Today’s my birthday. I’m saying this not as a plea for attention, but rather a chance to reflect on some things. Catavino has grown a lot in the past three years. In a few more months, we can officially call Catavino three years old, an achievement I never expected we’d accomplish. 33 years ago today, I was brought into this world during a snowstorm in Chisago City, Minnesota. By some accounts, I was the furthest one could be from the European wine culture. Growing up, I had parents who were never wine geeks, though not tea totellers either. It really wasn’t until late into my college years that I started looking into wine beyond the 1.5L that cost 10$, allowing myself to look more sophisticated at college get togethers. My first real purchases of wine didn’t occur until I turned 24. Therefore, I would have to say that in my life, wine has held a pretty important significance for only the past nine years. Seems like a lot longer than it is, but hopefully, my passion will last for many more years.

I say this as I head out for martinis tonight in downtown Barcelona. Here in Spain, cocktails are a rare entity, and with most of our money going to wine, we don’t have a liquor cabinet to make our own. Not that I mind. When I do finally sit with a good dry martini or Manhattan, it tastes all that much better; yet this is not why I’m typing. My intention is to talk about a couple of wines.

This past month, these two wines have reminded me why I love wine so much. Often, I look at wine too closely and fail to really enjoy it for what it …