American Effervescence
In which our correspondent finds comfort in domestic sparkling wines that pair well with social distancing.
I feel weird writing about bubbly while my city of Seattle is being left to contagion. Mostly I just want something to drink while I hunker down. Though perhaps each and every one of us will have something to celebrate. Like herd immunity.
Bubbly has never meant special occasion to me. I consider sparkling wine to be nature’s cocktail, albeit with a little nurture. Sparkling wine counts as a small luxury, essential to life, like good chocolate or a quality steak. For many of us, it’s about finding the best examples that we can comfortably afford.
At the first big holiday tasting I ever attended, the distributor pulled out all the stops, including every sparkling wine in its catalog — from six-dollar Cava to Champagne I’d only heard about in Jay-Z’s “Can’t Knock the Hustle.” Before this, I’d only ever tasted maybe a couple of sparkling wines at a time. Now I was tasting over 50 bottles one after the other. It was my own private wine shakubuku. During that drunken hour, I codified many of the values and truths I still hold about sparkling wine.
Moving along the tasting tables most reminded me of fabric. If you’re shopping for a shirt, you can feel the difference between cheap cotton, poly blends, and… ooh, is that silk? Bubbly generally fell in the curve of taste as a function of price. Cheap stuff tastes cheap, and expensive stuff tastes worth it. Why? Think of a fine suit. The same pattern makes remarkably different quality suits because tailoring is expensive, fabric is expensive. Of course, even as a newbie I knew that we said “sparkling wine” because “Champagne” only came from France. But I learned the workaround was search for Methode Champenoise or Methode Traditionelle. If a sparkling wine does not have one of those phrases, it’s not necessarily bad, but it will more often than not have a quality ceiling. (Exceptions exist if you want to delve —sure there’s plenty of natural pet nat or Charmat prosecco — but I personally live by the above rule of thumb).
After that tasting, my mindset changed, and I focused on wines that were the best examples of type for the money. A few domestic sparklers sticking their heads up from the pack to keep me from descending into a life of tedious wine snobbery. So as travel, and imports, are threatened and many people hunker down at home, hopefully we try to emphasize the little things we can celebrate. American sparkling wine is one splurge to go with everything — spaghetti pie, homeschooling, Netflix binging, or the eight quarts of chili you’ve made.
American sparkling wine is one splurge to go with everything — spaghetti pie, homeschooling, Netflix binging, or the eight quarts of chili you’ve made.
Below are my all-American recommendations, presented as a function of availability in many markets, but also price, because that’s how the majority of people buy bubbles.
My “around $10” starter is a classic homegrown sleeper, the Domaine Ste. Michelle Extra Dry ($11) from the Columbia Valley of Washington State. Really just all their bottles in this range kill at the price point, but this fizzy one gets me most. Extra Dry is a slight misnomer here, as the aroma is more tropical and there is some residual sugar in the wine, making it a little bit fruitier than $10 rivals. This may feels to some drinkers as a bit sweet. All tart apple, fresh citrus zest on the nose, and creamy lemon curd in a fresh-baked crust in the mouth, this is the prosecco killer (now that most of those are over $15). Find me a domestic sparkler that beats it, I’ll buy you a case.
My favorite “something a little nicer but under $20” sparkling wine is Gruet Brut Rosé ($15) from Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. The brother and sister moved from Champagne — yes, there is a Gruet Champagne house — and planted their first vineyards in the early 1980s. Cool night temperatures in the high desert allow the grapes to retain significant acidity, the essential requirement of a good sparkler. Clean, with just something more than a brut, this rosé has a prominent whiff of red berries, the flavor reminding me of actual unripe strawberries. The blush color is as flush as a cheek, the bubbles are superfine, and the finish lingers in the back of your mouth like a tart strawberry, with a kick of bright acidity. That $5 spread buys you everything in the last sentence. I have tricked many a wine snob with this wine, which further endears it to me for all time.
Argyle Vintage Brut ($25) from Oregon’s Willamette Valley is my “bring a fancy bottle to impress but not alienate” bubbly. One of the older guards and widely distributed wineries from Oregon, Argyle always gets points for reliability. This particular bottle’s flavor may change a bit from year to year, but it always tastes like Oregon’s other crowning glories in fruit, squish-when-touched strawberries and perfumed juicy pears. From nose to throat, this wine has layers of red berry and delicate tree fruit, finishing with an acidity that ties it all in with a subtle ending of toasty, sweet bread. Those layers, that bready note, that extra is worth a weekend splurge.
The most stylish “dressed up for a special occasion” bubbly is Domaine Carneros Estate Brut Cuvée from Taittinger ($35). Saying you like the sparklers from this California winery owned by the French Champagne house for their unique elegance is like saying “Audrey Hepburn is a real style icon.” A revelation to few, still a true statement. An apt analogy, as you’ve probably seen Taittinger’s painted logo of a svelte woman in a backless black gown. Yeah, this wine is liquid that. So delicate and sweet fruited, the aroma reminds me of lime curd and spring flowers, and I still stand by my first crib sheet notes of it: “nectarine rhubarb tart.” Which isn’t a thing but should be. When you taste Champagne for a living, you notice its tailoring, its brushstrokes. I’d rather drink Domaine Carneros than cheap Champagnes; it’s what 200 years of French technique can make with California grapes.
