| Castro Martin |
You’ve heard of it, the all-time, all-functioning Spanish wine that is kept in its common drove; that is, the one befalling a similar fate as most whites in its category. Focusing on that urge to which fashion will never kill, the prudent juice that is something other than red, continues to break the monotony of muggy, exasperating summers and oppressive early falls. Like tradition states, most of us don’t want to reach for something heavy, or rich, so we begin to saunter around with sweat on our face, wondering whether or not there’s any potential for relief. There’s nothing of a bygone in the approach to finding proper refreshment...well, unless you find yourself spending lots of money to dress like those women in victorian soda posters. Though colas and beer are the consummate American quencher of choice, there’s nothing wrong with looking into an Albariño every so often.
I can’t stress enough, the ability of one little grape to produce so much untapped controversy in the wine world. Shuddering to believe that Sauv Blanc will have to become an afterthought, I’m getting used to the idea that it might one day usurp the once reliable beverage that has gilded bar menus and brain synapses all over the world. Why yes! Screw Chardonnay! “Hold the P.G., and just give me the flinty stuff.” There’s no problem with S-Blanc, but think of it this way...buy a good one, you get some complexity and tropical fruit, buy a bad one, and you have something that marginalizes the effect of soggy, odorous potatoes. This is not effective enjoyment, but what I can say, is that Albariño, lest the comedic attempts at pronunciation, is probably what you want this year.
Crisp, but without that filthy pistol taste, you can get those tropical notes (See: Courageous Pineapple and Coconut elements ) to coalesce on the palate, giving way to a more mineral-driven profile. Galician winemakers know the bounty of their land and they make the products to prove it. Perhaps it’s the cool Atlantic winds that amble to the Northwestern Territories of Spain which make the stuff so good, but I have to be even more realistic in thinking that it’s the soil that would drive a mineralogist, turned winemaker, absolutely mad. I recently brought in a Castro Martin Alb’ retailing to about fourteen-to-nineteen bucks worth of clams; and when I mean clams, I’m talking about cockles, oysters and any lazied little bivalve that happens to be slurped of its contents. For the money, this lively white was more in tune than most other wines that would simply consign shellfish to their status as bottom-feeders. No, this is good stuff, detailing green apple Jam, key lime, toasty coconut, and darts of pineapple nectar. It retains a youthful manifold, but rests on that bed of minerals that make the specialty so quintessential. Some would argue with me that the Castro is too laden by fruit to be a true A-L-B-A-R-I-Ñ-O, but really, it’s far from being overwrought. Given the crispness, the cursive effervescence of prehistoric terrain and some quenchable aspects, my critics can enjoy drinking cheap Rueda whenever they want.
The idea here is to simplify, not to go reach beyond your cache for the typical white, but to realize the potential for a Spanish food wine for the hottest seasons. I would just as normally place an Albariño next to a bucket of freshly netted clams and cure them in the nectars of this commonplace wine that is anything but trite in terms of it’s profile. I wouldn’t dare put it against the riche whites of the old world, but then again, I would in some cases. However, the best wine is usually suited for being an alternative to water when you’re eating your way through something delectable. It just works that way. I don’t know what the next hot spell will bring in terms of accentuating our thirst, but I hope it’s just as good as the aforementioned.
Or better...which is better than good.
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse Team
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