I’m more of a beer guy, or bourbon or Irish Whiskey. But wine has a holiness to it. Each bottle, especially with a good wine, seems its own reincarnated spirit. We used to have this wine, Steele Red Zinfandel, at High Cotton, a restaurant I worked in from 2003 to 2007, and when I saw this on the shelf I had to pick it up.
I do like red zinfandel. Along with cabernet franc, it’s the varietal I’ll pay money for. Ordinarily the box wine of the box wine revolution of the past decade is the direction I choose when in a rare mood for wine. Or else, whatever you’re pouring with dinner is fine.
Steele makes good wines. I remember they made Shooting Star, a blue franc I used to get at a market when I lived in Inman Park. An incredible wine for the 13 dollar price tag in 2012 or so. A smokey, peppery wine, I usually kept a bottle or two on hand. Then, we got rid of my wine rack when my son was born because with its top-heavy wrought metal and glass shelves, it seemed a potential hazard to a gamboling toddler.
I saw this bottle of Steele in line buying beer. It was the only bottle on the shelf. Having not come across it in 8 years or so, I immediately looked at the year, 2013. The man behind the counter didn’t know the story, just that it’s been there a while. A big, robust wine, implying that it could stand the test of the years better than most wines, I gave it a shot. 20 dollars for some memories.
Opening it now, its big and sweet and floral. Dark velvets and a clean feel on the palette. I have no great gift for appreciation for culinary complexity, especially with wine, but here I taste High Cotton. Becky, Richard, Sia, Connie, Heather, Kelly and Holly, Gia, Sonya, Amanda, Trish, and many more great friends. Kevin Carey and family. Olivia and Mike.
I pray they are all well and happy on their paths as those paths have forked away from me. May they fork together again one day: if not in this wine than the next.
