Jermann’s Red Angel on the Moonlight, 2008

Life is an unanswered question, but let’s still believe in the dignity and importance of the question. -Tennessee Williams

Red Angel on the Moonlight

I didn’t have time on my way home from work on All Hallow’s Eve to pick up some Belle Glos Meiomi. Initially, a big bummer. Instead I opened a bottle of Jermann’s 2008 Red Angel on the Moonlight to enjoy as I handed out candy to all the little ghosts, witches, and Iron Men that rang the doorbell that night. Turned out to not be a bummer at all.

a witch, a dog, a pumpkin (Artie), and some Red Angel

As I sipped on this vino through my strapped-on snout (See Figure 1) my auntie and I agreed on its mid-bodied, rich complexity. The dark berry aromas paired well with the mini-packs of Reese’s Pieces and Starbursts; but what really stood out to me was an earthy, sturdy finish.

As an art history nerd, I always investigate the label. And I’m slightly obsessed with this vino’s fantastically creative and mysterious label and name: Red Angel on the Moonlight… does red refer to the color of the contents? Can I characterize the wine’s layers as angelic? What can we make of the contrast of red with the color of moonlight? Is said angel flying though the moonlight or literally hanging out on the moon’s surface (literally in the light of the moon)?

I visited in the Mattress Factory in Pittsburgh a couple years ago and experienced an equally enigmatic work of art: Yumi Kori’s kanata, which is the Japanese word for “far in the distance.” As you enter Kori’s installation, you are immersed in complete darkness, save a glowing red door that both bewares and invites. This door appears close in physical proximity yet “far in the distance.” In an expression of in between-ness, Kori poses the unanswerable question: Where are we going and why?

"kanata," water, wood, rubber, light, sound system (2008)

Experiences in wine and art (and life in general) that provoke unanswerable questions inspire me. Once I saw a comedian crack jokes about how we never have to wonder about anything anymore because we all have smart phones. With thought provoking wine labels and contemporary installations, we can make sure our brains are still working.

The Wine Tasters and Our Pizza

My favorite pairing in the world: pizza and wine

A couple weeks ago Chirpee and I took a train from Fort Worth into Dallas for dinner with our D-town local the Alligator and Lola, who was in town from San Fran. At Coal Vines in Uptown we ordered some tasty-tasty pizza (half: salami/artichoke/balsamic reduction; other half: “regular pie”)Though the pie at Coal Vines is delish on its own,  we clearly needed some vino with which to pair it. (Pizza and wine is my favorite pairing of all.)

We chose A by Acacia (2009). Most of us had tried Acacia before, as many restaurants serve it, and we were drawn to its riskless-ness. This table vino is fruitier than most pinot noirs, but not overwhelmingly so. Comfortable pretty much sums it up. The Alligator described it as “the bathtub wine,” referring to its drinkability while you are sitting in the tub, book in hand…a little Grooveshark in the background… no food pairings or hyper-sensitive taste buds necessary.

But after a glass of this light-bodied wine, we wanted something a little richer. We chose Ravenswood Vintner’s Blend Zinfandel (2008), which exhibited similar drinkability to A, but with the extra kick (mostly in the finish) we were seeking. Its surprisingly smooth richness ignited a riveting conversation about the diverse range of zins…from the $5 sugary rosé that gives zins a bad rap to underrated robust reds with a high alcohol content.

And then we realized we had missed the last train back to Fort Worth. Whoops. To help us brainstorm our return to FunkyTown, we ordered some Tamas Estates, Double Decker Red Blend, an even more complex red with dark fruits and a spicy finish.  Sidenote: We hitched a ride with a buddy who conveniently happened to be making the west-bound trek that evening.

Wine Triptych

This conscious progression of three from simple to complex, comfortable to more intense (a triptych, if you will!) immediately reminds me of Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights. The left panel of this triptych represents the peaceful and balanced Garden of Eden. This is the “A by Acacia” panel. Humans and creatures partake in a variety of earthly pleasures-some more obscene than others-in the middle panel. Like the zin, this panel has a more energy and significantly more “spice” than its predecessor. Finally, Bosch’s right panel, significantly darker in color and content, represents hell. While the Double Decker blend was not hellish in the slightest, it was easily the most intense wine of the three.

El Bosco, "The Garden of Earthly Delights," 1500-1505

Bosch’s triptych sends a message of the fleeting, transitory nature of worldly pleasures. From that, I think we should take advantage of the time we do have on this world and partake in my favorite “earthly delight”: vino.

Lonely Cow Pinot Noir, 2008, New Zealand

And the moral of the  story  wine is…

When you are an only child, best friends are like your siblings.  A couple weeks ago, I spent a much-needed recharge weekend  in Nashville with two of my “sibs,” where we hit up our old college go-tos and had a most brilliant time.**

At Sunset Grill on Saturday night, I was appointed the task of choosing the wine. Since bestie #1 strongly prefers whites and bestie #2 has a strong white wine allergy, it proved a slightly difficult task. So I chose a New Zealand pinot noir called Lonely Cow.

The tannins were subtle as were the overall flavors, which is not surprising for a pinot noir explicitly described as “light-bodied.” As #2 (the allergic one) observed, the vino was incredibly easy to drink and would pair with anything. #1 observed that “she could probably chug it.” Thanks for the commentary.

Bestie #3 (which is me) noticed an odd, almost-spicy finish that distracted me from the actual wine. Anyway, Lonely Cow is ultimately a simple wine…but despite its simplicity, you surely won’t be lonely if you bring it to an outing with these three Vandy gals.

Jean Arp, "Torso with Buds", bronze, 1961, Nasher Sculpture Center

I’m reminded of Jean Arp’s Torso with Buds from the Nasher Sculpture Center in Dallas. The first reason is superficial: the work’s title mentions “buds,” and Lonely Cow will forever make me think of my “buds.” Additionally, the smooth and simple surface qualities of the work exude a pleasant, easy air. The work even draws the eye upward in an almost uplifting and happy way, much like my Lonely Cow weekend.

Moral of the story from the author’s perspective:

A bottle of vino can be fabulous if it meets one or both of the following criteria:

1) It is a quality bottle of wine.

2) It is enjoyed with quality company.