Hemingway once said that "White Wine is for people who know nothing about wine." I wonder his thoughts on pink. Cannot be of the positive variety. As I've aged, though, red wine affects me about as delicately as arsnic. One sip lights a fire in my cheeks so hot, I could cook my food while chewing...a full glass sparks a cranial explosion that continues to detonate for at least the next 24 hours. So, last night when my friend and I popped down to the wonderful, microscopic wine/cheese/ham zone of Bar Jamón on 17th Street right off Irving, I went where I, a beer and whiskey cocktail-loving gal, had never gone before: the rose. Six years of Spanish class did not prepare me to order the follwing with any class or diction: the Ameztoi, Rubentis 2007, Hondarrabi Zuri, Hondarrabi Beltza. Phew. But, wow, was it a delight. Pinky, slightly fizzy, like gulping down a summer day at $17 a glass and a half. It's only 11% alcohol by volume, so the ole noggin feels fully intact today. (Very thrilled to have discovered what most would probably consider a wine cooler at almost 30...at least it's a Basque wine cooler).
New York Magazine says you can find if for $21 a bottle at Tinto Fino, 85 First Ave., nr. 5th St.; 212-254-0850.