Leftovers are a drag.

To some, this is an inflammatory statement. Akin to saying, "I can't stand Glee." (btw- I can't stand Glee).

So, before I'm verbally smacked in the face with an open-faced meatloaf sandwich (or accosted my a rabid army of Gleeks), let's break this down:

1) Eating the same thing in sequence is very boring. This is why I'm not in the military, avoid prison, and run through failed diets like a pack of smokes at an Al-Anon meeting.

2) Many foods, though delicious initially, lose a whole lot of luster when refrigerated and reconstituted.

Eating leftovers- ones not meant to improve overnight like a pot roast or a soup- is like fighting a gustatory battle against the evil forces of hunger with a decimated officer Alex James Murphy, pre-Robocop enhancements.

But, even when dealing with the most-ravaged of leftovers, a little culinary surgery can turn the most lifeless Steve Austin into the Six Million Dollar Man.

Take, for example, the low country boil (or "frogmore stew", "shrimp boil", or any number of regional names). This southern, coastal delight is a mash-up of shrimp, corn, potatoes, and sausage, boiled together in seasoned water (most traditionally, in straight-up seawater). Generally made for a large crowd, the one-pot feast is dumped onto a table covered with newspaper, and devoured by famished, often-tipsy, party or tailgate guests.

When the crowd has been eating all day, the chance of leftovers is more palpable. What's left? A fridge full of Murphys and Austins:

Cold, greasy sausage, enveloped in a film of congealed pork fat. Wrinkled corn. Potato mush. And, of course, shrimp that have already been cooked once. And overcooked shellfish is an abject disaster.

Alas, at times, fiscal responsibility outweighs the desire to discard. With a few ingredients and some basic know-how, you can rebuild it. You have the technology.

I recently drank some pretty good Roussanne. Thus, a picture of Scott Howard "wolfing out" leads.

Here we go again. Hang on... let me explain.

During a gut-busting, teeth-staining wine dinner (paid my way... take that, disclaimers) featuring the luscious vittles of Atlanta hotspot Local Three- cozied up with a fierce lineup of juice from Central Coast California producer Qupé- I decided I wanted to write about Roussanne.

Why? Because it's the jam. And it needs some publicity (particularly Qupé's masterpiece: a prototype of the difficult balance between fruit, acid, oak, and alcohol).

Before I go completely off the rails, here are some basics: Roussanne is a wine grape that hails from the Rhône valley of France (which basically starts south of the city of Lyon, thus, the painfully-forced title). In its most-recognizable manipulation from vine to glass, Roussanne makes aromatic, medium-to-full-bodied whites that are somewhat akin to the slightly more-popular wines from Viognier (grape). When being as recognizable as it can be, Roussanne is found in bottles from the appellations of Hermitage (region), Crozes-Hermitage (region), and Saint-Joseph (region) in the Northern Rhône, and most notably in Châteauneuf-du-Pape (region) in the Southern Rhône (where it can be used in both white and red blends labeled as Châteauneuf-du-Pape). The grape is also found in the States, often either blended with Viognier, Marsanne (grape), and/or Grenache Blanc (grape), or sparsely varietally-bottled, as in the case with Qupé.

As I tasted the rich, oaked-but-not-over-oaked nectar, featuring a reasonable alcohol of about 13.5%, and good acidity and fruit, I thought, "Chardonnay lovers would really go for this bugger."

So, I set out on finding the perfect pop-culture metaphor. Due to Roussanne's relative obscurity among the palates of most folks, I had to go with a "diamond in the rough" angle. Maybe a rock band that was awesome but never quite made it?

No, I needed something with more T&A (perhaps I've been reading too much Samantha Sans Dosage). And is there anything more (or less) deceptive than the Hollywood typecast of the weird/artsy/misunderstood/nerdy chick who is actually super-hot under all that frumpy flannel and vision correction? With that, the haphazard search began...


Velma Dinkley from Scooby-Doo? Nah. Already used her once. But worth another gander. Perhaps the hottest/nerdiest of them all.


That girl who played the lead character in She's All That? No. Not even Roussanne is obscure enough to be compared currently to Rachel Leigh Cook. Plus, even a brief mention of the movie She's All That would imply that I've seen She's All That...


What about Lisa "Boof" Marconi, from Teen Wolf? Had some potential, extraordinarily frumpy, and not exactly the popular girl. I seemed to be on the right track, but in my chaotic brainstorm, the clouds parted, and I realized my sophomoric quest for sex appeal had shrouded the clearest metaphor of all:

Roussanne is a teenage werewolf. A teenage werewolf played by actor Michael J. Fox in a hit 1985 film. And here's why:

Roussanne is volatile: Scott Howard's father- Harold- learned to control the wolf. Scott himself was still a little off-the-handle. Any vineyard manager with a field full of Roussanne has to have a little Harold Howard in him/her as well. The grape is known to ripen unevenly, yield irregularly, and is susceptible to the ravages of wind and powdery mildew. However, for the intrepid souls who succeed in hedging these risks and wrangling the wolf, payoff is inevitable.

This unassuming grape has some serious game: Scott Howard- the basketball player- had heart, and was an adequate court general, yet lacked size and ability. When Scott unleashed the wolf, he because a human (canine?) highlight reel. Under the proper circumstances, Roussanne can also unleash some wolf, bringing incredible aromas, power, body, and acidic balance. There's a reason why Qupé's varietally-bottled Roussanne sells for $40.

Roussanne has always been "in" among the "out" crowd: Boof had undying love for Scott Howard, wolf or not. Intuitive guys like me just notice these things. She was like a wine nerd, going the distance to show affection for a soul outside the realm of widespread popularity. When I get together with my fellow geeks (we're talking some folks who have an unhealthy zeal for wine), a bottle of white Hermitage is greeted with extraordinary reverence. 'Tis often not the case in most other crowds...

Roussanne has some really stylish friends: when blended into "Rhône-style" blends, Roussanne is found mingling with other top-notch grapes like Viognier, Grenache Blanc, Marsanne, Picpoul, etc. At least a few of these deserve there own posts as well. Either that, or I really wanted an excuse to feature the picture to the left. Oh Styles, we hardly knew ye.

So, the next time some friends want to get together and have some booze, seek out a bottle of Roussanne. When your friends say, "what the hell is Roussanne?," you can reply, "Roussanne is the teenage werewolf of wines." Then, when they look at you like you're crazy, you can simply say, "what are you looking at, dicknose?"Get past the heated exchange, and I promise a well-made bottle will make them all happy. Even dicknose. But not happy about his nose. That seems like something that would make me pretty grumpy, too.

Is it unbelievably offensive to compare a wine drinker's bugaboo with a despicable social phenomenon that has plagued our nation for centuries? I'm not really sure, but I guess I'm going to find out soon enough.

But, when I have an axe to grind, and my mind's made up on how I'm going to do it, then a picture of that buffoon David Duke in front of a confederate battle flag shouting in log cabin font appears. And I'm pretty sure all racists talk in log cabin font, the most racist of all fonts.

It's nothing new. I hear the "I only drink red wine" proclamation from lots of folks in package stores, at wine tastings, on twitter, etc. I've seen the trends, too. People will start drinking wine; cutting their teeth on Sutter Home White Zinfandel or something like that... chilled, fruity, sweet, and refreshing. I get the appeal. But then, eager to see where it all comes from, someone will take a trip out to Napa or Sonoma or the Willamette Valley. And- with the exception of a few Chardonnays, Sauvignon Blancs, and Pinot Gris here and there- these areas are dominated by dry red wine. Napa Cabernet Sauvignon. Dry Creek Zinfandel. Willamette Pinot Noir. Based on these visits; considering what shows up on the "reserve" tasting lists; seeing which wines go for the prettiest pennies; well, I can deduce how one would build a perception that all the "great" wines are red, and dry. This is not supposition. I've experienced it first-hand. Man, I've been there.

But I didn't go to the extreme. I know folks who take this attitude too far. They consume all these reds, then determine that red wine is the only acceptable answer. Whites are all served too cold and taste like butterscotch and pineapples, right? Why look the fool wasting time with those rotgut bottles when all the true aficionados are sipping on Silver Oak Cab?

Call them elitists. Call them closed-minded. Maybe they're a bit snobby. But I have another way to describe these folks.

They are red wine racists.

I posit that these wine racists choose to avoid whites because they think that white wine is of lower quality. They believe that white wines lack complexity, taste fruity and oaky, come served ice cold, and don't pair well with steak. Essentially, because the ubiquitous California Chardonnay doesn't suit their palates, all white wines are inferior. Okay, I guess this is more "wine stereotyping". But that just doesn't have the inflammatory, yellow-journalistic sizzle that "wine racism" espouses.

It's really a shame that Cali Chardonnay seems to be the far-and-away ambassador of white wines served at popular restaurants, wedding receptions, birthday parties, tailgates, swingers' clubs, Krull conventions, derailed Al-Anon meetings, and pagan goat roastings (I'm more familiar with the first four than the last four). Truth is, there are some many AMAZING white wines out there that should be at least considered by reforming red wine racists. Compound that sentiment when one considers food. Many of the world's white wines offer reasonable alcohol, subtle fruit, and zipping acidity that heightens the flavors of nearly any cuisine:

- Crisp, minerally whites like Muscadet (region name and grape name), Sancerre (region name, grape is Sauvignon Blanc), and Albariño (grape name) will give ice cold beer a serious run for its money when set up with a plate of oysters on the half-shell and some steamed peel-n-eats.

- Beautifully aromatic, insanely acidic Rieslings (grape) work with tons of different foods. Plus, the German examples (especially bottles marked Spätlese or Auslese) often have a bit of sweetness to them. Nothing- and I mean nothing- goes better with spicy food. Hot wings and wine? You damn skippy!

- Gewürztraminer, Torrontés, and Viognier (all grape names) bring some serious sniffin' firepower to the jamboree. These will kick a red wine racist's thought of "what white wine smells and tastes like" on its racist ass.

Hell, even Chardonnay works its way into the game. France kicks out some killer stuff, and the Chablis (add to that oyster list) and other white Burgundies not only destroy a Chardonnay prejudice, but they can also empty a bank account quickly. There's a reason why these wines can be so expensive: because they're the shit. Oh, and some Meursault will pair with that steak just fine.

Let me put it this way: when my friends in high places decide to pull the wine equivalent of "making it rain" by emptying their cellars for guests, the best stuff coming out is almost always top-end white Burgs and German Rieslings. And they've drank it all.

The ugly truth is that racism is widespread. It is ignorant. Racism is illogical. I don't know if it will ever go away, and that's very sad to me. I hope people can someday see beyond historic differences and skin color.

But red wine racism is easily defeated, if these misguided folks will be willing to try something new and look past the color of the grape's skin.

It won't change the world, but it might be the first step towards vinous peace & love.

Don't ask me for a source on this one, but I once heard someone exclaim that A/C (that's "air conditioning", San Franciscans) was the greatest innovation to hit the South, because it allowed industry to flourish. I suppose this proclamation was based on the notion that manufacturing is best done in a conditioned space; machinery and products of industrialization probably hold up better in an atmosphere absent of extreme heat and humidity ("humidity" being moisture in the air, Los Angelenos).

I further defend this argument with the fact that an oppressive heat index wears one out. I don't know what people did before air conditioning. But I do know they were the toughest motherflippers alive, if I may use such coarse language. Incidentally, I have a bad fan motor in my vehicle, so the A/C works at long as I'm moving. "Moving", however, is at a bit of a premium in Atlanta rush hour (which is a BS term anyway; I've never seen it last only an hour). Tack on a constant pressure-cooker of 95˚+ days (with 90%+ humidity), and one suffers an embarrassing condition known as "soggy back syndrome".

No longer relegated to Sweatin' to the Oldies enthusiasts, feral children, and Robin Williams, SBS (soggy back syndrome) can strike anyone who's posterior has been snuggled closely to warm automotive upholstery, while wearing two shirts (an undershirt and a button-down...sorry, it's not 1978 and my day job doesn't involve a commute to Bee Gees practice), all in a vehicle with less-than-adequate air circulation and humidity management. What results is an embarrassing moistness on the back of the shirt, sure to discourage appreciative pats-on-the-back from top management and other patronizing business personnel (not that I'm getting any pats-on-the-back for good performance anyway...a couple on the rear, but that's an HR issue that I can't discuss at this juncture).

So, you must be asking, "what in the Sam Hill does this have to do with wine?!" To which I have to ask, "are you an old prospector, using mid-19th century euphemisms like 'Sam Hill'?"

Here's what it has to do with wine: if you're caught in a tussle with a soggy back; if you've just gotten home from a grueling commute featuring your crappy broken auto A/C, then here are some dry wines you should keep in the chill chest to bring you back to dry times. Furthermore, they're all pretty cheap, so you can save your shekels to fix that damn motor:

Vinho Verde: Portuguese for "green wine", the name is actually indicative of the "youthful freshness" (as wikipedia puts it) of the wine, rather than the color. Made from a possible slew of local grapes (the most recognizable suspect being the Alvarinho grape, otherwise known as "Albariño" in nearby Spain), these wines not only feature low alcohol and high acidity, but often a little bit of fizz, making them even more refreshing. Although often assumed to be all whites, there are also some red vinho verdes, but they will not help your back sweat like a chilled white VV.

Cava: The Spanish take on Champagne. And bubbles always refresh. Usually made from the local grape trio of Macabeo, Parellada, and Xarel-lo (though some Chardonnay might be snuck in these days), these wines are all produced in the método tradicional (traditional method, or Champagne method), meaning the secondary fermentation takes place in the bottle. This fermentation and aging on the yeast create more interesting flavors and aromas, smaller, finer bubbles, and a dry, comfortable feeling between the shoulders.

Assyrtiko: What I'm convinced will be the next big thing in white wine, Greece's (Santorini's, to be more specific) Assyrtiko grape produces some briny, minerally, refreshing whites (if "briny" and "minerally" sound refreshing to you...and I don't even think if "minerally" is a word). I've started to see more of these bottles around town, as Greece is coming out of some self-inflicted doldrums and getting into producing more quality wine. Just stay away from anything that says "Retsina", unless drinking Pine Sol is your fancy.

Of course, if none of these scratch you where you itch, or dry you where you sweat (or you can't bear the thought of drinking wine as a refreshment, though I encourage you to get over that), then there's always Ice Cold Beer. With a name like that, it's gotta do the trick. Whatever you choose, I hope that you now feel more equipped to battle SBS. No one needs to suffer.

Okay, perhaps I was going for sassy marketing to soften the blow of consuming red wine. However, I thought this one might fit the bill. Here's my half-witted reasoning:

1) Grenache is a grape that is medium-bodied, generally lower in tannin, and high in strawberry flavors.

2) Australian wines- since they are so reliant on export- need to be marketable. For this reason, many are more fruit-forward and low in tannin.

The verdict: Ashley didn't like it as much as white wine, wouldn't pay the $12 for it, but also wouldn't be upset if it was served to her. When told she could pour it out to try the second wine, she said, "c'mon. It's not THAT bad." Regardless, I think I failed with this one. Frankly, either I didn't like it at all or the bottle was bad. It had that rubber ball smell I've been getting lately in many wines, suggesting there many have been an issue with sulfuric compounds in the wine.

2007 Joseph Drouhin Beaujolais-Villages:

My first instinct was to go with Beaujolais, but I didn't think it'd be very original, so I got myself in that "bitch" of a situation above. Why Beaujolais? Well, this French wine is made from the Gamay grape, often employing a fermentation technique known as "carbonic maceration" (I won't get into the science...link if you'd like), which essentially preserves fresh fruit flavors and keeps tannins low. These wines also do well with a bit of a chill on them, have nice acidity, and make perfect picnic wines (sorta sounds like a white wine, huh?).

The verdict: my subject found this one to be "much better", but then she "had to leave because her kid was getting tired and it was time for dinner" (a classic "I'm going to get a McRib but I'm too embarrassed to admit it" excuse). Luckily, one of our other companions said, "if you closed your eyes and tasted this, you could definitely mistake it for a white wine." Boom. I'm chalking that up as full success.

I feel bad the "Bitch" didn't work out, because I think lush Aussie Grenache would've been a more interesting victory. However, if you are a white wine-loyalist reading this post, I highly encourage you give some Beaujolais-Villages (or Beaujolais) a try. Put it in the fridge for 30 minutes, and enjoy it with whatever you'd usually have with your standard white, whether that be grilled chicken, flaky fish, or- of course- your weekly rib-flavored crap sandwich. Just please don't be hesitant to try something new. You may never know what you're missing.

And to that, I'll bring back the toast (with a new Russian one I learned): Cheers, Sláinte, L'Chaim, Salud, Prost, Skål, Konbe, Kampai, Nostrovia, and Laissez les bon temps rouler!

I can't believe I went off on a tangent. That never happens. Anyway, the whole "groovy" thing stems from a recent dunking o' the whiskers into several different bottles of Grüner Veltliner...an intimidating-sounding wine grape that is often referred to by the much "cuter" name of GrüVee (pronounced "groovy"), thus softening the awkward Germanic name (and lessening thoughts of robots dancing to techno music. Am I right?).

As I was (eventually) saying, Grüner Veltliner is basically THE white wine grape of Austria. The wine-growing regions of Austria are in the eastern part of the country, in and around Vienna. GrüVee makes food-friendly wines with flavors and aromas of minerals, pepper, herbs, peaches, and citrus. It's not Riesling. It's not Sauvignon Blanc. It's a pretty unique grape that makes awefully unique wines. But, yes, the name can be confusing. In fact, the German word for wine is "wein" and the word for Vienna is "Wien", thus easy fodder for mix ups. That being said, the German word for Viennese is "wiener", so a Viennese wine label written in German is a slow-pitch softball when it comes to sophomoric humor (see video below for details).

Getting back to the evening at hand, four said bottles of "GrüVee" (the umlaut is still a little intimidating) were graciously donated by Austrian Wine and the other three by Matt from Wine and I (thanks, chaps!). Not quite having the intestinal fortitude to down seven bottles myself, I called on the eager palates and steadfast livers of local Atlanta bloggers Ed from Wine Tonite!, Jimmy from Eat It Atlanta, and Broderick from Savory Exposure. We ranked four of the bottles (as part of a national blog-wide event called the "GrüVee" olympics...results HERE) and simply enjoyed the three from Wolfgang. As always, it was a great time, better represented in moving pictures than words on a webpage.

To protect the innocent, I've omitted the following transgressions from the video below, which is a brief recount of another fun and wine-soaked evening at Chez Wine Tonite: