There’s something about Lambrusco I’m not totally drawn to, despite its joyful distinctive sparkling red incarnation (or more infrequently, rosé, and even more infrequently, white). It might be because, at face value, its red form seems like a combination of competing textures, like bubble wrap made out of velvet, or carbonated lube. I once wrote an in-class essay on how Lambrusco – and other sparkling reds, really – are going to be the next ~big thing~ after Prosecco, because something something Millennials something 80s revival something something. Like Christina Aguilera sampling a-ha. Indeed, the Lambrusco cycle is apparently rotating back to the side of popularity.

“Trust me. Just try it with food,” is the everlasting Lambrusco (Lambruscan?) promise that I never trusted until this seminar, because there’s something about the enigmatic wine that adds some weird dimension to the meats and cheeses we had, something that’s hard to put into words.… read more