I’ll be honest—I almost walked past this bottle. Then the label stopped me. No gold foil. No screaming points. Just a frog and a quiet confidence that felt earned. I grabbed it, took it home, and opened it the same night. No decant. No ceremony. That’s usually the fastest way to tell if a wine is bluffing.
It wasn’t.
The first sip came in dark and savory. Wild berries, yes—but wrapped in smoke, dried herbs, and structure that actually matters. Moderate acidity kept it moving. Tannins showed up firm but controlled. Nothing sloppy. Nothing sweetened up for mass appeal. This is what Argentina does well when it stops chasing stereotypes.
At $19.89, this wine is playing a dangerous game for big brands. It’s not trying to win Instagram. It’s trying to win dinner. Steak, ribs, grilled sausages—this bottle doesn’t flinch. Recent vintages landing 92 points from Wine Advocate makes sense, but honestly, you don’t need the score to enjoy it.
This is the kind of red I open after a cold West Michigan day. Grill still warm. Lake wind still in your jacket. It fits how we eat and how we live here. No fluff. No apology. Just solid wine doing its job.
