There’s always a reason to drink bourbon. Whatever your context, there’s an argument: it goes well with dust and transition and people in a hurry; even the cheap stuff sands the edges and shades the glare. It blunts boredom and invites sleep. There’s no better booze when you’re tired of technicolor.
I drained a liter or two of it during a recent period of shapeshifting, all the while thinking that the second I get a second to do it, I’m going to switch back to good wine. I soon found time to scour the shelves for something adventurous, but I stopped short at an endcap display of Bonarda I’d never tried. It was 2 for 1. You know me, I have this thing for Argentina’s underdog grape. I love seeing it creep back out of the jug wine shallows, especially when it does so with this sort of verve.
Zolo Gaucho Select sounds like the house brand of a South American grocery chain. I could see myself skint and subsisting off of “Gaucho Select” knock-off corn flakes, eating them by the fistful in a hostel, slowly forgetting what the real ones taste like. Turns out, though, Zolo’s a winery in Mendoza cranking out rich Malbecs and the kind of Bonarda that shows up a little tipsy. It’s got a highly typical and wildly friendly nose of dark & thorny strawberry jam; once the heat blows off (give it a second), the palate’s a crushed-velvet, finger-painted mess of red fruit and flowers. It tastes like young love, late summer, and the pleasure of passing out in the sun.
Zolo Gaucho Select 2010 Bonarda, ~$15.99 (2 for 1), BevMo