Jet-lagged, and smelling faintly of old fashioneds and halal carts, I hailed a fluorescent yellow cab to my first trade tasting in New York City. It was the big leagues, as anyone who has spent time living or working in NYC will enthusiastically tell you. It certainly felt like it.
I caught glimpses of people I was supposed to know. Wine directors from various Michelin-starred restaurants, the most recognizable winemaker in Spain, a bestselling wine writer; they all stood equally amid the immovable monolith of a crowd.
There was one table with a particular buzz, as I noticed many of the more esteemed attendees posturing to be among the fi rst in line for a pour. I did what any thirsty person would do and got in line, too. The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon (often called the “frequency illusion”) happens when something you recently learned about suddenly appears everywhere.
It happened to me after my first taste of Rhys Vineyards that afternoon in NYC. For a brief period of my life, Rhys was on every great wine list, showcased in every form of media, and came up in almost every wine conversation I had with sommeliers around the country, all of whom told me it’s some of their favorite wines coming out of California.
It turns out Rhys Vineyards checked all the boxes: organic and estate-grown fruit from well-positioned vineyards, state-of-the-art facilities and passionate people at the forefront. It was supposed to be great. How did I miss it?
It’s a story I’ve heard many times before I reassured myself, just an echo chamber of the know-it-all wine crowd. There have been countless instances where I have been disappointed with a wine that I was “supposed to like.”
I knew better. After all, there is a new generation of wine lovers (and more damagingly, wine professionals) who will base their cursory knowledge on hearsay — being told which bottles to put upon the theoretical pedestal, the same way that genealogy, or instructions on how to start a fire, were passed down through recitation millennia ago.
One of the more positive things that came from my officially becoming a Master Sommelier was that I have gained the confidence and experience necessary to admit when I don’t understand why a wine (or grape, or place, or person) gets so much love.
Sometimes, we get it wrong.
But this is not one of those times.
RHYS VINEYARDS, PINOT NOIR, SANTA CRUZ MOUNTAINS, CALIFORNIA
Silky and pure, this is a pinot noir lover’s pinot noir. A nod to the olden days of restrained alcohol (13.2% alcohol by volume), this wine celebrates nuance over bulk. Spicy red berries and rose are met with the signature savory brightness of Rhys that refreshes the palate after each sip. Owner Kevin Harvey’s knowledge and love of pinot noir from France is evident in his own iteration.
Cost: $55/bottle.
RHYS VINEYARDS, CHARDONNAY, ANDERSON VALLEY, CALIFORNIA
Expect flavors typical of high-end California chardonnay from more expensive ZIP codes (Napa, Sonoma, etc.) but with a perfect balance of salinity and honey that gives this complex wine a salty, versus sweet finish.
I like this wine as a standalone, as each sip offers something new, but it would work at almost any point of the meal.
Cost: $50/bottle.
