OK. I think I’m going to expand a little on the previous post. I haven’t gotten a good rant on in some time; maybe it will help clear out the pipes a bit.
As I think I’ve mentioned a few times here, I learned how to drink red wine by drinking zinfandel. It is, therefore, a wine near and dear to what passes for my heart. And one of the characteristics I love about that particular grape is the rough & ready nature of the wine that comes from it. As my Mom put it once, “You like those wines that you can scrape off your tongue three days later”. How well she knows her son.
So it’s a real disappointment to bring home a zin I’ve never had before, only to find out that it’s been emasculated, for lack of a more descriptive term, in some ill-conceived attempt to please Robert Parker, a man who has single-handedly ruined much of what was interesting and vital about American wines in general and California wines in particular. Head’s up, kids – fruity and jammy and alcohol-hot is not the be-all and end-all, and you can kiss my rosy pink ass if you think otherwise. Zinfandel should taste like zinfandel, rough and rustic, peppery and inky - good, in a word - not like some weak-sister merlot, for chrissakes. If I wanted my wine to taste like a glass full of raspberry jam (Ravenswood, I’m looking at you; “no wimpy wines” my ass!) chased with grain alcohol (you too, Seghesio), then by god I’d save myself some money and mix up such a concoction myself. Don’t get me wrong, now. Fruit has its place, of course, but come on; if that and a high alcohol content are all you’ve got to show me then give your grapes to someone who knows what to do with them and stop wasting everyone’s time. I want a wine with character, one with some backbone to it, and I know I’m not alone.
This piece used to be titled "seven deadly zins". Clever, eh? Well, I forgot that there is a wine by the same name. I've never tasted it, so consequently I have no idea if it's anything like the wines mentioned above. When people started googling for it and ending up here, it didn't seem fair to associate a wine I knew nothing about with my cranky little screed. Hence, the new title.
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