I Thought I Knew Wine... I Was Wrong
- Jessica Clowers
- Apr 28
- 4 min read
I thought Zinfandel was cheap, sweet, and not worth my time…until one glass shut me up.
I was sitting in the tasting room at Bodega Pierce in Willcox with a friend who was selecting wines for her own menu. She looked at me, completely serious, and asked: “What do you think about Zinfandel?”
I laughed. Because in my mind, Zinfandel wasn’t even a real contender.
I had already decided what it was — boxed, overly sweet, something you drink when you don’t know better. Then they poured it. Deep red. Bold. Nothing like what I expected. I watched her swirl it, take a breath, and sip. The look on her face told me everything. This wasn’t the wine I thought it was. So I ordered a tasting, and just like that — I was wrong. It was smooth. Balanced. Clean. It didn’t hit all at once… it unfolded. And in that moment, something shifted. Not just about that wine — but about how quickly I had decided what something was without ever really giving it a chance. I left that day with a bottle of Zinfandel… and a completely different perspective.
The Viognier Moment
A few years later, I found myself back in that same tasting room — this time with my mom.
She doesn’t drink wine, but she wanted to experience it with me. That alone made the moment special. Then we smelled the Viognier. Bright. Crisp. Layered. It didn’t just smell good — it stayed. It lingered in a way that made you slow down without even realizing it, and then it happened.
That quiet shift.
The one where you’re not just tasting anymore… you’re in it. I call it the sweet spot — but it’s not something I can fully explain here. It’s something you notice once…and then you start chasing it. I’ll get deeper into that later, but in that moment, something unexpected showed up:
Biscuits and gravy. Which made absolutely no sense because I’ve never really liked that dish.
Following the Thought
That’s the part most people ignore. The thought. The feeling. The connection that shows up out of nowhere. Instead of brushing it off, I followed it. Why didn’t I like biscuits and gravy? It wasn’t the idea — it was the execution. Pork sausage had always tasted off to me. Heavy. Distracting. Not clean. So I changed the approach. That led me straight to the Benson Butcher — the only place I trust for quality meats in town. I walked in with an idea, and walked out with exactly what I needed. Beef breakfast sausage, and somehow… even better? Local Arizona wine on the shelves. That was it. That was the moment I knew this wasn’t just an idea anymore — it was something I had to build.
This was my first time making biscuits from scratch, and I went all in. Viognier in the dough. Viognier in the gravy. No shortcuts. When it came out of the kitchen, it looked like something you’d get in a restaurant. But the real test was the first bite, and that’s when everything clicked. Every layer showed up. Every bite had structure. It wasn’t heavy — it was balanced. Bright, rich, and completely different from anything I had experienced before. That’s when I realized: I didn’t hate biscuits and gravy. I had just never experienced it like this.
That dish changed something. So I kept going. I took that same Viognier and pushed it further — into something deeper. Chicken Alfredo… but elevated. Viognier braised chicken. A silky sauce that actually had structure. Something that didn’t just sit on the pasta — it carried the wine through the entire dish. The first bite? That was it. Angel of the Vines. Because it didn’t feel like I made it…it felt like it showed up exactly the way it was supposed to, and once you experience it like that — there’s no going back.
This is where I stopped overthinking. Rosé has never been my go-to, but during a trip through Verde Valley, something sparked. We passed a fried chicken spot that had shut down, and it turned into a conversation:
What would wine do to fried chicken? At first, I leaned toward white wines. Something crisp. Clean. I grabbed a bottle to chill. Then I opened the fridge… and there it was. Rosé. Not planned. Not analyzed. Just chosen, and somehow… it worked. Better than it should have. Rosé is layered into the chicken and the waffles. I had to be strategic with how to use the wine. If you condense it too much the batter will turn gummy and clumpy, but if you don't reduce it enough - the flavor isn't quite adequate. Blushed Chicken & Waffles - perfectly delicious.
And then there’s Gallia. The one that doesn’t ask for attention… but commands it anyway. Cabernet Franc and Merlot — bold, structured, but smooth in a way that just flows. That’s what made it perfect. Warm cinnamon crumble. Crispy churros. A chocolate sauce infused with Gallia that pulls everything together. Rich. Balanced. Slightly spiced. It doesn’t overpower the dish — it finishes it.
This Is Where Wine Goes Next
What started as a tasting… turned into something else entirely. Not just drinking wine. Not just pairing wine, but building with it. Letting it guide flavor. Letting it spark ideas. Letting it create something you didn’t expect. Because the best moments don’t come from what you already know. They come from the moment you realize you were wrong, and decide to follow it anyway. There’s a moment in wine where everything shifts. Most people drink right past it. I’ll show you exactly what that is in the next blog, and if you want to step into that experience yourself...
Join us on May 12th at Mescal Bar & Grill in Benson for: Vineyard Verde Salsa Night - An evening built around taking the wine in your glass, and turning it into something unexpected. Featuring fresh, house-made salsas crafted with Bodega Pierce wines, paired alongside a tasting flight so you can experience both:
👉 what’s in the glass
👉 and what it becomes
This is where the wine goes next.
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