Functioning on adrenaline and elation alone, I found myself aimlessly wandering the streets of Jerez de la Frontera one morning earlier this year. I was feeling rapturously jet lagged all over again despite the consistent time zone, having sacrificed an entire night of sleep in order to expedite my arrival to this magical place. I couldn't possibly have been happier.
Alcohol, and therefore wine, is under attack from seemingly all sides. Most pertinently, categorical warnings issued by the World Health Organization and US Dietary Guidelines (the former based in part by “research” and support by Canadian neo-prohibitionists and the latter by the ICCPUD, a group tasked with the prevention of underage drinking) state that “no amount of alcohol is safe for human consumption”. That's quite an assertion.
Nobody lacks self-discipline like us at Metrovino. We make valiant attempts at restraint, but you’d never know it given the fact that we import 80+ disparate German Riesling labels each vintage. Despite its amorphous parameters, every year we encounter phenomenal wines in our travels that don’t fit neatly into our bloated “portfolio”. When a brief encounter with such a wine makes clear that a future without it would be impoverished, empty and meaningless, we import said wine for reasons of emotion — regardless of its lack of glass-pour potential at restaurants or inherent appeal to trophy hunters.
