Disappointing 'special' bottles

My personal cellar is merely a closet. Granted, just the fact that the closet is filled with wine instead of shoes is nothing short of a miracle. This is not a grand closet. Not a walk-in, not temperature controlled, not anything special; just a closet with a little bit of California Closets for good measure. There's not a ton of room for wine in this closet, so I have to be careful with what I buy, and carefully maintain a proper ratio between the "drink me now" pile and the "I'm too expensive to drink now" pile.

Normally we're very good about sticking to the "drink me now" but, as overachievers with insane day jobs, Nick and I will occasionally venture into the "expensive" pile. Last week,this happened twice. Both bottles were highly anticipated ones, and both bottles disappointed us to a huge degree.

I'm not going to name the bottles, but I'm sure you can at least figure out where they came from. One is made at a Foster's Group winery where the winemaker just won winemaker of the year. The other was a expensive, slightly oddball bottle from an Aussie winery with witty labels. Neither delivered what we expected, and both had us wondering seriously if either bottle merited its $50+ pricetag.

It's the great paradox of wine, right? How to know if it is good? A $10 bottle may taste better than a $30 bottle. The factors are too numerous to list. But I have to ask, what have been some highly anticipated and highly disappointing bottles for you? Let me know and we'll put them on the "Read Me" list.

Taste Live is Taste Late: Robert Oatley Rose of Sangiovese

It's true. I'm a bad wine blogger. Actually, I'm an okay blogger but I'm bad at finding the time to blog. I work for a startup, and sometimes I can't be home by 4pm PST for TasteLive. So, since the lovely Robert Oatley folks sent me samples, and I am a bad TasteLive-er, blog posts it is.

Where to start? Rose` of Sangiovese from Mudgee, Australia. I was excited. And as I looked at the wine in my glass, the usual 'pink lip gloss' color was nowhere to be found. Instead, it was a perfect peachy-pink, like where the pink and yellow merged on my mom's Peace roses when I was growing up (rose` and rose... look at that).

Tasting time. It's a crisp wine, and is quite dry (which I like). But nothing spectacular. I'm trying not to use those awful wine writer buzzwords but... it's a wine made for easy, summertime quaffing. Not much more. Lovely but uncomplicated.

The verdict: Read me. I'm not saying not to drink this one, I'm just saying that everyone makes a perfectly acceptable dry rose` these days and, if you're going to have one, why not go for one with a lower carbon footprint? (Of course, if you're reading this in Oz, disregard that statement!)