Feast offers a wine tasting every Saturday, another on the last Sunday of each month, and occasional wine dinners. Subscribe to our email list and you'll be the first to know about all of them.
Maybe it's because you just don't have it in you that day, or maybe it's because that was already the second bottle, but whatever the reason, you cork it and come back to it only to discover that the fruit's fallen off, or it tastes like oxidized prunes now, or some such problem.
I know it seems like we're en train de battre un cheval mort, after all the Bastille Day food and drink and what with three of last week's four wines being French, but what can I say? There's a certain je ne sais quoi about the wines of France.
Somewhere, at some point, some undoubtedly supercilious person decided that the wines of northern Italy were infinitely superior to those of southern Italy. We dispute that theory, always, and offer the assertion that geography is simply geography, and while a region may impart a certain terroir, there is nothing inherently better or worse about any given region's flavors and subtleties than those of any other region.
When summer really gets going, we often find ourselves in the market for something a little less substantial; those wines that weigh in at 16% alcohol that supremely satisfied in the winter months have begun to hold less appeal. Now, we're reaching for clean, crisp, easy-drinking wines that pair well with sitting on the porch and watching the monsoons roll in.
This week's tasting features four wines that those of you who've been coming to the tastings will recognize, but you won't know what they taste like. Why? They're all brand new vintages.
Bonjour, Feastlings. With Bastille Day just around the corner, Kevin’s decided to open up four wines from France. You may recollect from history lessons that they helped us win the American Revolution, and what with Bastille Day being so close to our own Independence Day, we thought it fitting to remind everyone about the deliciousness […]
Many of you are aware of Kevin's fondness for wordplay, and of his even greater fondness of making me wince in pain at his wordplay. Today he triumphs by naming this Saturday's tasting: "Red, White and Rosé can you see," a tragically misguided attempt at blending a wine tasting with patriotism.
It's happened yet again: the first hot wind of the season has arrived. No one dreads a hot wind like I do, but even if you dread it half as much as I, you need a reprieve.
I'm not going to go on at great length about this, because, well, this tasting is already sold out. But just so you're aware, it's a red and a white Burgundy, each poured next to a New World counterpart. Let this be a lesson to you: the early bird gets the worm, and he who hesitates is lost.
While Napa justifiably lays claim to being the domestic home of Cabernet Sauvignon, there are a few reasons we don't all immediately reach for a Napa Cab when the time comes to open a bottle.