Post by Grubb.
At each winery we stopped at on our tour of the Luján de Cuyo spread of vineyards, the conclusion of the brief inspection of gigantic stainless steel fermentation tanks along with taking in the vinegary odors of the racked oaken wine barrels led to the long table where vintages were sampled. Usually four large wine glasses were lined up with a goblet for water. By the time the fourth glass was poured (usually the prize Malbec of the vineyard), our group had become quite convivial. I think it was at our second stop, the Terrazas winery, where the couple from Manchester, UK (big woman, little guy) opened up. They had been fairly quiet at Budeguer, our first stop. Budeguer was the boutique winery with the modern architecture and scenic layout, and the woman’s expressions when she inhaled the aromas were tellingly judgmental. First, the serious swirl around the glass. Then the frowning sniff followed by the skeptical raised eyebrow as she took the initial sip. The studied inward gaze. A hint of doubt. A healthy mouthful. An accordion swish with the cheeks. Swallow. Eyes open wide. A slight smile as she sets the glass down. Victory for Budeguer!
Seated at the Terrazas table the Manchester couple was expansive. By their third glass, the one that was usually a blend of Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon, they were recounting their Argentinian dining experiences. Sampling cuisine was their traveling through line. It didn’t matter if it was five star or not. The little guy was amazed by it all. “We were really hungry, so we stopped at this shack for a burger and it was fabulous.” I told him that any meal that included beef in Argentina was going to tend in that direction.
When he said they were from Manchester, I said I had a cousin who married a physics professor that taught at the university there. They had lived the village of Broadbottom. “I grew up in the town of Ramsbottom,” he replied.
His wife, with matronly assurance, demonstrated her discriminating taste by inquiring whether Terrazas had a Reserve Torrontes. Indeed they did. A quick purchase was made.
The price of wine in Argentina is flabbergastingly cheap. The singular reason is that it isn’t taxed. A winery host would lift a bottle of their limited award-winning Malbec and, when asked the price, would say, “27 dollars.” Almost everyone at the table (except the elderly couple from New Mexico), was into buying bottles of wine and shipping them home. In Canada, for reasons I could only attribute to beer sales and government cronyism, wine sales are limited to scarce distribution centers. The others in our group from England and Australia said it was hard to get select Argentinian Malbecs in their area without paying more than they would if they purchased the wine in Argentina and had it packed for overseas delivery.
Ella finds Malbec tolerable, but not tasty enough to be shipped. As for me, I can only say along with Andrew Lloyd Webber, “Don’t cry for me, Argentina.”