If Wines Were NYC Subway Lines, Which Would They Be?
Written by Eliza Dumais, Illustrated by Cerise Zelenetz
New York City terroir can be witnessed, most aptly, from under the ground. The MTA — our inimitable subway system — operates as a microcosm of the city. From the reformed frat boys, newly indoctrinated into Brooklyn territory, reading Sheila Heti on the L train, to the bespectacled great aunts sporting signature scents, demanding seats on the uptown Q, our subterranean transit network offers a veritable field blend of flavors.
Thus, as an homage to NYC’s eclectic underground — and the salad of personalities it contains — we present: grape varietals as train lines.
G Line: Georgian Rkatsiteli
Ahhh the G, runt of the subway system. Spanning half the length of your standard train for highly classified reasons, the Brooklyn/Queens green line takes up little space ( leaving you to sprint across several yards of platform in order to catch your snack-sized train). In turn, the Georgian grape, Rkatsiteli — often produced in the Eastern Kakheti region of the country — can be high-acid, structured, and dry in a vacuum-all-the-moisture-from-your-mouth way (a la an un-air-conditioned subway car). In that regard, it tends to leave you with an abrupt, short, mic-drop finish….much like the G.
A Line: Chablis (Chardonnay)
Few grapes embody class, clout, and stature quite like Chablis Chardonnay. Long respected, touting a history of French elegance, the grape holds legacy appeal. The A train, too, ever steadfast, spanning from the Rockaways to Inwood (215th street) is perhaps the city’s least maligned subway line. Coasting along a central route that cuts through the most regal quadrants of the Upper West Side, it’s old money and new money, alike. And frankly, like a good chardonnay, it’s hard to hate.
L Line: Alsatian Gewürztraminer
The L train, New York’s hottest club. Shepherding an array of a) the city’s best dressed, most creatively-inclined patrons, and b) bank employees who heard that Williamsburg was the new Murray Hill; the L is eternally a lively place. In turn, when we talk Alsatian Gewürztraminer, we’re talking trendy. Reliably loud in flavor (stone fruits, lemon grass, honey) and often medium bodied, the varietal tends to be easy to identify. It makes itself known. Add some skin contact, throw the stuff in a tall, tres chic Alsatian bottle, and you’ve got party wine with an edge of sophistication.
F Line: Oregon Pinot Noir
Call her reliably unreliable. The F will arrive every four minutes without fail, or perhaps she’ll disappear for whole weekends at a time. She touches Manhattan, Queens, the far stretches of Coney Island; crowding with young parents in Park Slope before trading them in for New York’s finest constituent of nepo babies in Dimes Square. Oregon Pinot Noir, then — a grape you’ll find from both first-generation producers and legacy vintners — offers similar range. The stuff might be prettier than any number or more highly regarded French wines — and, au contraire, it might be V.A-heavy enough to kick you in the shins. Reliably unreliable — but ever-relevant nonetheless.
Q Line: Beaujolais Gamay
The Q line, recently revamped and shinier than ever, elicits few complaints. ‘Tis your cleanest and most efficient route through Brooklyn and the Upper East Side. Think: ample (new) platforms, all of which eclipse much of the MTA’s more vintage real estate in quality. And while Gamay, too, is hardly a new-to-the-scene grape (is anything?), the year’s wholehearted push towards chilled light reds has ushered in quite a renaissance for the stuff. An old, beloved thing, with a glitzy new reputation.