This marks official wine review number 2 and back-to-back Old Worlds to boot. Given my affinity for the big and bold New World varietals of California and Australia, this comes as a bit of an ironic surprise. And yet my palate, particularly as of late, has been inclined towards the balance and subtlety of the wines produced from those vintners whom use more gut and less science (i.e. old world vs. new world). My subconscious desire for the more traditional methods of viticulture may be exercising a strong influence on my blogging endeavor. Then again, it may just be that Erika has chosen the wine thus far. Well, who’s to say?
The first thing I notice about this wine is actually what I don’t notice – namely a nose. Aromatically tight and unyielding, there is almost no indication of berry or fruit, but rather an odd and familiar smell from my childhood. As I fervently swirl the glass I expect that this time (as I did the last time) some elusive aromatic will appear. I plunge my nose into the glass, isolating all available air by creating a vacuum-like seal with my hands. I inhale. Nothing. Swirl and plunge, swirl and plunge. I repeat this process for what seems like several minutes and begin to wonder if my nasal passages are overly congested (as a side note, Neti pots are amazing) or if I’m just completely inept at this wine tasting business. Frustrated and thirsty, I give up on identifying the primary aromatics and sip. Hello, tannin! Similar to last week’s review, I’m impressed by the level of tannins in this wine but for a different reason. Whereas tannin in a rosé is unexpected, the tannins in this Rioja are overwhelming, almost offensively so. Drinking this wine is like drinking a fermented baseball glove. As a caveat, I should mention that I prefer a wine with heavy tannins that create a drying, astringent effect but balanced with fruit and acidity. The acidity and body of this wine are moderate players, at best, in the production; the star is clearly the level of tannin. Given that, this wine may need a few more years in order to fully mature so that the tannins will soften and the fruit and secondary flavors will have an opportunity to contribute more than just one-liners. That being said, it was probably a mistake to not let this wine breathe for about twenty minutes, a point in time that by now the wine has reached. As I continue to taste the aforementioned mysterious aromatic finally becomes obvious and apparent – shoe polish. Growing up I witnessed my father frequently break out his shoe shining kit before events that called for formal dress such as weddings, Sunday morning church or a romantic dinner with my mother. The smell of metallic ethanol and tar that this wine now effervescently exudes reminds me of those simpler days.
While this wine may be overly tannic for some, the body and acid are ample enough to provide sufficient balance. There’s a hint of cranberry as well, but this is not a fruit friendly wine nor is it a “patio-pounder”, a term one of my bar regulars has coined for those overly acidic, light white wines. Rioja, Vega del Rayo, 2007 (Tempranillo); $20.
