Over the weekend, I decided to make myself a nice, thick, comforting lentil soup with a couple of smoked ham hocks thrown in for good measure. Just thinking about it ... oh, yeah, to the point ...
I checked my shrinking wine collection and found a 2006 Don Ernesto Napa Valley Vin Gris Rosé. This is a rosé of Pinot Noir which I had picked up in late spring at Hagafen. I like their description, i.e. "nose of tropical fruits and Satsuma perfectly evoke summer nights, and its racy mouth of citrus, raspberry, strawberry, and passion fruit—with a slight schvitz on the tongue—will make you want to finish the bottle and open another." Yaniger, you can tell me what a "slight shvitz on the tongue" is.
In any event, it had to be consumed because, like me, it wasn't getting any younger and it seemed a good match for my lentils. I had one glass at closet temperature and stuck the opened bottle in the freezer to chill it down for a second glass which I never got to. In fact, I didn't get to open the freezer for another two days and found an almost solidly frozen bottle of wine when I did.
I put the bottle in the fridge and let the ice melt. I figured if I poured it off when there was still a lot of ice, I'd get some kind of kickapoo joy juice concentrated delight. Well, nothing of the sort. The wine tasted fine, but it was nothing more than an alcoholic pink slushee, yet still emminently drinkable.
The funkiest thing about it was the flocculent mass of what I assume were flakes of tartrate which had dropped out of solution. Apparently freezing had caused some kind of cold stabilization. It took three days for them to settle so that I could drink the wine as a creamy and not as a crunchy.
Anyway ... that's my pink slushee story.