wine + spirits food + Drink
Vino Cheapo How to drink the good stuff for less By Clinton Macsherry
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‘m sure glad that economic recovery has gotten underway and the folks on Wall Street feel titanic again. Prosperity will no doubt start trickling down to us Main Streeters any day now, just like always. Some of our fellow hoi polloi have already started celebrating. The Los Angeles Times recently reported that following a two-year slump, U.S. wine sales have increased by 7 percent, and for the first time, Americans collectively drink more wine than the French. Volume doesn’t tell the whole story: After trading down to less expensive w ines in the depths of the recession, U.S. consumers are once again “reaching for pricier bottles,” the LAT notes. Forg i v e m e the ha r r umph of a n inveterate thrift shopper. Cheapsk ate, tig htwad, skinf lint—I’ve been called them all. To which I plead guilty (unless copping an Alford incurs lower legal fees). In flush times and in fallow, most of my wine purchases fall under $15, and that won’t change based on Moody swings or the bipolarities of Nasdaq. Spending more can surely be justified, and as we discussed shortly after the economy tanked, the least expensive wines on the shelf don’t necessarily represent the greatest value (See “The Grape Depression,” Jan. ’09 Urbanite). But drinking cheaply need not mean drinking poorly. Simple strategies have made me a wiser miser. There’s no tastier way to pinch pennies than finding underappreciated regions and correspondingly underpriced wines. Inexpensive Argentine Malbecs hit the sweet spot for many value-seekers, although mediocre versions have bottle-rocketed along with Malbec’s popularity during the past decade. Ditto for Australia’s entry-level reds. (But scout for those countries’ bargain whites, such as Torrontes and dry Riesling, respectively.) Lately I’ve had better luck with wines from Spain’s emerging export regions—Campo de Borja, Jumilla, and Rueda, for example—which can carry price tags under $10. Some critics carp that they’re styled expressly to please the international palate, but few challenge their cost-to-quality ratio. Connoisseurs-on-the-cheap, not just trophy collectors, should also take note of vintages. I Illustration by Chris Rebbert
once found a fabulous $11 Sangiovese—a baby Brunello di Montalcino, almost—and bought it repeatedly, until two consecutive bottles tasted clearly inferior. In auto-shopper mode, I’d neglected to notice that the year on the label had advanced. Rating an entire region’s annual production involves gross generalization, but knowing that wines excelled in a given vintage can make for successful bottom-fishing. The Southern Rhone enjoyed an outstanding 2007, and you’ll pay dearly for that year’s Châteauneuf-duPapes, but it’s a perfect vintage for exploring relatively humble Côtes du Rhônes. The same principle applies to 2009 Bordeaux. I adore discounts, and they come in many forms. Big-box stores like Beltway Fine Wines run ads featuring specific wines at reduced cost or offering percentages off a total sale. The best discounts escalate as the purchase increases, and they’re ideal for cellar-stocking. Some smaller retailers post coupons on their websites and give customers on their email lists advance or exclusive access to sales. (So sign up.) Free in-store tastings provide opportunities to sample new wines and buy what you like, often at reduced prices. Hampden’s Wine Source hosts a bunch. Most wine shops also offer case discounts that can shave 20 percent or more off the per-bottle cost. Wells Discount Liquors lets you mix and match, with discounts even on half cases. Inventory clearance is a glorious thing. Domaine des Michelons Moulin-à-Vent 2009 ($18, 13 percent alcohol) gets three ticks on my cheapo checklist: It’s from oft-overlooked Beaujolais, the “poor man’s Burgundy”; critics hail 2009 as Beaujolais’ finest vintage in decades; and I bought it on sale for $15. It pours dark garnet, with aromas of rain-soaked berry patch, ham, and violets. Flavors of boysenberry and toast fill out a cruiserweight frame. Moulin-à-Vent earns a reputation as Beaujolais’s burliest cru (or village sub-appellation), but lipsmacking acidity and saline-mineral endnotes keep this refreshing enough for picnics. Although it scrapes the ceiling of cheap drinking, so far it’s my year’s best bargain. At least the advice is free, and worth double that. (Read my take on Spanish wine in the upcoming September issue of Urbanite.) Urbanite #86 august 2011 57