FOOD & DRINK

Five Austin wine bars worth a toast

Tipping a glass (or two) at Vino Vino, Cru, Uncorked, Taste and Cork & Co.

By Dina Guidubaldi
SPECIAL TO THE AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Growing up in a Midwestern Rust Belt town scarred me in several ways, perhaps most significantly in the olfactory sense. After a childhood of inhaling pollens, battling flu bugs and choking on molds, I can't really smell anything anymore. Which means I can't really taste anything anymore. Therefore, when I decided to write about wine bars, I knew I'd need help. I like wine and prefer to drink good ones, of course, but for the most part, I probably couldn't tell the difference between a $20 blend and a bottle of $500 Burgundy.

One of my closest friends (also from the same Rust Belt town, but who apparently ended up unscathed) is studying for his sommelier exam, so I figured he would be better with the snobby, made-up sounding oenophilic adjectives this time around (though I still think some of my descriptions were pretty spot-on). Occasionally, I would test the waitperson's wine knowledge with a question that I'm convinced should be answered in the affirmative: Does drinking merlot, in particular, make one more melodramatic? Answers varied.

(Disclaimer: Though I drank a lot of wine all week, I still can't remember any one sticking out, nor can I safely recommend anything. I drank a lot of flights, and they all kind of ran together eventually. I discovered that for me, taste depended largely on outside variables such as atmosphere, temperature, food, conversation and how many glasses I'd already had. Go figure.)

Cork & Co.

308 Congress Ave. 474-2675

www.corkandco.com

3 p.m. to midnight Mondays-Fridays,

noon to midnight Saturdays,

5 p.m. to midnight Sundays

Cork and Co. would be a great place to sit and watch the snow falling outside. It's warm, it's cozy, it's got squashy couches and it looks out on Congress Avenue. Unfortunately (hopefully?), it almost never snows here, but Cork and Co. is still nice and inviting, with games to play at the bar and acoustics that turn table talk into a soft, reassuring murmur. Out of everywhere I went, this was the least expensive and maybe the most comfortable. On Sundays, Cork and Co. has Service Industry night, with 25 percent off most bottles for people who work in hospitality. And for normal people, there's happy hour until 7 p.m. every weekday. For non-wine drinkers, the bar offers a beer flight on the menu in addition to 15 wine flights, along with sides of chocolates and cheeses (but no food proper). When I asked the bartender my merlot question, he suddenly busied himself with rounding up some corks and misplacing the bottle opener.

At Cork and Co., my flight of three rosés tasted like:

Me: Sweat; my childhood Strawberry Shortcake doll's hair; tweed coats.

My wannabe-sommelier friend: Wet dog; flint; rocks and roses.

 Crú: A Wine Bar

Of all the wine bars I visited, Crú seemed the most expensive. This could have been because of the ambience, which was plusher than other places, more cultivated. It's hard to forget that Crú is a Texas chain, originating in Dallas. It features a large selection of food, and the arugula pizza disappeared among three of us in less than five minutes. The flights were reasonable; most started at $13. When I asked the waiter my merlot question, he didn't even pretend to think about it. "That's the most outlandish thing I've ever heard," he said, and I mentally gave Crú drinkworthy honesty points for that.

At Crú, my merlot tasted like:

Me: The wardrobe in 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.'

My friend: Dark plum.

 Taste

Taste is goosebumping cold (they had to lend my friend a pashmina) and comes to Austin straight out of "A Clockwork Orange," what with its exciting robot milkbar contraption (a rotating wine-tasting machine, which is apparently a big draw) and sleek white bar. Its bubble chandelier, below, and concentric mirrors are reminiscent of what the '70s thought the future would look like, but its basil panna cotta would never have made it into something as boring as Women's Day. When I asked my merlot question, the bartender bowed a little, inclined his head just so and said, "It goes case by case, of course." Ha!

At Taste, my petit syrah blend tasted like:

Me: What a bunny sleeps in.

My friend: Dirt.

 Uncorked Tasting Room & Wine Bar

I confess that one of the main reasons I like Uncorked so much is because it's on my way home. The boldness of opening a wine bar on the east side shows 1) a lot of faith in Austin's impending growth and/or 2) a lot of confidence in the wine selection. The owners' friendly hospitality and daring is matched only by the view from the festive patio, which shows all of Austin's high-rise condos in all of their half-done splendor. Wine flights are affordable, as is the food, and the goat cheese plate comes from the local CKC Farms. I didn't even ask my merlot question. That's how much I wanted not to ruin my evening there.

At Uncorked, my sangiovese tasted like:

Me: Flowers.

My friend: Cat pee (among sommeliers, apparently that's a good thing).

 Vino Vino

At Vino Vino, we sat out back next to the fireplace (which fortunately wasn't on in the 100-degree heat), and the waiter persuaded us to try a bottle of white wine. I was dead-set against it, associating whites with migraines and with older women who drink it over ice after a game of tennis (i.e., my mother), but it was exactly right for sweltering outside. When I explained to the waiter that white wine gave me headaches (I was done with my merlot question by then), he shook his head and admonished me to drink more water. Vino Vino has music on Mondays, reasonably priced bottles, a welcome, out-of-the-way atmosphere and appetizers less than $10 (the crimini mushrooms with truffle oil were $8 and worth it). They don't serve wine flights, but by the end of a week of trying too hard to understand wine, I didn't care.

At Vino Vino, my white wine tasted like:

Me: Pamplemousse LaCroix sparkling water.

My friend: Was long gone by that point, and off drinking wine with other sommeliers-in-training, though I'm sure he would have agreed with me.