


Here's the deal: I typically am not a huge proponent of Australian wines. Not that I have a problem with them or where they come from, or even the people who make them. They've just never been my bag.
For the longest time I have had a bottle of The Black Chook Sparkling Shiraz (NV) sitting undisturbed in my cellar. I'll admit that I got the bottle for free from work, because the label had peeled off of it rendering it unsaleable; unpresentable, except that is if you were at my house this past Sunday when I cooked up an awesome batch of ribs and was out of beer and table wine to serve our guests. (The sale of alcohol is oddly prohibited here on Sunday's in old world Minnesota). I dug around my cellar, petting a few bottles or Burgundy, Barbaresco, Brunello, and Priorat. Not gonna happen. I was not going to cave and open a bottle of $$ wine for some friends who would be equally happy with some beer.
In fact, these days I don't even go near my cellar because everything is totally of limits for the time being. What I was dying to drink with the mustardy, Carolina style ribs was a bottle of Altos Las Hormigas Malbec, or a bottle of Artazuri Rosado, or a bottle of Stelzner Claret, or maybe a Chateau Terriere Beaujolais Village, sightly chilled. Well you get the picture... anything but the dreaded Black Chook. Black Choke is what I called it in my mind as I unearthed it from its den.
I had been offered a glass of it by, none other than it's brand ambassador, my charming and witty friend, David Forziatti of Epicurean Wines, just two Friday's past when we were out to dinner in NYC's SoHo at a great bistro called Shorty's 32. Magically (I thought to myself) David had placed the BCSS on the by the glass list. I declined the offer at the time and opted for a glass of Juve Y Camps Cava, followed by several bottles of Txaolina (whoops!). He teased me for hating on Shiraz and I rolled my eyes in my usual know-it-all way.
Turns out that the Black Chook Sparkling Shiraz performed beautifully with food. It was markedly dry (can I emphasize this more?), it had a fine bubble (not the beach balls I had imagined), and beyond all of this it was true to its varietal character. It tasted like Syrah. It was pleasant! I raised my eyebrow. I drank my glass quietly, as I enjoyed a yummy summer meal of ribs, German potato salad, and green beans...















