There are three cases of very good $10 wine in my basement. This in itself is unprecedented. But so was how they wound up there.
In Good Taste
It all started at a tony Spanish wine tasting, the highlight of an annual event called Spain Food Nation in D.C., sponsored by the Trade Commission of Spain. I was part of a crowd of maybe 75 people packed into a ballroom for a Master Class on Spanish wines. (“Master Class” is a term of wine art, used to describe a structured event that pairs tasting with education, usually presented by a somm or a representative of the region. PowerPoints are involved.)
Six tastes of wine were laid out in front of each of us, along with crackers, cheese, a glass of water, and a paper cup spittoon.
The leaders took us through the wines: first a $25 cava, then a $30 Albarino, then an organic white wine from a grape I’d never heard of, Verdejo. Thirteen dollars suggested retail price!
Say Hello to Verdejo
It’s from a region in central Spain called Rueda, we were told, known for its white wines but rarely visited by tourists, its products lacking much of a profile in the U.S.
It’s hot in Rueda, the presenters continued. The soil is sandy. Verdejo’s been grown there for a thousand years. In the 1970s the producer of this particular wine, Marques de Riscal, invested in it as a viable alternative to Sauvignon Blanc and Albarino.
We tasted. Quiet slurping followed. There were appreciative ums and ahs.
It struck me as a bright and tart slightly funky, like Sauvignon Blanc’s little brother, the one who gets all the girls and should cut his hair. It reminded me a bit of the Austrian white wine Grüner Veltliner, also bright and tart, with some herbs and vegetal things quietly playing in the background.
I loved it.
The Choice of Professionals
I was seated between two native Spanish speakers who were professionals of some sort, and they conversed around me in Spanish, their thumbs and index fingers making the universal gestures of “Hey, this is really good!” and “Yeah, this one!” I turned to the guy on my left, pointing to the Verdejo.
“Better than the Albarino?” I asked. I’m only two years into my wine education, so I still defer to professional judgments. This is a sign of weak character, I know.
He nodded vigorously. “Thirteen bucks!” I said. He nodded vigorously again.
What are the chances?
Now I often hear and read about great wines, but I rarely make notes of ones to buy. They go in one ear and disappear. I take photos of bottles but there they sit, in my camera’s gallery, next to the images of my grandson. I left the class figuring that was the last I’d see of that particular Spanish white.
The next day my lovely wife and I were out to dinner and walked past a wine store. On a hunch we went in, and I said, “Do you have any Verdejos?” The guy frowned, cocked his head, and said “Yeah, I think we have one over there.”
It was $13.99, the last one one the shelf. I bought it. We drank it. We loved it. This bottle tasted like a slightly badass Sauvignon Blanc too.
I decided to try to buy some via Wine.com. But first I checked my notes from Spain Food Nation. I found this photo on my phone:
Improbably, the bottle we’d randomly picked up at the wine store was the exact same wine I’d tasted at the fancy Master Class, Marques de Riscal Organic Verdejo.
I called up my wine.com app and, with all the various discounts and free shipping deals and so on, I wound up paying $10 a bottle.
A Tuesday night special endorsed by Spanish wine experts at a fancy Spanish Master Class!
I bought three cases, more than even we are likely to drink this summer. They say that, for a white, it ages well.
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Craig Stoltz writes the Substack newsletter Eat the World.
