A Glass Act — in defense of the box, and other moral compromises
This is the April 23 installment of the Glass Act wine review column.
We have described this column as an act of civil service. We maintain this. The Student Development Office remains unconvinced, which we attribute to reasons we find both bureaucratic and personally offensive, not, as has been suggested, our parking record. We digress.
We raise it again because this week’s bottle, box, began with an email. A devoted reader. A member of what seems to be a growing fan club. A man of apparent taste and intellectual curiosity reached out to debate the merits of bottled wine versus boxed. We were engaged. We were articulate. We were, six sentences in, completely parched.
We drove to the liquor store.
A fellow expert had recently floated Woodbridge Boxed Pinot Noir as worth investigating. And who are we, if not curious explorers of the vinous unknown — Columbus, if Columbus had a parking ticket and an unfinished email. We returned with a 3L Premium Box because commitment is a virtue, and we have very few of those left to our names. We opened it immediately. We are nothing if not professional.
Look: Medium ruby. Clear. Honest. The color of a wine that has never once pretended to be something it isn’t, which is more than we can say about the company we keep.
Nose: Strawberry, red cherry, a whisper of spice and toast. Approachable, friendly, entirely unbothered by your expectations. This nose has not read Proust. It has, however, read the room.
Taste: Fruit-forward, smooth, a touch of oak that gestures at sophistication without making a production of it. Here is where we are obligated to remind you this costs less than an MSP airport sandwich. We are also telling you it does not behave that way. There is a roundness here. A finish that exits politely and rather swiftly. Think Oliver — the musical, not the orphan, though the orphan’s situation does feel economically relevant. I have been listening to Patti LuPone’s rendition of As Long As He Needs Me on a loop this week, and I am prepared to admit that the emotional arc of that song maps uncomfortably well onto our relationship with budget wine. I need it. It does not need me. I am at peace with this.
Finish: Medium. Warm. A faint echo of cherry on the way out, like the car air freshener that is 95% exhausted but still providing what it can. Respect the effort.
Pairings: The finest pairing of the evening was a sharp cheddar so rich and aggressive that it made both of us feel slightly outclassed. The cheese was better company than either of us, stunningly, and it did not once ask to split the check. We then proceeded, in what can only be described as a fugue state of escalating and entirely correct decisions — to dried meats, mascarpone spread on a crisp, and Tabasco jam. Together. On purpose. This was sheer gluttony and utter delight, and we have zero remorse. Certain observers have noted, with the subtlety of a foghorn, that we have been “filling out our clothes more these days.” We consider this a natural consequence of living the “good life for the common good.” The elliptical awaits — though, if we are being honest with ourselves, what actually awaits is the far darker alternative: low calorie wine. Exercise wine. We shudder to think. We finish the crisps. We finish the box. We are who we are.
Verdict: Woodbridge does not ask to be impressive. It is a California Pinot Noir from a box, priced accordingly, carrying multiple Best Buy awards from Wine Enthusiast — an organization with, it must be said, considerably more institutional credibility than this column. What it is, is honest. For a Tuesday, a reader’s email debate, or a charcuterie situation that escalated beyond anyone’s original intentions — this box delivered.
We toasted our devoted reader. We finished the conversation. He was right to raise it. We were right to investigate. The box is empty. No regrets.
Rating: 7.4/10.
To the reader who started all of this: He needs us. We need him. Patti would understand.
— Gabe Evenocheck & Ben Bugbee
Bureau of Civil Servants Who Finished the Box
(Like Patti LuPone, this column is intended for a mature audience, 21+. Unlike Patti LuPone, it pairs well with a $17 box of wine and a mascarpone cracker with jam.)
