Marlboro Sun, 2010 Sauvignon Blanc - Marlboro Valley Wines, New Zealand.
Every time I wander into a new wine shop it's as if I'm starting over and I'm completely new to wine. I scan the bottles for something familiar, or something I've seen around but have yet to try, and then I go back and forth - should I try something new, or should I go with something I know I'll like? I admit it, am automatically drawn to the labels that catch my eye, and I'm often skeptical when a wine's label is overly clever, or over the top. It's been my experience, all too many times, that the labels turn out to be the best part of those bottles.
While wandering blindly through a wine shop this past weekend, one bottle caught my eye - one thats label is both clever and simple, and in my mind, brilliant. A newspaper depicting crop circles shaped like a wine glass, and the headline: 2010 Sauvignon Blanc. For $10.99, it was worth a try. I figured that if the wine isn't as creative as the label, then at least I've got a cool label to add to my collection.
The first thing I noticed about this sauvignon blanc was the color - or lack of, perhaps I should say. The wine is almost perfectly clear if not for a faint golden hue, as if light were reflecting from a yellow legal pad, across a white table, and onto a glass of water.
On the nose: A spin of the glass illuminates a light, alfalfa sprout toned blur, as little bits of grass and lime roll over one another, swirling in a kaleidoscopic jumble and falling over highlights of mint and pineapple.
The first sip: Tight and steely with a citric zing, the first sip is reminiscent of candied lemon peel, soft and tart, perking up your senses and tingling on the top of the palate. The juice is sweet and supple, giving off the illusion of young flowers that have yet to fully grow into their own fragrance. As the wine warms, the sensation is no different than the earth warming the ground. A grassiness sprouts in a vaporous spring like manner, slowly intensifying into summer until you realize the lemon-lime shades of grass are like seasons, and really no different than spring to summer, and summer to fall. The mouth feel is so light and delicate that the wine seems almost weightless, and while you're lost in the season of changing flavors, you miss the moment altogether. Like summer, you find that before you know it, your sip has slipped away, and just when you were really beginning to enjoy yourself, too.
The finish: The tang of lime and grassiness give way to a crisp fume of pineapple and mineral, with the two flavors combining, as if to create a memory before it's totally gone. In the end, you're suddenly aware of an acidic echo of what once was, longing for lazy afternoons, and searching for the words to sum up what amounts to being the taste of summer vacation.
Sauvignon blanc is one of those grapes that changes its expression from grassy and crisp, to sweet and tropical depending on the climate where it's being grown. Crisp, dry minerals when grown in the cool, damp air of Bordeaux; or hot tropical pineapple when bathing in the sun of New Zealand.
Paring:
Light, delicate seafood is the perfect match. A mild white fish, or lobster with risotto; steamed crab; oysters on the half shell; prawns drizzled in garlic butter; white clam chowder or fresh steamed muscles in saffron broth. Also, consider this wine on the side of a salad of mixed greens with a light olive oil and sliced almonds, or with sliced red beets and goat cheese. Chilled asparagus with a drizzle lemon hollandaise; gazpacho, or caprese. For desert, consider rice pudding; bananas foster; green tea ice cream; lemon granita (ice); or, as strange as this might sound, a simple bit of chocolate.
Barbazul, 2009 Blend - Huerta de Albala -Tierra De Cadiz, Spain.
If you can't judge a book by its cover, then it should stand to reason that one certainly can't judge a wine by it's label, either. The problem is that labels, like book covers, all seem to be trying to out clever one another and you almost need a guide to point out which ones are great works, and which are simply great graphics.
I've passed this bottle of Barbazul several times, never really giving it much thought. There are so many bottles sometimes that I admit, all too often, I end up picking by the label. There's no harm in it, I suppose. It's what's inside that counts, but more times than not you don't know exactly what's inside until you pony up some cash; thus the label is all you have to work with. The label, or a wine clerk - who might or might not have actually tasted the wine, and might or might not have any idea what he or she is talking about.
When I tried my sip of Barbazul at a chance tasting, I was instantly zoning in on the simple label, depicting what looks like a cave drawing of a horse in red lines against a white background, and I could feel my lips moving as I said silently to myself what is that? I snatched the last bottle off of the shelf and brought it straight home for closer inspection.
Deep and rich in color, this wine is a shade of mysterious purple that I believe is usually reserved for wizards. Opaque and solid looking, it's like the skin of a black plumb has been turned to jello that has yet to set.
On the nose: At first I was getting an odd mineral scent. Sure there's berry and something rich going on, but there was a definite mineral-like sulfuric scent too, mixed with a waft of something vegetative that I couldn't quite place. I had a feeling that it was going to fall away soon enough, and right I was. Let this wine sit for a few moments to relax and get adjusted to you and your glass. After getting to know one another give the wine a good swirl and sit back as it starts to release a bouquet that begins with a soft hint of boysenberry. The berry is quickly enveloped in a note that isn't unlike the scent of a Fig Newton, but then as the dried fruit is pushed down, the vaporous presence of eucalyptus rises to the top of your senses.
The first sip: A zing of wild strawberry with a ginger snap spice rolls across your palate, along with a touch of dried figs and cherries, yet it remains soft and supple like a mouth full of smoky preserves. Velvety and light in your cheeks, it rolls around warming from the heat of your mouth into a full vapor, like steam rising from a still pond on a cool morning as your mouth fills with a simple and delicate dew of flavors. Just when you think you've got it all figured out though, something new happens. It starts on the back of your palate - a gentle sizzling comes to life - fizzing and releasing a delightful cola taste as the tannins activate.
The finish: Hot and spicy - light and weightless - distant, but not long forgotten. The wine falls away leaving behind an easy, softly acidic, tannic dryness that lingers on and on, like the presence of somebody who has recently left a room long before you wanted them to go.
Each of the grapes used in Barbazul are readily present and waiting their turn to shine, a blend of 50% Tintilla de Rota, 35% Syrah, 10% Merlot & 5% Cabernet Sauvignon. The Tintilla de Rota - a grape that goes by several different names depending on where it's being grown - is primarily used to make fortified wines, and that's the source of the dried fruit taste. The rich preserved berry notes are obviously coming from the Syrah, just as the soft and velvety mouth feel is coming from the Merlot and the fizzy tannins from the Cabernet. All these grapes working in total harmony, masterfully blended and aged for five months in French oak - hence the fluttering of smoke.
Pairing:
Ribs are the first thing that come to mind. Bar-B-Q ribs and cool creamy, tangy coleslaw. For vegans, Bar-B-Q seitan will be nice too. It's the texture, and gamy yeastiness rolling around in that saucy spice that will be the key to the flavor match. Also, consider a flat pizza with olive oil, gorgonzola and fresh basil; pork chops on the grill with a dollop of apple sauce; teriyaki chicken; mu-shu pork with plumb sauce, or - and I know this is out there - baked noodle kugel with raisins. With dessert, as odd as it might sound - jelly doughnuts. Also, try chocolate cake with fresh raspberries and spoon of chocolate mousse; butter cookies; strawberry short cake - preferably with fresh berries and real whipped cream.
Marlboro Sun, 2010 Sauvignon Blanc - Marlboro Valley Wines, New Zealand. 
