Pencil lead? This seems good.
A friend of Detroir asked me what we here thought of “funky” as a description applied to wine. In some groups of appreciation, funk seems like a decisive element. In Detroit, funky wines are typically acceptable, even appreciated, but less often is the description parsed, or explained, or theorized beyond its most binary expression – These are funky. These are not.
What would Bootsy Collins drink?
It’s a dumb question on one level. Funky is a flaw to those who like clean wine, and it is a feature for the rest of us. Is Bootsy funkier than James Brown? Is it possible to have too much funk? Mr. Collins says no.
Soucherie Anjou. Zoo sherry on jyou. Food wine? Sure. If the food is nightshade, especially. Or drink it. Or laugh uncontrollably until it shoots out your nose. I think this is what Mary means by “Dry” when seeking a drink of red. The tannins are coiled up and enforced by tart redcurrant methods. I put this in the Drink category.
Faillenc Sainte Marie bottles the most amazing rosé. This is the red. Brooding abundant Corbieres/Mourvedre character is chewy like a treebark marinated in cassis and rare hamburger juice. Its full-spectrum ripe. It’s rustic and ripped. Serve it with chivo.
Vietti’s new Dolcetto is expectedly polished and simple. If it ran for class president it would come in third place, so, it would be the treasurer? At the end of the year there would be just enough money to buy a keg of bilberry juice and a carton of thin cigarettes. We can borrow your brother’s van.
In a previous post I wrote about a California wine made from the Dolcetto variety. Dole chet O is a bistro wine, adaptable to cuisine, or fit for just drinkin and foot stompin. You choose. Its for pleasure.
Vietti is a local favorite. I enjoyed this one with the cheese lady and data lady and wine dad at Motoir Citoi Woine.
Wine trade people of Detroit. Please get these wines from Little Guy. And call me. They retail for about $26. I used to seek them out when they were only available at Chambers Street in NYC. (There the pink one sold for closer to $30.) They are fantastic!
Evaluating wine by taste testing is fraught with difficulty. Often the most immediate charms don’t hold up in a more natural drinking session, by the glassful or by the bottle. And sometimes a truly great wine can appear immediately to be rather more plain and simple than it really is.
Experience tasting does not necessarily help with this. In fact it can be an impediment. Confidence and ego are fools.
Tibouren is an heirloom grape variety that is synonymous with this restored great estate. The pink wine is patiently aged. The red wine has the most beautiful ripe, linear tannins. Both offer the sort of fruit and spice sensation that is somehow both novel and deeply familiar.
I need to drink these. Everyone does.
O happy day. Detroit has another source of real wine. Why should you care? Because being broke has nothing to do with not being rich.
As any occasional visitor to Motor City Wine or Great Lakes Coffee Midtown can tell, there is a demand for wine in this town. Wine stands for fertility, well-being and genius, and a willingness to prioritize its enjoyment is psychologically nourishing. And wine’s apparent niche appeal actually crosses what might otherwise be considered disparate social groups. Especially in the city.
I must briefly draw a distinction here between real wine and the other stuff, the kind that tends to dominate store shelves. And it’s difficult because the difference is rarely made explicit. Real wine comes from farms. Farms exist in specific places on the globe and they grow grapes according to the local constraints of nature and, secondarily, custom. Anyway, custom is ideally just a deeply mediated adaptation to natural variables. These farms bottle wine and label it accordingly.
So there are farm labels, and then there are label farms. Label farms are industrial properties that use lax rules to issue a proliferation of apparently different wines which are really all the same. And that wouldn’t be a problem, except that the objective is to segment the market in support of boutique prices. Label farms are self-perpetuating, and their essence is packaging. Their substance is filler.
Here at Detroir we stand for the consumer and the farmer. We also stand against absolutism, and there are lots of interesting ways that any given wine might not clearly belong to just one of these categories. I hope to write more on that in the future.
Here’s the news: Mudgie’s now sells farm wine at reasonable prices, whether you drink one on site or take a bottle to go. Recently I had a chance to sit down and enjoy several Mudge selections.