The Second Glass

‘07 Muga Rose, Garnacha/Tempranillo/Viura, Rioja 28

Ah, the Muga Rosé (Rosado en Espanol). I don’t think I could have picked a better inaugural bottle for this project. It’s a delicious, easy drinking rosé (perfect for the heat wave that has had the city under siege for the past week), a staff favorite, and it hails from Rioja, Spain’s most famous Denominacion de Origen.

I crack this bottle in the solitude of my own apartment, pen poised at the ready to take notes. I’ve tasted this wine before, first when it debuted on the Toro wine list and again at Wine Director Courtney Bissonnette’s Memorial Day rooftop barbecue. But I have never tasted this wine with as much intention and purpose as I am about to today, concentrating in a quiet setting with the precise goal of imprinting it upon my memory forever.

As I untwist the cork from my wine-key, I realize: I’m a little bit intimidated. Exactly how am I going to record the experience of drinking this wine so I don’t forget it? How does anyone do that?

Maybe I should go back and do a little research first, about the Bodega, the wine-making style, and the climate and soil of the region, I think. Maybe I should ask Courtney if she can put me in touch with the rep who sells it to us, so I can query him for more information. I rush to my computer and dash her off a quick email. As I hit send, it dawns on me: I might be over-thinking this. Maybe I should just drink the stuff.

They say scent is your most powerful memory trigger, so I start the tasting process by sniffing. I can’t smell anything at first. Great, I think. I give the wine a swirl to aerate it, then stick my nose deep in the glass. Again, nothing. Have I lost my sense of smell? Am I secretly just bad at this? Then, a more rational voice takes over: It’s okay – give it a second. The wine is still pretty cold. I keep swirling and swirling and keep sniffing and in moments, there it is: the light scent of fresh strawberries.

I take a sip and at first, don’t taste much. Perhaps it’s because this is my first sip of alcohol of the day, and my palate just needs to wake up? I take another sip, leave the wine on my tongue, and suck a little air in through my mouth. I may not be tasting fruit yet, but I’m definitely feeling something – bright acidity that tapers off quickly, a light, crisp finish.

I taste something now, not exactly fruit but minerals, perhaps? After a little more swirling the wine is a tiny bit warmer, my nose and palate have done their own warm ups and are ready for wine-tasting calisthenics. Suddenly stone fruits appear! And an almost salty quality, I think they call that brininess? It doesn’t taste briny like an oyster, exactly, more like a soft sea breeze or the light saltiness that steals over your whole being after a hot yoga class.

I’m looking for answers now, for more images and memories that will shape the permanent impression of this wine on my mind. That slight saltiness makes me want to drink this while eating shellfish, like oysters or mussels. Or even better, with the steamed clams dipped in drawn butter that my father so proudly makes every summer on the Cape. They are simple, fresh, and rustic, occasional rogue grains of sand crunching against your teeth.

I keep drinking and thinking and soon I am feeling very mellow…and a little tipsy. In that moment the most effective mnemonic of all rushes in: the Bissonnette’s Memorial Day barbecue. We opened bottle after bottle of Muga Rosado that night and I drank many, many glasses as effortlessly as if they were water. Each sip made me want to take another—I’m sure I drank damn near a bottle of the stuff myself. Judging by the amount I’ve already imbibed in the name of this “Toro wine list tasting project”, it appears I’m trying to chase that feeling tonight.

The ’07 Muga Rosado is that kind of wine: a wine you’ll want to drink all night long while soaking in the warm summer evening as the day gives way to night on a friend’s mellow rooftop.