Truth and All That Sparkles

We had to leave the loft by 10 a.m., and loaded up the rental with a few minutes to spare. In a few minutes  of highway, we curved up the mesa past the Sunport and left Albuquerque behind for a few hours. Albuquerque might sprawl like most mid-sized American cities, but it contains almost all the sprawl within its borders and traditional suburbs do not ring it. The suburban tag does not fit the small towns outside its borders. Even Los Ranchos had the feeling of a distinct village, a place apart.

In the desert beyond, steep mountains and arroyos were everywhere. The Rio Grand governed the extent of life out here. Capped in snow, the mountain ridges governed the horizon. Between the road, crimson plains specked with stocky plant life. Most of I-25 rolled across flatland, roughly tracing the course of El Camino Real, the Spanish road that connected Albuquerque and Santa Fe to Spain's holdings further south.

For almost 80 miles, there was no sign indicating the distance to Truth Or Consequences along the highway. After Socorro flashed by, I realized why: it was too long to fit on a single line of highway sign, so the signmakers went with shorter city names. Those with Truth Or Consequences just looked awkward. Odd language appeared elsewhere, warning that dust storms or high winds "may exist." Well, they do exist. I believe the sign-writer might have been better served to say "Gusty winds may occur."

Elephant Butte Lake flashed a blue splinter among the rusty hills, and in a few miles, we arrived at Truth or Consequences. The little spa town once called Hot Springs  took the name of a 1950s game show. the city wrapped around the craggy hills rolling near the lake. It streets popped with life. If buildings were not entirely painted in ornate colors, intricate murals covered their walls. Downtown covered two one-way streets, and sheltered boutiques, restaurants and offbeat hotels. As along Route 66, those old hotels rarely looked dilapidated or shady. Most were just modest places to rest for a evening on the way to somewhere else.

While I drove, Nancy got numerous shots of the easy-going town.  She deserves credit chronicling our short time in Truth Or Consequences.

The water tower sits on a hill above downtown

That's a hotel name no one from where I come would dare self-apply.

One of Truth Or Consequences' many murals.

We could not resist the turquoise-walled Happy Belly Deli. Locals filled its tables, with some spilling into a small courtyard. Nancy ordered a polenta sandwich; having never had polenta, I could only follow and enjoy. Thinly slice on artisanal bread, it had a fire like everything else tasted in New Mexico.

The polenta sandwich helped the deli live up to its name.

The slow road past the reservoir led us out of TOC and Elephant Butte. Despite the southwestern drought that plagued Texas and points east, the lake's "bathtub ring" from evaporation was not as a stark as those at :Lake Mead near Las Vegas. Built almost a century ago to expand water supply and irrigation in New Mexico and Texas, it had become a recreation center, and watercraft dealership populated the city of Elephant Butte.

The interstates emptied in the early afternoon. On advice from others who visited New Mexico, I stuck with the 75 mph limit; apparently just five miles over the speed limit can lead to a speeding ticket. We breezed back through Socorro, Moriarty and the others before crawling through accident traffic on Albuquerque's north side to reach our 3:15 appointment.

A twist on 25 and an awkwardly worded sign

Shortly after buying the plane tickets, I wondered about using my store connections out in Albuquerque.
The lightbulb went off quickly -- Gruet, one of the store's best-selling sparkling wines, came from New Mexico. Gilbert Gruet and family settled on vineyards near Truth Or Consequences, while operating a stately Albuquerque tasting  room and production facility. Their sparkling wines surpass many of the more expensive names from California and have a flair of Continental terroir. Since 1952, the family has run a  Champagne house, Gruet et Fils in Bethon, France since 1952.

(For the record, it's pronounced Groo-ay, not Groo-et)

Regina, Gruet's tasting room manager, took us through a tasting of their sparkling wines - Brut (75 percent chardonnay, 25 percent pinot noir), Blanc de Noir (reverse the previous percentages), Rose (creamy and tart), and the demisec, which doesn't taste anything like the semi-sweet sparkling wines I usually skip. If Gruet's version weren't so uniquely balanced, I would count myself as a demi-sec convert.

Then greatest joy came next - Gruet's line of vintage sparkling wines. Most sparkling wines blend several vintages together, but a particularly good year calls for a vintage. The 2007 Blanc de Blance (100 percent chardonnay) could compete with many vintages from Champagne, and the 2007 Grand Rose definitely stepped up the flavor. Most exotic of all was the 2003 Gilbert Gruet Reserve, their top sparkling wine, which ages for five years in large French oak casks (see below). Few sparkling wines age in oak and the oak influence leads to a startlingly complex wine.

This giant vessels age the vintage Gilbert Gruet Reserve, the winery's top sparkling wine

Gruet began producing still wines in the 1990s and Regina poured those next. The winery introduced its dry Chenin blanc in 2011. Produced from 25-year-old vines, the Chenin blanc was dry and acidic but balanced. Next came a chardonnay that spent 10 months in French oak. Gruet's reds had an undeniable Old World flair. Both the regular and the barrel select pinot noirs had a soft fruits and a bit of earth, while the syrah had a definite Rhone Valley feel (just don't ask me where in that valley).

From there we toured the production facility. Gruet turns out 130,000 cases a year, mostly Brut and Blanc de blanc. Palates stacked with cases reached for the ceiling. Laurent Gruet, the current winemaker, walked past before we could say anything; this was a working winery, and it was best we didn't get in anyone's way.

The old method a moving the champagne bottles slightly on their racks has gone away in most places. Gruet employs an computerized system that incrementally pushes them down. Once its time for disgorgement, winery staff freeze the bottle necks, remove the yeast then cork and cage the wine. The tour ended and the tasting room had a late-afternoon crowd when we returned. We bought a 2007 Blanc de blanc and a 2008 pinot noir while Regina graciously gave us a pair of Gruet wine glasses. These folks couldn't have been more welcoming.

Slowly tilting sparkling wine

Plans after the winery took a different turn. Our best effort to speed to the Rio Grand Nature Center got us there in time to see the gate locked. A pedestrian bridge across the river had an entrance somewhere. But in the gloaming and Friday night traffic, we had no luck in finding our way. For dinner, we tried to visit another winery but the overflow parking overflowed onto the street, so we looked for something local.

Just blocks away we found Monica's Portal, a New Mexican local eatery where the owner still tosses tortillas every morning. Not a tourist could be found (aside from us, of course). We feasted and let the chiles heat our throats. I got my first taste of sopaipillas, the fired pastries that cut some of the heat. The sweet pudding we closed with turned off the heat for good. We landed at a cheaper hotel, and despite the best efforts of the guy fixing his pickup in the parking lot while blaring the bass on his club music, we crashed eaerly. In the morning our last day in New Mexico would be begin, and we would spend that time at higher elevations.