Feel the fear...and drink it anyway

I've always considered myself to be a reasonably brave, up-for-anything type of girl. The kind of girl who'd do well on Fear Factor or even (and it would have to be for a million dollars, otherwise my husband wouldn't approve) the completely ridiculous Dating in the Dark.
Of course I draw the line at participating in anything deviant or dishonest, but otherwise, if there's a prize at the end, I'm in. Usually. Even when it comes to wine, nothing fazes me. I've judged enough student wines in my time to become hardened to the odd, the weird and the downright deadly, but nothing prepared me for the arrival of two bottles of sauvignon blanc blended with pinot gris.
If Colin Farrell had knocked at my door right then and said "if you drink this wine I will give you a million dollars and whisk you away to a tropical island for a weekend of hot, passionate rumpy-pumpy - and your husband said it was OK", I'd have probably stammered "gosh, er, um, sorry Colin. I promised the kids I'd stay home and paint their computer", or something equally stupid just to avoid the task. Like putting sultanas in curry or spa baths in the lounge, some things are just wrong.
Why would you blend a grassy, capsicum-laden, herbaceous sauvignon blanc with blousy old pinot gris? Pinot gris, with its pear and quince flavours, which is often far too sweet and flabby for my liking.
I mean, it's going to smack of wineries having too much sauvignon and too much pinot gris to sell, and thinking; hell let's blend it and see what happens - it's the right time of year to launch that new, snazzy summer product.
Last year it was sparkling sauvignon blanc - luckily it worked.
Don't get me wrong, I am actually a fan of good blended whites. Sauvignon semillon? Love it. Riesling, gewurztraminer, pinot gris? Gorgeous.
I've had the pleasure of tasting John Forrest's The White, Alluviale's DaDa, Vilagrad's Charminer, Millton's Clos Monique Les Trois Enfants (viognier, gewurztraminer and muscat a petits grains), and the sensational Seresin Chiaroscuro, a blend of co-fermented (where different grapes are crushed, juiced and fermented together) chardonnay, pinot gris, riesling and pinot meunier. But some sums do not equal or better the quality of their parts.
The next night, my husband handed me a glass of white wine that had soft, minerally, powdery, floral notes on the nose and ultra-crisp, lime-laden flavours. It was magic with the mussel fritters he'd just cooked.
"Yum, what's this?" I asked.
"I think it said Selaks Sauvignon Blanc Pinot Gris 2010," he answered. It was indeed a 70/30 blend of sauvignon and pinot gris, the bones of which had been bleached clean and dry in the Hawke's Bay sun. It sits on the shelf at $17 - and I liked it.
Excitedly, I opened the next bottle from Monkey Bay, an 80/20 blend that retails for around $15. It boasted more pungent aromatics, was far juicier in the mouth and had a lovely, tangy finish.
So whatever the rationale behind this blend, whether it's a gimmick to get rid of excess stock or a serious attempt at creating a successful summer sip, it's tasty and it works.
French classic no relation to rich new blend
The new blend of sauvignon blanc and pinot gris should not be confused (although I'm sure it will be) with the sauvignon gris grape.
This little-known variety is an ancient grape from the Bordeaux region of France.
In January, Montana launched its Marlborough sauvignon gris 2009.
"With aromas of pear and blackcurrant balanced with ripe grapefruit and nectarine notes, sauvignon gris is a rich, textural wine," said Patrick Materman, Montana's chief winemaker.
Clearview Estate in Hawke's Bay also has sauvignon gris in barrel waiting for release.
"It really shines with some barrel age," says owner/winemaker Tim Turvey.
"It's interesting, multi-layered and I really like it - can't wait to get it in bottle."