Tonight I’ve set out to answer that age-old question, “what does a semillon sauvignon blanc blend taste like at room temperature?”

In reality, it’s 11:02pm and I’m still in my office working to meet a series of arbitrary and capricious deadlines. Turns out there’s been a bottle of this Yellow Tail blend lurking half-finished in one of my filing cabinets for roughly 3 months – I probably stashed it with the brilliant intention of soothing the pain of a night much like this one. I have, clearly, ignored the need for either dignity or refrigeration, but I think I’ve amply made up for it in despair and self-loathing.

And lucky for me, piss-warm Yellow Tail seems to be the perfect pairing for shame-based existential crises. Tasting somewhat like rancid pears – if rancid pears were made of stale mulch and kerosene – this tepid temptation exquisitely amplifies the absurdity of being. Or at least, of being here.

Here are the main ingredients: butternut squash, sage, nutmeg (layer 1) ricotta, parmesan, egg (layer 2), and a sage & walnut butter sauce on top.  What are your thoughts? I think I need a white with enough acidity to cut through some of the richness, but it should also have some backbone, some creaminess, to stand up to it. Maybe a zippy riesling with good complexity? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller…?

Right now I have the pleasure of working on a video project with producer Lewis Manne, a sprightly, multi-talented ball of energy who served in the Angolan war and made hit records in South Africa before setting up shop in Canada. It also just so happens that he and his wife wrote all of the music for the original Degrassi series, aka Canada’s most famous cultural export that does not involve a screeching she-skeleton named Celine. His Degrassi repertoire includes perhaps the show’s most identifiable song, Zit Remedy’s “Everybody Wants Something”. This is of course a fantastic pop culture perk for someone who grew up watching reruns of the show and will never forget such touching moments as Shane’s post-LSD-induced-head-injury rant to Spike, “you should be kicked…in the head!” You’d have to be named Geddy Lee to have more Canadian street cred than Lewis.

The other perk is Lewis’ excellent wine cellar. And when I say “cellar”, I mean “collection of wines squirreled away in various random hiding spots”. Tread carefully in the mechanical room, lest you disturb the case of Burrowing Owl. Lewis is an avid wino, and – curse him – he has introduced me to a wonderful Argentinian cabernet that is not available at the LCBO. The 2005 I.P. Mendoza Sottano Cabernet is a very bold wine for the price (apparently around $23). The nose holds nothing back. It overflows with intense dark berries, and the party continues in your mouth with an almost chewy sensation of chocolate and oak. The Sottano is definitely high alcohol (14.75%), but it gets away with it because the flavours are so outgoing that it all balances out.

This is the kind of wine that might compete with food rather than complement it, so I was happy to enjoy it on its own while being regaled with TV tales. Where else could I learn that Zit Remedy only had one song (or really, one chorus) because Joey, Snake and Wheels didn’t know how to play their instruments?

In theory, it’s possible that this Grenache and Syrah blend has a pleasant, peppery taste of tart cherries. It’s also possible that it has an enticing smoky smell. But I’ll never know, because all the potential strengths of this Perrin Reserve 2005 Cotes-du-Rhone are completely overwhelmed by alcohol and acidity. I left this bottle half finished and came back to it a couple of days later; the nose had settled down a bit, but the taste was still much too hot for me. Maybe this is something that would calm down with age? I’m generally not patient enough to leave a $9 bottle lying around for long enough to find out.

Edit: I did a bit of reading on this after finding out that Perrin also runs the famed Chateau de Beaucastel. Surprisingly, the New York Times called the 2004 vintage of this Cotes-du-Rhone its #1 red wine under $10 about a year and a half ago.  I can’t say I tasted the “dark earthy fruit flavours” that the Times writer found, but I’m curious enough to track down a bottle to compare.

There’s a fine line between garden variety wine snobbery, and disturbed psychosexual horse fetish wine snobbery:

“With Merlot, there is arguably an Apollonian ideal flavor — soft, juicy cherry and blueberry fruit with hints of chocolate, leather and some tobacco on the finish. Pinots, on the other hand, can taste strongly of anything from wild strawberries to horse sweat, and still be fascinating.”

I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask….

The Short Cellar has an interesting take on this debate:

“I applaud the LCBO’s attempt to wean Ontarians to premium wines. Although the cheapest wines have been improving radically in the last 20 years (mainly due to advances in wine-making techniques), they remain simply drinkable. Most cheap wines are cheap because they are mass produced and have a uniform taste, like Coke.

Good wine, on the other hand, is a handcrafted, regional work of art – each with personality, complexity and history that unfolds as you learn to taste it. If the LCBO leads more people to the joy of wine appreciation, then more power to them. Frankly, life is too short to drink plonk.”

Personally, I think it’s a little far-fetched to suggest that the LCBO has such noble motives. This was a crass profit-grab that had nothing to do with wine quality. Let’s not forget that this is a business that nets the Ontario government a handsome $1.2 billion per year, and with its monopoly status over imported wines, the LCBO knows that consumers at the bottom end of the market would have no choice but to pony up the extra dollars to get a bottle of wine. The economic demographic that sticks to the $8 – 10 range isn’t going to respond to a price increase by suddenly becoming more interested in premium wine. Rather, it will either reluctantly start paying the extra $2 for the cheapest wine in the store, or will be turned off wine altogether and stick with a domestic six-pack.

The LCBO already has its Vintages section serving the premium market. If it wants to emphasize those wines, then it should try giving Vintages a higher public profile, and making the section appealing and accessible to the average consumer.

Aside from the tax imposed on average folks who just want a decent table wine, the policy could also have some unintended market effects. Because of its monopoly over a population of almost 13 million people, the LCBO is one of the world’s largest wine buyers, and when it says it will no longer accept tenders below $10, it acts as a disincentive to many winemakers to serve the under-$10 market. This would be a shame because of the huge strides that have made decent wines more affordable in recent decades. Why would we want to discourage that kind of innovation? Fortunately there are enough gigantic institutional wine buyers in the US taking the opposite view, so this shouldn’t make or break anybody.

In my bizarro fantasy world, the LCBO would impose a $20-minimum with an iron fist, which would result in a return to prohibition-era bootlegging and speakeasies. Until then, we’ll always have The Matador.

My disturbingly perceptive friend was fairly accurate with his recommendation. The Cavit, a yellowy straw colour in the glass, tasted vaguely of apple and citrus and had a surprising earthy spice that came through in the aroma. Now, to the drawbacks: it was lacking a lot of the promised crispness, and the taste really didn’t linger for long afterwards, so for drinking on its own, it was nothing spectacular. But when the food finally hit the table (an hour late…sorry, guests) it developed more personality. The citrus notes and acidity were amplified significantly by a number of ingredients, including the lime juice in the fresh guacamole, the rice vinegar and capers in the salsa on the broiled tilapia, and the awesome lemon tart courtesy of Alana and Dave. It was also a nice light contrast to the somewhat absurd panko-crusted macaroni and cheese we made, which featured an extraordinarily healthy sauce made of cream, pecorino, fontina, butter, shallots and truffle oil.

Overall, a good choice. I’m not sure I’m sold on Pinot Grigio yet, but I’d drink this again, especially with something citrus-y.

Let’s start with what I do know.  I do enjoy drinking fermented grapes in their liquified form.  I can readily identify the 2.5 separate colours that this delicious grape slurry comes in. Left unsupervised, I can even be trusted not to pick out a hearty bottle of red when we’re grilling white fish.

I also find a lot of wine writing to be endlessly entertaining. You know, the kind of impenetrable masturbatory prose that assigns anthropomorphic qualities to a bottled liquid (“embodying a sang-froid typical of its vintage, the icy riesling remains haughty and aloof. Only the most refined palate can penetrate the dark secrets of its troubled adolescence”) or implies that the author is intimately acquainted with the scent of charred Macedonian tarragon. I’m going to try my best not to lapse into this sort of tone, mostly because I don’t have the knowledge base necessary to do so. Also, I’ve never been to Macedonia.

Finally, despite being a wastrel in most other areas of life, I am viciously stingy when it comes to wine. Most of the wines I write about on here will be in the under $20 range, simply because that’s what I enjoy on a day to day basis, and realistically that’s the price range most other normal people operate in as well.

I welcome your comments / outraged rebukes.