Lilian & Sophie Bauchet "Californie"

Lilian & Sophie Bauchet "Californie"
Varietal: Gamay
Region: Fleurie, Beaujolais, France
Year: 2013
Price: $24
Retailer: Lou Wine Shop
Importer: Percy Selections

When I saw this bottle on Percy Selections' Instagram a couple months before it was available retail, I knew I had to have it. A small-production Fleurie cuvée from Lilian & Sophie had to be mine. And to be called "Californie" of all things. I almost went back to nail-biting I was so anxious for this wine. Because like the lofty daydreamer that I am, I was already convinced this was my wine. A BEAUJOLAIS CALLED "CALIFORNIE"?! HOW COULD IT NOT BE MINE!!!

I don't recommend this type of thinking to anyone. It's unhealthy, arrogant, and nearly all disappointments in life come from having any expectations at all, let alone the expectation that a wine you haven't tried can somehow represent your entire being. It's fucking stupid, and I know it. And what may be stupider is that, I needed to think that way. 

The last four months have been some of the hardest of my life. If selling the book was hard, finishing the manuscript was like dragging myself through hell with two corkscrews for hands. I isolated myself, working twelve to sixteen hours a day, and had never felt more alone. I had this incredibly huge project on my hands-- a fucking book, being written by a college dropout who never has done a long term project in her life-- plus the big California piece for Bon Appétit and that whole full-time writing job, wedding planning, family emergencies, realizing that many of my friends really aren't. It's been a fucking lot, without any time for anything else. Not even time to write here, which is not only my passion, but also my escape. 

So, yes, I had put a lot of feelings into a bottle of wine. Stupid, for sure. But I needed something to look forward to. I needed to know that after the manuscript was in, I was going to be able to sit down with a wine and love it, and feel loved. To remember why I do what I do, and how all this happened. Because I love wine. 

AND I FUCKING LOVE THIS WINE.

The "Californie" tastes like one of those idyllic days that slowly transitions into a magical evening, one of those Saturdays that feel like its never going to end but you know it will eventually, so you do your best to drink up every last minute of it so you will remember it forever. It's bright, gluggy and a bit salty, like a long afternoon full of laughing. You know when everyone is laughing so hard but no one even remembers what they're laughing about anymore? And your laugh goes totally silent as the tears pour down your face? That's what it tastes like. Like you're catching your own laughing tears on your lips and washing it down with some cranberry lemonade. But there is a warmth and a softness to it. It's slightly spiced, and it is enticing. It's your lover's sweatered shoulder you could bury your face into until the end of time, under the stars you just now realized were out and shining. 

I love this wine so much because it reminds me of well, love. And I don't necessarily mean "love" like significant other status. "Love" isn't always this heavy serious thing between two people. Often it is just having fun, with people who make you feel good, and remind you that you are alive, and you're all alive together. It's an all-encompassing energy; it's laughing and hugging and dancing and singing and sweating and swearing and eating and drinking and kissing and talking. It's welcoming, it's exciting, and it's comforting, all at once. 

And that energy is what this wine tastes like. Real love, baby. 

Tasting Notes: Tart, poppy and saline cranberries and red currant, with hints of spiced vanilla and dusty sun-dried bougainvilleas, with a lemonade finish. I drank a whole case of this wine; suffice to say it tastes fucking great. 

Ross Test: PASS, IN FACT SOMEONE PASS ME BACK THE BOTTLE PLEASE

Christine et Gilles Paris Morgon Douby

Christine et Gilles Paris Morgon Douby
Varietal: Gamay
Region: Morgon, Beaujolais
Year: 2014
Price: ~ $24

I started writing about this wine for a quick review on Instagram, and lost my shit a little. I hate that I have been able to drink so many beautiful wines I love so much over the last year, and yet I have not had time to legitimately write about them. It's hard because as much as I enjoy writing about wine in general, what I truly love is writing about wines that inspire me. This blog started as writing about every wine I drank, but it became more about writing about wines that made me feel like I needed to write about them.

And while every wine I spend any time on is because I feel like I need to, this wine, this wine made me feel like I was going to die if I didn't actually write about it. Not a fucking Instagram post. Because I'm not here because I was writing fucking Instagram posts. I'm here because there is something to wine that is so much bigger than me, or my silly emotions, allusions or similes. I'm not here because of writing 7 Wines To [Verb] [Pronoun] [Adjective] [Season] or explain Charmat Method in a charming way for my book, which is what I should be doing. I'm here because I cannot not tell someone-- anyone!-- about this wine.

Even if I hadn't started drinking this as the sun started to set, it would have reminded me of "Waterloo Sunset". ♫ ... But Ben & Marissa cross over the river where they feel safe and sound. And they don't need no friends, as long as they gaze on Morgon Sunsets, they are in paradise. ♫ 

Not quite what the Kinks said, but the sentiment remains. The Christine et Gilles Paris Morgon Douby tastes like big chewy Sweettarts, ocean foam & young summer love, and feels as relaxed as a lit joint. I want to curl up with this bottle and my favorite records on crisp, green, post-war, suburban grass in a bikini, smelling like Coppertone and Hawaiian Tropic. There is an easiness about it that tastes like cranberry-soaked privilege wrapped up in the security of a balmy summer night and your whole life ahead of you. 

It's so fucking youthful and fresh that you wouldn't be able to even appreciate this shit if you were youthful and fresh. It takes the wisdom and complexity that you can taste on the mid and back palate-- that same wisdom and complexity you have as an adult-- to appreciate it. 

Because cannonballing into pools with my sister was always my favorite, and aimless sunset walks down Euclid Ave. with Sager in our cut-offs were always fun, and I always knew urban hiking through Echo Park with Tecates and Ben were the only butterflies I wanted for the rest of my life. And although I knew these memories were always going to be the best, you still don't really comprehend it in the moment. 

This wine tastes like the moment a favorite memory washes over you. 

You have no choice but to be swept away.

AS WE HAVE SEEN HERE TODAY.

Tasting Notes: Smells like Raspberry Banana smoothies made of sparklers. Crisp and tart with cranberry, red currant, a touch of radish and awesome minerality, but is so so smooth. Also has nice tannic structure, which is a thing I just said aloud and hated myself for BUT IS STILL TRUE. 

Ross Test: AMAZING, but I couldn't with good conscience do more that a couple swigs because this is so much better to share. 

On VICE Munchies: Why You Should Be Drinking Beaujolais All The Time

WHY YOU SHOULD BE DRINKING BEAUJOLAIS ALL THE TIME

Nouveau may mark the start of the holidays, but Beaujolais isn't a seasonal wine;
IT'S AN ALL THE TIME WINE.

Mushy Love Stuff & Jean Foillard Morgon "Côte du Py"

I had planned to do a big post on Fourth of July, the party we threw, and the wines that I served as well as wines that were brought. But all that went out the window on Friday. 

Friday was my sixth anniversary with Ben.
And as Ice Cube would say, it was a good day.

We've been inseparable since 2009, when he met me and was a dick because his friends had told him he would fall in love with me, and he had just moved to LA and gotten out of a relationship and wanted nothing to do with me. No one had ever told me about him though, so when we met, I was bummed because he was cute, but was mostly like, "Whatever, that dude is a dick." Later that night, a guy I didn't know was married with kids was hitting on me. Ben saw it, and said he became oddly protective and jealous, because everyone had told him I was the girl he was going to fall in love with. He awkwardly whisked me away from the married guy to the roof, and we awkwardly looked at the view. We left the roof, awkwardly, but hung out the rest of the night, talking about bands we couldn't believe the other one listened to too and laughing about how horrible my outfit was.

(Seriously, it was the worst outfit of my life: boot-cut suit pants, a raglan sweater, and pumps. It was laundry day, and I was extremely hungover, and I really, really did not give any fucks because at the time, I really, really did not care about dudes [until I was at a party in half a BCBG suit with a hot dude who listened to Olivia Tremor Control].)

Since then, we've been through thick and thin. We've had the most fun, and we've seen each other through some of the hardest times we will probably ever have. If you've ever had the pleasure of meeting Ben, you know first hand what a wonderful person he is. It is hard to find someone so funny, quick witted and smart who is also so genuine, selfless and virtuous, with unlimited kindness and loyalty. He is the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I truly could not be who I am today without him. 

Part of me feels like we will always be those silly drunk twenty-three year olds flirting on the streets of Echo Park on a hot Sunday afternoon. And another part of me feels like we have always been who we are now: a team of love, friendship and support working towards personal and shared dreams, rampant happiness and a deeply fulfilling future. 

And eating and drinking very well while we're at it. 
Because we fucking love that shit!
It's important to get with people with similar interests!

The night of our engagement, Ben had reservations at A.O.C., one of the best spots for wine and food in Los Angeles. I hadn't been since they moved locations, and was really excited to be going back. I immediately wanted a Morgon.

Morgon is a cru of Beaujolais, which you probably have realized is one of my favorite wine regions. Morgons are like most Beaujolais wines in that they have lighter, tarter features but they are aged longer, creating more Burgundy qualities. 

They only had one Morgon on the menu, and I was delighted to see it was a Jean Foillard "Côte du Py". First of all, Foillard is one of the premier French winemakers and one of the organic wine community's greatest crusaders. Secondly, Côte du Py is basically like, the Mount Olympus of Morgon. It's only a hillside, but it produces Morgon's best wines that, as far as I am concerned, are actually made by gods. I mean, they sure as hell taste like it! 

And then to top it all off, it's imported by Kermit Lynch.

IMPORTANT: Anything imported by Kermit Lynch is gold.

The Foillard "Côte du Py" is to die for. Its texture is straight silk, and its palate plump with plum and gritty cherries. Earthy and fuller bodied, this wine tastes like my youthful, fun, everyday-drinking gamay grew up and got engaged.

Quite fitting to say the least. 

Definitely check out this wine, especially with eating. It has a bit more meat on it so it feels more like a dinner wine. And it's extremely food friendly. We had five courses ranging from cheese & charcuterie to pappardelle to Spanish fried chicken, and it worked flawlessly with each dish.

Speaking of Spanish fried chicken, definitely have it at A.O.C. and get lost in their incredible wine list. So many natural and organic gems to explore!

La Bulle Vin Mousseaux Gamay, Production Unique Rebelle (P-U-R)

La Bulle Vin Mousseaux Gamay, Production Unique Rebelle (P-U-R)
Price: $20
Year: 2012
Region: Beaujolais, France
Retailer: DomaineLA

Growing up, I wanted to be the girl who inspired The Beatles' "Girl". That was my whole thing. I would sing that song every day after school into the tiny locker mirror I installed in my armoire. It was all I ever wanted to be. A girl who you wanted so much it made you sorry. A girl that you would breath in deeply through clenched teeth over. I wanted to be so hot, I'd ruin someone's life. Particularly, John or Paul's life in 1963. That was my dream. To be a cool, manipulative, hot bitch who got whatever she wanted and crushed men in her wake.

Because in reality, I was the girl whose friends convinced her putting a note expressing her love to Joey Lara in his locker was a good idea and he read it at lunch and it ruined my life.  Much to my dismay, I never ended up ruining Joey's life, or anyone's life for that matter, with my beauty.

It's fine. I'm over it. I'm fine with it. I mean, sure yes, I would love to still ruin someone's life with my beauty but I think that time has passed and I'm very happy and in love so I mean, yeah, it's fine. I'm fine.

The point is, I look at this bottle and I see that Girl I wanted to be. Look at her. Look at the woman on the fucking label! She is living the dream! SHE IS IN AN EFFERVESCENT BATH OF FRENCH ROSE! LOOK AT HER LEGS! SHE'S A BABE! SHE PROBABLY IS THE SAME BITCH THAT MADE LENNON SLEEP IN A TUB IN "NORWEGIAN WOOD"!

At any rate, the fact that she has time to take a bath or even a big-ass tub to take a bath in, makes her a hero.

It does help that this wine is one delightful, sparkling, little number. It reminds me of a glorious, less bubbly Lambic, all raspberry and beautiful. It's luscious, with a nice soft body. Ugh. It's too much. I'm like, about to become a lesbian for this inanimate object I've decided has slept with a Beatle or two.

Ahhhh, Girrrrr-rrlll [ssssshhhhhhhh]...

Tasting Notes: Just like a Martinelli's Sparkling Cider. Your inner child will rejoice. You can taste zero alcohol, which would be a problem but there's only 7% alcohol, so go wild! Very juicy and sweet, but very fun. Great to open a meal with, or for dessert. Or to just drink on your own on a summer afternoon while listening to old Beatles' vinyl, dreaming of all that could have been if you'd been born in the 40's.

Ross Test: Tastes like breakfast. For real. There is like no difference between throwing this back or throwing back some Cran-Raz before work.