so what i'm getting at is that it's hot. oh, that's right: that was the common thread between the japanese box and the venetian loft -- it's quite uncomfortably warm. moreover, new york city is a real doozy in terms of temperature. i love this place to death, and i dare not say "but it's too..." -- all i'm saying is i need to get a fan or one of those pseudo air conditioners.
until then, i have Terres Dorées FRV 100 Sparkling Gamay de Jean Paul Brun 2005. you know when you're standing on the F platform at the 6th ave. station and it's so hot that even those stagnant pools of heavens-only-knows on the tracks look good enough to splash across your face? or you're on a rooftop, thinking "this would only be better if.." (i guess that's a more pleasant scenerio.) the FRV is precisely what one would need. it may just well be my definitive summer wine, period.the wine first came into the wine shop i work at (more on that later) about a week ago, and it's selling rather quickly. and just last night, we had quite a successful tasting featuring this bottle and one red and one white wine (more on the tastings later as well).
here's the rundown: it's a sparking wine -- 100% gamay, made organically, and tastes like a mix between champagne and a nice beaujolais (sound summery enough yet?) winemaker Jean Paul Brun takes a pretty interesting approach in making this wine: first off, it's only 7% alcohol per volume, the product of not adding sugar after an intial fermentation. Brun has said that beaujolais is best at such a level, also noting that it makes this a virtually "headache-free" wine -- we all need one of those time and time again.
you're about midway throught this ramble-fest, so here's a fun little anecdote: the wine is called "FRV 100" because when f-r-v-one hundred are spoken in french, it's eff arr vay sont -- or, stateside, effervescent. and that's exactly what this wine is: Richard Simmons in a bottle (come on, did you see how shiny the label is?!), wearing a beret with a cherry lollipop in tote. um, moving on...
interestingly, Brun employs a lesser-used technique known as "méthode ancestrale", or the rural method, in making this wine. essentially, fermentation is slowed or halted and the must (freshly crushed grapes sitting in large tanks) is sometimes chilled. afterwards, the process of fermentation process is restarted as the must is bottled and sometimes warmed. a result of this alternative take on fermentation is carbon dioxide, creating those lovely bubbles, a certain lightness on the palate, and that wonderful POP of the cork!
i first enjoyed this wine with my friend teressa over dinner at tai thai (1st st. & 1st ave.) i had two appetizers: the todmun pla ['thai fried fish cake served with sweet chili sauce'] and the ka ree puff ['thai pastry puff with minced chicken marinated with cumin & deep fried'] -- i can't recall what she had, but it was a.) good and b.) good with the wine. that's one thing i love about sparkling wines and lighter reds -- they're equally suited to with chocolates as they are to play off of spicy dishes.
the wine: what made the FRV particularly nice was its refreshing quality. i immediately thought of cherries and an interesting (yet light) touch of honey. it's rather sweet, and has an impressive finish for being in a genre of light, fizzy wines that typically fizzle out on the finish. i could have easily drank another bottle, but being given the opportunity, i would more likely hide it away for another perfect opportunity, which, with this wine, is essentially anytime (though i was truly disappointed when a girl who stopped into the shop to buy a bottle for the next morning's mimosas -- to think of all of the flavor finish she wasted by masking it with some o.j.!)
this is Jean Paul Brun's second vintage of the wine. it was apparently received in its native france last year and, if i have any say (and if america is smart), all 4,000 or so cases that were oh-so-smartly placed on our shores will be enjoyed appropriately, be it over spicy thai or, in a decidedly 'summer in the city' kind of way, with some watermelon on a rooftop that's catches a whole lot of sun.
now if you'd excuse me, the roof calls.
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