An Italian Valentine's Day: Barbaresco & Bolognese

In many ways, this blog began nearly five years ago to the day. In the early days of courting Meghan, Valentine's Day peeked its Hallmarkian head around the corner and I wanted to shine. I stumbled over to our soon-to-be favorite wine shop, Amherst Wines, and asked the owner for a great bottle of wine that would be amazing to drink in five years. For the big pink day I presented Meghan with two wine glasses, a blank journal to chronicle our wine journey, and a 2001 Barbaresco, along with a promise to buy a bottle of wine each year to cellar for future Valentine's Days.  A tradition was born. Needless to say, this was well received. (Not to give away all my secrets, but a little Billie Holiday on the record player never fails either.) Five years have passed, one of the wine glasses has broken (it's quite incredible that we didn't break both), the wine journal has morphed into a wine/food/spirits blog, and the annual cellaring wine purchase has lived on. Equally important, five years have passed, which means we get to crack our first bottle of Valentine's Day wine.

Comfort Food: Meatloaf and Merlot

Meatloaf is misunderstood. I know, because until Doug came along, I wouldn't have touched the stuff with a ten-foot pole. But, in his quest to make me a little less rigid when it comes to food preferences, he encouraged me to try his meatloaf. Here's the secret they don't tell you (or at least I never put it together): if you do it right, meatloaf is one big meatball. It can be tender and juicy, lightly bound by egg and bread crumbs, spiced with oregano and garlic salt, and with that hint of sweetness from the ketchup. 

Let me also say the classic version is still the best. Recently, it was my job to make the meatloaf and I looked over some recipes online before turning back to Doug's recipe, tweaked bit by bit over the years. Sure, I could soak bread in milk for the binder (but if you've ever seen me in the kitchen, you know I'm not willing to do those kinds of time-consuming tasks). I could make a red sauce to replace the ketchup. But, why not stick with the tried and true? It tastes just as good.

If meatloaf is the ultimate comfort food, merlot might be the ultimate comfort wine. The last two times we ate meatloaf, we served it with a merlot from Vincent Arroyo. (If you've been following along, you know that we fell in love with this winery on our honeymoon and get a shipment of their wine every fall.) Their merlot is velvety and oh-so-balanced, with a hint of earth and something floral on the nose. You know what it tastes like? Red wine. Good, satisfying red wine. No fuss, no pretension.

A Petite Sirah with Lentils and Sausage

The old year rolled into the new one, a syrah ran headfirst into a petite sirah, and four friends rung in the New Year with art & alcohol in Portland, Maine. We had dinner in the Old Port district and played high-low-jack in a barroom.  Back in the hotel we kicked off the new year celebrations by opening two bottles of California wines for an informal tasting. 

Owen Roe Sharecropper's Pinot Noir (2008)

The old adage, "never judge a book by its cover," has always felt stale and inaccurate to me.  I love judging things quickly and irrationally. (Malcolm Gladwell calls it "thin-slicing."  Sign me up.)  So, when I saw this bottle of wine that Meghan brought home from her trip to Oregon, I immediately got excited.  The label has that classic, dusty book-jacket look that never fails to grab me.  True to its image, Owen Roe is a new world vineyard that makes wine in a classic, old world style.  Their grapes are hand-harvested, fermented in bins, and manually crushed.  

Owen Roe's Sharecropper's Pinot Noir was one of two pinots that Meghan brought home from Oregon after trying them at Oregon Wines on Broadway, and we decided to kick off the weekend before Thanksgiving with it.  We opened it and let it breathe for about thirty minutes before tasting it, but it still had a fair bit of alcohol on the nose. I've always confused the sharp bite of alcohol for what the wine-folk describe as "spice."  Alcohol's that burn you feel in your nose even while you're drinking.  The wine had a dark, dull red color and gave off a hint of vanilla. There was a little acidity up front and enough tannins to let this 2008 vintage sit for a year or two.  The wine had a smooth, luscious texture, but enough structure to leave a distinct finish.  The Sharecropper's pinot is a classic American pinot noir: not very dry or earthy, but fruity, with dark cherries prominent throughout.  

We enjoyed the wine on its own it (Meghan more so than me) but it really opened up when paired with our seafood-based dinner.  We served the wine with roasted shrimp and broccoli over lemon risotto.  Thanksgiving is approaching, and that means it's time to find ways to drink through and around your family.  Stay away from that classic-yet-thin-and-tart Beaujolais Nouveau and consider this Oregon pinot.  If nothing else, you'll be seduced by it's rustic, Pilgrim-esque logo.

Owen Roe Sharecropper's Pinot Noir (2008)

Saint Paul, Oregon

$25