Rex Goliath Pinot Noir

Roq the coq!

I've been holding out on you.  I'm sorry.  I've been waiting for the Muse to sing to me so I have just the right words to do this wine justice...

Apparently, the bitch is off helping James Patterson crank out yet another book, so you'll have to bear with me.


Rex Goliath Pinot Noir.  Rex Goliath Cabernet.  Rex Goliath Just-About-Anything.

In previous posts, I've alluded to the fact that I love wine with pictures of farm animals on the labels.  This is the wine that got me started on that.

Rex Goliath wine is named after a 47-pound rooster.  Take a moment to think about that.  A freaking 47-pound rooster.  My five year-old niece weighs about that!  So as far as I'm concerned, that's reason enough to try this wine.  Honor the rooster.

My husband first met Rex at a liquor store attached to a gas station and bait shop on a long and winding road in the back hills of northern NJ.  It was $7.99.  So, you know, expectations were high.

This stuff is so freaking good!  It's a "big" wine, but it's not overpowering.  It pairs with anything.  It's good on its own.  The Rex Chardonnay is an easy drink, too.  Their website has some recipes that I'm probably too lazy to try, but I will tell you that the Pinot Noir is just lovely with a Lean Cuisine lasagne.  (I wouldn't recommend eating the Lean Cuisine lasagne without this wine, actually.)

Rex is The King.  (King of our wine fridge, anyway.)  So...a little less conversation, a little more drinking.

The Naked Grape Chardonnay

Sometimes, after a long day of not being listened to, I like to unwind with a glass of wine.  (Not sometimes...often.  OK, fine.  Always.)  Now that the weather has been getting warm, I'm switching over to whites.

The bottle is empty, and I'm a little sad.

This wine is good in a way that sneaks up on you.  I mean, I was drinking it and really liking it without thinking too much about it.  Let's be honest--sometimes, drinking $10 wine is about compromise.  It's about telling yourself, "Hey!  This doesn't taste like total ass!  It'll do for a Wednesday."

But this wine is sooo much better than simply "not ass."  It's light and refreshing "with aromas of pineapple and peach."  I didn't taste the pineapple and peach, really, but I did taste the that's-okay-I'll-do-the-dishes-so-you-leave-the-kitchen-and-let-me-drink-iness of it.

That's a huge compliment.  I really hate doing the dishes.

So if it's been a rough day, and your kid wanted to wear his pajama top to school, or the plumbing in your house has gone wonky and you have to fill the toilet tank with the hand-held shower head, or your students think it's unfair for you to collect a project--one you assigned two weeks ago that they've worked on in class, for which you've given extensive support, directions, and examples--on the due date specified on the handouts, the board, and your website...if you've had a day like that, or an even better one, crack open a bottle of The Naked Grape.

Because we deserve so much better than "not ass."

Cupcake Vineyards Sauvignon Blanc 2012

I had a zen moment while cooking recently.  If you know me, you know that this is unusual.  Even if you don't know me, you can probably infer as much from the numerous references to frozen pizza, bagged salad, and cheez-its in my previous posts.

It's Not The Years, It's the Miles.

There were a few reasons for this blissed-out time.  First of all, the weather has been warming up, so I was enjoying a sunny afternoon with the windows open.  There was a nice breeze coming in as I sipped my wine and listened to one of my favorite cds, "It's Not the Years, It's the Miles," by my favorite song-goddess, Debbie Davis.  Let me tell you about the music--if you are remotely tense, blue, or tetchy, this New Orleans gal will cheer you up and mellow you out.  It's the perfect end-of-day, cooking-with-a-glass-of-wine album.

(Full disclosure:  Debbie is one of my oldest friends, but you still have to trust me on this.  We go way back; she beat me out for the good roles in the school musicals.  I should hate her, or be sickly envious of her talent, but I can't help it.  Girlfriend has a damn sexy voice.)

So...good weather and good music.  Now onto the wine.

Taken close-up so you can't tell I started drinking.

Cupcake Vineyards Sauvignon Blanc is this very clean, citrusy wine that's just lovely on a warm day.  As I sipped it, I though of margaritas and key lime pie, but without the tequila and sugar.  Turns out, I wasn't off base here.  The label reads, "The aromas are integrated, delighting the senses with flavors of Meyer lemons, Key limes and a finish that awakens the appetite."  I was indeed delighted.

Really.  I bought the bottle with the expectation of writing a snarky little passage about the screw-cap that's been embraced by New Zealand and the name "Cupcake," which I found cutesy and obvious.

But you know what?  I didn't care about any of that.  The wine was so tasty, the music so fine, and the afternoon so lovely that I didn't care about being witty or sarcastic.  I didn't even care that I was cooking.  I was just enjoying myself.

I encourage you to take the Cupcake-and-Debbie Davis Challenge, and see if it doesn't put you in a better frame of mind.  No cooking required.

Los Vascos Cabernet Sauvignon 2011

The hardest part about this post is finding a corner of my house clean enough to take a picture.  The easiest part is drinking this wine.  After the day I've had, it's going down like mother's milk.

Chileax with the Basques.

It's the first day of spring break, and my kids are coming down from an Easter candy sugar rush.  It rained today and the younger one spent most of his time running around naked, except for a pair of bunny ears.  I really, really, really appreciated this bottle of wine.

This wine is from Chile, and the front label is in French and Spanish.  I'm not sure why.  (It's probably explained on the back label, but I started drinking before reading, so there goes that.)  Los Vascos means Basques, which refers to "an ethnic group which primarily inhabits an area traditionally known as the Basque country, a region that. . . . straddles parts of north-central Spain and south-western France."    Thank you, Wikipedia!  Glad I looked it up, too.  I thought Los Vascos meant cows, because, well, I don't speak Spanish.  Anyhoo, that clears up the whole French-Spanish thing.

I generally find that Chilean wines are a bit much, but this is gooood stuff.  Fruity, mild, with a wee bit o' spice at the end.  It's purty, too, with a nice ruby red color.  And guess what?  It's really, really tasty!  So tasty that I didn't mind that while I was in the middle of researching the Basques, the toilet in our master bathroom overflowed, causing it to rain in the basement.  So tasty that I didn't mind that I was standing in a small lake in the basement in my pink crocs, stabbing holes in the insulation with a steak knife so that the water would pour out and hopefully not create a death-mold situation.  So tasty that I didn't mind that in the midst of our shop-vaccing and mopping, our son was honking away on his saxophone and demanding compliments.

I didn't mind because I knew there was half a glass of Los Vascos Cab waiting for me.  It's that tasty.

That's all I got.  Drink up, y'all.

Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages 2011

Beaujolais-me!

Louie, Louie.  Oh, yes.

Louis, my man.  Where have you been all week?

In my previous post, I was a little cranky about Georges.  Well, now it's Friday, my husband has been in effin' Arkansas all week, so Louis Jadot is my new luva.  He's my first, my last, my everything.

What I like about Louis' label, besides all the Frenchy details and sculpted face, is that he tells me all about him, but not in a self-absorbed ex-boyfriend way.  His grapes are 100% Gamay.  I have no freakin' clue what that means, but I don't care.  Louis likes to be paired with "hors d'oeuvres, mild cheeses or poultry dishes--especially turkey," but he works just as well with cheese-its and frozen pizza.  (Did I mention my husband's been away all week?)

I believe in miracles.

This wine is a "plump wine with notes of strawberry, black cherry, and spice."  It's strong, but not overpowering.  Smooth.  You know the beginning of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby" when Barry White is talking over that wee-oooh, wee-oooh, and his voice is low and deep and...smooth?  Yeah, like that.  Only with wine. 

It's strong, full, and smooth.  Qualified to satisfy you.

  

This is the Barry White of wine.  I scream your name.  Look what you got me doin', Louis.

Georges DuBoeuf Beaujolais Nouveau 2012

Beefy George has a cherry finish.

Oh, Georges.  It's not you, it's me.  No, maybe it's you.

I'm just not that into you.

I remember liking Beaujolais before, so I was really bummed by this wine.  It tastes like someone melted a Luden's cherry cough drop into it.  After a long day of grading some pretty mediocre essays, I was hoping for some cheering up from you, Beefy George!

But maybe it is me; or rather, my palate.  See, the last time I remember drinking Beaujolais, I was out in Jersey City having dinner at this awesome French BYO.  Therese and I were plowing through the bottles we'd brought with us, when the women at the next table offered us their bottle of Louis Jadot.

"We opened the bottle, but we have to drive.  Do you want it?"

Hell, yeah!  Twist my arm, why don't you?  We're walking home, anyway.

I remember thinking it was awesome.  I remember thinking everything was awesome.  It was just one of those nights.  But who knows?  Maybe my palate was shot.  (I once followed a wine trail and visited five wineries in one day.  I came home with dessert wine because that's all I could taste after a while.)  Maybe after all the wine, and the bouillabaisse, and the mousse, I couldn't taste a thing.

A little while later...

Truth be told, I'm not as angry at this wine as I was at first sip.  I poured a second glass--strictly for research purposes--and it's working out a little better. Wine Enthusiast says, "...This has a rich cherry flavor, with firm tannins and ripe acidity. The finish bears a tangy, textured character."  So the cherry explains the cough drop flavor.  The "tangy, textured" finish initially felt like little spikes on my tongue, but it's mellowed out since. 

Or maybe I have.

Overcoming My Own Brand of Snobbery: Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay

No kidding.

Several years ago, I attended the wedding of two people I didn't know because my friend, Therese, didn't want to drive out to Long Island by herself.  It was a lovely evening, made even better by the father of the bride.

Late into the festivities, the FOB sidled up to the bar, clasped his hand on his buddy's shoulder, and made this boozily earnest confession:

"I gotta lay off the Kendall-Jackson."

It was the best thing I had ever heard.  I immediately vowed that when I write that script for an independent film, that line would be in there somewhere.  I tried not to be obvious about my laughter, so I ended up snarfing my drink, which was a white wine spritzer, and it stung.  (A side note:  For dressier occasions that require heels and/or spanx, I go with spritzers.  They keep me hydrated, and in the very likely event that I spill something on myself, they don't stain.)

"I gotta lay off the Kendall-Jackson" was a line oft-repeated in the ensuing years.  I don't know why I found it so funny.  It's like hearing someone say, "I'm so tired.  I was up all night watching Matlock."  Or, "Geez, will you turn down the Kenny G?  People are trying to relax around here."  Kendall-Jackson is not the sort to lead you astray.  You're not going to go heavy on Kendall-Jackson and wake up in the neighbor's swimming pool on a turtle float.  Even I'm too cool for K-J, I thought.

Fast forward to a year ago, when, through some cosmic alignment of stars and planets, my husband and I were off from work before our kids got home from school.  We decided to celebrate our 20 minutes of free time with a drink at a local restaurant.

I ordered a glass of Chardonnay.  It was perfectly chilled, crisp, citrusy, and smooth.  Maybe I was giddy from the quiet, or maybe it was the wine.  But it was lovely.  I had to ask, "What wine is this?"

"Kendall-Jackson."

Kendall-Jackson?  Kendall-Jackson?  How could this be?  It's so...so...mainstream!  And popular!  And I didn't discover it myself!  I was appalled, and my husband was laughing his ass off.  How could I be so square?

 It turns out I am square, because I dig the Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay.  (I'm square for many other reasons as well.)  It's got a clean taste; not too sweet, not too oaky.  A little lemony.  Nice enough to pair with nothing.  I'm square.  So there.

But too bad I don't actually know the bride or her father, because we could totally hang.

Arrogant Frog Pinot Noir 2011

"You're wearing an ascot.  You look like an asshole."

I bought the Frog for my brother and sister-in-law for Christmas.  I had never tried it, but chose the wine based solely on the label.  See, my brother and I enjoy speaking bad French with each other.  It's just this thing we do.  My brother took two years of French in high school, and boiled all his learning down to one sentence:  "Je ne mange pas le fromage en hiver."  (I do not eat the cheese in winter.)

My mother and I once translated "Unchained Melody" into French.  I enjoy singing that into my husband's face at weddings. 

But I digress.  Arrogant Frog.  What a name!  And a picture of a frog in a smoking jacket and ascot!  What more could a pseudo-Francophile ask for?  The best part was that my brother forgot his Christmas present at our house, so we drank it!  And I liked it so much, I bought another bottle, and I'm drinking it as I write.

And no, I still haven't given them their own bottle.  I know my lovely sister-in-law will read this and see the wine she has yet to drink.  (She'll also know that I spent a whopping $10.99 on their Christmas present.  Joyeux Noel!  Je t'adore!)

Mais, mon Dieu!  This is good stuff--screwcap and all.  Fruity with a strong finish.  Tannic.  The label on the back suggests serving it with "grilled meat, rack of lamb, pot roast, poultry, game, or soft cheese."  In case you're wondering, it also pairs well with white cheddar crackers.  (Yeah, I didn't cook tonight.)

Perhaps I should buy une bouteille pour mon frère.  Santé, y'all!

Mommy's Time Out--Rosso Primitivo 2011

I first tried this when my sister-in-law gave me a bottle as a joke.  I think I'd just had a baby or maybe one of my kids did something awful...who knows?  But yeah, we had a chuckle about the label and then drank it down. 

Send me to my room.

Now I know there's this whole market aimed at wino moms.  Everyone wants to cash in on our stress and the fact that it's acceptable now to post Facebook pictures of 1950s housewives with smart-ass thought bubbles rising above their vacuous faces.  So, is it a cynical marketing ploy? Or is it an acknowledgement that women are hard-working consumers with money to spend and a taste for vino?

I don't care.  This stuff is good.  And cheap.  At $9.99, Mommy's Time Out has never done me wrong.  Tonight, we paired it with hanger steak and a salad with pears and gorgonzola, and it was perfect.  It's fruity, but not too sweet.  A teensy bit of spice to it and smooth going down.

(It should also be noted that this wine passes the pairs-with-frozen-pizza-and-bagged-salad test.  You know what I mean?  It elevates the whole meal.)

Now I know there's another wine from the same maker called "Dad's Day Off."  (OK, I'm pretty sure it's from the same maker.  They're from the same region and they use the same font on the bottle.  Don't you love my research?)  I've never had it, and I will admit it's for a whiny reason (see what I just did there?), namely, why does Mommy only get a time-out and Dad gets a whole day off?  No fair!  (Yeah, I know, that Dad's Day Off is alliterative and that's fun, but they caught me at a bad moment.)  Has anyone had it?  Was it any good?

But anyhoo, I digress.  All gender politics and condescension by marketing bigwigs aside, this is some nice wine.  It's like a well-fitting black blazer.  Dress it up or dress it down.  It goes with anything.  And guys like it, too.

I have no business telling you what to drink.

The night I met my husband, I spilled a glass of wine in his lap.  I wasn't exactly tipsy, but I tend to talk with my hands when excited or flirting, so yeah.  Glass of wine.  In his lap.  I made him look like he peed himself.

That's not the embarrassing part.  The embarrassing part is that I was drinking white zinfandel.  I spilled pink wine on my future husband's crotch.  But wouldn't you know, he bought me another?

That's the last pink wine I ever drank.  A week later, when he took me out to dinner, he picked out a lovely red (God knows what it was.)  It was the first time I'd ever seen the whole bottle presentation schtick--feeling the cork, swirling the wine.  It was impressive and pretty sexy, too.  (Whatever.  I was 24.)

So now, many years and two kids later, I'm a bit of a wino.  I have my opinions and a budget.  I'm pretty much only going to talk about wines around the $10 mark because...did I mention the kids?  Yeah, they use up all my money.  So I'm always on the lookout for a nice wine to pair with a frozen Freschetta pizza or something even fancier, like chili.

I'll leave you with the words of The Old Man in A Christmas Story:

"Hey, this wine's not bad.  It's not good, either..."

Cheers!