White on White

Over the last 18 months (an amazing period, to be sure), I’ve become an appreciate of wine.

I hate wine, for the record. A lot of the reason behind it is that it is not beer, which I love very much. In general, wine gives me pain, and a headache. I once thought it was because of the relative impurities inherent in the “genre”, but last summer Dr. Dave and I went on a wine tasting extravaganza, and I learned a lot about it.

The reason I didn’t like wine was because, in large part, I am allergic to it.

There are things that happen during the fermentation process that cause wines to express certain chemicals and chemical effects. When a wine has “floral notes,” it means that the combination of fungus, bacteria, and fructose/fruit has mimicked certain compounds found in the flowers which are pretty to see, but awful to smell, and impossible to breathe.

Simply put, its the same process that allows psychoactive drugs to affect brain chemistry. But with cognition, comes recognition.

I digress. Behind the cut, it’s not as important, but to stay on track, it’s worth noting that I’ve had a bottle of wine this evening. I’m considering a second. (ed. I didn’t have it. also, my streak of no beer now extends into its 21st month.)

But it was a really good bottle, so I’m probably okay.

The point? I prefer red wines. I like the full taste, the sweet, fruity notes, and overly sugared goodness that is expressed in them. I tend to shy away from whites, mainly because they are the wines most likely to have floral notes.

Flowers being the enemy.

But this week, like the week before (and the week before that), I’ve come to realize things about myself. The first of which is, moderation is easier than it seems. the second of which is, make no definitive statements.

I kinda like white wine.

But not all of it. Like rap music, it has ups and downs.

I’ve had an awful lot of white wine in the last four days. On Monday, there was intermediate fruit wine which we turned into Sangria, but mostly white since the construction of the Jambalaya.

And, as intimated above, I’ve enjoyed it.

White wine in general relies on two factors for enjoyment. Temperature, and flavor. What goes in means an awful lot to what comes out, and white wines taste best when “cool.” Or refrigerated. The best I’ve ever had was served in a chilled stone collar, but the icebox works just fine.

This week, I’ve had the following.

Chardonnay. Traditionally, a mild, fruity wine, available through more or less every vineyard extant. Since it’s ubiquitous, cheap = adequate. but age = worth and taste, so if someone else is paying, go large.

Me, I’m for Three-buck Chuck.

I’ve also had the more or less unpronounceable Gewürztraminer. This wine was full of two things, Booze, and flavor. In fact, it was good enough for me not to buy anymore of it this week.

But I’ve been presented with it pretty much everywhere I’ve shopped.

Tuesday and Wednesday, I enjoyed a Portuguese varietal, Alianca, Vinho Verde. A more or less standard white wine, this one clocks in at 9%, rather than the “standard” 13.5. From the label:

“…crisp and fresh white wine is low in alchohol, light, fruity and well balanced.”

Essentially, it was white grape juice with a kick. Very tasty. of note is that it is brought into the US through the Branco consortium, as referenced above.

Tonight, I drank 750ml of Viogner, from the “Trader Moon” family. It was fruity, flowery, and full of booze, and I’ll be feeling it for a few more hours at least.

I’ve lost the point, but not the message. I now like white wines.

Mainly because I’m willing to accept them for what they are, rather than what they were.

Also, I’m out of rum. Non-sequitur theater concludes.

There is no orchestra.