Italian Vein Melter

Masi
Campofiorin Ripasso, 2003
Valpolicella, Veneto, Italy
Rating: 8.2







I recently attended a luncheon that took place for one reason only: For an Italian winery representative (whose winery shall remain nameless) to pimp out his alcohol for us "on and off premise" pimps to get it, appreicate it, and move his product.

As this man opined his way through the forest of misshapen entrées and clumsy salads, he was able to show his wines with candor, stating all the things he thought were wrong about the lunch (and how the wines were paired), and what was right. And it made sense.

Point being is this: He also went on to scoff at the Veronese (think Romeo and Juliet) habit known as Ripasso/Amarone. Made of mostly the Corvina grape, these two types of wine are not subtle, and any winery trying to make its name on elegance likely would take umbrage of the fact that a heady, concentrated style of wine such as Ripasso/Amarone might take some of the U.S. market share of Italian Imported wine.

I, the suburban white boy, dug this man's wines of elegance. But tonight, I drank a Ripasso.

And as muscular as Ripassos tend to be, I found it to a success in explosiveness and balance, even if there was no complexity.

Masi's Ripasso is just like every "ripassa," in that dried grapes are ultimately added to the blend. So if you ever taste something akin to raisins in these wines, you'll know why.

There was some obvious punchy fruit from the get-go, thick, round and alcoholic. However, this never became a fruit-and-alcohol delivery system. This was, instead, a wine missing some grace, but making up for it with a candied nose, and reminders of blackberry, cherry, wet clay, and cooked red peppers.

My Thai Curry sausages and rice/veggies stir-fry experiment found a relatively sound partner in the Masi. I solidly recommend this for dishes with Asian/Mediterranean/Moroccan spices.

The wistfulness of feeling the wine's acidity come alive with the food was astounding, considering how little I expected the Ripasso to have any dexterity toward a dish largely based on rice and green beans. Thoroughly enjoyable.

It's all about improvisation. An old man I've met a few times is known to say "man makes plans but God decides." I'm sure the old fart had bigger things in mind than food, but it doesn't matter. He's right. I planned originally to drink this tomorrow with some steak, but after I tasted the final product in the pan, I knew I had a nice pairing.

It also helped that Herbie Hancock's "Headhunters" was on in the next room, reminding me just what kind of improvisation actually moves some mountains every now and then.

-Justin

Southern France and Mud Flaps

Grande Cassagne
"G.S." - 2004
Costières de Nîmes, Languedoc-Rousillon, France
Rating: 6.8







Nobody wants to worry about always putting in the effort. And we shouldn't have to. There are too many drinks out there nowadays for us to seriously consider pairing wine with food on a regular basis. If you like Chardonnay, drink Chardonnay. No one's saying you're an asshole. But one day, you're going to come across a wine that just didn't make sense until you tried a kickass meal alongside it.


That's what it took for this one. But I won't give it the credit for being a wine of stature that only a thick steak could tame. The Grande Cassagne has character; there's nothing wrong with this wine per se. However, one shouldn't have to try this hard.


From the beginning, this smelled like the Southern French rolling mountains (I imagine). 40 percent Grenache, 40 percent Syrah, and 20 percent Mourvedre (the three most important grapes for red Rhone wine and other French areas), I get a hefty noseful of blackberries and wet soil from the nose. And that's usually a good sign. And so I try a little harder to get some pretty cool hints of herbs...something like basil (pizza seasonings, perhaps?).


And the red juiciness lands on my tongue and explodes with out-of-control acid.


Damnit.


I've had refermented wine many times before; that wasn't the problem. This just didn't have the balance I was looking for. Which was too bad. Fortunately, this because 10 times as tolerable when I broke out the rock-hard block of Dutch Perrano cheese in my fridge. Almost there. So, I gave it some time while I cooked up a steak on the stove.


It shouldn't have come to that, but hey, whatever. This was $12 spent on something that I enjoyed for what it was: fruity, earthy, syrupy wine with something closely related to a soul. With the cheese, this certainly livened up into a refreshing representation of raspberry/blackberry and cream (thank you, dairy farmers).


I guess expectations are a bitch.

However, a major factor in the enjoyment has been the soundtrack of the last month of my life. Decoration Day by the Drive-By Truckers has easily found it's way into the top 10 albums of the decade, thus far. Beer seems to be the obvious pairing while taking in these Southern Rock Hammers. With that being said, there's a shitload going on here. Decoration Day came out 3 years ago, but it might as well have either been 2010 or 1974. It's great when a true rock band can weave stories in their songs that don't pander to the simple equative emotions of loving your home or country. Thank God for DBT.

-Justin