ain't that some auto parts store?

I was raised a white zinfandel girl (from hence known as white zin). I didn't realize until I began working at Vintner's Restaurant & Wine Shoppe that white zin was not classy. Most wine people tend to look down upon it, lumping white zin people with boxed wine people, Boone's Farm people, and illiterate people. I remember once waiting on a table at The Bistro of three gentlemen who were drinking pricey pinot noir. Their table was next to a big southern family of eight drinking white zin. One of the gentlemen looked at the family with disgust, and then said in a fake southern accent, "Napa? Ain't that some auto parts store?" I laughed, because it was pretty clever, and said, "Hey, it takes all kinds."

Being around wine at work all the time made me interested in it, so I started learning what I could. I was too young to do much tasting, and my of-age friends were impatient with my hour long trips to the wine aisle. So it was mostly head knowledge, and very little tongue knowledge. But with limited tasting, I was having a hard time finding something I liked. Every wine I tried made my face pucker, but I thought that was just the way wine was. I began to despair that I would never be more than a white zin person.

My life with wine changed the night I went to an art opening. It was shortly before my 21st birthday, they had free wine, and no one was carding. After the first time, they took your empty glass as an indication that you were old enough to do this. I took the opportunity to try a lot of different things. Casey was not very interested in wine at the time, and asked for a suggestion. I recommended a riesling, because I knew that it was one of the sweetest "classy" wines that you can find, and that's what we both had. One taste, and we both had a great epiphany.

Wine could taste good.

My face didn't pucker, I didn't have to swallow it quickly, and I definitely didn't throw it down the water fountain like I did with some bitter red stuff we tried later that evening. At the time I tasted it, I lacked the wine words to describe it properly, but here is what I remember: very pleasant and drinkable, fruity and well-balanced, but not overly sweet. It was what the experts would call a nice sipping wine. It was what the southern experts would call a nice sippin' and sittin' on the porch at sunset in the summertime wine.

I've since looked everywhere for that wine. I went to the local wine stores and all the grocery stores, but no one had it. Probably whoever had it couldn't sell it, and donated it to the art gallery. I remembered the label from the night we tasted it, and I did extensive searching on the internet until I found it. I also found three wine shops in New England that carry it, but do not ship to North Carolina. I could only hope that the winery will release a new vintage every year that was as good as the one I tried, and I can find it then. I was a little afraid that since I, a wine amateur, liked it, that in the wine world, it would be considered a bad wine. But then it showed up in the Top 100 Value Wines issue of Wine Enthusiast. At #54, it scored 88 points. I am redeemed.

It's been over a year and a half since I tried that wonderful riesling. I stopped looking for it after a year. This week, I was early for some dinner plans, so I stopped at a wine shop downtown to kill time. I'd been meaning to check it out since I moved to Winston, but since there's a Total Wine & More near my work and a North Carolina wineseller near my house, I lacked the impetus. I was just browsing, looking more for a red zin that my local Total Wine doesn't carry than anything else, when there was my riesling. One bottle, sitting there, hanging out without any sort of sign that said "SANDRA, LOOK HERE RIGHT NOW!" I'd sworn off wine buying recently, because I have two cases at home, but an exception had to be made. I was so excited that when I paid, I gushed to the cashier, "I've been looking for this for a year and a half." I never divulge information to strangers. He politely nodded and took my credit card.

I'm afraid now that I won't like my little riesling. My tastes have changed, as I've been old enough to taste and I've been taking advantage of that. I find red zin more interesting than white zin, and it's been a long time since I found a riesling that I liked enough to buy. I'm afraid that the wine won't live up to the memory, like when I watched The Dark Crystal for the first time as an adult and realized that it sucked. We shall see.

I've come a long way in my wine knowledge. I try not to be a wine snob, because Lord knows I still have a long way to go in my wine education. I see white zin as a pair of training wheels on a bike. You have to start somewhere, and I don't think there is anyone who can jump right into a sauvignon blanc or a pinot noir and appreciate them without having had wine before. (I was honestly beginning to wonder if I would ever like sauvignon blanc when I tried a very nice one a couple of months ago.) And while some people may never get past the training wheels, anything that gets them to appreciate wine at all is a good idea. You should drink what you like. Why waste your time drinking something that doesn't even taste good to you? Looking down upon people for liking white zin is like looking down upon people for liking oysters or mushrooms or cantaloupe (though I have to confess I do have to wonder what is actually wrong with all those kinds of people).

Though I may think all of that, it's a little different in practice. I went out to eat once with a friend of mine. After the food, I decided to partake in an alcoholic beverage for dessert, so I asked about the wine and beer list. I wanted a nice riesling. But this was not a wine place, and they had merlot, chardonnay, and white zinfandel. I didn't like beer, so I ordered a premium malt beverage. Most college kids would not be caught dead drinking a malt beverage in public, but as I explained to my friend, "Well, I wasn't going to drink a white zin in public!"