning Leaf; D also chose a Merlot, from Lindeman's promisingly-named "Bin" series (reviewed in another post. We went to my room, uncorked both bottles, and let them "breathe." While I busied myself taking care of a few emails, D had his first sip of wine -- Turning Leaf. 

After a few minutes, I said to D, "How is it?"

"Huh?" he said. "Oh." He thought for a moment. "I forgot."

Indeed, it was, I agreed a moment later, a remarkably forgettable wine. Basically, the Turning Leaf Merlot tastes like someone put a bunch of ice cubes in very, very weak Hawaiian Punch.

Midway through the bottle, D and I noted that the bottle claimed "over 500 awards"; we began to speculate what those awards could have been, exactly. "Least offensive" was a contender, as was "best reference to seasonal imagery."

Second opinions: N, our housemate, described it as having the "semblance of a Merlot." M, another housemate, once again voiced the opinion that it "would be very easy to drink a whole bottle of." 

VERDICT: Drinkable; forgettable.

Merlot: Concannon 2010 (1.5 L / $10)

"More of an aftertaste than a taste."

This one is a big one -- 1.5 L for only $10.00!

The first thing that I'd like to report about this wine is that it has a real cork. I would also describe it as "thin," "bland," and "very, very light."

My associate, C, grimaced after every sip, and pronounced that there is "more of an aftertaste than a taste," which is very accurate -- you have to wait a while for the sour to hit.

VERDICT: All in all -- it does the job, but don't go out of your way.

Petite Sirah: Crane Lake 2011 ($7)

"It sort of like runs through your mouth like a stream of very sour red smooth lemons."

SOBER

This wine was on sale, so I actually got it for only $6! However, the cheapness of the wine was immediately apparent when I got home and tried to uncork the bottle: the cork split and crumbled. It took the herculean efforts of not one, but two of my housemates, to help me wrestle out this evil obstacle to my thrifty happiness. Also, my corkscrew sucks.



FIRST GLASS

It's... a lot. A lot of flavor. For maybe the first five sips, I found myself saying "Oh!" involuntarily each time. It was like a powerful wave of lemons. It was like a powerful wave of smooth lemons.

I asked my housemates what they thought.

"It's like juice... and then a little bit of cigarette," said S.

"It smells," said D. "...It smells." He took another sip. "It's like, weirdly bitter. I don't know. Hint of cranberry? So. And it, it doesn't like... it doesn't taste..." he said, "you know, like cranberries, but I kind of -- I kind of think of them when I drink it." He added, "I'm gonna make myself a gin and tonic."



SECOND GLASS

I jotted down on a piece of paper, "It sort of like runs through your mouth like a stream of very sour red smooth lemons."

A third housemate, M, offered another perspective. "This bottle would be very easy to drink. So that's a pro! Like, you could definitely just drink that whole bottle."

I agree.

THIRD GLASS

it tastes very... open



FOURTH GLASS

Isn't like, doesn't like the name of the wine mean like the kind of grape or something? The label says "Petite Sirah." Hmm.

Wikipedia redirects this to "durif." Durif is a kind of grape! So that's what "Petite Sirah" means (it's the American name for it). Crane Lake is, I guess, like, the place that made it or something. Follow this blog, and you'll be a wine expert in no time!



FIFTH GLASS

i am pouring it into a flask and going ouuuuuuut



VERDICT: Very forceful.