Ba-ba-ba-Barbera

Ba-ba-ba- Barbera and. . .

Risotto. For my money, certainly. A mushroom risotto and a Barbera. Boursin and parmesan cheese. Some asparagus, sure; even some shrimp. But the ‘shrooms are not optional. They are the REASON for the Barbera, a tasty medium-to-full-bodied wine that is also relatively low in tannins. Why don’t I get offered Barberas more often?

As I just told Kimmy Sue Horserider, Cabs and Pinot Noirs are frequently overpriced. I don’t like most Pinots anyway; yet I’ve liked almost every Barbera I’ve ever had – and the one exception wasn’t bad, just a tad disappointing. In retrospect, I’m guessing it had some contact with the new-fangled stainless steel style o’ winemaking. Not that it matters, as I can’t recall the name. Ruvei? Whatever. . .

In any event, Barbera too often is overlooked on these shores. In Italy, it’s both a go-to wine varietal and a popular ingredient in blends. It’s consistent, and I like its character: It’s high in acidity, soft and fruity, and it’s possible to procure a swell example at a decent price. What’s not to like?

Here’s a dandy one: the 2005 Eredi Lodali Barbera d’Alba Vigneto Bric Sant'Ambrogi. It being an Italian wine, I do not know what all those words signify. I do not even know if I’m identifying the wine in the correct word order, which in this case would be reading from the bottom of the label to the top. You sure can’t judge a wine by its label – particularly if it’s an Italian wine. This is especially true of THIS Italian wine, whose label is a basic off-white with black lettering. The thin gold line surrounding this plain-Jane label is the only sign that the winemaker didn’t simply go to the nearest printer and say, “I need a label for my delicious Barbera. Whatever’s cheapest. Does it cost extra to include this blurry black-and-white sketch that just MIGHT be an old farmhouse atop terraced vineyards?”

If it helps, the wine was imported by Siema LLC, Springfield, Virginia, and I picked it up at Gomer’s South for a mere $13.

Barbera, like the prized Nebbiolo grape, is a mainstay of the Piemonte region of northern Italy. More precisely, the Monferrato zone, overlapping the province of Asti, is Barbera’s “spiritual home,” as my Italian wine primer so nicely puts it. The biggest names in Barbera producers are d’Alba and d’Asti.

Many of the top producers of Barolo/Barbaresco also make quality Barberas. I note this because Barolo is often dubbed “the king of wines,” as Barbaresco is called “the queen of wines.” Yet no one seems to say a word about Barbera! Not in earshot of ME, anyway. I, who so appreciate value in wine. Bought a Barolo lately? For the same money, you can get three or four Barberas.

It’s said that Barbera’s taste is akin to that of a Cabernet Sauvignon, but after a quick consultation with my tastebuds, I don’t think that’s accurate. I’m not skilled at listing specific flavor components of wine, but I’ll give it a go, just so you know what you’re missing: A good Barbera will offer fruitiness and nice acidity, cherries and berries. Barbera is fruit-driven, and Barbera barricato – Barbera matured in oak barrels – offers wood smoke and vanilla in a lovely complement to the grape’s structure. If that makes any sense. I’m TRYIN’ here, really I am.

It just flat-out tastes good. Looks good, smells good, and makes my killer risotto even better. I lift my glass and salute you, Prince Barbera. Or is that Princess?

Lodi Lushness (or is that "Lushes?")

Part II: Meanwhile, back at the Cellar Rat end-of-August tasting, featuring Smokin’ Joe’s BBQ . . . and the quietly impressive lineup from Michael-David Vineyards, proudly sited in the Lodi wine district of California. . .

The tasting was touted as an occasion to match barbecue with Zins. Well, barbecue with wines that go with barbecue. Which I’d have thought would be Zins. Zins, Zins and more Zins. But this tasting promised more than Zins. Isn’t it just that – the promise of wines – that makes some of us, er, wine freaks?

Others of us have their OWN agenda when attending wine tastings. Darcy, for example, was persuaded by the barbecue. Andie wanted to pick up a Phantom while Cellar Rat still had them. Katie just plain likes drinking. Drinking wine, especially. Sistah!

Kimmy Sue is a fan of Pinot Noir, but I love her anyway, and she was along to laugh with friends and forget, for a few hours at least, trouble back at the ranch. In vino veritas. And some comfort, oh yes.

I was there for the Zins. I freely admit it. Quality Zins tend to get my pulse fluttering, and the lineup sounded more than promising. Seven Deadly Zins: Check. Had it, liked it a lot. Windmill Zin – had I had this in Tucson, once? Yes, I had. And I’d really liked it.

There was also The Lure of the New: The Incognito Red. The Sixth Sense Syrah. Still, my primary motivation for rounding up a posse o’ wine-lovin’ friends was to give ME the opportunity to try the Earthquake Petite Sirah. I’m a PS groupie. Amphora, David Bruce, Stag’s Leap, Elyse, even the Bogle 2001. Yum City, and I don’t say that lightly.

So. I’d come for the Earthquake Petite Sirah, but there were other bottles in the way. I dutifully began with the Incognito Viognier, which I knew from a previous tasting is quite nice, sort of a Conundrum send-up with its honey and pineapple and, yes, lush notes (“lush” is our operative word for the week, the most succinct way to sum up these Lodi wines). The white Incognito put me in mind of the Pride Mountain Viognier, which I recall running upwards of $40; the Incognito is offered at the Rat for $15.99.

Now at this point we were supposed to head for the next station, site of the Sixth Sense Syrah and the Kitchen Sink medley, a.k.a. Incognito Rouge. But wine is an emotional mistress, and the Viognier overseer, hearing me wax ecstatic about the prospect of the Earthquake Petite Sirah, steered us in a different direction, toward the furthest tasting room. It seemed our tasting sheet was incomplete.

Lady Luck was smiling on us: the reps from Michael-David, or the distributors, or some other vine deity, had thrown a few extras into the mix. Like two more Earthquakes: The Cab and the Zin. Oh. My. God. To hell with the central tasting station! I bolted for the back of the Rat. Which is a strange sentence, admittedly.

“I bolted for the back of the Rat.” Maybe if I’m going to get all aren’t-I-hip-nick-namey with my new fav. wine shoppe, I should call it the Cellar, rather than the Rat. But I like the sound of “the Rat.” Cellar Rat is an amazingly cool venue, spacious, with high curved ceilings and struts -- like being below decks on a boat, as my friend Kim noted. Or inside a barrel, as I saw it. Like a little cellar rat playing in the cooperage. OOH, great idea for a children’s story, a little wine rat hiding and feasting in the barrels!!! (Back off; it’s copyrighted.)

But I digress. At the back of the wine merchant known as Cellar Rat is a special room. I’ve been there a few times, and I could see that it is the Rat’s IT room, only open to us mere mortals at select hours. But I wasn’t standing on ceremony or waiting for a day pass, not this time. Not with a limited supply of the bonus Earthquakes on hand.

I threw myself into the room, my bemused friends following at my heels, bless ‘em. There on a long, modest table was an immodest array of wines, and my eyes scanned them rapidly. YES! The IT room still had a half bottle left of the Earthquake Zin, AND some Earthquake Cab.

Since I was already severely out of order, I figured I’d just lunge straight for the two Brawny Boys at the far end, the Zin and Petite Sirah. My undecorous greed was forestalled by the suasions of Michael K., the Lodi wine rep, who convinced me to do the tasting properly -- like a Hebrew scholar, right to left. Beginning with the Windmill Estates Old Vine Zin, and ending with, well, heaven.

On a value level, the Windmill Zin won the Michael-David tasting throwdown, hands down. This second label bottling drinks kinda like the Four Vines Old Vine Zin: not as deep and layered as the massive Zins I so favor, like the Seghesio Old Vines and Home Ranch – but very good, Zin good, and untouchable at the $12 price point. Someone should buy me a case (upcoming birthday, hint hint).

The Earthquake Cab was soft and lush (lush! That’s the word!), no obvious tannins overpowering its concentrated flavors. Michael referred to it as suede-like, and I wouldn’t disagree. But its attractions were overshadowed by the Zin, which I should have tasted twice, and the Petite Sirah, which I DID taste twice: once without food, and another with barbecue. It was killer both times. My new favorite Petite Sirah, dam’ those Lodi boys.

See, all these earth-shaking wines give one’s wallet a pretty good shake as well, retailing in the $28-$30 price range. But if cost isn’t a sticking point, or you feel you’re due for a special treat, step on over to Cellar Rat and tell ‘em you want to feel the earth move under your feet. You’ll either be directed to the Earthquake label, or get slapped (then arrested, humiliated and forced to resign your office. Hmm. Maybe you should just say you’re interested in learning about top-tier wines from Lodi.).

I might wait until November to try these wines again, since we’re visiting friends in San Francisco and Lodi is an hour east. Earthquake Country! I’ve been promised a VIP tour, although I think I’d almost rather stay under the radar. I’m a modest sort: If I were a Zin, I’d be more of a Windmill than an Earthquake. Still, the Phillips brothers are described as “canny, creative, and good-humored,” which sounds appealing. Maybe they’ll be around when we pop in. Maybe they’ll share some stories, and some laughs. Maybe I’ll get that second taste of Zin.