I actually blushed a little bit when I bought tonight’s wine. I picked it up at Number 1 Check Cashing, our convenient neighborhood corner store with a very dusty wine shelf, which is not surprising given the fact that they make all their money selling beer, porn, and lotto tickets. So to blush in a place like this while purchasing nothing more incriminating than a cheap bottle of wine is a pretty sorry statement about, well, my vanity namely, but also about a wine professional’s perception of this bottle. But, alas, my wallet was light and my time was short so here we go: let’s crack the Barefoot Non-Vintage California Merlot, $7.99 (with the corner store up-charge).
In college I used to buy Barefoot wine at a corner store not dissimilar to Number 1 Check Cashing on my way over to my girlfriend Crystal’s house, where we would sit on the floor and drink the Barefoot and eat grilled cheese sandwiches and complain about our old boyfriends. I don’t think I’ve tasted Barefoot since.
Some things, it seems, like old boyfriends and college eating habits, are better left in the past.
The wine is simple, at best. Just like a college boy, it is surprisingly bold for its age and category. There is something slightly manufactured about the flavor, like the fruit isn’t quite coming naturally and the wine is trying just a bit too hard for its own good. It has that generic cherry-bitter chocolate-smokiness that may sound exciting until you realize it’s what every other merlot is offering you, too. So, even though it’s drinkable, you become aware that it is unmistakably average, and that you can find better wines at the same cost to you, so you break up with it—I mean, you stop buying it. And you move on.
My favorite part of the wine is the back label, which promises that the wine is perfect with cheese and desserts. Just like a college boy, it’s content to be paired up with whatever the cat drags in. So don’t feel bad ditching this juice—somebody around here has got to maintain discriminating tastes or it’ll all go straight to hell. Like mama said, you better shop around.
Cheers.
Allison was raised on the vine in Sonoma, California, and believes that life is too short to drink bad wine, count calories, or second-guess your destiny. She now lives in Los Angeles where she practices many things, the two most important being contentment and tricks for opening a wine bottle without a wine key.