Keeping in line with our love of not just booze and bar supplies - but also really, really good advertising, we’ve got another commercial for you.

Just like the Carlton Draft Big Ad, Guinness has a new advertisement happening overseas that has little chance of making it state-side. With their theme “Good things come to those who wait”, Guinness has delivered a ridiculously giant Dominos inspired advertisement - a Domino village with an impressive ending. This is an advertisement you’ve got to see.

According to the Telegraph article, “The advert took a week to film, with some of the sequences having to be reshot up to 15 times… Setting the dominoes on the table at the start of the advert took a team of three experts two days, but it took just 14 seconds to topple.”

Guinness really understands that a good, unique advertisement is essential. The days of cookie-cutter TV adverts are gone.

So enough chatter. Enjoy the advertisement.

So it’s no real surprise that we’re reviewing another Australian wine. As a matter of a fact, it’s no secret that - booze-for-buck - when it comes to wines, we think that Australia just about has the lock on the market.

However, trying to be responsible reviewers (and obviously trying to keep Australia from becoming snooty) we made a pact to try to vary our wine countries a little, and we did. Some of the bottles of wine we reviewed came from the vineyards of France, Italy, and South Africa.

But there I was in the wine store, and sitting lonely by itself was a bottle of Jacob’s Creek Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, vintage 2002 no less. No longer having to beg our parents “can we PLEASE take it home with us!??” I just slid the debit card through the little slot at the cashier station, and this little bottle was now part of our family.

However, as with all pets, we eventually had to open it and ingest what was inside, so we figured we’d share the experience with you, our very small public.

Turns out, this bottle of wine was less innocent than it looked in the wine store. As a matter of a fact, it bit back under no provocation of our own, and having done so, I realized this bottle would have to go the way of Old Yeller. Finding myself short one shotgun (and something to do with discharging firearms inside the house in my condo association documents) I decided that the task could be accomplished by drinking the wine, rather than shooting the bottle.

Doing so as I write this article (which may explain the slightly odd pet analogies) I’ve got to say this bottle of wine packed a little wallop. This is not to say that Cabernet Sauvignons (for the sake of my inability to spell “Cabernet Sauvignon”, will be now known as “Cabs”) are weak or tasteless in general, however Cab wines can be a softer, smoother, warm experience. This Cab even pretends to be so until the very end, and then it sneak attacks you.

This particular vintage was much more aggressive than I originally had expected. It’s woody, it’s dark, and dare I say it, slightly chocolaty. But those qualities are simply sideline players to its bite. The fruit and wood flavors make you expect one finish, when in fact, it’s hiding another. Here’s how it fools you.

You know before first taste that it will be warm and dark. The nose lets you in on that little tidbit. Then you sip. It hits the tongue, and you’re almost surprised by the cool fruitiness of it all. But as most drinking works, after putting said wine in your mouth, you must swallow. And then BAM! there is a strong bite in your throat that no nose or initial flavor had hinted at. As you ponder the bite, you start to feel the warmth traveling down your front. You have several glasses, and as you sip your last sip, you find yourself just as surprised by the finishing bite as you were during your first sip.

I would not recommend this as a general table wine. It is bold, and should be served with complimentary boldness, such as a hearty steak or a heavy Italian dish. It demands a touch of respect, but there are shortfalls.

This Cab has what I would call different flavor “acts”, but it is not particularly good at transitioning between them. The bite in your throat can overpower the rest of the experience, and it leaves your mouth and lips dry.

Those small things aside, at $13, it’s a formidable Cab. Finding another Cab with such strength would be difficult under $30. I’ll probably personally steer myself towards simpler Cabs (as the girlfriend likes) and ones that make better table wines, for sitting around with friends, enjoying stories. That said, this wine comes recommended, and if you’re in the mood for a strong Cab, try this one on for size.

I wanted to share just a few words regarding one of my new favorite to-drink brews - good, old fashioned, always-there Guinness. I’ve been a Guinness drinker for some time now (being a regular at the Philadelphia Guinness Believers events) but I wanted to share a few thoughts regarding the beer of beers, and why I love it so much.

Guinness is certainly not the beer that beer snobs pay much attention to. It was originated for the masses, often was used as a carb-substitute for families that could afford Guinness and not bread (although it was much more watered down then) and you have to count the number of pints pounded by the hundred-millions. In a North vs. South struggle, Ireland splits its loyalties between Guinness and Murphy’s, but that’s not really the topic of discussion right now.

I think I know why it is I’m drawn to this beer - it’s that it is about one of the only beers I have ever tried that tastes good at room temperature. When not partying at super-high levels, I tend to enjoy my drink. I don’t pour a beer and then stare at an empty glass 3 minutes later - on the contrary - a pint might last me a good half hour if the sipping-mood strikes me.

But for most beers, it’s equivalent to drinking room-temperature coffee. You kind of want to get at coffee when it’s hot (or iced) and not when it has settled to room temperature. The same goes for beer - the icer and colderer (made up some words there) the beer is, the better.

That’s not true for Guinness. As a matter of a fact, in certain parts of the world, Guinness is served at room temperature - and if you got the right couple of Guinness zealots in the same room together, you could probably see them come to blows about the correct temperature to serve a pint. Guinness, for its part, doesn’t care, and recently introduced Guinness Extra Cold (just Guinness shot through a super-cooler) so - you know, have it however you like it.

For me though, it’s the core beauty. The roasted barley taste is of course a wonderful thing, and I seem to be skipping over the entire idea of flavor here altogether. But don’t be fooled - it’s that Guinness retains it’s smokey great flavor at just about any temperature. That means there’s no rush to drink, no hurry to indulge. The same pint can be enjoyed for a drawn-out period of time (in beer-drinking parlance anyway) and at the end, you’re still ENJOYING it.

So, since we usually don’t tap on the most famous of beers around here, but I’ve been having myself a Guinness pint regularly recently, I thought I’d just give a hat-tip to this almost 250 year old beer. And don’t get too upset if your local bar doesn’t know how to properly pour a Guinness - it still tastes pretty damn good.

Ernest Gallo, personally responsible for either the making of or distribution of many of the wines that you drink (and we have reviewed) died on Tuesday, March 6, 2007. He was 97 years old.

He and his brother Julio started making wine just after the lifting of prohibition in 1933, charging half of what the going rate for a gallon of wine was at the time. The $30,000 they made in their first year of business helped skyrocket the company to the largest wine distributor in the world.

Aside from making their own series of labels of wine, they also became responsible for seeking out and finding international wines and bringing them into the US, like the DaVinci 2005 Chianti we reviewed here earlier. Their basic business plan involved bringing good, affordable wine to the average consumer - a tenant that we absolutely love.

Both Gallo brothers suffered from disturbing pasts - including the murder-suicide deaths of their parents, a mere 2 months before their first winery opened for business. They shunned publicity, and ruled their empire with an iron fist, demanding intense loyalty from all who worked for them. Julio, who passed away in 1993 at the age of 83, was primarily responsible for making their signature brand wines. Ernest handled sales, marketing, and distribution primarily.

At his death, the gentleman who - along with his brother - put Modesto, CA on the map - had a wine empire that distributed over 75 million cases of wine under 40+ labels.

We’re pretty sure we drank at least one million of those cases personally last year.

So today we mourn the passing of a man who helped define the very class of wines we review here at The Bar Project, and have helped introduce countless millions of people to the pleasures of wine.

Thank you Mr. Gallo, you will be missed.

I love a wine that works well in all kinds of situations. I love a wine that you pick up because of a cool label and it ends up being a great find. And I love a wine that comes with a piece of wood tied to the bottle. That last part really makes all the difference.

So we’ve been on a bit of an Italian wine binge recently. The Davinci Chianti, and the Ruffino Aziano Chianti Classico are two we’ve reviewed and really enjoyed. On a whim, we picked up a really neat looking 2002 Cantina Zaccagnini il vino “dal tralcetto” montepulciano d’Abruzzo Riserva. (Gotta love all those Italian words. Cantina means “Wine Cellar”. Our Italian is staggeringly mediocre, and we’re happy to help with the translation.) It’s called a “Red Dry Wine”, and it’s really good.

“Really good.” Yeah, ok, it’s late tonight and I’m a bit too tired to think of good metaphors and thesaurus thingies… ya know… words…

Point is, this wine is both cool in show and super tasty. I expected it to be really strong based on the initial smell, or “nose” as it were. It caught me off guard by the degree of fragrance, and I almost expected the wine to be equally as strong. That would have meant that it wouldn’t have been as universally appreciated. However, the flavor was something else all together.

It does come on a touch strong on first sip, but it almost instantly cools off. It’s certainly dry, but it’s rosy and soft and almost a touch sweet. It has a hint of a woody flavor (perhaps the reason for the twig attached to the front of the bottle) and that just adds to the understated complexity of the wine.

This is a short review - I’m otherwise engaged in enjoying this wine. You will too, if you pick up a bottle. It goes well with dinner (especially a pasta in a red cream sauce), works well with snacks (great with a sharp cheddar - or even better, a sharp Italian cheese, like a pecorino romano) or is even spectacular on its own.

And despite the accolades thus far, here’s the best part - $14 a bottle. Beat that.

Wychwood Brewing (hit the link for the “story” of the Hobgoblin name) have themselves a real gem with this somewhat oddly-named ale. A healthy 5.2% ABV doesn’t hurt the experience, but it’s the flavor that makes this a curious, yet desirable brew.

First things first - it’s an ale, and we here at The Bar Project likes us an ale any day of the week. Ales tend to be a bit hoppier and fuller in flavor. On the downside - that is, to anyone wanting to drink about 15 beers at a single sitting, they also tend to be a bit heavier.

This ale is actually relatively light, and even a bit fruity. Normally, I’d be totally turned off by this. I’m of the recently dedicated Man Law “Don’t Fruit The Beer“. But it’s so - hidden - that it’s really not something of concern. It flavors the beer very subtly, so I won’t take off points for it.

You’ve also gotta love the fact that Hobgoblin comes in a full pint plus an extra 0.9 oz for good luck - none of this measly 12 oz per serving nonsense. If you give the Brits nothing else, give them that they understand beer should come in pints, not anemic 12 oz servings.

I’ll try to straighten out this post that so far is completely all over the place. Flavor wise, you’ve got a standard ale hop strength - mild, but noticeable. It’s slightly fruity, but I have no idea what fruit it is I’m tasting, but there is a sweet side to this beer undoubtedly.

The more-than-pint-sized serving (which, as an expression, is usually is a derogatory, but here is meant as a compliment) is quite appreciated. The color is reddish brown and unimpressive, and the head doesn’t have much lasting power, but these are trivial things that hardly detract from the beer.

Hmm… look at that. As usual, I’m drinking currently what I’m reviewing, and I’ve noticed something that you don’t see much in beers these days - sediment. It’s not a bad thing - in fact, it’s a byproduct of the brewing process, so this simply means that Hobgoblin isn’t filtered millions of times. That could in fact help add to the flavor, so I’ll just let it pass.

As I noted above, this review is all over the place, so I’ll just end it and put it out of its misery. Hobgoblin Strong Dark Ale is good. I probably wouldn’t go out of my way to find it, but it’s a solid English ale, and I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to experience it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s still more to drink. 500 ml is just about 41% more beer than a normal 12 oz bottle, and I’m feeling like 41% more of an ale fan tonight.

It’s been a while since we’ve offered up a really decent wine to those of you who - like us - appreciate a bottle that won’t require dipping into the kids’ college funds. We’ve made an effort to bring you wines that we like that are below an average of $15/bottle - many have been below $10.

We’re happy to have another to add to the list - and believe it or not, this one’s not Australian. If you follow The Bar Project, you know that we love our Australian wines, and it’s not just the cool accents or man-eating lizards. Australia has proven itself quite the vineyard indeed.

However, for this one, we’re returning to a land dear to our hearts. Italy.

This Italian wine isn’t hard to pick out as Italian. If it were an Australian wine named “Da Vinci”, we can only imagine the Italians would be pissed. But that’s not the situation, so I’m just gonna go ahead and stop talking about the Australians already.

This wine is really good. There, I’ve said it. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to say in the way of taste that’s explanatory. In a previous life, I’ve tried to emote what it was I tasted. Cherries here, berries there, a smoked salmon or something… But honestly, I’m not a wine connoisseur, so to try to be one would be wrong of me. (Please don’t read any previous posts.)

Here’s what it is I do like - it’s smooth and cool and bites back just a tiny bit. It’s not afraid of itself, and I’m not afraid of it. At $11, this is a table wine that now frequents our little condo. It’s not as full-bodied as the previously reviewed Rufino Aziano, nor as sweet as the also previously reviewed Little Penguin Shiraz. But then again, it’s not a Shiraz, so the comparison may not be fair.

However, as with all reviews we do at The Bar Project, I am currently drinking a glass of this wine as I review it - and as plain as I can put it, I plan to follow up with another, because although I have difficulty putting my finger on why it is I do like it - I really DO like it.

Perhaps I like that it’s light and doesn’t try to conquer your mouth. Perhaps I like that it’s almost cool on your tongue. Perhaps it’s the little reminder it leaves behind that it was just there - or the fact that despite its cool entry, it’s warming to the person.

Either way - go ahead out and pick up a bottle. It’s inexpensive - but that doesn’t degrade this Chianti from Italy at all. If anything, it simply makes it more accessible to those of us with limited disposable income, and for that, we thank Ernest and Julio Gallo. That’s right, the American staple and largest wine distributor is responsible for purchasing a large portion of the stock created by Alberto Antonini at Cantine Leonardo da Vinci, a wine grower’s cooperative, and bringing it to the United States (in, no doubt, an effort to add more upscale wines into it’s portfolio.)
But the mess that is the distribution chain is of little concern - the wine is effortless, and we plan on drinking more.

So I’m a hops fan - at this point in time it’s not a secret. I’m also more usually a fan of a good ale over a beer. Although to the common man they’re both pretty much the same thing, I find myself usually smiling a bit more at a well-made ale.

But back to the hops, I’m in a small store in Philly checking out some crazy brews, and the Troegs (sorry, that’s Trӧegs with the funny “ӧ”) not only claims to be hoppy, but has a picture of a hops plant right there on the label. It’s a bold statement - because if it’s not hoppy - well… that’s just false advertising.

Having no reason to doubt the sincerity of the brewers, I picked up one. Now, sipping on this brew, I wish I had gotten more. Many, many more.

I admit that at first I assumed - no, I hoped - it would kick of hops like Victory’s HopDevil (also an ale) or River Horse’s Hop Devil (pale ale). But now that this ale and I have been introduced, I’m oddly happy to report that the hops is almost - reserved.

Ok, so this is called an Amber Ale, and man is it pretty. It’s like pouring liquid apricot, and it’s even got a slightly amber head. The head lasts for a good time, although after a minute or two of admiration I briefly looked away at the Miami-Steelers game, and it was almost instantly gone.

Undeterred, I took my first sip, and was confused. My palette was infused with taste, and yet the hops didn’t muscle out the other flavors in the ale - it was hardly a one-hop show.

Trӧegs HopBack Amber Ale is like having a serving of fruit - it’s perhaps the sweetest ale we’ve reviewed to date. While the hops definitely makes an entrance, it’s the sweetness of this ale that stays with you for a while - and that ain’t a bad thing.

Back to the hops though - um, YUM. While still being too hoppy for anyone that doesn’t consider themselves a drinker that lives for hops, I can’t overstate the subdued nature of the hops flavor. It’s soft yet strong, quiet yet unquestionably present.

That’s really all I can say about the flavor. It’s hardly complex - and that’s it’s charm. Rather it’s a sweet, cool, refreshing amber that makes up for its sugary flavor with a healthy helping of soft hops. The woody flavor of the hops is ever present, and it’s like eating the apricot - and the branch it grew on - at the same time.

This is a great hop-infused beer/ale. If you’re a hops fan, Trӧegs HopBack Amber Ale is your new champaigne. It’s for anyone with a tongue for hops, but it’s maturity in flavor makes this an ale for the palette looking for something… well… more mature. And as some of us get older, we’re looking for our beer to grow up with us - and Trӧegs HopBack Amber Ale is right in step.

I’m not going to give you the full background of this particular wine, since the importers of this French wine do a fine job themselves.

What I will tell you is that despite the somewhat steep price tag, this wine certainly sits in a category higher than some of the wines we’ve reviewed here before. It’s dry, strong, bold, and really really good.

Unlike some wines that are sweeter and easier to drink in quantity, this particular wine presents strong from the beginning and continues to do so long after you’ve actually swallowed it. I’m not sure how best to describe what I taste when drinking this wine, but it’s almost as if it was interred in an old scotch barrel for some time before being bottled and sent to the States. It warms you as you drink it - perhaps better during the winter than these warm summer months.
Initially, it presents strong - a word I’ve overused and abused in a few short paragraphs, but I’m not sure how else to describe it. I found myself surprised by it’s introduction - having been drinking fruitier wines for some time, I didn’t expect such a bold aroma.

The taste doesn’t do any disservice to the smell that hits you pre-sip. It almost dries your tounge as it touches it. The warmth of a good scotch presents right along with the wine, and it totally makes the flavor. I’m reminded of the smell of wood as it burns in a camp fire, the flavor of meat cooked over an open flame - this wine almost demands a hearty meal as an accompanyment, and it’s brilliant with a thick steak or other red meat.

It’s a great wine, but if you only enjoy a lighter, frutier red, this may not be for you. It’s bold, it’s striking, and I recommend it highly. However, at around $30, I recommend it for a special occasion, not a daily drinker. If this wine came down in price, it would find itself on my shelf on a consistent basis. Since it does demand a higher price, however, it won’t grace my table as often as I would like.

With a brewing history dating from the Middle Ages and born from monastic traditions, it’s hard to ignore Belgium’s influence on the brewing community - after all, how can you argue with experience and the church?

When looking to imports, Belgian beers - and particularly Belgian Ales - are some of the best and most widely available to be had. And selection - wow! - Belgian breweries produce over 500 standard varieties (not including again as many specialty brews and one-offs) - all from a country smaller than the state of Maryland with about twice as many residents (reportedly all avid beer drinkers!).

So if you just can’t stomach the idea of trying to force down another of what passes for beer from the largest American breweries and you’re in a mood for a beer with great flavor - read on…

Of the Belgian Ales, Duvel (pronounced as it’s spelled with stress on the first syllable) is a great example. Dating back to 1871, Duvel is still brewed by family-owned Moortgat and based on the solid Belgian brewing tradition and - if you ask me - is just good beer! Flemish for ‘devil’, the story goes that someone once remarked ‘That’s one devil of a beer’ and the moniker was set.

With a light blond color, a refreshing flavor and no aftertaste or undertones to distract you, Duvel is great by itself or in company of just about anything - today I’m having one with a bratwurst and it really hits the spot.

Triple fermented, the last time in the bottle (referred to as ‘bottle conditioned’), Duvel is an exceptionally effervescent beer with a serious head that stands on it’s own and lasts - be careful when you pour or you’ll end up with a glass of foam… Don’t be surprised when you finish a careful pour and end up with a glass that’s half head - it’s normal and doesn’t at all get in the way of enjoying the flavor.

It’s probably just fine that Duvel produces such a substantial head - it’s a ’strong’ ale and although it’s flavor is light and refreshing, it’s alcohol content is decidedly not at 8.5%. If two beers is your norm, you may appreciate the head’s self-pacing effect and still find yourself bit heady after two of these - but then what’s wrong with that?

If you like Duvel and are ready for more, Belgium surely has plenty to offer (click here for more).

You might want to give one of Belgium’s most famous varieties a try - the Trappist Ale. To carry the Trappist moniker legitimately these beers must be brewed on the site of a Trappist monastery and brewing overseen by Trappist monks. As a result, there are fewer choices, but decidedly worth your while.

Oh, and about the American beer ‘crack’ - it would be decidedly unfair to suggest that there aren’t some great beers being brewed in the United States - that simply isn’t true and many of the micro-brews are well worth your attention and more than stand up to their imported brethren.

I certainly ‘drink from the tap’, but always enjoy selecting one or two more interesting beers to mix it up a little and let beer be part of the social experience. The next time you’re having a backyard barbeque or inviting friends over, why not share something new? (even if you do buy a staple that comes by the case to keep the budget in line and feed the masses after the ‘good’ stuff runs out…)

Till next time -

Sean