Merlot-ering the bar: Beringer falls short of oaky dreams into sour wasteland

Bottom of the Barrel: Xo, G provides a less than stellar send-off

Dearest followers. Welcome to our final column. Of all time. At least with us. And we’re really the only wine connoisseurs that matter. This week, to celebrate our immensely successful year of writing what we can only assume is the Orient’s most widely read column, we decided to review a “premium” wine.
By “premium,” we mean the premium packaging that Xo, G comes in. It is made up of separate, durable plastic glasses in one convenient pop-apart tower, wrapped in artistically designed plastic. While it may not be very eco-friendly, it is definitely fun and an incredibly unique way to market wine.
We are somewhat concerned that the packaging may encourage drinking while driving, as it notes that this wine is “Perfect for the girl on the go” and fits in a standard cup holder. Out of the available options, we decided to go with the rosé since we barely dipped into this category during our tenure with the Orient. The wine has a beautiful silvery-pink color and catches the eye.
The initial odor that escaped the plastic container almost made us gag. It is akin to some sort of wine-scented compost. After it had time to breathe—if you could call it that—one visiting commenter said that it smelled like trash juice. Brandon thought it was pleasing and earthy, while another visitor said it became offensive over time.
The wine is surprisingly acidic and is not as sweet as one may guess based on its pink color and fancy packaging. It is fairly tasteless overall, but it has quite a strong aftertaste of alcohol and earth. According to Brandon, this aftertaste is what you would expect your mouth to taste like when you vomit this wine up later. This is despite the wrapping saying it has notes of berries. This is certainly no white zin.
At the same time, it is surprisingly drinkable and when judged in the context of its wine-to-go platform, it is maybe not all too bad. We honestly think you could do better, but if you are looking for a middling quality taste with cool packaging this may be for you.
With a high 12.6 percent alcohol by volume, you can really feel this wine burn through you. The Xo, G has a pretty flat and boring mouthfeel that could be called silky if we were feeling generous.
So with that, we bid farewell to this column and to you, our faithful readers. We are certainly not bidding goodbye to the wine though. Over the year we’ve gained a new appreciation for wine, and we’ve learned a lot. Our most important lesson, that we hope we’ve passed on to you, is that you don’t have to splurge to keep your next dinner, party, outdoor picnic, or stress-induced sobbing session classy. You can certainly find some great wine for under $10, and we hope this column has inspired you to add more wine to your life.
As always,XO, B + B
Nose: 1.5Body: 2.5Mouthfeel: 2.5Taste: 2.5 Final, final thoughts: Brandon: What a year, what a column, what a beginning to my lifelong wine-based alcoholism. But in all seriousness, though I am continuously shocked that we have somehow managed to gain a readership, it has been great hearing all of your suggestions and compliments.
Bryce: Wine column Tuesdays have become the highlight of the early part of my week. Thank you to all those who have voiced their support and excitedly told me they took our advice. It’s fun to see we actually have a readership and that there are people who believe what we say.

Bottom of the Barrel: Say no to 'Sí': Pinot grigio honeymoon over too soon

After glowing reviews of our column two weeks ago from both our mothers (the only women we are beholden to), we have decided to push on with Sì’s bold Pinot grigio offering. By bold, we mean that Sì boasts the most exotic wine bottle design present in Hannaford’s wine alley. Not wanting to fall victim to the sophomore slump, your esteemed critics gravitated towards the most gimmicky bottle we could find. The result is Sì’s geoduck of a bottle.
While the intention may have to been to mimic wine skins of yore, we find ourselves with an especially Freudian take on the traditional wine bottle paradigm. A cobalt blue sheen augurs a progressive take on the Pinot grigio—fitting given its grapes are oft belittled as a mutant clone of the Pinot noir.
Given its bottle's curvilinear nature, perhaps Sì stands as an abstracted homage to the shofar blown at the end of Yom Kippur (Shanah Tovah!). Regardless of symbolic significance, Sì scores points for its convenient twist-off screw cap that rendered our preponderance of novelty corkscrews unnecessary.
In an effort to bring an air of authenticity to our tastings, we paired our wine with its natural partner: extra sharp Somerdale cheddar. The cheese packaging’s explicit recommendations made this pairing an easy choice. Who are we to say no to a cheese that knows what it wants? Of course, buying cheese necessitated buying the redeemingly bland and ubiquitous Carr’s water table crackers. While this column remains devoted to wine, we can’t help but praise the crumbly texture and decidedly dairy flavor of Somerdale.
Since one reviewer foolishly forgot to chill the wine before drinking, Martin is forced to wrap a wet paper towel around the frame of bottle and place it in the refrigerator to speed the cooling process. However, Sì’s neck presents a daring challenge to wine-lovers everywhere: its parabolic curvature offers no clear hints as to proper pouring technique. We daringly proceed, anxious of spilling this ostensibly divine nectar on 14B’s majestic lion rug.
Will then graciously outlines the major tasting steps for white wines.
The first exploratory sip introduces an overwhelmingly sour flavor, but one should persevere regardless.The second sip coats one’s mouth and prepares the taste buds through thorough swishing.Lastly, the third sip reveals the wine’s true flavor.
Our devoted adherence to these commandments resulted in a much more complex flavor. Sì coquettishly revealed hints of citrus adrift in a medium body that fully warmed your esteemed critics on a chilly 52º evening.
We were also pleased to notice that unlike last week’s Merlot, Sì offered a very visible set of legs. Unfortunately, our satisfaction diminished remarkably after that initial honeymoon phase.
What we originally took to be interesting quirks of the Pinot quickly revealed themselves to be naught but a shallow veneer. The medium body gave way to a flimsy, almost tedious feel, leaving us disenchanted with what had only recently seemed to be a promising specimen.
Sì’s fantastic bottle design and enchanting initial flavors compelled us to say “yes.” Sadly, a long-term sensory relationship with the wine left us downhearted and disappointed, forcing us to say “no” to Sì.
In order to rectify our gloom, we have embarked upon an entrepreneurial endeavor. We are excited to announce the launching of our “Top of the Barrel” Kickstarter campaign. We are seeking to crowdsource the modest sum of $100 in order to fund the purchase of a truly exceptional wine. With enticing rewards to our benefactors, we hope to successfully regale our readers with a masterful critique of outstanding bottle of remarkable vintage in the near future. Details can be found here.
We will also graciously accept physical donations in the form of Diners Club cards, travellers cheques, and Spanish doubloons.
Additional Notes:
Tonight’s Soundtrack: ABBA
Surprise guest Jay Vaidya: “Will, you just ooze consulting.”
Martin: “I can’t smell the wine tonight because I’m sick, which is a blessing and a curse.”
Nose: 2.1/5
Body: 2/5
Mouthfeel: 3/5
Legs: 3.5/5
Taste: 2.5/5

Bottom of the Barrel

Merlot-ering the bar: Beringer falls short of oaky dreams into sour wasteland

This piece represents the opinion of the authors:

September 11, 2015

Rules were meant to be broken, and what better way to start our turn at the helm of this column than by breaking the prohibition uttered by Paul Giamatti in the award-winning film “Sideways”—“I’m not drinking any fucking Merlot.” The film looms large in our consciousness as we obstruct the wine aisle in Hannaford.

Will’s mother expressly forbade him from watching it as a child, and despite a priest’s glowing review of the Alexander Payne project in a 2004 Sunday sermon, Martin emerged from a late-night viewing last year feeling more than ever like a 45-year-old man.

We settle on a 2013 Beringer Merlot, whose handy flavor spectrum on the back label both previews its flavor profile and renews our appreciation for Bowdoin alum/sexologist Alfred Kinsey.

Despite lacking the bottle-recommended “grilled meats” to pair, we decant to the scenic vistas of Coles Tower and swap anecdotes to establish our viticultural bona fides (at last reckoning, Will’s summer trip to Napa barely eclipses Martin’s semester of drinking €3 bottles of tinto in Spain).

In a beautiful homage to Ryan Peabody and Dan Lipkowitz’s first column two years ago, Will spends seven minutes sawing through the wax label with one of Moulton’s finest butter knives.

And with some MacGyver-inspired finagling, Martin finally opens the bottle with a novelty corkscrew Will snuck past the TSA en route to school.

We let the Beringer aerate in our newly purchased mason jars (Hannaford inexplicably does not stock stemware) before we taste.

We are confronted by a strong alcohol scent but soldier on and take a sip. The taste is milder than the smell.

While the bottle claims hints of currants and oak, the flavor instead assumes a more generic citrusy-sour note. Will notes that the wine has no legs, appreciating how the Beringer neglects to stick to the sides of our mason jars.

Subsequent tastes reveal hidden flavors, leading us to a begrudging respect for a wine that seems comfortable with embracing its $7.49 identity. The overall impression is one of thinness; the wine is quite drinkable. If you like the idea of water, but hate the taste, this might be the drink for you.

Our decision to go with Merlot was willfully contrarian, an attempt to buck the decline in California Merlot cultivation in the wake of “Sideways.”

However, Wikipedia happily informs us that the wine, made from the blue French grapes favored by blackbirds, had already enjoyed its day in the sun in the nineties thanks to a “60 Minutes” report promoting the French diet.

While we are certainly enticed by the idea of drinking Merlot as a step on the path to Continental fitness, the wide variety of interchangeable French reds means that the Beringer is unlikely to make it into a regular rotation in our theoretical wine cellars.

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