blind sparkling wine tasting

It's hard for me to articulate much of anything this morning because last night, my world got rocked. As in a warm, fuzzy, gluttonous, dream-like sequence of events which started with the promise of a blind sparkling wine tasting and then in walks a guy holding a bag which carries the makings for lobster rolls (with lobster from Cape Cod, I might add), followed by another two gentlemen with another four bottles of brown-bagged bubbly, and then I had to hold on to the counter for stability. Between the food and drink that was lying in my immediate future and the four-inch-high suede platform clogs I was sporting, my knees? They were a-knockin'.

And then the potato rolls hit the buttered cast iron griddle and I was hanging half my body out the window for air. This was a joke, right?

Nope. No joke. This was my real life Thursday night. There was also some triple-cream, pungently aromatic Brie, an aged goat's milk Gouda, sliced salami, hot and fresh-from-the-oven flatbread, and a green olive tapenade for spreading. And then the lobster salad, with the perfect meat to celery to mayo ratio was spooned onto the buttery, toasted rolls and I was just dumbfounded. Mouth agape. Turns out, there's nothing a male could do to be any more attractive than when they're handing you a homemade lobster roll on a toasted buttery potato bun. Nope. No, there is not. That is it. Take note, dudes.

I mean, get out of here with that claw meat!

As far as the bubbly goes, I jotted down tasting notes but they'll do no one any good. As usual, there was an interesting variety of bottles which challenged and excited our palates. But to be honest, I had checked out after my lobster roll. The names of the bottles will have to remain "TBD" until I've been pinched or woken up and the dream-sequence has ended.

Ain't bubbly grand?

blind riesling tasting

Some congratulatory bubbles to start the night off right.

Get ready for the shocker of the century. But, prior to last night, I had never been to a blind tasting before. Let alone host one. So when the opportunity presented itself to throw down on some Rieslings from around the world with a few of my favorite wine-o's, not only was I all in, but I was immediately offering up my place as the venue. Because if you're not christening your new digs with bubbles and Riesling, then you're doing it wrong.

And after snacking on a few pieces of grilled pizza I'd whipped up (you didn't think I was going to host a get together and not serve some incarnation of grilled pizza, did you?), we secretly slipped our bottles into brown paper bags, assigned a number to each, and got to tasting. And tweeting. Simultaneously.

Does it get any nerdier? If so, I don't want to know about it.

Everyone volunteered a region to represent--a notion I strongly recommend so as to experience a wider range of the varietal and to save yourself from doubling-up on anything. While most gravitated towards Germany, Austria, and Alsace, the rookie in the room (yours truly) gave a Hell Yeah to the Finger Lakes. A bold choice, perhaps, and one that was quickly sniffed out by the savants. Did I really think I could fool them? Ok. So I kind of thought I could fool them.

Turns out I couldn't fool 'em.

From left to right: 1993 Saar Rausch Riesling Spätlese, 2005 Ratzenberger Steeger St Jost Riesling, 1999 Schmitt Wagner Longuicher Maximiner Herrenberg Auslese, 2008 Hirsch Riesling Zobing Kamptal, 2008 Hermann J. Wiemer Dry Riesling, 2007 Paul Zinck Pfersigberg Grand Cru Riesling

Kristen "KMurph" Murphy of Wine Library showed Professor Troutman up by giving us a rundown of the Riesling varietal after we'd tasted our way through all six wines. I suggest you hire her for any and all future tastings. Girlfriend knows her juice.

Long story not-so-short, get some friends together (they don't have to be wine connoisseurs, they just have to like to drink--or spit--wine), pick a varietal out of a hat, and run with it. I'll tell you this much: you're guaranteed a good--no, great--time.

Just practice safe double-baggage. Professor's orders.