I love California wine and I'm not afraid to admit it. More than any other region and, through extensive wine classes, I've tasted them all. And I'm tired of people (OK, mostly other writers) bashing the wines from my adopted state for being what they mostly can't help being - big, bold and some claim overly-alcoholic. We have sun here, a lot of it, and it shows in the wines we make. That's called "terroir" people. If you don't like it, there are now hundreds of thousands of choices from almost every country in the world. Take your pick. Stop complaining and drink what you like.
Personally, I like to taste more fruit than dirt in my glass so I'm perfectly content right where I am. Can I agree that California produces a preponderance of wines that show little character and that bludgeon your taste buds with too much of everything? Sure. On the flip side, low alcohol wines can be thin, insipid and too acidic all in the cause of being opposite. Having travelled up and down the state, I know there are many, many, many winemakers out there trying to make the best wines from their land (or purchased grapes) that focus on all the right things: balance, fruit and complexity.
That's all I ask for. Depth of character. Whether light-bodied or full-throttled, taste like something other than grape juice and oak. Subtle doesn't have to mean boring and intensity isn't always overwhelming. Balance is the key. It certainly begins in the vineyard with a myriad of farming decisions, but actions in the winery also play an important role. When the right winemaker finds the right grapes, it is magic in the glass. This idea became In Pursuit of Balance, a movement created three years ago by Jasmine Hirsch of Hirsch Vineyards and Rajat Parr of Michael Mina and Sandhi Wines to support wineries striving to craft balanced Pinot Noir and Chardonnay in California. I'm not sure this concept really needs a "movement", but I found a lot to love at their recent tasting in Los Angeles.
You heard me. This wine, which is made from the muscat grape in a
frizzante-style (mildly bubbly) in the Piedmont region of Italy, is one you should get
to know. Even though I drink a lot of wine – from sparkling
to port – it's easy to forget about Moscato. Mostly because I don't
often get the opportunity to drink it. I'm the only person I know who
loves dessert wine, so it's hard to justify opening a bottle to drink
all by myself. I have, it's just not something one should make a habit
of. Usually I have to quench my cravings for this delicate, fizzy
confection when I'm out to dinner. While everyone else digs into the
chocolate cake or bread pudding, I satisfy my sweet tooth by sipping.
All the pleasure, none of the fat. 
Anyone who has known me longer than he’s willing to admit will tell
you that there’s one grim subject that haunts my waking hours, a
capricious and terrible bitch that lurks constantly on the outer ridges
of my consciousness, ready to leap to the fore at the sound of a
sniffle. What provokes such cathexis, you ask? It’s the state of my
perpetually fucked sinus cavities.1 I’ll avoid the details, just know
pollen is my nemesis, Kleenex abound, etc. Electric conversation
really, sure to win many admirers.
They say the eyes are the window to a person's soul, but I disagree. I'm pretty sure it's the hair. Seriously.
