I don't think I've ever been disappointed by a wine from Italy's Alto Adige region, also known as the Südtirol. Those of you who have deciphered the sparse clues I leave about my wine tastes will immediately understand. German invadersoccupying soldiers in the past, shorts-clad tourists in the presentebbed and flowed through the Alpine meadows along the banks of the Adige river, influencing the culture as they went. German and Italian coexist in the streets, in the village names, and in the cuisine. German wine styles linger in the cellars.
A number of you also know that I love the muscat grape. This family of fruit, one of the few to produce a wine that smells like the unfermented grapes, is like Kaylie from Firefly/Serenity: exuberant, unashamed, and sexy in a way more obvious beauties aren't. Dry muscats are a rare treat. More often, the grape juice ends up in fragrant dessert wines.
Those two loves converge in the 2004 "Vogelmeier" Moscato Giallo from Alois Lageder, one of the Südtirol's best-known producers. I stuck my nose over the shimmery gold liquid and let out a lustful chuckle. "Well, it's not corked," I said to Melissa with a grin. Intense floral aromasclassic muscatgush from the glass alongside a serpentine minerality that wiggles in and out of your consciousness. Melissa says it has rich smells of pear. One sip demands another, and another, and another. "Yummy acidity," say my notes, "with a long finish of flowers and fruit." The wine sits lovingly on the tongue, somewhere between austere and voluptuous.
We bought this wine (and, drat, I don't have the price but it was definitely under $20) at Vintage Berkeley. I wanted a dry muscat to pair with some dishes featuring grapes, but you'd enjoy this wine alongside delicate fish or gnocchi tossed with thin slices of ham and dressed with a light cream sauce.
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