Vin de California "Sans" Zinfandel
Region: Arroyo Grande, California
Year: 2016
Price: $23
Retailer: COMING SOON
I have a boss. You may know him. His name is Adam Rapoport, otherwise known as Rapo. Or as I like to call him, Rapo Dad, because I always need his approval, from pitches to projects to personally just wanting him to like me and my work because he's Adam Fucking Rapoport.
A few days ago while discussing an upcoming trip the BA team is taking out to the best coast, I was saying we needed to drink wine and he agreed with the caveat, "But we're not gonna be sitting around on your sofa with our socks sipping chard and zin..." to which I exclaimed a big "PFFFFFT!!!" [hair toss]
And now here I am, with a brand new pair of knitted socks I bought at the army surplus store after a pet-nat rosé fueled brunch and whaddddaaayyyaaaknooowww, A ZINFANDEL. Dads, man. Sometimes they do know best.
The last few years have seen an increase in usage of "juice." In the wine world, this is a noun synonymous with "wine," and used for casual conversation, describing a wine that is super gluggy, or just being a cool guy? I don't know, I don't know anyone who would be like, "YO PASS ME THAT JUICE!" but it sounds like some shit we will be hearing on the next season of Fuck That's Delicious.
But the Vin de California "Sans" Zinfandel is LEGIT JUICE. Like some serious fruit that goes down easier than a Capri Sun with two straws. Forget about 16% ABV bullshit that tastes like hot Smuckers and makes you feel like you tried a vodka soaked tampon for the first time. That is not this Zinfandel (thank god). The "Sans" Zinfandel tastes like Zinfandel is having the best Sunday of its god damn life. It's youthful and sunny, but also chill, and oh shit! It just came back from a brunch with a serious buzz and everything is possible/hilarious. It's unfussy, delicious, and you want to drink it up.
And while it is delightful to sit on my sofa and sip, what I love about the Sans is it makes me want to not do that. It makes me wish I was sipping it on a faraway grassy and fantastical afternoon with friends at the Silverlake Meadow, a place I've only been to once but haven't nearly gotten arrested there for drinking Tecates on a Monday like I have at Echo Park so I feel like it's a safer bet for chugging wine out of the bottle.
Tasting Notes: Smells like a bag of melted cherry Starbursts on a leather backseat. Tastes like a blend of pure cherry and plum juice, with hints of raspberry and Red Vines. Lightly jammy, but in the best way possible. Like great jam that you want to AND CAN jam on. It's very fine lines with jam, trust I get it. But trust me. Natural with carbonic maceration and hints of BOMB-OLEEOOO.
Ross Test: It tastes like it was made to be drank this way, as you can see by the ease and pleasure I take in slugging this shit back. Fuck glassware, drink VDS.
Total side note, but I tore a page out of my homie Charles Ford's book of drinking wine in the shower and took a glass of Sans chilled in with me this afternoon. Of all the varietals in all the world, Zin would not be the first I would think of to sip on in between shaving my left and right leg, but god damn was it satisfying. After, I put on my new socks and curled up on the couch with the bottle to write about it, and felt equally charmed, and I've been here ever since.
