Mr. Stover justified it in the context of Napa Valley. “For single-vineyard, organic Napa cab, you’re looking at $100 on the shelf,” he said. “We’re offering a great value, considering.”
For many canned-wine producers, the quality of the wine is secondary to the presentation, which is pitched as an antidote to wine snobbery. Union Wine Company in Oregon, which sells Underwood rosé in 375-milliliter cans for $28 a four-pack, does not tell customers what kinds of grapes go into the wine, where specifically they were grown or what year they were harvested.
Instead, its website offers this: “It’s hard to keep your pinky up when you’re drinking wine from a 375-ml. can,” closing with its hashtag, #pinkiesdown. The pale-pink rosé is inoffensive at best.
Similarly, Bridge Lane — a set of wines sold in bottles and cans by Lieb Cellars, a good producer on the North Fork of Long Island — says on its site: “The wines aren’t meant to be studied and drunk in fancy glasses. They’re meant for casual sipping and sharing with friends. BYE, wine snobs.”
Don’t take it personally, wine lovers. The wine-snob card is a crude straw man, of course, but we know what they mean: The rigmarole around wine is intimidating. You don’t need to do anything but drink and enjoy.
All wine should be like that, anyway. And the Bridge Lane canned sauvignon blanc, a nonvintage wine from New York grapes, is tangy, textured and satisfying. I would drink it even if I were banished as a snob.
For people who already love wine, even the most narrow-minded should embrace the can, just as they should boxed wines, as a rational container for easy-drinking wines intended to be consumed without aging.