Monday, June 18, 2012

Casa V Pinot Grigio Rosé (Fizzy)

it looks just like me!
It’s probably my own fault for insisting that this week I try a wine that matches my personality (since you asked: bubbly and pink…spot on, no?), but I don't have a ton to say about Casa V Pinot Grigio Rose (which I hereby dub "the Fizzy P"). I mean, it's not a bad little wine, but there are many others I would prefer to drink.

To start with, I’m not a Pinot Grigio fan. I don’t know why; I’m just not (and that’s OKAY). I also generally don’t like rosés. Before I start to sound like a finicky ass-hat, let me tell you what I DID like about this wine:

It’s a gorgeous color. I mean look at it—bright pink, with just enough effervescence to make it interesting.  It’s lightly-flavored and carbonated (bubbles almost always get a thumbs up in my book) and definitely meant to be served cool and in a relaxed atmosphere. It’s a fun wine, so don’t feel the slightest bit guilty if you sip with your pinky down or from a red Solo cup. Really, it’s your call. 

The Fizzy P practically screams "drink-me-in-a-rocking-chair-in-the-shade-on-your-back-porch-whilst-relaxing-with-a-good-book." And who can't deal with a wine that has demands like THAT?

For the life of me I could not pull any specific aromas from tasting the Fizzy P; all I can tell you is that it tasted like wine. No berries, no weird aromas of dandelions or igneous rocks— though I have read reviews stating that berry flavors are in there. Maybe there was a vague bit of citrus (perhaps lemon?) going on. 

It could have been that the wine is subtle and my pulled pork sandwich, coleslaw and corn on the cob were overpowering its elusive flavor; but before I knew it, the bottle was empty and I did not have the opportunity to give it another go after dinner. I happily moved on to Riondo Prosecco (an old favorite) instead.

I do all my own stunts.
SO…a nice, light sipper, I recommend the Fizzy P sans accompaniment; if corn on the cob can overpower it, stay away from eating and drinking at the same time—this one’s meant to fly solo (pun intended).

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