Cheap (4 dollars!), tasty (Primitivo is the same grape as Zinfandel, only Italian) and it has enough acid to pair well with my go-to meal: pasta (cheap and tasty!).
But that wasn't all this wine did for me. Oh, no. It had a pretty cork and an elegant orange label. It had a rich color and a versatile set of aromatics (spice, earth, a pinch of vanilla from the oak, some red and black cherry--what can't you pair this with? Donuts. Never pair wine with donuts). It wasn't too heavy for a balmy summer evening. It wasn't too light for the thick feelings I was having. IT WAS FOUR FUCKING DOLLARS.
Because I realized this wine would pair perfectly with my favorite thing in the world:
Bertucci's Brick Oven Pizza.
I understand that this is a chain restaurant. I get that there are probably more technically perfect pizzas out there. But I can't think of it without my mouth watering and I can't eat it without complete satisfaction. You know when you crave something and then you have it and it can't live up to the craving? That has never happened to me with Bertucci's brick oven pizza. It's only on the east coast, but I've seriously considered opening an LA franchise.
Here's a photo of me when my dad surprised me with a visit, after telling me Annapolis didn't have Bertucci's:
I was that happy with every single bite of my pizza.
The need here isn't the pizza, although I want some desperately now that I'm remembering how perfect in every single way it is. The need is the certainty, the nostalgia, the consistent loveliness, the way it never lets me down. The need of comfort food is primitive. It is the solace we find in tradition and memory and the familiar taste and texture of what we can count on to love.
Like cheap red wine that tastes fantastic.
Like a DIY manicure that looks f-ing amazing and is on my fingers currently. Ok, so that's a stretch. I just want to show off:
FYI the bits on my fingers are gone now, they washed off, it's all clean lines now so it is even better.