On the tasting table today is a $5 bottle of non-vintage Merlot from Sprouts Farmers Market. But is it a Merl-icious bargain, or a Merlot no-go? Time to grab my best dollar-store glassware and twist that cap!
We are earnest aspirants to fine-wine appreciation in this household. But we’re also cool with not-so-fine wine and even (gasp!) mediocre wine. It depends on the day, the context–and of, course the price.
So far, our #MerlotThursday travels have taken us to Napa and Sonoma Counties, to Bordeaux, to the Columbia River Valley, and to Chile. Today, we’re headed to California once again: Specifically, to the Central Valley, which grows the majority of the state’s grapes. It’s also the home of the California-based mega-corporation that bottles this juice for sale under zillions of different brand names.
If all that sounds a little uninspiring, remember that this wine is a miracle of agricultural efficiency at $5. Five dollars! To grow, harvest, ferment, blend, package, store, market, ship, and stock an entire bottle of wine on the bottom shelf of a Sprouts in Dallas. The mind boggles. Somehow, it costs less than a single-serve bottle of orange juice at the same store.
For that almost insignificant amount of cash, you could do any number of things: Get roaring drunk. Or alternatively, you could mix up a pitcher of sangria to share with friends. Or make a giant batch of pot roast or Bolognese. Or have something to bring to a potluck hosted by people you don’t like very much.
Or, you could do what I’m about to do–re-acquaint yourself with an accessible, mass-market style of red wine that you may not have tasted in a while. For science.
So, I spent my five bucks and drove home with a bottle of Hope Tree Merlot. (No relation to the Hope Family of Paso Robles, regardless of what AI slop-at-the-top keeps trying to tell me when I Google it.)
The label has very little information–besides that this is Merlot from California bottled at 13.5% ABV. Hope Tree appears to be a house brand aimed at the conscious-grocery sub-market. “At Hope Tree Wines, we practice sustainable winemaking by protecting the environment and supporting social responsibility all while making high quality wines,” the back of the bottle explains.
Got that, people? This is high quality wine–the label says so. All right, let’s pour.
It glows in the glass, a medium berry-red with a suspicious neon-purple cast. Strong fruit-candy aromas with an earthy/rusty murkiness behind the brightness. There may be hint of vanilla–but it’s overwhelmed by a throat-lozenge vapor of cherry, anise, and menthol. “You’re on your own,” my wife says after a quick sniff, pushing her glass to the side.
Medium acidity, medium alcohol, medium body. There’s noticeable sweetness on the first taste, but nothing outrageous. Maybe 8-9 grams of residual sugar, if I’m guessing.
What’s most surprising about this wine is how bitter it is. The fruit melts away, and immediately you taste some wood. Thin, cherry-berry and herbal cough-drop flavors dissipate quickly to coat the palate with an unpleasant, grippy film. The last impression is of cherry skins with a shadow of rancidity trailing behind them.
It’s foul. Possibly the worst bottle I’ve tasted so far this year.
I have often shared the opinion that most mass-market wine these days is at least drinkable, if not pretty decent. But this Merlot really pushed that theory to the breaking point.
Who perpetrated this mess? Lemme check the back label: “Universal Wine Network.”
Who–what? Beverage Tasting Institute reports that Hope Tree’s producer is The Wine Group, the second-largest wine company in the United States. (Wikipedia, citing a 2022 trademark filing, comes to the same conclusion.) With over 150 brands and more being spun up all the time, they are responsible for such supermarket superstars as Franzia, Meiomi, Cupcake, Robert Mondavi, and MD 20/20.
Apart from the aftertaste, the second most irritating thing about Hope Tree is the prominent “Sustainably Sourced” badge on the front label. It’s forest green, with two leaves sprouting a little heart. The textured seal on the bottle looks legitimate, and it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy as you’re sliding it into your canvas grocery tote.
But “sustainably sourced” is not a regulated term in the United States. A reverse image search doesn’t reveal any other brand that uses this same insignia. Hope Tree’s sustainability badge is not among those that are recognized in the wine industry…which is another way of saying it’s basically made up.
Besides the legally required anti human-trafficking statement, the parent company’s website doesn’t meaningfully address their labor or environmental practices. I couldn’t find a fact sheet or a webpage for the Hope Tree brand that might help explain what actions are behind its sustainability claims.
Ooooh, Hope Tree is “supporting social responsibility”? What does that even mean? A single employee doing any number of things, from putting their kids in time-out to sharing progressive memes while using the company toilet would technically qualify.
Look, I’m no eco-warrior when it comes to wine. I have to admit that my personal conscious-consumption habits are literal garbage: I can’t shake my perception that heavy glass bottles and natural corks are classy and romantic. I don’t like the taste of many low-intervention/natural wines. When I’m trying to choose a wine for dinner, sustainability is not the first thing I consider. If I’m completely honest, it’s probably not even in the top ten.
But myself and my fellow Millennials are reaching the age of peak corporate pandering, and resisting it all of the time is exhausting. There’s an early-aughts, “Stuff White People Like,” Portlandia pall over everything. Even jug wine is calibrated to an Etsy aesthetic + some nebulous sense of good corporate citizenship.
The packaging is appealing. It’s designed to be appealing. Consumers may know, deep down inside, that sustainable, artisanally crafted wine is not likely to be sold at the corner grocer for a fiver–but that’s not what we want to hear. And so they tell us what we want to hear.
But Hope Tree is Two-Buck Chuck, adjusted for inflation and dressed up with an uncoated paper label, a typewriter font, and a clip-art tree. Add a meaningless badge, and we’re just supposed to eat it up? (Or drink it down?) I’m sorry–no.
It was tempting to shave off a couple of points for the egregious green-washing. But ultimately it was unnecessary, because the contents of this bottle achieved their record-breaking score all on their own.
Bottle: Hope Tree California Merlot (NV)
Variety: Merlot (and God knows what else)
ABV: 13.5%
Suggested retail: $5.99
My rating: 2.5 (out of 10)
There is a world of better Merlot out there! See past #MerlotThursday reviews here.
Review disclosure: I was not compensated or provided any free products for this review. Opinions expressed on The Wine Fairy blog are entirely my own.
Leave a Comment