Benvenuti a un’altra settimana di Zero al Vino. Don’t adjust your computers. The rest of this post is in English. (Yes. I used Google translate to help me with that sentence.)
This week, Pete and I drank an Italian bubbly.
The basics
Wine: Parini DOC Prosecco Brut
Region: Veneto, Italy
Varietal: Glera
Price: $16.99
Vintage: n/a
ABV: 11%
Source: Wegman’s
Even though last week’s Rosato wasn’t my absolute favorite, I still was looking forward to this week. Pete and I were trying something totally new: a sparkling wine.
Anyway, let’s get right to it.
First Impressions
Pop!
Fizz!
Bang!
Fun!
When I opened the Prosecco with a POP I realized that prior to drinking wine, this is what I thought opening every bottle of wine would be like.
What excitement.
In fact, the excitement was so high, I didn’t remember to do much swirling or sniffing. I poured the wine into my glass and watched the little bubbles fly up to the surface. I turned to Pete:
Cin, cin!
And we drank. We drank before we even sat down to the table!
Tasting Notes
Bubbles.
That’s all I tasted. Bubbles. I had a hard time noticing anything else. After the initial fun of bubbles and fizz, I sat down with my meal, and I concentrated. Hard!
But, I didn’t really get anything wine-wise from it. (At least not as far as taste is concerned.)
This wasn’t the wine’s fault. It was mine. I was distracted.
Because BUBBLES!!!
Eventually, I let the wine sit in my mouth until the bubbles finished doing their thing. Then I attempted to taste. But I struggled with it. Even once the bubbles were gone, the post-carbonation-burny-sensation in my mouth remained. And I had a hard time paying attention to anything else. I winced a lot.
I should mention: I hate bubbles in my drinks.
What? Catania Hates Adorable Bubbles?!
Okay, I feel that I need to explain.
During the 80s, when I was a kid, Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) did their big campaign against drinking and driving. I was living in Houston, Texas at the time. I was—five? At the most? I’m not sure.
The details are hazy, but what I recall goes along these lines: At the time in Texas, it was illegal to drive under the influence, but it was still legal to drink and drive. (You do the math on that one.) So, even though the legislation allowed drinking and driving, sentiments were changing. And MADD had a strong campaign against the practice since Texas was reticent to make legislation banning drinking and driving altogether.
(By the way, I endorse the restriction. Drinking and driving is a terrible idea.)
Anyway. I was a kid. I remember the essence of the sobering ads. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk and Don’t drink and drive.
As far as the first message goes, I didn’t have to worry about any of my friends driving drunk. None of my kindergarten acquaintances drove at all.
But Don’t drink and drive. I couldn’t help but wonder why? This one stumped me. What is so bad about drinking?
I asked my mom. She explained it clearly: Drinking would make you drunk. Drinking was bad. She reminded me that drinking was against my religion—God doesn’t like it at all. I was shaking in my moon boots.
All of this was solidified when someone very close to me got busted for a DUI. He was a good guy! He and his friends didn’t mean to drive under the influence. They didn’t know they were that drunk. Yeah they were drinking. They were having fun, but they had it under control. Drinking and driving wasn’t against Texas law. They were fine. Until they weren’t. They were pulled over. They failed the sobriety test. Failed the breathalyzer. And they were arrested and booked for DUI.
Bad. Bad. Bad. BAD!
I did the math. And I was damn lucky that I couldn’t drive. Because I drank all the time. Daily. As soon as I woke up. With every meal. After playing outside in the heat.
Sure. It was water. Or milk. Or Kool-Aid. Whatever my mom gave me. But I knew that I needed to quit drinking as soon as possible. I didn’t want to risk jail. I stopped everything.
When my mom discovered that I wasn’t drinking anything, she tried to tell me that I misunderstood. That only beer would make me drunk.
I was skeptical. I still refused to drink, but gave an exception to water.
And that’s how it started. I drank nothing but water for years. At first it was because of the my fear of getting drunk. By the time I outgrew that idea, I didn’t like sweet drinks. And I loathed carbonated ones.
To this day, I hate soda. Gross. I don’t like juice. Blech. Flat, room-temperature tap water is my go-to refresher.
I’m as boring as that white dude in a suit on the Sir-Mix-A-Lot music video.
Thankfully, the transition into wine has been okay. It’s not overly sweet, which is a big help. But Prosecco and all of those damn bubbles! Maybe I’ll leave the Prosecco open a day or two so it can go flat before I give it another try.
Mood Enhancer
Despite the bubbles, there was still plenty of enjoyment in this glass of wine.
Any cup of wine is bound to cheer you up. But Prosecco really did the job!
It started at the very beginning, when I pulled the tab to remove the foil. Then unwound the little wire cage that held the cork back. I gently strained to release the cork. And POP! Woo hoo! The party had started. There was fizz. And a little bit of gas billowing from the mouth of the bottle. I felt like I had just won the World Series.
Before a single sip, I was giddy. Then I poured the wine into glasses. And, even though I knew I didn’t really want bubbles, I couldn’t deny that they were fun.
I was ready to celebrate. Celebrate what, you ask? I was celebrating eating leftover lasagna! YEAH!!! After a day of work. PARTY!!! Humid, summer weather! Woo Woooooooo!!! It all seemed utterly worthy of celebration.
When you open a bottle of Prosecco, everything is worthy of celebration!
I took a sip, and I was instantly greeted by a hint of sweet. Just a hint at the tip of the tongue. The flavor dissipated almost immediately. And then the bubbles took over.
PARTY!
I didn’t love the sensation, but I can’t deny that it was fun. Pop rocks in a goblet.
The taste was light enough to let the bubbles be the most intense part of the experience. And I guess that was good. I can’t imagine a deep, heady, complex wine also having bubbles.
It would be overload.
Rating: Matthew McConaughey
This wine earns the distinct rating of Matthew McConaughey (Alright, alright, alright). I bet it would be higher for me if I liked bubbles.
Pete rated the Prosecco higher. He really liked the wine. He felt like it was easy to drink. He loves bubbles.
I powered my way through the bubbles then, I lay my head down and fell asleep in Pete’s lap. A blissful sleep. I was tired after all of that fun.
I think I was born to be a wino.
"The taste was light enough to let the bubbles be the most intense part of the experience. And I guess that was good. I can’t imagine a deep, heady, complex wine also having bubbles.
It would be overload."
You have perfectly described the experience of drinking a Prosecco, in my opinion. The bubbles and the celebration are the point. For a wine-with-bubbles experience, try a Spanish Cava in the same price range (eg. Juve y Camps), then a California sparkler (Gloria Ferrer, Piper Sonoma). Then work your way up in price, and complexity. You will find complexity in some that bubbles cannot hide (in California: Iron Horse, Schramsberg, Domaine Carneros, Roederer Estate.) The finest Champagnes are definitely deep and complex -- heady may depend on what you mean by that term (not high alcohol).
I predict you will overcome your dislike of bubbles. You've already noticed the fun they add. They also are refreshing, and very versatile with food. As I'm fond of saying, "Bubbles go with everything." (Start with salty/crunchy.)